#he deserves to be bullied for his laugh alone

[prettiybunniy]

id let him end me romantically ♡

[aajjks]

The Executioner (m)

synopsis. After all he was the only guy who would destroy everyone to protect you.

pairing. yandere jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings: vióléncé ánd gráphíc dépíctíóns óf hárm, psychólógícál ábúsé, mánípúlátíón., dárk thémes óf révéngé ánd páín., déscríptíóns óf ínténsívé cáréss, térrór, ánd prófánítý, mátúré lángúágé (prófánítý) ánd viólént áctíóns, YÁNDÈRÈ, RÈVÈNGÈ, 18+, búllyíng.

note. This is heavily heavily inspired by the glory, a.k.a. the Korean drama, which is a masterpiece so everyone should watch it I found this GIF on Pinterest so credit to the real owner and I just want to see on a serious note that if you’re ever being bullied, you have to stand up for yourself and no one deserves that kind of torture. So be kind. And if this flops? that is completely OK I just wrote this because I suddenly felt inspired. ENJOY BUT READ OUT YOUR OWN RISK.

•••

You stand in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. It doesn’t look like you anymore.

The girl who used to cry alone at night?

Gone.

The girl who allowed people to walk all over her? Gone. Now, you are something else. Something stronger. Something darker.

They break you. They shatter you, piece by piece.

The mocking laughter, the cruel jokes, the whispered insults— they still echo in your head.

Every memory of their cruelty makes your blood boil.

You promise yourself that one day, you’ll make them pay. But you don’t just want revenge.

No, you want them to suffer. You want to watch them burn.

And Jungkook? He’s been there the entire time. Watching. Waiting. You thought he was just another guy—

Sweet, charming, maybe even caring, but you were wrong.

Jungkook’s darkness runs deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.

It all starts the night you break down.

You can’t take it anymore. You’re ready to end it, to just walk away from the world.

But Jungkook’s there, waiting. He pulls you into his arms, whispers soft promises into your ear.

“I’ll make them pay,” he says, his voice like a knife slicing through the tension. “We’ll make them suffer together.”

And you believe him. You should’ve been scared, but all you feel is relief.

Maybe it’s because you see the darkness in his eyes, the same darkness you’ve buried deep inside yourself. Maybe it’s because he understands.

Together, you’ll take them all down.

The first target is always going to be Minji. She’s the one who started it all.

That fucking bitch will pay.

the one who laughed the loudest when you were at your lowest.

She’s the one who makes you feel like dirt. Jungkook knows exactly how to make her suffer without touching her.

His mind is brilliant, twisted in the best way possible.

“We start with rumors,” he whispers late one night as you both sit together, planning. “Small lies. Just enough to get her paranoid.”

You don’t question it. You just watch as he works.

The first lie isn’t even about her—

it’s about her family. Jungkook makes sure to tell a trusted friend that Minji’s father’s involved in shady business deals.

The seed’s planted, and it spreads quickly. But it doesn’t stop there. Jungkook finds out every little detail about her. The places she goes.

The things she says. The people she talks to. It’s easy to turn them into whispers, into whispers that will ruin her life.

It only takes a few days for Minji to start looking over her shoulder, her confidence slowly eroding as the whispers grow louder.

You see the change in her eyes when she walks past you in the hallway.

The panic. The fear.

She doesn’t know who to trust anymore. Her friends start distancing themselves, not because they think she’s guilty, but because the rumors make them second-guess everything.

You feel the cracks forming. You feel her starting to unravel. And it feels good.

Jungkook’s eyes are dark with satisfaction as he watches her fall apart. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he whispers, his voice dripping with malice.

You don’t even have to respond. You just watch, enjoying every moment of her pain.

“Do you think she’s figured it out?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet,” Jungkook answers, a grin spreading across his face. “But soon. She’ll beg for mercy when it all crashes down on her.”

The next target? Taehyun. That piece of shit who humiliated you in front of the whole school.

The one who laughed while everyone else joined in. Jungkook doesn’t have to say much. You know what needs to be done.

“You want to destroy him?” Jungkook asks, his voice quiet but laced with something dangerous.

“I’ll make him lose everything. We’ll start with his reputation, and then we’ll break him. Piece by piece.”

You can’t help but smile, a dark thrill running through your veins. Taehyun won’t see this coming.

Jungkook’s method is brilliant.

He tells one of Taehyun’s closest friends that Taehyun’s been cheating on his girlfriend.

A small, subtle lie, but enough to set things in motion.

Then, he plants more seeds. He makes sure Taehyun sees a text message from his supposed lover—something that’s carefully worded to stir up doubt.

It isn’t just the girl, though. Jungkook spreads rumors about Taehyun’s family, his past, things that could make anyone question their loyalty.

The next day,

Taehyun’s world comes crashing down. His girlfriend confronts him, furious, demanding answers.

His friends turn on him, unsure if they can trust him. The more Taehyun tries to fight back, the more the whispers grow. It isn’t just about the girl anymore. It’s about his character, his integrity.

Everything he’s worked so hard to build is falling apart, and he can’t stop it.

Taehyun finds you in the hallway, his face red with anger. “You think you can destroy me?” he spits, his eyes wild.

“You and your little boyfriend. You’ll regret this.”

You chuckle darkly, stepping closer. “You’re too late for regrets.”

Jungkook’s hand rests on your shoulder, his presence calming in a way, but also dangerous.

Taehyun looks at him, his eyes widening as he sees the madness in Jungkook’s gaze. Jungkook’s lips curl into a smile, but there’s nothing kind in it.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and full of venom. “Now you’ve made it personal.”

Taehyun backs off, his confidence shattered, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s done.

The third target is Jiwoo. The girl who always thinks she’s better than you.

The girl who humiliated you just for the fun of it. She’s the last one you need to break.

Jungkook’s plan is simple: break her mentally. Make her think she’s being hunted.

He starts small—text messages that make her think someone’s stalking her.

I know what you did. I’m watching you.

At first, it’s nothing more than a few strange messages. But soon, Jiwoo’s paranoia starts to take over.

She can’t leave her house without looking over her shoulder. She can’t sleep without checking her windows.

Jungkook makes sure her fear is constant. Her world is falling apart, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

You watch her crack, and it’s delicious.

She tries to confront you one day in the hallway, shaking with fear. “You think you’re so clever, huh?”

Jiwoo spits, but her voice cracks halfway through. “You think you can just destroy me like you did with the others?”

You laugh softly, stepping forward with a smile. “Oh, honey. You’re already destroyed. You just don’t know it yet.”

Her eyes narrow. “You can’t do this! I’ll make you pay for this!”

You pause for a moment, then laugh again. “I’m sorry, Jiwoo, but this is just the beginning. You really think I’m afraid of you? You should’ve kept your mouth shut when you had the chance.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his eyes burning with a fire that makes Jiwoo back up instinctively.

He doesn’t even look at her, just stares ahead, his presence enough to crush her will.

“Your life’s already over. It’s just… no one’s told you yet.”

Jiwoo’s face turns pale as she stumbles back. Her fight is gone. She has nothing left.

And then comes the final step. The last target is everyone. Every single person who ever made you feel small. Every person who thought they could walk all over you and get away with it.

Jungkook’s plan is grand. He orchestrates everything, using all the pain and darkness to his advantage.

He spreads lies. He creates chaos. He makes sure that every person who has ever wronged you knows what it feels like to lose everything.

Their reputations are torn apart. Their relationships destroyed. Their lives shattered.

And you? You stand by his side. You’re no longer the victim. You’re the one who makes it all happen.

But even as the revenge consumes you, you can’t ignore the way Jungkook looks at you.

His eyes are always on you, his gaze dark and intense.

You can feel his obsession growing, feeding off the chaos you both create. It’s intoxicating. You need it. You need him.

One night, after the last of your enemies is taken down, you find yourself alone with Jungkook.

His eyes are fixed on you, his body close. The air is thick with tension.

“We’ve done it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction. “They’re all gone. It’s just us now.”

You feel the heat between you rise. His hand slides to your waist, pulling you toward him.

His lips hover over yours, and you can feel the weight of the moment, the culmination of everything you’ve done together.

“Just us,” you murmur.

He kisses you then, fierce and consuming.

His hands tangle in your hair as his lips bruise yours, claiming you in a way that feels both like salvation and destruction. It’s everything—the revenge, the passion, the hunger.

You lose yourself in it, in him.

When you pull away, you’re both breathless. But this is just the beginning.

“Together,” Jungkook whispers, his voice raw.

“Forever.”

•••

It had all started when you least expected it.

You were a victim of the world around you—silent, unnoticed, walking the halls of your school with your head down, trying to avoid attention.

The insults, the whispered names, the cold stares from people who didn’t even know you—

they were all part of your daily routine. You had learned to live with it. It was easier than trying to fight it.

But on that day, something shifted. It started with Jungkook.

You didn’t know him. Not really. He was just another guy who’d somehow managed to rise above everyone else.

The guy who seemed to have it all— charisma, popularity, a smile that could charm the world.

He was everything you weren’t. And, to be honest, you hated him for it at first.

Why should someone like him care about someone like you?

The first time he spoke to you, you thought it was just another joke.

It was the kind of thing people did when they wanted to make someone feel awkward, to point out how out of place you were.

But Jungkook didn’t look at you with pity like everyone else did. He looked at you with… understanding.

His eyes were sharp, not soft like those who tried to make you feel better.

No, his gaze was intense, focused. It made your stomach twist.

He had caught you off guard that day in the hallway. His hand had settled on your shoulder so suddenly, you flinched.

Your first instinct was to shrug it off, push him away, tell him to go back to his crowd of popular, perfect friends.

But he didn’t let you. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence like a wall you couldn’t escape.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You alright?”

You weren’t. You were never alright. But you weren’t about to let him see that. You barely knew him. Hell, you didn’t even want to.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice thin.

His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in curiosity. “Are you?”

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth was, you wanted someone to ask. But you also hated the idea of being vulnerable.

It was a weakness.

And weakness, in your world, was something to be exploited.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, with a little more conviction this time, though it didn’t stop the shaking in your hands.

Jungkook didn’t buy it. Of course,

he didn’t.

“You’re lying,” he said simply, his tone not judgmental, but certain.

It wasn’t the accusation that bothered you— it was the fact that he could see right through you, like your facade wasn’t even worth the effort.

His words hit too close to home, but you refused to let him know that.

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him to leave you alone, but for some reason, the words caught in your throat.

You couldn’t explain it, but something about him stopped you.

Something in the way he looked at you made you want to tell him everything, to unravel the tightly wound mess inside of you.

But that was insane, wasn’t it?

Why would you trust him? Why would you trust anyone?

“I’m fine,” you said again, almost pleading with yourself to believe it.

He watched you for a beat too long, and then, surprisingly—he smiled. It wasn’t some fake, pitying grin like the others. No, it was a smile that almost seemed… understanding.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he said quietly. “I know what it feels like.”

You blinked, thrown off guard. “What?”

Jungkook shrugged, his eyes darkening slightly. “I know what it’s like. To be invisible. To be the one everyone picks on. To be ignored… hurt… because you’re not what people want you to be.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you just stared at him, trying to piece together what he was saying.

Was he messing with you? Was this some twisted joke? You didn’t know.

“I don’t believe you,” you finally said, taking a step back, wanting to put some space between you.

But Jungkook didn’t move. He stood there, looking at you with the same steady gaze.

“It’s true,” he said simply, almost like a promise. “I’ve been where you are. I still am. I’m not like the rest of them.”

That… made you pause. You didn’t know what to think. Was he just some rich kid playing at empathy?

Or was there something real in his words?

“I can’t help you,” you said, not because you didn’t want it, but because you were terrified of what it would mean. “You don’t know me.”

“You don’t have to trust me,” Jungkook replied, his voice low but firm. “But I can help you. And I want to. If you’ll let me.”

The doubt you felt was overwhelming. You had been burned too many times, left alone when you thought people cared.

No one had ever really seen you.

No one had ever truly understood what it was like to feel completely alone, to feel like you were nothing more than a shadow in a room full of people.

And yet… Jungkook’s offer felt different. He wasn’t offering to fix you. He wasn’t offering some false comfort. It was something darker, something raw that you couldn’t push away.

He understood the pain.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t push him away, why you didn’t shut him down completely.

But you couldn’t trust him. Not yet.

“So, what do you want from me?” you asked, your voice rough, a sharp edge to it.

Jungkook tilted his head, his eyes still intense. “Nothing, not yet. But I’ve been watching. I’ve seen how they treat you. How they treat people like you. And I won’t stand for it.”

You couldn’t tell if he was serious or if it was just some weird power play.

But there was something in the way he said it, something in his eyes that made you pause.

“You want to take them down?” you asked, more to yourself than to him.

He nodded slowly, a glint of something dangerous in his expression. “Yeah. But it’s not just about them. It’s about making them regret ever thinking they could do this to you.”

You looked away, unsure whether to be terrified or relieved. Maybe it was a little bit of both. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like seeing people get crushed under the weight of others. And I think you’ve been crushed long enough.”

The sincerity in his voice surprised you.

Maybe it was the fact that he had seen something in you that no one else had.

Maybe it was the darkness in his eyes that mirrored your own pain. You didn’t know.

But you couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady but unsure. “I’ll let you help me. But don’t think you’re saving me. I can handle this on my own.”

Jungkook’s smile softened, and for the first time, it felt like he wasn’t playing some game.

“I never said I was saving you. I’m just helping you get what you deserve.”

And that’s when you knew. It wasn’t about saving you—it was about destroying them.

Together.

[mintyys-blog]

CLAIMED BY A VILTRUMITE — viltrumite! mark grayson

PART ONE

PART TWO

WARNINGS: doubts, shaming/bullying, pregnancy, fighting.

The tension in the air was palpable when Mark left for a mission once again. Y/N had tried to steady herself, focusing on her children and giving them the care they deserved. But with Mark gone, she knew that things would be different. She had been getting used to the idea of having some space, of allowing herself to breathe and heal. But she never anticipated the storm that Anissa would bring with her.

It was a quiet afternoon when Anissa walked into the nursery, a smug expression playing on her face. Roselyna, who usually remained so still and detached from Y/N, immediately perked up at the sight of her. She giggled, reaching her arms toward Anissa, her small fingers grasping for her. Y/N’s heart twisted at the sight. Why couldn’t her daughter do that for her? Why was it always Mark or Anissa?

Anissa picked Roselyna up with ease, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She rocked the baby in her arms as if it were second nature. “I see this one has a preference for me,” she said, poking at Roselyna’s chubby cheek as the baby laughed, a sound that sent a pang of jealousy straight through Y/N.

Y/N stood frozen, her chest tight. Anissa, the one who had always shown disdain for her, was now handling her daughter with a familiarity she could never have. “She’s always so… attached to him,” Anissa continued, her voice mocking. “Isn’t it sad? Your own baby doesn’t like you.” She glanced at Y/N, her words slicing through the silence. “It’s because she can sense your weakness. And you’re infecting Mark. He is growing weak too.” Anissa clicked her tongue as if she was disgusted by the very thought.

Y/N felt her stomach churn. The words stung, but she couldn’t bring herself to defend herself, not with the cruel edge in Anissa’s voice. She just stood there, watching as Anissa set Roselyna back into her crib, her daughter reaching after her, an innocent request for attention that only fueled Y/N’s growing frustration.

Anissa looked over at Elijah next, the boy who had always clung to Y/N more than Roselyna ever had. Her gaze turned to disdain. “Your son— just like you,” Anissa sneered. “He’s weak. I can tell. He’ll never be the warrior his sister will be.”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, her anger rising. Anissa was trying to tear apart everything she had worked for with her children. It wasn’t just about weakness; it was about control. Anissa wanted to be the one to decide who was strong, who was worthy. Y/N knew she could never compete with that.

Before Y/N could say anything, Anissa placed her hands on her hips and turned to face her fully, her eyes gleaming with superiority. “You… get out,” Y/N stammered, trying to find her voice. “Mark wouldn’t want you here.”

Anissa’s lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes narrowing. In an instant, she was in front of Y/N, standing so close that Y/N could feel the coldness radiating off her. “Oh yeah?” Anissa’s voice was sharp, every word dripping with venom. “And what will you do about it, human?” Her tone was mocking, her eyes cold. “A mere flick of my finger and you’ll be thrown through that wall. You don’t hold the power here. You’re just a human, remember that next time you think we are equals.”

Y/N’s legs wobbled, and her breath caught in her throat. She was no match for Anissa, no match for the strength of the Viltrumites who were always so far above her. But she was a mother, and that fierce protectiveness for her children made her stand her ground.

Anissa stepped back with a scoff, looking at Y/N in disgust. “Mark has poor taste in women,” she muttered, her voice dripping with condescension. She glanced at Y/N one last time, as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience, and then left the room, leaving Y/N standing alone, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and helplessness.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Y/N stood there, shaking, trying to fight off the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy.

Anissa was a Viltrumite. She was strong. She was everything Y/N was not. But Y/N would not let her take her children from her. She wouldn’t let anyone undermine her, no matter how cruel and condescending they were.

But what could she do? She wasn’t like them. She didn’t have their power, their strength, their superiority. And yet, here she was, holding onto the one thing that made her stand apart from the rest of them—her love for her children. She would never let them grow up without knowing that, without knowing that she was their mother, and that she loved them with everything she had.

The idea that Anissa would try to take over as a mother figure for Roselyna, especially when she resembled Mark so much, only fueled Y/N’s determination. Roselyna wasn’t just Mark’s daughter. She was hers too. She would protect them both, even if it meant going up against the very Viltrumites who ruled over her life.

Y/N’s resolve grew stronger, her anger at Anissa’s interference only adding fuel to the fire. She would fight for her children, even if it meant standing up to Mark himself. No one, not even Anissa, would take them away from her.

The days passed, and with every absence of Mark, Anissa seemed to grow more and more present. Every time Mark left on a mission, she came. No matter how hard Y/N tried to resist, Anissa slipped into her life with ease, taking control over the twins in a way that made Y/N feel powerless. It was like a constant reminder that she was nothing more than a human, a fragile woman who couldn’t even keep her own children to herself.

Anissa was there to “help,” of course. But help meant controlling everything. She took Roselyna in her arms without asking, despite the baby’s clear preference for her father. She would feed her, change her, even rock her to sleep, her hands firm and possessive. She would lecture Y/N in her cold, condescending tone whenever Y/N tried to intervene, pointing out how much stronger she was, how much more competent she was as a Viltrumite.

Every time Anissa stood between her and her children, Y/N felt a knot of helplessness tighten in her chest. She had no strength to fight back, no power to defy her. Anissa’s presence was an ever-looming shadow, suffocating everything Y/N had tried to build with her children.

She refused to run to Mark for help, though. She couldn’t. Part of her knew she could, but the other part—the part that was still clinging to some semblance of dignity—wanted to prove she didn’t need his protection. She had always been told that she was weak, a mere human, but she wanted to show she could be strong on her own. She wanted to be able to protect herself, her children, without relying on Mark’s authority to fix everything.

But the truth was, she was wrong. So wrong.

The moment Anissa took Roselyna in her arms again, laughing at how the baby was so quiet for her, Y/N’s heart broke. Her daughter, who had always been distant and reluctant in Y/N’s presence, was now smiling for Anissa, reaching for her with eagerness. Y/N had tried for months to bond with her, to get her to warm up to her, but nothing ever worked.

The anger bubbled up inside of her, but it wasn’t just anger at Anissa—it was at herself. She should have known better. She wasn’t equipped to fight the Viltrumites. She was a mother, yes, but she was also a woman in a world dominated by power, by strength, by a race that saw humans as nothing more than tools or trophies. She wasn’t meant to fight this battle alone.

But she refused to back down. She couldn’t let Anissa win, couldn’t let her become the mother figure for Roselyna. She was the one who had carried these children. She was the one who had bled for them, fought for them, and, even now, cared for them. She couldn’t let someone like Anissa take that away from her.

Every time Anissa left with Roselyna, Y/N would stand in the doorway, watching helplessly. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pull Roselyna out of her arms and run. But instead, she just clenched her fists, tears brimming in her eyes, as Anissa’s footsteps echoed down the hallway.

She should have been stronger. She should have been able to fight for them, for herself.

But the more she tried to convince herself she could handle it, the more she realized how impossible it all felt. And the more Mark remained gone, the more she understood that maybe she was too small in a world so vast and dangerous.

That night, when Anissa had finally left, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, clutching her knees to her chest, Elijah asleep in the crib beside her. She had tried to be strong, but her resolve was crumbling. She had failed.

She could feel the weight of the guilt pressing down on her chest. Mark was gone, but he had made it clear—she needed to take care of the children, to protect them. But she couldn’t do it alone.

For the first time, she felt truly defeated. She had wanted to prove she could stand on her own, but in the end, all she had done was expose her weakness. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she needed Mark. She needed him to protect her, to protect them, because she couldn’t do it herself.

But she wouldn’t let that fact destroy her. She wasn’t ready to give up, even if it meant asking for help. Even if it meant running to Mark for help, for the first time. She needed to protect her children, and if asking for his protection was the only way to do that, then so be it.

As much as it hurt her pride to acknowledge, she couldn’t do this without him.

Y/N sat quietly in the dim light of the room, the sounds of Elijah’s soft breathing and the occasional rustle from Roselyna’s crib filling the silence. She had tried so hard to stand tall, to prove she could do this without relying on Mark or anyone else. But as the days passed and Anissa’s presence grew more dominant, Y/N couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

Her hands, trembling as she gripped the sides of the bed, reflected the internal conflict that raged within her. She had always believed that being strong meant standing on her own, never showing vulnerability. But now, as her children slept peacefully in their cribs, she realized that true strength wasn’t about pushing through it alone—it was about having the courage to ask for help when it was needed most.

She looked at Elijah, his tiny face so much like hers. His soft whimpers when Anissa had tried to take him earlier that day still lingered in her mind. It was a small comfort, one that told her that perhaps, despite everything, she had still managed to bond with him in ways Anissa couldn’t take from her.

But Roselyna… her daughter’s face twisted her heart in knots. Roselyna’s smile at Anissa earlier had been too much to bear. The baby who had once only reached for her now reached for Anissa with an eagerness that cut deeper than any physical pain could. Y/N’s chest tightened, her breath shaky as she tried to steady herself. She loved her children so much, but with every passing day, she feared she was losing them to a world that didn’t see her as worthy of being their mother.

Anissa was not only taking her children, but she was also chipping away at her sense of self, making her question everything she thought she knew about strength, motherhood, and even love.

With a sigh, Y/N finally stood up, a sudden burst of determination filling her chest. No more.

She couldn’t let Anissa win. She couldn’t let herself be powerless any longer. But she also couldn’t ignore the fact that she needed help. If she wanted to protect her children, she couldn’t do it alone. And Mark—whether she liked it or not—was the only one who could give her the strength she lacked.

The decision was hard to make. Her pride told her to fight alone, to prove that she could stand on her own two feet. But love for her children, the need to keep them safe, outweighed everything else. She had already tried to protect them without him, and the results had been painful to watch.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight, her legs no longer shaking as she moved towards the door. She hesitated, her hand lingering on the handle, but then she opened it. The walk to Mark’s quarters felt long, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest with each step.

When she arrived, she didn’t wait for a signal to enter, just pushed the door open. Mark was standing at the far end of the room, looking over some documents, but when he turned to look at her, his gaze softened.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice steady but filled with concern.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the sight of him—strong, confident, the very image of the Viltrumite leader she had both feared and loved. The man who had taken her from her home and given her a life she never wanted, but also the father of her children.

Finally, she found her voice, though it trembled. “I… need you.” Her voice cracked, the words harder to say than she’d imagined. “I need your help, Mark.”

His expression shifted immediately, all signs of his previous sternness melting away as he walked toward her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone soft, genuine.

“I… I can’t do this on my own,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Anissa… she keeps taking them from me. I can’t protect them from her, and I can’t protect myself from her. She’s too strong, and I… I can’t keep pretending I don’t need help.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed, a protective rage flickering in them for a brief moment, but when he spoke, it was calm, steady. “You should have come to me sooner.”

Y/N flinched at the disappointment in his tone, but she couldn’t hold it against him. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted to do it myself. I thought I could.”

“You’re not meant to do this alone,” he said gently, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever.”

She looked up into his eyes, the conflict still swirling in her chest, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope.

Mark wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his embrace strong and steady. For the first time, she let herself lean into it, let herself feel the comfort of being held. Her tears came slowly, but this time, she didn’t feel weak for shedding them. She felt relieved.

“You’re not alone,” he repeated, kissing the top of her head. “And I’ll make sure Anissa knows that.”

Anissa returned the next morning with an air of superiority, the sharpness of her presence cutting through the quiet of the house. Mark was in the kitchen, his back turned, but he could sense her before he even looked up. She entered with Roselyna in her arms, her expression smug as she strode into the room, holding the baby like she owned her.

“I was taking her for a walk,” Anissa said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “She enjoys seeing the stars at night. Isn’t that right, Rose? You like spending time with Auntie Anissa?”

Roselyna’s giggles filled the room, her tiny hands reaching up to Anissa’s face, and Y/N, standing frozen in the hallway, felt her heart sink into her stomach. Her eyes locked onto her daughter, her chest tightening with a mixture of jealousy and helplessness. The baby didn’t fuss; in fact, she seemed content, even happy in Anissa’s arms.

Anissa’s smile deepened as she met Y/N’s gaze, her eyes gleaming with a knowing satisfaction. “Or as Rose prefers to call me…”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her body tensing as dread washed over her. No…

“Mama!” Roselyna’s voice, sweet and innocent, echoed in the room. And with those two words, Y/N felt the ground slip from beneath her feet. Her world shattered in an instant.

Her eyes stung with tears, her throat tightening as she swallowed the lump forming there. Mama. Not her. Another woman.

Mark’s head whipped around, his eyes widening in disbelief as he reached for Roselyna, pulling her from Anissa’s arms with urgency.

“No, no, she’s not your mama,” he said, his voice trembling as he looked at Anissa, as if desperate to undo the damage. But it was too late. The words had already been spoken. The damage was irreversible.

Anissa merely raised an eyebrow, the smugness on her face never faltering as she casually touched Roselyna’s cheek. “Oh, don’t worry, Mark. She’ll learn eventually. Babies say all sorts of things.”

Y/N stood frozen in the doorway, her heart beating violently against her ribs. The tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. mama. Those words echoed like a nightmare. Her own daughter, her flesh and blood, had already bonded with someone else.

Mark’s tone hardened as he faced Anissa, his jaw clenched. “Anissa. You will not return here, or interact with my children, nor my wife. Do you understand?” His voice was cold, an unmistakable edge of finality to it.

Anissa stared at him, arms crossed in defiance. “Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “But don’t be so quick to defend her. She’s not fit for the task. None of this will end well for you, Mark. And you know it.” Her eyes flicked toward Y/N, before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she went.

Mark turned back to Y/N, his expression softening. “Y/N…” he started, but Y/N was already moving, her legs unsteady, her emotions threatening to break her. She couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when everything felt so broken.

Without a word, she walked quickly down the hall, feeling the tears blur her vision. She reached the nursery and slammed the door behind her, locking herself in.

Elijah was bouncing in his crib, his chubby little arms reaching out toward her, and she scooped him up instinctively. The warmth of his body against hers only amplified the emptiness inside. She sat down on the floor, cradling him close, her hands trembling as she rocked him gently. His little giggles echoed in her ears, unaware of the weight that threatened to suffocate her.

“My sweet baby boy,” she whispered softly, pressing him to her chest. “At least you still love me.”

She let the tears fall freely now, her chest heaving with the sobs that wracked her body. She could barely breathe through the pain in her heart. She had failed. She had tried so hard to be a mother to Roselyna, but her daughter had already chosen another. And it wasn’t her. It was Anissa.

The words Mama repeated in her mind like a cruel refrain. How could she fight that? How could she undo the bond that had already formed between them?

A knock came at the door, and her breath caught in her throat. “Y/N…” Mark’s voice cracked through the quiet, full of regret and desperation.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not when her heart felt so hollow, when she was drowning in the suffocating realization that her daughter might never look at her the same way again. That Anissa had already taken that from her.

Mark’s voice came again, softer this time, pleading. “Please… I know this hurts. But you’re the mother, Y/N. Don’t let this tear you apart.”

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear the idea of her daughter looking at her with that same indifference. She couldn’t bear knowing that Anissa had already started to claim what was hers.

“I can’t do this,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. “I need to be alone.”

She felt Mark hesitate on the other side of the door, his presence heavy in the air, but he didn’t push. The silence stretched between them, and then she heard him leave, his footsteps retreating.

And in the quiet of the nursery, the only sounds were her broken sobs, and Elijah’s innocent cooing in her arms, blissfully unaware of the damage that had been done.

The pain of losing Roselyna—of never being able to bond with her the way she had hoped—was too much to bear. But more than that, she felt powerless. Helpless. The one thing she had tried so desperately to protect—the bond with her children—was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Anissa stayed true to her word—she didn’t come back, nor did she interact with Y/N or her children again. At first, it was a relief to Y/N, a brief moment of peace, but the silence that followed was anything but comforting. The absence of Anissa’s presence left a vacuum, but it also amplified the emptiness Y/N felt.

Despite her anger and hurt from the encounter, a small part of her had hoped that Mark would be able to protect her, that he would be able to push Anissa away for good. Yet, even with that fleeting sense of relief, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her bond with her children—particularly Roselyna—was already slipping beyond her reach.

She tried her best to move forward, focusing on her recovery and caring for her children. Elijah, always the clingy one, had become a source of comfort. He was more affectionate toward her, his little hands reaching for her, his cries quieting when she held him close. It was easy to love him, easy to let him remind her that she wasn’t entirely alone.

But then there was Roselyna.

Y/N watched her daughter, her heart aching as the little girl grew more distant. Despite her best efforts, Roselyna seemed to gravitate toward others, and every time Y/N reached for her, she saw the lack of recognition, the detachment. It hurt so deeply—especially when Roselyna would giggle and reach for Mark when he came home.

How could she love him more than me? Y/N often thought. How could she be so cold?

The worst part was that Roselyna looked so much like him—her eyes, her smile, the same striking features that made her a perfect replica of Mark. Y/N tried not to feel resentful, but it was impossible not to. Every time Roselyna smiled at him, it was as if she were giving a piece of her heart to Mark and none to Y/N.

And the harder she tried to reach her, the more distant Roselyna seemed. She couldn’t help but wonder: Was it too late? Had Anissa already taken that bond from me?

Though Anissa had stayed away, Y/N couldn’t shake the fear that her children—especially Roselyna—were slipping further from her grasp. It was an internal struggle she kept hidden, not wanting to let Mark see how much it affected her. Still, the weight of her doubts pressed on her heart every time she looked at Roselyna, and it was starting to feel like a loss she couldn’t reverse.

Mark, for all his strength and control, had no idea how much Y/N was suffering in silence. He remained focused on his mission, his goals, while Y/N faced the quiet pain of feeling like an outsider in her own family. The fear that she would never be enough—never be the mother her children needed—gnawed at her every day. She wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

Days passed, and Y/N continued to try her best for her children, but the distance between her and Roselyna became more unbearable with each passing moment. Elijah, her sweet boy, remained her comfort, but the hollow ache in her chest never ceased. She’d watch her daughter and wonder if it was too late—if the small moments of connection she had with her would ever return. Could I ever be the mother she needs?

Despite her growing despair, Y/N found herself still attempting to bond with Roselyna. She spent hours trying to engage with her daughter, playing, singing, even just talking to her as she held her. But every time she reached out, Roselyna pulled away, her little hands grabbing for others, always turning her gaze toward Mark whenever he walked into the room. It was as if the very sight of her mother had become a source of indifference, while her father was her beacon, her source of warmth.

Y/N’s heart shattered a little more each time.

One afternoon, Mark came in after a mission, weary but smiling. He reached for Roselyna, and she immediately extended her tiny arms toward him, giggling as he scooped her up. Y/N stood in the doorway, her chest tight. She wanted to be happy for Mark, but the sight of her daughter smiling so brightly at him and not at her felt like a dagger to her soul.

As if sensing her presence, Mark looked up at her, his smile faltering for a brief moment. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Mark nodded, but the concern didn’t leave his face as he walked over to her, Roselyna in his arms. “You know, you don’t have to do this all alone,” he said softly, his eyes scanning her face. “I’m here. You know that, right?”

Y/N nodded, though the words she longed to say—the things she felt—were caught in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she felt, how much it hurt to watch Roselyna turn away from her. She couldn’t tell him how desperately she wanted to be enough for her children, especially when it felt like she was losing them to him.

Instead, she merely nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I know. I just… I just need some time. I’ll be fine.”

Mark watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering. He was still holding Roselyna, but his attention was now fully on Y/N. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with a tenderness she hadn’t heard in a while.

Y/N forced a smile. “I just need some time,” she repeated, her voice soft, almost apologetic.

Mark’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t press further. “Okay,” he said, though his tone betrayed his unease. He leaned in to kiss her forehead but stopped just before his lips touched her skin. “You know I’m here if you need me.”

Y/N closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. She couldn’t let him see how much this hurt, how much it tore her apart inside. She just nodded again, forcing her emotions down into the pit of her stomach.

“Get some rest,” he added, his voice soft but firm, as if trying to make her understand that he cared, that he wanted to help. But the distance between them felt so vast. She couldn’t find the words to make him understand.

As he turned to leave, carrying Roselyna in his arms, Y/N stayed behind, her chest tight with unshed tears. I’m losing her, she thought, her heart breaking. I’m losing my own daughter.

The baby who didn’t need her. The child who had come from her, but seemed to love him more. The fear of failing as a mother weighed heavy on her chest. How do I fix this? How do I make her love me?

She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for things to change, but she kept it all inside, her hands shaking as she stared at the door. When Mark was gone, and she was left in the silence of their room, it felt like the quiet suffocated her.

She couldn’t help but feel the growing divide between her and her daughter. It was as if everything she had done, everything she had fought for, had been in vain. She was no longer just a mother trying to bond with her child—she was a woman losing her place in her own family.

And as she stood there, staring at the empty space where Mark had just been, the full weight of it hit her: She was afraid—afraid that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. Not for him, not for Roselyna. Not for anyone. And what if it’s true? she wondered, her throat tight. What if I really can’t be the mother she needs?

As the months passed, Y/N found herself watching her children with a mixture of pride and fear. Elijah, her son who looked so much like her, was beginning to show the first signs of his Viltrumite heritage. He was stronger than any normal child his age, but he also struggled with the pull of his human side. Unlike Roselyna, who had quickly adopted a quiet, calculating calmness that mirrored her father’s, Elijah was more volatile. He could be sweet one moment, reaching for her with a smile, and the next, he would lash out in frustration, his strength pushing his mother aside in moments of anger he couldn’t fully control.

Y/N feared what this might mean for him as he grew older. Could he live with both sides of his nature? Or would his Viltrumite strength eventually overpower his human vulnerabilities?

She noticed, too, how Elijah would sometimes turn his gaze to Roselyna—who was always so calm, always so controlled, with her eyes like her father’s—almost as if he were seeking approval. Roselyna, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by the world around her. There were times when Y/N would catch her staring off into the distance, as if she was already assessing the world in a way far beyond her years. It was disturbing. Y/N couldn’t put her finger on why, but something about the way Roselyna held herself reminded her too much of Mark. It was as if she had already begun to slip into the same cold, detached demeanor that her father carried, and it unsettled Y/N to her core.

One afternoon, Y/N tried once again to engage with Roselyna, trying to get her to respond in a way that felt human. She pulled her daughter into her arms, cooing softly, trying to coax a smile out of her. But instead of the giggle or laugh she longed to hear, Roselyna simply stared at her, her little face expressionless.

Y/N’s heart clenched in her chest. Was this really her daughter? Or was she becoming someone else entirely? A Viltrumite?

Her mind spiraled into darker thoughts as she looked at her daughter’s unblinking eyes, feeling an increasing alienation from her. Roselyna was changing, growing stronger by the day. She had already developed the strength to pull herself up on her own, something Elijah couldn’t do yet. Mark, of course, was proud of his daughter’s progress. He saw it as a sign that she was developing into a true Viltrumite warrior. But to Y/N, it felt like a sign of something more frightening.

It wasn’t just the strength. It was the way Roselyna seemed indifferent to the world around her, as though emotions—love, compassion, empathy—meant nothing. She would reach for Mark whenever he entered the room, always with a smile, her little hands outstretched. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, but worse, fear. Was her daughter becoming someone she couldn’t reach? Someone who wouldn’t need her?

Meanwhile, Elijah seemed to be developing the opposite reaction. The more Roselyna grew into this new version of herself, the more he clung to Y/N. When he saw his sister getting attention, he would throw tantrums—loud, violent outbursts that marked a growing frustration with himself, with his place in the world, and with the way he was torn between two natures. He was jealous of his sister’s calmness, of the ease with which she was molded into her father’s image.

In those moments, Y/N could see the internal battle Elijah was facing. He wanted to be strong like Roselyna. He wanted to be the child who could do no wrong in Mark’s eyes, the one who would make him proud. But the human part of him—his soft, emotional side—kept him from embracing that. And so, he rebelled.

Y/N did her best to comfort him during those tantrums, holding him tightly as his tiny fists punched against her. She whispered calming words to him, though part of her wondered if they were reaching him. Was she even doing the right thing by comforting him like this? Should she be preparing him for what was coming, for the way he was going to have to face his Viltrumite side?

As for Roselyna, it felt like there was nothing Y/N could do. The more she tried to bond, the more she felt like an outsider. She would catch herself looking at her daughter, wondering if she was truly a part of her, or if she was just another extension of Mark’s vision of the perfect Viltrumite.

In the quiet moments, when Mark was away on a mission, Y/N would hold both children close, her tears slipping unnoticed down her cheeks. This isn’t what I imagined when I wanted to be a mother, she would think. This isn’t the family I wanted. But what can I do?

It was during one of these moments of quiet vulnerability that Mark returned. He had been gone longer than usual, and when he stepped into the room, it was clear that something was different. His eyes immediately searched for Roselyna. He scooped her up without hesitation, but then his gaze shifted to Y/N.

He was tired, but something else lingered in his eyes. Something almost… uncertain.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tone gentle. “Are you alright?”

Y/N paused, swallowing back her emotions. She had learned to hide them from him, learned to wear the mask of the dutiful mother. She didn’t want to burden him with her struggles, not when he was so focused on the Viltrumite way of life.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice steady.

Mark didn’t believe her, though. He stared at her for a moment, the concern in his eyes deepening. “If you’re not, we can talk. You know that, right?” he said, his voice quiet.

But Y/N didn’t have the strength to confront him. The divide between them had grown so wide, and she couldn’t bear to admit to him how much it hurt to feel like she was losing her children to him—losing herself to this life that she had never chosen. She just nodded, offering a faint smile.

Mark didn’t push further, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, a subtle crack in his perfect façade. As he turned his attention back to Roselyna, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were both slipping further away from her.

In that moment, she realized that her worst fear was already coming true: She was losing them. Slowly but surely, she was losing them both.

Y/N had just finished putting the twins down for their afternoon nap when she felt a wave of nausea hit her. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this time, it felt different. Her body had been feeling off for a while now—tired, sluggish—but she had dismissed it as the usual exhaustion from caring for two young children.

But this nausea… it hit her like a wave crashing over her, and she staggered to the bathroom. She ran the cold water over her face, trying to shake off the overwhelming dizziness. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror—still pale, still drained—but there was something else too, something she couldn’t ignore.

The thought crept into her mind, but she tried to push it away. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant again, could she?

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached for the small vial Mark had left behind in their bathroom, something the Viltrumites used to track pregnancy signs. It wasn’t a full-proof method, but it worked. She had used it before when they had first discovered the twins, so she knew the procedure.

Minutes passed, and when she finally saw the result, her breath caught in her throat. It was confirmed. She was pregnant again.

A sense of dread settled over her like a weight on her chest. She felt the room close in on her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Another child. Another baby to carry.

She sank to her knees on the bathroom floor, hands trembling. Her mind raced with a thousand different thoughts—her body wasn’t ready for this, her heart wasn’t ready. She had just started to find a sense of stability with the twins, and now—now this. Could she even handle another child? And if she was being honest with herself, how would she explain this to Mark? Would he see this as another victory? Another conquest in his relentless drive to build the Viltrumite race?

Tears welled up in her eyes as she held her stomach, feeling the weight of the news settle deeper into her. She had barely come to terms with her relationship with her children, let alone the future she was supposed to have with them. She had been struggling to bond with Roselyna, the growing distance between them suffocating her. And Elijah—her sweet, sensitive Elijah—had been growing more and more difficult to manage. The thought of adding another child to the mix was almost too much to bear.

But she couldn’t just leave it unspoken. She knew Mark would find out eventually. It wasn’t like she could hide a pregnancy from him, especially not with his heightened senses. And she knew he would be thrilled, excited at the prospect of continuing his legacy, adding another heir to their growing family.

The thought of it made her feel nauseous again.

Y/N stood up slowly, wiping her eyes. She had to pull herself together. She couldn’t let this show. Not yet. Not until she figured out how to navigate this new reality.

She took a deep breath and walked back to the nursery, trying to steady herself. The twins were both asleep, their little chests rising and falling in peaceful slumber. But the weight of the secret she now carried seemed heavier than ever. Another child. She didn’t know if she could handle it, and she didn’t know if she wanted to.

But what choice did she have? She was already bound to Mark in ways she had never anticipated. She couldn’t back out now, not when everything had already spiraled so far beyond her control.

As she stood over the crib, staring down at her sleeping children, she felt a deep sorrow seep into her bones. Her life was no longer her own. It hadn’t been for a long time. And now, with another child on the way, the small sliver of freedom she had been clinging to seemed even farther out of reach.

Mark would be pleased, of course. But what about her? Would she ever be able to find peace in this life? Would she ever be able to look at her children without feeling the weight of what they represented?

Y/N had just begun to relax into Mark’s touch when his lips brushed against her neck, sending a wave of warmth and tension across her skin. She didn’t fight it this time. The kiss lingered, his hands sliding down her sides, as they always did, coaxing her into a state of vulnerability she wasn’t sure she was ready for. His warmth, his scent—everything about him felt both familiar and foreign to her now.

She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the sensation of being held. For a moment, she tried to forget about everything—the burden of her pregnancy, the struggles with the twins, and the fear that seemed to constantly gnaw at her. Mark’s touch was a strange comfort, but it didn’t erase the lingering doubts that plagued her heart.

But then, as his hand moved lower, brushing against her stomach, something felt different. She froze, her breath hitching in her throat.

Mark’s fingers stilled, then pressed more firmly against her abdomen. His brows furrowed slightly, and she could feel the tension in his body shift. His gaze moved to her face, and he tilted his head, confusion swirling in his eyes.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin as he pressed his ear to her stomach. He closed his eyes, listening intently.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew he could hear it—the soft, rhythmic thud of a heartbeat. But it wasn’t just hers. It couldn’t be.

His expression shifted, the understanding dawning too quickly in his eyes. He pulled away slightly, his gaze never leaving her stomach, now recognizing the small, subtle bump that had grown over the last few weeks. The very same bump that she had tried so hard to ignore.

“Two?” Mark murmured under his breath, his voice low and full of quiet shock. “There’s… two heartbeats?”

Y/N could feel the knot in her chest tightening, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead, she stared at the floor, trying to hold herself together, trying not to fall apart at the weight of the words she had been dreading.

“Y/N…” His voice was different now, softer, more cautious. He lifted his hand to her chin, gently tilting her face to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her eyes welled up with tears, the overwhelming weight of the situation crashing down on her all at once. How could she explain? How could she tell him that she was afraid, that she felt trapped, that the thought of having another child terrified her more than she could admit?

“I… I didn’t know how to,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t think I could handle it. I didn’t think I could handle another one, especially after everything…”

Mark’s expression softened, though his eyes still held a trace of disbelief. His gaze traveled back down to her stomach, as if he were seeing it for the first time, then back to her. He didn’t speak for a long moment, as if weighing his own thoughts.

He exhaled slowly, his tone steady but tinged with something deeper, something she couldn’t quite place. “You should have told me sooner,” he said, his voice firm. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, Y/N. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

She could feel his words sink into her like a balm, but it did little to ease the storm inside of her. How could she be part of something so much bigger than herself? How could she accept this life that was being forced upon her, when she wasn’t even sure she had a place in it?

Mark’s fingers brushed against her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. His thumb swiped across the tears that had begun to fall, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to lean into his touch.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m scared of what this means. I don’t know if I can do this again, Mark. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”

Mark’s gaze softened, his hand gently cupping the side of her face. “You are stronger than you think,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering. “And I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

For a brief moment, Y/N almost believed him. She closed her eyes, letting the weight of his words wash over her. But deep down, she knew this wasn’t just about being strong enough. It was about the life she had never wanted, a life she never chose. And no matter how much Mark assured her, she couldn’t help but feel the heavy chains of her reality tightening around her once again.

“Mark, I—” Her words faltered as the tears continued to fall. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He held her close then, enveloping her in his warmth. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m here.”

But the fear in her heart didn’t fade. If anything, it grew stronger. She was bound to him, to this world, to a life she never asked for. And now, with two heartbeats growing inside of her, the pressure was only increasing.

Mark kissed the top of her head, pulling her tighter into his embrace. “We’ll figure this out together,” he promised.

Y/N lay there in Mark’s arms, his warmth surrounding her, but the unease inside her only deepened. The weight of his words—of the promises—did little to ease the storm in her heart. How could she reconcile the life she wanted with the life that was now laid out before her? How could she pretend everything was fine when every instinct screamed that it wasn’t?

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “Mark, you don’t understand. It’s not just about being strong. It’s… everything. Everything about this… this life.”

Mark’s fingers traced circles on her back, the gesture calming, but it did little to quiet the rising tide of panic inside her. She could feel the subtle weight of her pregnancy—of the two lives growing within her—reminding her that there was no turning back, that this was now her reality.

“You don’t have to face this alone,” Mark said softly, his voice as firm as it always was, though his words were tinged with concern. “I’ll support you, Y/N. Whatever you need.”

But Y/N didn’t feel supported—not really. She wasn’t sure what it was that she needed, or how she could even begin to explain the depths of her fear to him. How could she explain the panic that gripped her chest when she thought about raising two more Viltrumite children, when she wasn’t even sure she could be the mother they needed?

“I’m not like you, Mark,” she murmured. “I never will be.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not built like you. I’m not a Viltrumite. I can’t just push through everything like you can. I’m… I’m weak.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, the weight of her own self-doubt settling over her. “I can’t do this… not like you expect.”

Mark’s gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “You don’t need to be like me. You never have. You are strong in your own way, Y/N. You always have been.”

But the words didn’t reach her. She had heard them before, and while she desperately wanted to believe them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was failing at something far greater than she could understand.

Her heart ached as she glanced at the small bump on her stomach again. “I don’t even know who I am anymore, Mark. All I see is someone who’s… stuck. Stuck in a life I didn’t choose, with children I don’t even know how to love. Not the way they need to be loved.”

Mark looked pained, but he held her tighter, as though trying to absorb her pain. “Y/N… I don’t want to see you suffer. If this is too much—”

“Too much?” she interrupted, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Mark, I don’t even know what to feel anymore. Every time I look at them, at Roselyna especially, I wonder if I’m even her mother. She’s so… different. So cold.”

Her voice cracked as she continued, the words spilling out without her control. “And Elijah… he’s not like her. He’s human, Mark. He’s not going to be like her. He’s going to need me, and I can barely even be there for him. How can I be there for both of them when I can’t even stand the sight of one?”

Mark didn’t answer immediately. His silence hung in the air between them, thick with the weight of their unspoken truths. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. “You don’t have to love them the way you think you should, Y/N. You just have to be there for them. They’re your children—your flesh and blood. They will understand. They will love you.”

But Y/N shook her head, the tears falling freely now. “I don’t even know how to love them, Mark. I don’t know how to love this life. How can I love something that was forced on me? How can I love something when I’m constantly afraid of what they might become?”

Mark reached out, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. “They’re not like me, Y/N. They’re not like the Viltrumites. They have their own path to walk. And you’re their mother. You don’t need to be perfect—you just need to be there. They need you.”

But Y/N didn’t feel like she was enough. She didn’t feel like she could ever be enough for them.

Mark kissed her forehead softly, as though trying to reassure her, but she could feel the divide between them growing wider. He was confident in his Viltrumite heritage, in his purpose, but she was still trying to piece herself together, still lost in the sea of doubt and fear.

“I’ll be here,” Mark whispered, his hand sliding down to rest gently on her stomach, feeling the two tiny heartbeats. “I’ll be here for you. I’ll be here for them. And we’ll get through this together. All of us.”

But Y/N wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t sure if she could trust those words, or if she even had the strength to try anymore.

The future felt like a storm cloud hanging over her, a future filled with questions and doubts she wasn’t sure she could answer. The weight of her pregnancy, the unknowns of her children’s futures, the constant presence of fear that gnawed at her—none of it was something she could escape.

She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of her own heart beneath her fingers, a constant reminder of the life inside of her. And despite everything, despite the fear, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming weight of it all, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of something else.

Hope.

Maybe it wasn’t much. Maybe it wasn’t enough to erase the fear. But as long as there was a flicker of hope, maybe she could fight through this—one step at a time.

Mark’s lips met yours again, slow and deliberate, as if trying to imprint his reassurance onto you. His hand lingered on your stomach, his thumb tracing soft circles over the growing bump. Despite everything—your doubts, your fears—there was something grounding about his touch. Something that made the panic ease, if only for a moment.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice low, steady. “You never will be.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt something other than fear. Maybe it wasn’t trust—not completely—but it was something close.

Mark kissed you again, deeper this time, coaxing you closer, pulling you further into his warmth. His fingers slid up your arms, then to your face, cradling you as though you were something fragile, something he didn’t want to break. He kissed away the remnants of your tears, his lips lingering against your skin.

You sighed against him, letting yourself lean into the comfort he offered. Even if you didn’t fully believe his words yet, even if the storm inside you still raged, you wanted to. You needed to.

His hands moved lower, resting on your hips, fingers splayed over your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered against your lips. “You need to rest.”

A small, shaky breath left you as you nodded. “Stay with me?”

“Always,” he promised.

Mark pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself relax. You let yourself believe, even if just for tonight, that maybe things could be okay. Maybe you could be okay And maybe—just maybe—you could find a way to love this life after all.

TEN YEARS LATER

Roselyna was relentless. Every time Mark knocked her down, she got back up without hesitation. Every time she failed, she demanded to try again. Her strikes were sharp, precise—refined beyond her years. She moved with the same ruthless efficiency as her father, her body already conditioned to endure pain, to embrace it as a lesson rather than a setback.

Elijah, however, struggled. He had the strength, the speed, the power, but his hesitation held him back. His movements weren’t as aggressive, his strikes lacked the sheer force that Roselyna delivered so naturally. He didn’t want to hurt his father, even in training—didn’t want to fight with the same brutality that his sister relished in.

Mark frowned as he deflected Elijah’s latest attack, sending him stumbling back. “You’re holding back,” he stated, his tone neutral but firm. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

Elijah clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mark sighed, stepping closer, resting a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “You think your enemies will care about that?” His voice softened, but only slightly. “You can’t afford to be weak, Elijah.”

Y/N watched from the sidelines, her fingers curled tightly into Olivia’s soft hair. Her youngest sat beside her, legs folded, wide eyes fixated on her siblings. “Why is Rosie so much better than Elijah?” she asked innocently, tilting her head.

Y/N’s heart clenched.

Because Roselyna was more like Mark. Because Roselyna had no fear of hurting others. Because Roselyna never hesitated.

“She trains harder,” Y/N murmured, keeping her voice even. “She wants to be the strongest.”

Olivia pouted, resting her chin on her knees. “I want to train too.”

Y/N turned to her, brushing strands of dark hair behind her ear. “You will, when you get your powers.”

Olivia huffed. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

Across the field, Roselyna had landed another hit on Mark, and for the first time, he staggered back slightly. A brief flicker of satisfaction flashed across his face before he smothered it, nodding in approval.

“Again,” he commanded.

Roselyna smirked. Elijah exhaled sharply, stepping back into position. Y/N could see the conflict in his eyes—the weight of expectation, the frustration of not being enough. She wanted to call out to him, to tell him he didn’t have to prove anything, but she knew it would only make things worse.

This was Mark’s way. The Viltrumite way. And like it or not, their children were being shaped by it. Y/N just prayed they wouldn’t lose themselves in the process.

You sat beside Mark, watching from a distance as the twins trained, their movements precise and powerful under his strict guidance. Olivia sat beside you, legs swinging as she watched her older siblings in awe, eager for the day she’d get to join them.

You turned to Mark, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, your fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of his suit. “How are they doing?” you asked.

Mark didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained locked on Roselyna and Elijah, studying every move, every punch, every moment of hesitation. Finally, he sighed. “Roselyna is excelling. She pushes herself harder than I even ask her to. She wants to be stronger. To be better.” His voice held a note of pride, but there was something else beneath it—something heavier.

You swallowed. “And Elijah?”

Mark exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s… slower. His progress isn’t where it should be for a Viltrumite. He holds back. He hesitates.”

Your brows furrowed. You knew Elijah had always been different—softer, more thoughtful. He didn’t crave power like Roselyna did. He never had. “Mark, he’s still strong—”

A thunderous crack cut you off, and you jumped, whipping your head toward the field. The ground trembled from the impact of Roselyna’s fists colliding with a massive boulder, sending splinters of rock flying.

“Mark—”

Before you could finish, he pulled you close, his grip protective around your waist. “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low and firm. Then, in an instant, he was gone.

You clutched Olivia closer as you watched him appear beside Roselyna, catching her bloodied hands before she could land another devastating punch.

“Enough,” Mark said sharply, gripping her wrists.

Roselyna’s breathing was steady, her face unreadable despite the raw redness of her knuckles. “I can keep going,” she said stubbornly, attempting to yank her arms free, but Mark didn’t let her go.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he told her, his tone firm yet edged with something rare—concern.

Roselyna’s jaw clenched. “Pain is weakness leaving the body. I need to be stronger.”

Mark’s grip tightened just slightly before he let out a slow exhale. “You’re already strong, Roselyna. But this?” He nodded toward the cracked boulder, the blood smeared across the jagged stone. “This isn’t strength. This is self-destruction.”

She swallowed hard, looking away. “You always say I need to be the best.”

“You do,” he agreed. “But being the best doesn’t mean tearing yourself apart.”

A tense silence followed. Then, without another word, Roselyna wiped her bloody hands on her training suit, leaving smears of crimson in the dark fabric. “Fine,” she muttered, turning toward the house.

Mark watched her retreat, his expression unreadable. Only when she disappeared inside did he glance back at the shattered remains of the boulder. You knew that look. He was thinking. Worrying. You took a slow breath, stepping toward him. “Mark…?”

He didn’t look at you. His jaw was tight, his fists curling at his sides. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured. You hesitated, glancing back toward the house. Your stomach twisted. Roselyna had always been strong—determined. But this… this was different. And you both knew it.

That night, after the house had settled into silence and the children were asleep, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene over and over in your head. Mark was beside you, but his thoughts were elsewhere—you could feel it in the stiffness of his posture, the way his arms weren’t wrapped around you like they usually were.

“Mark,” you finally whispered.

He didn’t answer at first, just continued staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Then, after a long pause, he exhaled. “She’s different.”

You turned onto your side, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “She’s always been different.”

“Not like this.” His voice was low, strained. “She’s pushing herself too far. She’s relentless. Even Viltrumites know their limits, but she… she doesn’t stop.”

You swallowed, fingers lightly tracing over his skin. “Do you think it’s because of—”

“Me?” He finished the thought for you. His chest rose and fell with a slow breath. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just who she is.”

You hesitated before asking the question that had been clawing at your mind for weeks. “Do you think she has a human side at all?”

Mark finally turned his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “She’s my daughter,” he said simply, but there was something in his voice that made your stomach twist.

That wasn’t an answer.

You lowered your gaze. “Elijah is struggling,” you murmured. “He’s afraid he’s not strong enough. And Roselyna… she doesn’t seem afraid of anything.”

Mark was silent.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it. “She barely reacts to pain, Mark. She doesn’t laugh like Elijah does, doesn’t cry, doesn’t get scared. Even when she was a baby… she never clung to me, never sought comfort. But when she’s with you, it’s different.” You swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. “She looks up to you. She worships you.”

Mark let out a quiet sigh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. “I know.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

Mark studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his fingers brushed against your cheek. “Does it scare you?”

You hesitated. You thought about the way Roselyna had shattered that boulder with her fists, the way she kept going even when her hands were raw and bloody. The way she never cried, never wavered. The way she looked at Mark like he was the only person in the universe who mattered.

You thought about how, even now, after twelve years, she still wouldn’t call you “Mama.” You swallowed, forcing a small, tight smile. “No,” you lied.

Mark didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you like he always did.

You buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady sound of his breathing, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease curling in your stomach. Because the truth was… it did scare you. And you didn’t know what to do about it.

Mark made a decision the next day.

The twins were strong, but Roselyna—she was relentless. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

So he scaled back their training. Not completely, but enough to give them time to focus on other things—things that weren’t just about strength, power, and combat.

“We’ll continue training,” he told them that morning, his voice firm. “But not at this level. You need to develop in other ways, not just physically.”

Elijah, who had always struggled to keep up, looked relieved. He nodded quickly, clearly eager to please his father.

Roselyna, however, stared at him, expression unreadable. “Why?” Mark met her gaze. “Because you’re more than just your strength.”

Roselyna’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t argue, but you could see it—the barely contained frustration, the way her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to focus on anything else. But she didn’t fight him. Not yet.

You watched the shift happen over the next few weeks.

Elijah seemed happier, more at ease. Without the overwhelming pressure to prove himself, he flourished. He spent more time with you and Olivia, more time just being a kid. He still trained, but he wasn’t breaking himself trying to catch up to his sister anymore. Roselyna, however… she grew colder.

She wasn’t outwardly defiant, but you could see the storm brewing inside her. She withdrew more, speaking less, observing everything in that eerily calculated way she had since she was a child. And she still worshipped Mark.

If he walked into a room, she gravitated toward him, watching his every move, studying his every decision. It was different from the way Elijah loved his father—Elijah sought Mark’s approval, wanted his guidance.

Roselyna? She wanted to be him. And as the days passed, a sick feeling began to settle in your stomach.

Because while Mark had limited her training, she hadn’t stopped. She was still pushing herself—still finding ways to test her limits. You caught her one night, standing in the dark outside, her hands balled into fists, her body covered in fresh bruises.

“Roselyna,” you whispered, stepping forward cautiously. “What are you doing?” She turned her head slightly, just enough to acknowledge your presence. “I’m training.” You swallowed. “Your father told you to rest.”

She exhaled slowly through her nose. “Father doesn’t understand. He doesn’t see what I see.” You frowned. “And what do you see?” She turned to you fully then, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something cold creep up your spine.

“Weakness,” she said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat. She wasn’t talking about herself. She was talking about everyone else. Mark. Elijah. You. And for the first time since she was born, you realized something terrifying. Roselyna wasn’t just different. She was dangerous.

Mark was gone again. A mission? A meeting? You weren’t entirely sure. He hadn’t told you much before he left, just that he’d be back soon.

You sat with Elijah and Olivia in the living area, your youngest clinging to your side as she scribbled in a notebook, while Elijah leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly tossing a small ball into the air.

Roselyna was gone.

“Where is she?” you asked after noticing the time. She had been gone for a while now.

Elijah glanced up. “She said she was going for a walk.”

That didn’t sit right with you. Rose never just walked anywhere.

A sense of unease settled in your stomach. You stood, Olivia watching you with wide eyes as you made your way to the door.

“I’m going to check on her,” you said.

Elijah sighed, stretching before standing as well. “I’ll come with you.”

Together, you stepped outside. The cool night air greeted you, but something else did too—something far worse.

The sound of fighting.

Then you saw it.

Roselyna, flying at full speed toward Anissa.

Your breath caught in your throat as the older Viltrumite effortlessly grabbed Rose’s wrist, stopping her mid-flight before hurling her into a nearby wall. The impact shook the ground, sending dust and debris flying.

“Rose!” you screamed, your blood running cold.

Elijah didn’t hesitate. He shot past you in an instant, his voice filled with fury. “Stay away from my sister!”

He swung at Anissa with all his strength—only for her to catch his fist with ease.

She barely flinched.

Then she slammed her other fist down on his head.

The ground shook from the force of it.

You gasped in horror as Elijah crashed into the dirt, the impact leaving a deep crater beneath him. He didn’t move for a few seconds, and your stomach dropped.

Roselyna—bloodied but determined—was already moving again. She launched herself at Anissa, sending a kick toward her face.

Anissa blocked it effortlessly, her expression unreadable. Then she grabbed Rose by the ankle and threw her back again. A strangled breath left your lips. Your heart pounded. This wasn’t a fight—this was a slaughter.

“Mom…” Olivia whispered beside you, her small hand tightening around yours. She was trembling. You had to do something. But what? You were powerless against Anissa. Your children weren’t. And yet, they were losing.

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic seizing your lungs as you watched your children—your babies—being tossed around like rag dolls.

Elijah groaned from the crater he had been slammed into, struggling to push himself up, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. Roselyna, despite being battered, refused to stay down, wiping the blood from her lip as she grinned.

Grinned. Like she was enjoying this.

You felt Olivia squeeze your hand, her tiny fingers trembling. “Mom,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “What do we do?” What could you do?

Anissa was too strong. You knew that. Mark knew that. Even Roselyna—stubborn as she was—had to know that. And yet, she kept fighting. Roselyna launched herself at Anissa again, fists flying. The older Viltrumite blocked effortlessly, catching Roselyna’s wrist mid-swing before twisting her arm behind her back with a sickening pop.

Roselyna let out a strangled gasp but laughed through the pain.

Anissa tsked, shoving her roughly to the ground. “You’re not ready,” she said simply, looking down at her with mild amusement. “You’re strong, but you’re reckless.” Elijah, still struggling to his feet, clenched his fists. “Leave her alone!”

Anissa smirked, raising a brow. “Oh? And what will you do, little boy?”

Your breath hitched when Elijah flew at her again, raw anger in his eyes—only for Anissa to sidestep effortlessly, grabbing him by the throat mid-air.

“Elijah!!” you screamed, stepping forward instinctively. Anissa turned her gaze on you then, smirking. “Stay out of this,” she warned. “This is Viltrumite business.”

She squeezed, and Elijah choked, his legs kicking helplessly as he clawed at her arm. You couldn’t just stand there. You acted without thinking. Grabbing the nearest rock, you hurled it at Anissa with everything you had.

It hit her square in the face. It didn’t hurt her, obviously—it probably felt like a mere tap—but it got her attention. She turned to you, slowly.

Your stomach dropped. “…Did you just throw a rock at me?” Her voice was eerily calm, but her gaze was dangerous. Olivia whimpered, clutching your arm in fear. Anissa tossed Elijah aside like a rag doll. He hit the ground hard, coughing violently, struggling for air.

Then she started walking toward you. Your breath quickened. You took a step back. Then another. She was toying with you, taking her time, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You have a lot of nerve, human.”

Roselyna—bloodied but still grinning—propped herself up on her elbows, watching with keen interest. Elijah groaned in pain. Olivia clung to you desperately.

And Anissa? Anissa was going to kill you.

Every step she took felt like an eternity, the distance between you growing smaller, her eyes gleaming with cold amusement. “You have a lot of nerve, human,” she said, her voice almost too soft, too calm. Too dangerous.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt paralyzed as she neared you, Olivia’s grip tightening around your arm.

But then—

Mark.

He appeared in a blur, his form shifting faster than you could track. In an instant, his hand was on Anissa’s neck, pinning her effortlessly. His eyes burned with fury, his jaw clenched tight.

“Wait, Dad! Stop!” Roselyna called out, her voice high-pitched with panic. She ran to Mark, grabbing his arm. “I invited her here!”

Mark froze, his eyes shifting to Roselyna in disbelief. “What?”

Anissa stood up, cracking her neck as though the entire confrontation was nothing more than an inconvenience. “The kid wanted me to train her,” she said nonchalantly, her voice dripping with disdain. “You stopped, so she asked me to help.”

Roselyna nodded eagerly, her bloodied face still carrying that strange, unsettling grin. “I wanted to be stronger,” she said, looking at Mark with wide eyes. “You weren’t training me enough.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed, and you could see the conflict written across his face. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Elijah stood shakily to his feet, blood staining his shirt.

“So you willingly wanted a beatdown?” Elijah’s voice was raw with pain, his body still trembling from Anissa’s assault.

You watched Mark’s gaze shift from Roselyna to Elijah, then to you, before his eyes finally narrowed on Anissa. The tension in the air was thick with a question—What now?

The tension in the air thickened, hanging like a suffocating fog. Mark stood frozen for a moment, his gaze flickering between Roselyna, Elijah, and Anissa, as if trying to piece together the fractured reality of what was happening. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening, and for a moment, you could see the internal battle playing out in his eyes.

“Is this really what you want?” Mark’s voice was low, tight with anger but tinged with concern. He looked at Roselyna, then to Elijah, both of them bruised and battered, yet somehow standing their ground.

Roselyna met his gaze, still wearing that unsettling grin. She looked… proud of herself. Despite the blood, the bruises, there was an almost violent joy in her eyes as if the pain didn’t matter—winning did. She’d been so eager for this, and it was clear that she didn’t fully understand the consequences of her actions.

“I want to be stronger,” Roselyna said again, her voice far too casual for someone who had just been fighting for their life. “Anissa knows how to train me.”

Anissa stepped forward, smirking at the scene, her arms crossed casually. “Your daughter has potential. But she needs to learn how to harness it properly, not waste it on childish squabbles.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed at Anissa, and his grip on her neck tightened. “I didn’t ask you to train my children, Anissa.” His voice was growing colder by the second. “You’ve overstepped, and now you’ve made them believe that they need to be ruthless to succeed. You’ve put ideas in their heads that I don’t want. You’ve hurt them.”

Anissa didn’t flinch, only tilted her head in mock contemplation. “You say that, Mark, but it’s the truth. You’ve been soft with them. They’ll never be ready for the real world, never be ready for what they’re meant to become if you coddle them.” Her eyes flicked over to Roselyna, her voice darkening. “She’s already so much more than your weak son.”

That hit like a slap in the face. You could see the way Elijah flinched, hurt flashing across his face. Roselyna didn’t seem to care, still caught in her twisted desire to be stronger. She stepped up to Anissa, her bruised fists clenched at her sides. “I refuse to be weak,” she spat, glaring at Elijah. “I’m stronger than you.”

Mark didn’t respond to Anissa’s insult immediately. His gaze shifted to Elijah, who was standing tall despite the injury, and to Roselyna, who seemed far too obsessed with power for her age. He looked pained, caught between his duty to raise them as a Viltrumite and his growing understanding of what humanity was and what he wanted for his children.

“I don’t want you fighting anymore,” Mark said suddenly, his voice softer now, more measured. His eyes locked with Roselyna’s and Elijah’s, and there was a finality in his words. “This… this isn’t the path I want for you.”

But Roselyna only scowled. “You’re just trying to protect us from what we need to be. You’re soft, Dad. You’re weak.”

Mark looked at her, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. He didn’t say anything else for a moment. Then, his eyes softened, his voice a whisper, almost as if speaking to himself. “I don’t want you to lose yourself, Roselyna. I don’t want you to become like them. Not like Anissa. Not like… me.”

Anissa scoffed at his words. “You think you can stop this? The future of the Viltrumites will not wait. She’ll grow stronger whether you like it or not.”

Elijah’s voice broke through the tension, trembling but strong. “I don’t want to be like you. Or her.” He pointed at Anissa. “We don’t have to do this. We can find another way. A way that doesn’t destroy us.”

The words seemed to pierce through the charged atmosphere, and for a moment, Mark just stared at his son, as though he were hearing Elijah’s plea for the first time. The reality of what his children had become in his absence, and the choices they were making, finally seemed to sink in.

Roselyna, though, was unshaken. “You’re not stopping me, Dad.” Her words were firm, resolute, and cold. “I’ll be stronger than you ever were. I need to be.”

Mark’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched, but there was something else in his gaze. A glimpse of fear. Fear that his daughter was already too far gone. The silence was unbearable as the weight of Mark’s decision hung in the air. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low, resigned. “Enough. This ends now.” He turned to you, eyes heavy with regret. “I’ll take care of this. You and the kids need to be safe.”

Anissa sneered but said nothing, clearly displeased with the turn of events. “You can’t protect them forever, Mark,” she warned before vanishing in an instant, her form a blur of motion.

Mark then turned his attention to the twins, his demeanor shifting as he addressed them with a rare sense of urgency. “Roselyna, Elijah… I know you both want to prove yourselves. But this isn’t how you do it. You need to understand that strength isn’t just about fighting, about hurting others. It’s about control. Discipline.”

You stepped forward, hands trembling, your voice trembling as you called out to your children, “Please, I want you to understand… this isn’t you. You don’t have to turn into that. You don’t have to let anger control you.”

Mark looked at you, his gaze conflicted. He had never seemed more lost. “I never wanted them to turn out this way, Y/N.”

Roselyna, still defiant, stood tall despite the blood streaking her face, her fists clenched tightly by her sides. “You’re not stopping me, Mom. I’ll be better than both of you.”

Elijah’s eyes were full of pain, but he stayed silent, his small fists still shaking. He was torn, caught between his sister’s drive and his desire to avoid the path she was heading down.

Mark’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of his actions—and inaction—finally weighing on him. “I need to fix this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Y/N’s voice was shaky, her arms trembling as she clung to Mark, seeking comfort in his embrace. Her eyes were wide, full of fear and confusion, the weight of everything that had just happened crashing down on her all at once. The sight of her children—her babies—fighting, tearing each other apart, had torn her apart. Anissa’s influence, the anger in Roselyna’s eyes, the defiance in Elijah’s stance—everything had unraveled so quickly, and she felt powerless to stop it.

“Mark, what do we do?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but it felt like a scream inside her.

Mark held her tighter, his hands steady but his own chest heavy with an unspoken grief. His mind raced, torn between his Viltrumite instincts and the human emotions he was trying so hard to grasp. He could feel the panic rising in her, and he felt it too, but he couldn’t let it consume them. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice filled with uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Y/N.”

The words were like a dagger to her heart. The man who had always seemed so certain, so strong—was now lost, just like her. He had tried to raise them the Viltrumite way, but in doing so, he had pushed them further away. Could it be fixed? she wondered, her thoughts spiraling. Could they return to a semblance of the family they once were? Could she reach her children before they were swallowed up by this new world they were living in?

She pulled away from him slightly, her eyes meeting his, filled with unshed tears. “I’m scared, Mark,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her voice raw and exposed. “I don’t want to lose her. But… she’s slipping away from me. From us.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between Roselyna and Elijah, who were still recovering from the brutal fight. He could see the damage in their eyes—the hunger for power that had been instilled in them, the call to embrace the Viltrumite way. And worse, he could see the distance growing between them and their humanity. The cracks in their family, the fractures in his own belief system, were becoming impossible to ignore.

He wiped a tear from her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin gently. “We’re not losing her. We can’t. I won’t let that happen.”

But even as he said the words, he knew that something was changing. His family was changing, and he didn’t know if he could stop it. Not if he continued down the same path.

Y/N shook her head, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how to save them anymore. How do we fix this, Mark? How do we stop them from becoming like—her?” She motioned toward the direction Anissa had disappeared. “How do we stop Roselyna from becoming that… cold?” Her heart broke at the thought of her daughter losing everything that made her human.

Mark’s face softened, and he sighed, pulling her back into his chest, his embrace strong and firm, yet filled with a quiet sorrow. “I don’t have all the answers, Y/N. I can’t fix this on my own.” He paused, his voice becoming more somber. “But I will try. I’ll fight for them—for you. I won’t let this family fall apart.”

Tears spilled from Y/N’s eyes, and she buried her face in his chest, her body shaking with silent sobs. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Mark. I don’t want to fight with our children. I just want to hold them, and love them, and see them grow without this… this darkness.”

Mark held her tighter, his own heart heavy with guilt. He knew she was right. He had been so focused on preparing them for a future that he had ignored the present—ignored the emotional connection they all needed. He had allowed his Viltrumite ideals to cloud his judgment, pushing them into a battle they weren’t ready for.

“Then we’ll figure this out,” he whispered, his voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at his insides. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. For you. For the kids. We’ll figure it out together.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want them to hate us,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose them.”

Mark cupped her face, his gaze locking onto hers, filled with determination and regret. “We won’t lose them. Not if we change things now.” He nodded slowly. “It’s not too late.”

But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had already shifted. Roselyna’s pride, Elijah’s confusion, the way they had been drawn into this Viltrumite world—it was all a dangerous game, one that neither of them were truly prepared for.

Mark exhaled deeply, glancing at their children. His thoughts raced. I have to do better. I have to protect them.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Let’s talk to them together. We’ll make them understand.”

Y/N nodded, though the fear still lingered in her eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter how hard they tried, their children were slipping further away from them, pulled by the darkness of their Viltrumite heritage. The tension between them was undeniable, but she couldn’t give up—not yet.

Not until she had fought with everything she had. For them.

Mark kissed the top of her head gently, wrapping his arms around her again. “We’ll fix this, Y/N,” he repeated, his words a vow. And yet, in the silence that followed, the doubt still gnawed at both of them. Could they really fix it? Could they save their children from the path they were already on? The fight for their family—for their humanity—was far from over.

Mark knew that the situation couldn’t be ignored any longer. He had to speak with Roselyna. He had to make her see reason before she was too far gone, before her pride and Viltrumite instincts consumed her entirely. The battle earlier had only served to highlight how much control she was losing, how easily she had slipped into a mindset of violence and dominance. It terrified him, but he knew that if he was to fix this, it had to start with her.

After taking a moment to collect himself, he made his way to her room, where he found her sitting on her bed, her head down, staring at her hands. Her knuckles were bruised, a reminder of the fight she’d just been in—of how easily she had fallen into the same brutal tendencies that he had worked so hard to keep under control in her.

Mark stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her in silence. She had always been strong-willed, determined, but this? This was something different.

“Rose,” he said softly, stepping into the room. She didn’t look up, but he could see her shoulders stiffen, the subtle tension in her body giving away her awareness of him. “We need to talk.”

She didn’t respond, but her lips tightened. He could tell she was angry, maybe at him, maybe at herself—maybe at the whole situation.

He walked over to her and sat down beside her on the bed, his voice steady but filled with concern. “You’re not like this, Rose. This isn’t you.”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and frustration. “You don’t get it, Dad. You never get it.” Her tone was sharp, cutting. “You keep holding me back. You’ve been holding me back my whole life.” She stood up suddenly, pacing in front of him, her hands clenched into fists. “You keep telling me that I have to feel more, be more human, but that’s not who I am. I’m Viltrumite. And I’m stronger than you’ll ever understand.”

Mark’s heart tightened at her words. He could feel the anger in her, the pain behind them. He had always known that raising her as a Viltrumite would be complicated, but he had hoped—he had hoped that she would find a balance between her heritage and her humanity.

“Roselyna,” he said, his voice soft but firm, trying to reach her, trying to make her see. “You are strong. I know that. But strength isn’t just about power. It’s about control. It’s about knowing when to fight, when to protect, when to show mercy. You can’t just keep pushing forward, thinking that violence is the answer to everything. You’re better than that.”

She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Mercy? Control? You’ve been weak for so long, Dad. You want me to hold back? You want me to be like her?” She pointed to the door, as if to emphasize the presence of Y/N outside, probably waiting in the hall, or perhaps lingering in the shadows, just as helpless as she felt.

Mark’s expression hardened at the mention of her mother, but his voice remained steady. “I’m not asking you to be like your mother. I’m asking you to remember that there’s more to this than just power. That’s the mistake I made. I tried to raise you to be something you’re not—to be something you didn’t want to be. But I won’t make that mistake with you anymore, Rose. I just want you to understand—we just want you to understand—that you can be strong, without losing yourself.”

Roselyna stood still for a long moment, her breath coming fast, her fists still clenched. There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes—a doubt, a crack in the armor she had built around herself. For just a moment, Mark thought he might have reached her. But then she closed off again, her expression hardening.

“You don’t understand,” she muttered, looking away, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not you, Dad. I can’t be. I won’t be. And I won’t let you keep me from being what I was born to be.” Mark felt the sting of her words, but he couldn’t back down. He had to push, even if it hurt. Even if it meant losing her for a while.

“I am you,” he said quietly, his voice full of regret and pain. “I am just like you, Rose. You’re my daughter. I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong, to feel like you have to prove something to everyone, to yourself. But this isn’t about proving strength. It’s about knowing when to be strong for the right reasons. For the ones you love. For your family.”

She turned sharply, eyes flashing with a mixture of rage and something else—something vulnerable, but she wouldn’t let it show. “You’re wrong,” she spat. “You’re just afraid that I’ll be better than you. That I’ll be better than any of you.” Mark felt the bitterness in her words, and it hit him harder than any blow Anissa could have dealt. But he wasn’t going to back down.

“I’m not afraid of you, Rose,” he said, his tone firm. “But I am afraid of what you’re becoming. And I don’t want to lose you to this.” She met his gaze, her eyes challenging. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“I’m not going to lose you, Rose,” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “I’m not going to let you go down this path alone.” She didn’t answer right away, but the way she looked at him softened ever so slightly. It was a brief flicker, but it was there.

Mark stood slowly, his hand resting on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here, you know that. No matter what.” Roselyna didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull away either. For the first time in a long while, Mark felt like maybe—just maybe—they were starting to find their way back to each other.

Y/N paused as she gently wrapped the bandage around Elijah’s arm, her heart aching at his question. Her eyes softened with concern as she looked up at him, her hands pausing in their work. Elijah’s small, innocent face was creased with confusion and hurt, and for a moment, Y/N felt a rush of protectiveness wash over her. She wanted to shield him from all the pain, from all the things he shouldn’t have to understand.

“No, baby,” she whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead as she finished securing the bandage. “Your dad doesn’t love Roselyna more than you.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide, searching her face for any sign of the truth. “But… he spends so much time with her. She’s stronger, and she’s always with him when he trains. I can’t do what she does. Maybe I’m not as good as she is.” His voice trembled, but he tried to hold it together. Y/N’s heart twisted, and she gently cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Elijah, listen to me,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Your dad loves you both equally. I know it may not always seem like it, but he does. You’re both so special to him, in different ways.”

She let out a small, shaky sigh, trying to find the right words, trying to make him see that he wasn’t any less important than Roselyna, no matter how different they were or how much time Mark spent with her. “Your dad… sometimes he gets caught up in things. He’s Viltrumite, Elijah, and he’s trying to teach Roselyna how to handle the power she’s starting to develop. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less of a priority to him.”

Elijah blinked, clearly still unsure, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not like her. I’m not strong like her. Maybe… maybe I’m not cut out to be like Dad.”

Y/N’s heart broke for him. She could see the self-doubt written all over his face, the fear that he would never live up to the impossible standard set by his sister, and by Mark’s own legacy. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You are so strong, Elijah,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “In ways that you might not even realize yet. You don’t have to be like anyone else. You don’t have to be like Roselyna, or like your dad. You are you, and that’s more than enough.”

Elijah clung to her, his small frame trembling in her arms. “But what if I’m not strong enough?” he whispered, his voice full of fear and uncertainty.

“You are,” she said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You are stronger than you think. And I’ll always be here to remind you of that. Your dad might focus on Roselyna’s strength right now because she’s pushing herself in ways that are harder for you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not strong in your own way. You’re special, Elijah, don’t you forget that.”

He nodded against her chest, but there was still a sadness in his eyes, a vulnerability that made her want to protect him even more fiercely.

“I love you, Elijah,” she whispered, holding him a little tighter. “And your dad loves you too. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He didn’t respond at first, but after a moment, he leaned back just enough to look up at her, his eyes a little less clouded with doubt. “I love you too, Mom,” he whispered.

Elijah shifted slightly, his face still uncertain, but something in his eyes softened. “But… What if I never get as strong as her? As ruthless?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Y/N tilted his head up gently, her hand cradling his face as she looked him in the eyes. “Then that’s okay. You’re you. And that’s more than enough for me, for your dad, and for Roselyna. You bring something unique to this family. You don’t have to carry the weight of everyone else’s expectations on your shoulders. Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—make you feel less than you are. You have a different strength, and that’s something to be proud of.”

His lip quivered slightly, but he nodded, as if processing her words. Y/N could feel the weight in his chest, the burden of self-doubt that had settled there, and it made her heart ache. She just wanted him to believe in himself the way she believed in him.

“I’m proud of you, Elijah,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “So proud.”

Elijah finally gave a small, tentative smile, though it was still full of uncertainty. “Thanks, Mom.” She smiled back, brushing a tear from her cheek before it could fall. “You’re my brave boy,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And nothing will change that.”

As she finished adjusting his bandages, she found herself glancing toward the window, her mind wandering to Roselyna. She couldn’t help but wonder what her daughter was thinking, why she was pushing herself so hard to be like Mark, so eager to be strong. It was clear Roselyna had a natural ability, one that came from her Viltrumite heritage, but there was something troubling in the way she was so determined to gain her father’s approval.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Y/N turned, and to her surprise, Roselyna was standing in the doorway, watching them both silently. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, the remnants of their earlier conflict still evident, though her expression was calm, almost detached.

“Roselyna,” Y/N said softly, feeling a pang of sorrow for her daughter as she took in the sight of her—so much like Mark, yet so different. “You’re okay?”

Roselyna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she glanced at Elijah, who was sitting up now, his bandages secure. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—maybe regret? Y/N couldn’t quite tell.

“I’m fine,” Roselyna said flatly, her voice distant. “Just… just tired.”

Y/N frowned, standing up slowly. “Roselyna, why are you pushing yourself so hard? You don’t have to be like your father, you know. You don’t have to prove anything to him, or to anyone.”

Roselyna didn’t meet her gaze. “I want to be strong,” she said, almost mechanically. “I want to be like him. I don’t want to be weak.”

“Roselyna,” Y/N said gently, walking over to her, “you’re not weak. You don’t have to be like anyone else to be valuable, to be important. You already are. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

The girl finally looked at her, her eyes slightly softening but still filled with that same determination. “I need to be strong, Mom. For everyone. For you. For Dad.”

Y/N reached out, cupping Roselyna’s cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to be anyone but you. Your dad loves you just as you are.”

“But he loves the strong ones,” Roselyna muttered, looking away.

The words stung more than Y/N expected, and for a moment, she was silent, unsure of what to say. She had never imagined that her own daughter—her flesh and blood—would feel this way, feel that the only way to earn Mark’s love was by being like him.

“You’re already strong,” Y/N said softly. “You’ve always been strong in ways I can’t even understand yet. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not enough. You’re my daughter, and that’s all that matters.”

Roselyna didn’t answer immediately, but the quiet ache in her eyes seemed to soften, just a little.

For a moment, the weight of the family’s struggles, their divided hearts, seemed to hang in the air, and Y/N realized that there was no easy fix. There were no simple answers to the complexities of being caught between two worlds, two legacies. But there was love. There was always love.

Mark sat on the edge of the cliff overlooking the vast expanse of sky, the stars twinkling above them. Elijah sat beside him, his legs dangling over the edge. The night air was cool, crisp, and quiet—except for the soft rustling of leaves in the distance. It was peaceful, but Mark could sense the unease in his son, the way he fidgeted with the fabric of his sleeve, avoiding eye contact.

They sat in silence for a moment before Elijah finally spoke.

“Dad… what am I?”

Mark turned to him, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Elijah hesitated, his gaze focused downward. “I mean… I know I’m half Viltrumite, half human. But… I don’t feel like either.” His voice was quiet, uncertain. “Roselyna—she’s strong. She’s fast. She’s… like you. And Mom says I don’t have to be like her, that I’m perfect the way I am, but…” He sighed, his hands clenching into fists. “I can’t help but have my doubts.”

Mark exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable as he studied his son. Elijah had always been different from Roselyna—softer, more thoughtful, less reckless. He wasn’t weak, not in the slightest, but he was still finding his place.

“You’re my son,” Mark said firmly. “That’s what you are.”

Elijah frowned. “But—”

“No buts,” Mark cut in, his tone gentle but unwavering. “I know it’s hard. You and Roselyna are different, yeah. She has my strength, my drive. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than her. Power doesn’t make someone better. Strength isn’t just about how hard you can hit something.”

Elijah was quiet, his fingers curling in his lap. “…Then what is it about?”

Mark looked up at the stars for a moment before answering. “It’s about what you do with what you have. You think I only care about Roselyna because she’s strong?”

Elijah hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod.

Mark sighed. “Elijah, I love you. You’re my son. I don’t care if you can punch a hole through a mountain or if you never throw a single punch in your life. I care about who you are.”

Elijah swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if who I am isn’t enough?”

Mark’s chest tightened at the words. He reached out, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You are enough,” he said, his voice steady, unwavering. “You don’t have to be like me. You don’t have to be like Roselyna. You just have to be you. And I swear to you, that’s more than enough for me.”

Elijah blinked up at him, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But what if I never get as strong as you?”

Mark chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Then you’ll be strong in your own way. And I’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

Elijah looked down, processing his father’s words. Then, slowly, he nodded. “…Thanks, Dad.”

Mark smiled, pulling his son into a brief but strong embrace. “Anytime, kid.” It was different hearing it from his father, but he knew he meant every word.

Mark sat beside Elijah for a while, gazing up at the stars. The boy seemed calmer, but Mark could still see the lingering uncertainty in his eyes. It reminded him of himself at that age—the doubt, the struggle to understand who he was supposed to be. And it reminded him of him. His father. Nolan.

Mark clenched his jaw at the thought. He had spent so much of his life trying not to be like him, to raise his family differently, to prove that love mattered more than strength. But there were moments—like now—where he couldn’t ignore the memories. The way Nolan had taken him into space, tossing a baseball back and forth between the stars, trying to give him something normal amidst the chaos of their reality.

Mark inhaled sharply. “Elijah.” His son turned toward him, curious. “Yeah?” Mark gave him a small smile. “How about we play some catch?” Elijah tilted his head, “catch?”

“Yeah.” Mark stood up, stretching his arms. “You, me, a baseball. Just us. What do you say?” Elijah hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Okay… yeah, sure.” Mark grinned. “alright then. Go grab a ball.”

A few minutes later, they stood in an open field, the sky stretching wide above them. Mark held a baseball in his hand, weighing it for a moment before tossing it lightly to Elijah. Elijah caught it with ease, his fingers curling around the leather. He looked up at his father, a small smile creeping onto his face. Mark stepped back, motioning for Elijah to throw it. “Go on. Show me what you got.”

Elijah hesitated, then threw the ball. It was a little weak—hesitant, uncertain—but it reached Mark’s hands. Mark caught it with ease, smiling. “Not bad. Try again, but this time, really throw it.”

Elijah nodded, adjusting his stance before throwing again—this time with more force. The ball sailed through the air, faster, stronger. Mark caught it easily, nodding in approval. “There you go. Keep going.” They kept at it, tossing the ball back and forth, getting faster, stronger, throwing higher, farther. Elijah started laughing, genuinely enjoying himself, his doubts momentarily forgotten.

And Mark? For a brief moment, he let himself remember the good in his past. Not the betrayal, not the pain, but the simple moments—before everything changed. He was here. With his son. Giving him something normal. Something good.

[zombii-hoe]

Yandere Harem

Being in high school, you've had your ups and downs; being the best in your sports team, having an amazing childhood best friend, being teased occasionally, and living your life. It wasn't always like this, a few rumors said here and there, spread by the ones you thought you knew and next thing you know, you're spiraling.

Now that you're in college, you were able to leave them behind and now that you trying to live your life without the cruel past weighing down on you, old mistakes start sprouting in hopes to befriend you again, but there was no going back to fixing things.

Your partner in crime, aka your childhood best friend since 2nd grade, the one you befriended after standing up to some bullies and then promising each other to never be a bystander.

The boy who broke that promise.

He's been avoiding you since he got a girlfriend, always ditching you last minute, dry texts, ignoring you in public before you toss your hands in the air in frustration before walking away.

This is where the rumors started. At first it was just name calling, but now it changed to whore, slut, and students started becoming physical.

You had no idea why people started calling you these names, but some student answered your questions.

"Stop trying to get in between Elijah and his girlfriend, whore!"

This was about Elijah? But you weren't trying to get in between them! I mean, sure, you did like him for a while but once he got with his girlfriend, you got rid of those feelings!

Maybe if you sent him a text to tell people that you weren't trying to sabotage his relationship, maybe people would finally leave you alone.

Oh, how foolish you were.

Not only did it make it worse, but it was also slowly starting to affect you mentally. Elijah's girlfriend seemed to have it out for you, sending screenshots, that was so painfully photoshopped, to her social media, crying about 'how cruel and a bitch you were for trying to separate her from someone who truly loves her and maybe you were just jealous from their love.'

Less than 24 hours later, a group of girls managed to catch you behind the school, pulling at your hair and bag, mocking just anything about you. Your hairstyle, your weight, your clothes, etc.

You were outnumbered, you knew that sooner or later you would start fighting, they're not letting up, their mocking laughs echoed in your ears.

Then a familiar figure walks by with his friends, laughing at a joke someone had made. With one last line of hope, you take a deep breath and call out to him.

"ELIJAH!"

Hearing someone shout out his name, Elijah turns his head and is faced with you cornered against a wall, surrounded by girls who he has seen his girlfriend hang out with sometimes.

He knows he should do something; he should help you! He made that promise with you to NOT be a bystander.

"Oh look! Isn't she that one slut who's trying to get between you and your girl?" One of his friends mocked, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Dude, just leave her, she's just getting what she deserves."

With a strained laugh, Elijah turns to quickly leave the scene but was once again stopped by you. "Y-yeah..."

"ELIJAH!" You cried out, blood turning cold. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

He doesn't turn back, walking faster as his 'friends' laughed and jogged to catch up with him.

After the beating you received, you stayed home for a few days.

Once you returned to school, you put your attention onto the sports team you were in. You weren't going to let Elijah's betrayal bring down all your progress.

You were good, it took your mind off of things happening with school and whatnot. Your team did say a few things here and there but stopped quickly after what happened to you days prior.

Your team caption was a nice guy, always encouraged you and your team, and always had a shoulder to let you cry on whenever you felt like you're dragging the team down.

Now since you returned to your practices... things have changed with him. What's weird is that it was only towards you, not the rest of your teammates.

Milo's 180 threw you off, from cheering you on and handing you your favorite snacks randomly because he 'got the wrong brand' to just barely acknowledging you but whenever he did acknowledge you, you were thrown insults of how your form was off, how you were supposed to be defending the goal.

How you were bringing your team down.

It was so much worse outside of practice. Whenever your team hung out around town to celebrate a win, Milo would be the first to complement each girl and then turn around to spew on how you could've worked harder.

After another one of your teams wins, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom and shortly after you returned, you overheard Milo talking about you to your team.

"I might have to talk with the coach to kick [Name] off the team, I'm sure you all know about her... reputation going around school and I don't want that affecting the judge's opinion on the team when we go to the finals."

Your teammates argue with him, disagreeing but he ignores them, shrugging as he shoved more food in his mouth. "I'm just looking out for the team."

Your chest aches, did Milo really feel like this? This team was your world, and he wants you kicked off because of your reputation? Even though you were busting your ass to help bring this team to the finals and THIS is what you get in return?

Taking a deep breath, you count to 10 and exhaled, before stepping around the corner to meet your team with a smile on your face. "Hey, guys! Hope you didn't take a bite from my food."

Fine, you'll prove yourself to your coach and take everyone to the finals and rub it into Milo's smug face.

It was a long cruel journey, thankfully, your coach disagreed with Milo's judgement and allowed you to remain on the team. And with your team, you all stood in 2nd place. It wasn't a total loss, but you were happy with the results, shrugging with your team as you stared at the winners.

Then Milo ruined the moment.

"It's all your damn fault!" He hissed at you, your teammates looking at him in confusion. "If you were dropped from the team, we could've won first place! But NO! The coach wasn't able to see that!"

Then he points his finger at you, sneering. "I bet you slept him so you wouldn't be kicked out, aren't I right? You goddamn WHORE!"

You gasped at the accusation, your teammates looked ready to kill Milo for saying such words. "Is that what you think of me, Milo?"

"U-Uh, well..." He stuttered, now realizing what he said. "I didn't- I didn't mean to say that I just-"

"You know that I told you that the rumors were false!"

"Y-yeah I know that-"

"You know I am not like that!"

"W-wait let me speak damn it!"

"YOU KNOW THE BULLSHIT I HAD TO DEAL WITH?" You screamed, tears spilling down your cheeks. "After I got beat up, I was hoping things would be different if I explained my side of the story, everybody would see that I'm not like that!"

"But-" You sobbed, Milo looked at you with regret. "Out of everyone, I was hoping you would believe me, I guess I was wrong."

Wiping your tears with the back of hand, you turned to your teammates with a sad, wobbly smile. "I think I'm gonna head home, guys, you could uh, just celebrate without me."

Then you walked off the field.

It's been almost two years since you graduated high school and went off to college. You deleted any remaining online presence you had and made new ones, hoping to fully escape your past.

You managed to study at a college near your apartment complex, becoming quick friends with your neighbor after getting your mail mixed up a few times.

During the few times you chatted with each other, you learned a few things from Ivan; he worked at your favorite coffee shop, you have him in a few of your courses you're taking, and he's studying to become a vet!

During months, you managed to befriend the shy man. Some days when you had class together, he would bring your favorite order from the cafe along with a treat.

He became your rock, and you become his.

But alas, all good things must come to an end when you bumped into a familiar man.

"[Name]? Is that you?" They asked, shock and disbelief in their voice. "Oh wow! It's been a long time! How have you been?"

Crap it was Elijah.

You shrink away from his close proximity, he takes notice and backs away, albeit unwillingly.

"Yeah, it's been fine." You rushed out, glancing at your phone after it vibrated from a notification. It was Ivan. "But I gotta get to my class."

"What? But we barely chatted!" He whines, pouting his lips in hopes you'll stay for a few minutes. "You're not gonna spare a few minutes to hang with your best friend?"

You froze.

Best friend? The only person who you consider your real best friend is Ivan. And you've only known him for almost a year! The nerve Elijah had, acting like the last few years of high school didn't happen.

He doesn't know what it feels like to ignore the rumors, how people you tried to befriend steered clear of you, or how you spent your lunches eating in the bathroom!

Enraged, you spun around and shoved a finger against Elijah's chest. "Don't give me that 'best friend' bullshit. You stopped being my friend when you left me with those group of girls nor did you even defend me from those rumors."

With each word, you jabbed your finger harder and harder, pushing Elijah against the wall. "And I'm pretty sure your girlfriend wouldn't want you around me, she might think I'll get in between your oh so sweet relationship."

"You're practically a stranger." Backing away from Elijah, his expression unreadable. "Stay the hell away from me."

Elijah watches you walk away from him, a guilty look in his eyes. He knows he fucked up and he knew you didn't want to see his face again, but he hoped that since became a better person since graduation that you'll start letting him in your life again.

He even broke up with his girlfriend after she spread those fake screenshots. Elijah curses at himself for not reaching out to you after you were attacked. Now he has to watch you leave from his life again-

Who's that?

[Name], who the fuck is that with you?

The man grits his teeth as he watches the stranger wrap his arm around your shoulder and guide you into the college building.

nononononono, there's no way you replaced him that easily. He could still redeem himself! Just give him some time and soon you be laughing with each other like you used to be! How it was meant to be!

The man watches the two of you walk deeper into the building, Ivan turning to send him a smug look. Rage burning in Elijah's eyes.

"I will make that happen."

"So, you pet sit in your free time?" You clasp your hands together in awe. "I'm so jealous!"

Ivan flushes, gripping on the dog leashes tighter at the adoration in your eyes. It was mostly for the dogs and not towards him.

"Y-Yeah, but honestly, it's a lot of work and having you with me lessons that load and thanks for coming to the park on such short notice." He stammered, bashfully smiling at you. You wave off his appreciation.

"No worries, I'm glad to help a friend out and petting dogs is such a nice reward in return." You smirked, reaching down to rub a German Shepards ear, the dogs tail wagging happily at your affection.

"You're a reward..." Ivan mumbled.

"What was that?" You asked, lifting your head to him, hand still petting the dog.

"What was what? Anyway-"

A soccer ball bounces off your shin. Turning, you picked it up and looked around for the owner.

"E-Excuse me miss; that's my ball." A little girl shyly points at her ball, tapping the top of her cleats into the grass.

"Oh? Here you go!" You hand it over and she gratefully accepts it before noticing the dogs surrounding you three.

"OH EM GEE!" She squeals, hopping on one foot then to the other. "Are those doggies? Can I pet one of them?"

You turned to Ivan who gives his nod of approval. Giggling, the little girl sets her ball next to her as she kneels down to start petting at any dog her tiny arms could reach.

"Wow, your doggies are so cute! Do you guys have a favorite? My favorite is the husky! Do you guys dress them up for holidays? How much does the vet bill costs? -" And she continued on and on until she heard her name.

"Lily? Lily, you need to get back to practice!" Jogging to the group was another familiar man you hoped you wouldn't see.

There in all his glory, stood Milo.

He scans Lily for any injuries, then to Ivan, then finally his eyes settle on you, he immediately recognizes you.

"O-oh! [Name], is that really you?" He asks, eyeing you. "Man, you changed a lot. It's been forever!"

"Likewise," You murmured, hooking your arm around Ivan's elbow and turning to leave. Ivan flushes at the contact but follows you regardless.

"Woah, woah!" Milo walks in front of you to prevent you from leaving. "Why the sudden rush? Didn't I always tell you to take your time when the ball is in your court." He snorts at his small joke.

You rolled your eyes with a groan. "Last time I checked, someone wanted me kicked off the court." And shoved your way past Milo.

Milo cringes. Yeah, he saw that coming.

"Look I know I said some very... very awful things to you and I know there's no way you could forgive me for saying them, but can we please start over?" He whispered to you and away from Ivan's prying stare.

You pause, thinking about what he said. Should you really start over with him? No, you promised to distance yourself away from the past and if you were to start over with Milo, you're just bringing an old brick to a new building.

"No thanks," You go around Milo but he cuts you off again.

"B-but why? We could go slow and m-maybe play a scrimmage like we used to back in high school! You loved doing that with the team!" He stammered, hoping you would stay.

"Milo, I stopped playing that sport," You shove him aside. "I lost my passion for it."

Milo's heart drops.

That wasn't because he was harsh on you? Right? He was just looking out for you! Like what a team captain should do!

"A-are you sure? Maybe you're just burnt out!" He reaches out to you. "I'm sorry for being so harsh on you-"

Ivan quickly reaches over to grasp Milo's wrist, squeezing it in warning.

"Don't touch her."

Lily watches the dispute happening, worry in her eyes to which you notice.

"Ivan let him go, he isn't worth it." You murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder, calming him down enough to release his harsh grip on Milo.

"You should go back to your practice, Milo." You muttered then walked past the man without letting him speak. Ivan shoves his shoulder against his, throwing a glare at him as he walked by.

Milo shakes, in rage or despair, he has no idea but what he does know is that he absolutely despises that Ivan guy.

Who does he think he is?

"Uh, coach, should we go back to the team?" Lily asked, not noticing Milo's raging form.

"Yeah- sure, let's go." He murmured, thoughts on you and Ivan.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard." Milo promised under his breath.

"Soo," Ivan drawls out, thumb rubbing the outline of the cup of coffee in his hand. "What was all that about?"

You groan, resting your head on his coffee table. "Just a bunch of shit I left behind but apparently not since they came biting me in the ass."

"It's a long story," Ivan nods and slides closer to you after setting his cup down.

"Alright, I won't push you to share but just know this." Wrapping his arms around you, Ivan embraces you in a soft hug. briefly sniffing your hair.

"That I will always be by your side." He murmured, smiling once he feels you reciprocate his hug. "Got that?"

"Mhm," You buried his face against his chest to hide your flowing tears from him.

He coos, rubbing your head.

What he didn't tell you was that he has always been by your side. You just didn't notice, silly goose~!

He was sure you would notice those group of girls who brutally beat you behind the schools were soon expelled. Or how those group of guys who thought you were easy because of those harsh rumors were placed in the hospital.

You didn't know that Ivan took care of everyone who dared to bully you. But that's okay! It was all worth it in the end because he has you in his arms!

The only problem he faces now are those two dumbasses. He figured they'll go to different colleges but was angry when he found out Milo and Elijah both attended the college you're going to!

Ivan could only do so much to avoid crossing paths with them with you.

As long as they don't interfere with his plans for you, then they'll live.

For now.

My tip jar! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lose your temper

Summary: Only loses his temper for her.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 805

Warnings: azzie being a protective pookie 🥹

A/n: hello hello i come bearing gifts after the tiny hiatus. might get my laptop back soon so dont you worry ill be back soon. ive mostly been focused on writing my wattpad books but though you all deserved a lil treat too so here i am 😌

also ps (edited) this was inspired by someones reddit post about having the sweetest father who threatened to hand a man by his intestines if they did not leave his wife alone and i think thats precious 🥺

HAVE FUN YALL

ENJOYYYY🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Being the daughter of the spymaster, it almost made Hazel seem like some sort of elite fae that some feared while others pitied. The people that feared her, Hazel could understand the place they were coming from. But it was the other group that befuddled Hazel.

Why would they pity her? Did they think her father was an abuser of some kind?

Of course, he towered over a lot of people, and his physique made him known as a ruthless warrior. And yeah, maybe he also did have the most spectacular reputation to go with it, but it did not warrant people thinking he bullied Hazel too.

Or maybe it did, but Hazel could not bring herself to understand that part.

Azriel had always been the most gentle, calm and loving parent anyone could ever ask for. He was the furthest thing from mean. Hazel had never seen him get angry or raise his voice.

And it made Hazel wonder. What would be the situation in which Azriel raised his voice?

Hazel knew the one person Azriel loved the most was Y/n. He could act all he wanted when he wanted to irk Y/n that Hazel came first for him, but Hazel knew that if it came to it, he would sacrifice the whole world, her and then himself to please his wife.

And so when she asked her father, his answer came as no surprise.

"Dad, will I ever see you lose your temper?"

He laughed, his eyes not leaving the vegetables he stirred in the pan for lunch. "Maybe if someone bullies your mother, you just might."

Hazel smiled, nodding. She turned to look outside the window that faced their porch, looking at all the people that passed. Their house was in one of the quietest areas of Velaris, and so only sparse groups of people lingered around, mostly kids and housewives.

As she continued pondering his answer, her eyes fell on her mother returning from the market nearby. Hazel grinned, beginning to turn to her father to tease him about it, but then she looked closer at Y/n.

She looked disturbed, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

"Dad?"

Azriel hummed, glancing at Hazel.

"Does mom look worried to you?"

Hazel heard him draw closer, peering over her shoulder. "Mom?"

"Yeah, look."

Hazel glanced at Azriel, watching as his brows drew together and his jaw hardened.

"A male’s following her."

Hazel blinked, then turned to look. Sure enough, she saw a man come into view, jeering at Y/n’s back. Y/n was almost to the gate that opened into their lawn, and she kept glancing back at the man.

"He’s dead if he doesn’t leave."

Hazel would have smiled, but the seriousness in her father’s voice told her he wasn’t jesting.

The two watched as Y/n tried to shut the gate behind her, but the man’s foot wedged inside as he smirked triumphantly at Y/n.

And the presence of Azriel was gone from behind Hazel.

The door opened, and Hazel turned in time to see Azriel practically fly out the door, Truthteller clutched in his hand.

Oh, someone’s dying today.

"Back off!" Hazel hurried over to the door to peer out at the scene, eyes wide as her father called out.

The man’s face crumpled in fear, and he took a step back from Y/n, who turned to look at her husband. If Hazel had to be honest, it was quite funny watching one of the most feared males in all of prythian stand in front of his house with a red shirt and a stained apron on, threatening a male in broad daylight without a care.

"I swear to the mother if I see you ever again, you are going to be buried before you can even blink." Azriel growled, brandishing his dagger.

"For-forgive me, sir. I did not know she was yours-"

"And that should not matter. Don’t let me catch you harassing another female again, or-"

But that man was gone.

Azriel turned to Y/n, smiling. "Are you alright?"

Y/n grinned at him. "I am."

Azriel effortlessly grabbed the bags from his wife’s hands and shifted them to one of his, then wrapped the other one around her waist.

"Did he do something?"

Y/n shook her head, laughing. "You almost killed him before he could."

Azriel grinned, smug. "Glad to hear that."

He led his wife inside the house, casting a searching look outside before closing the door. Y/n shot Hazel an exasperated smile behind his back, making her giggle.

Hazel had always wished to have a love like her parents, but each day, she wondered if she would rather stay by herself.

Because there was no way there was someone out there who loved as Azriel loved Y/n.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

[exhaslo]

Over-Time

CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader!

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dear, (Y/N), you have been selected to join us for a group interview at Alchemax. Please arrive at appointed date and time below. Read and follow all instructions to ensure your interview. We can't wait to meet you."

Unable to fathom what you had just read, a loud gasp escaped your lips instead. All you really read was interview. Everything else blurred out since you were so excited to finally have a chance to leave your current job.

"Oh my gosh! Do I even have the proper clothes for an interview there?! I can't believe it!" You whispered, resisting a squeal.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Alcehmax was one of the biggest companies in Nueva York. Everyone in their right mind wanted to get even a chance to work there. Hell, some people were happy just being a janitor there.

It was all anyone wanted to gloat about. Getting an interview was nearly impossible and yet, your clumsy ass managed to get it. You had prayed to every God you could think of. The questionnaire was a nightmare and where people failed the most.

"Okay, okay! I have to prepare...I have to practice..." You told yourself.

Interviews were hard for you. You were nervous around new people and freaked out when asked hard questions. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you just smiled. You got this far. You had an interview to take and succeed in.

---------

"Lyla, have we found anyone decent enough within the last two group interviews?" Miguel asked with a grumble.

Lyla, Miguel's private assistant, just laughed. She took off her designer glasses and placed them on Miguel's desk. Miguel was the CEO of Alchemax. One of the richest men in all of Nueva York, and a man with a quick temper.

"We have some potential candidates for the open slot in Marketing, but no one to replace me for when I go on my vacaaaation~" Lyla sang happily. Miguel felt his eye twitch,

"Yes, I know. You haven't stopped bragging about your damn vacation all week. Would have been nice if you mentioned it sooner-"

"Oh, don't give me that, Migs. I had it pop up on your calendar every week for the past three months reminding you! It isn't my fault you don't look."

"I am a busy man. You know that because you make my schedule," Miguel hissed lowly then pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just-Ugh, I just find me someone who won't try and suck my dick within the first week."

Lyla just snickered as she typed on her tablet, "You need to find someone. Maybe it will make you less of a grump." She mocked.

Miguel exhaled loudly, glaring towards his assistant. It was a good thing that Miguel could tolerate that woman. Lyla was a close friend of his and knew how to push his buttons.

Leaning back in his seat, Miguel closed his eyes as he took the moment to rest. Lyla was going to be gone for a few months. She sure knew how to utilize her vacation time. Hell, Lyla had a tough job dealing with him. She deserved it.

"I just need someone....quiet."

---------

How could a building give off such an intimidating presence? It was as if all those powerful inside were warding off the weak and frail. The start of a challenging, yet welcoming part of your life. If you managed to do good in the interview.

Inhaling deeply, you gripped onto your folder and finally had the courage to make your way inside. You heard the stories, but Alchemax sure was a force to be reckon with. The inside of the reception floor felt like another world.

You had arrived super early. You were scared of being late and well, knowing yourself, you were probably going to get lost. Hopefully, your clumsiness won't get in the way of your interview.

"Ah-"

Magic words. Just thinking of it alone caused you to goof up. You had accidently bumped into someone while admiring the inside of the building.

"I-I'm s-so sorry!" You stuttered, panicked that you were fucking up already, "I wasn't looking! I'm sorry!"

"It's alright. Are you okay?" The man spoke as you picked up your paperwork that fell.

Tears were starting to form as you thought of running away. Glancing up at the stranger you bumped into, you sniffed and tried to compose yourself. The man before you had bend down and helped with your paperwork.

"No need to be afraid, I won't bite." The man said with a warming smile. You gulped, finding him very attrative,

"I'm sorry again."

"Oh? An interview?"

"Ah, yes. I'm a little early, but since I've never been here I wanted to make sure...I wouldn't get lost," You admited as he handed your paperwork, "Thank you. My name is (Y/N)."

"Miguel,"

You stood up, staring at the towering man before you. That name sounded familiar, but you were so focused on your goof up to remember. Everyone was probably staring at you, laughing and knowing that you were probably going to flunk the interview now.

"Come, I'll take you to the floor you're going to be at. There are drinks in the lobby once you arrive. Help yourself."

"Ah, thank you."

You were just lucky to have bumped into someone as nice as Miguel. If it were anyone else, they would have probably made you feel worse than you already do now.

---------

Miguel stayed quiet as he led you to the elevator. He won't lie that it was slightly amusing to find someone who didn't immediately recognized him. That and quite refreshing. Miguel wondered what you would think if you found out that he was the CEO.

Glancing ever so slightly in your direction, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It was like you were in your own little world. You were fumbling with your fingers while you had a slight look of panic on your face. Honestly, that was how people should look for an interview.

Alchemax was not a place to enter with confidence.

"What position are you applying for?" Miguel asked, wanting to ease your nerves.

"Oh!" You gasped lowly, "Marketing."

"Hm. How good are you with planning and scheduling?" He asked casually. Your shoulders raised slightly,

"I, um, I like to...It's easier for me when I have everything in an itinerary. Makes for unnecessary distractions and delays. I find myself at ease with a schedule," You admitted with such a carefree smile.

"And organization?"

"If I'm not overwhelmed I'm great with organizing things." You chirped, "Oh, um, will I get a lot of people talking and asking me questions if I do get hired here? I...I'm just a little shy and if I get overwhelmed I do tend to be clumsy."

Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite entertaining. After another second of silence, Miguel watched as you gasped and covered your face with your folder.

How cute.

---------

How embarrassing!

Just because he was a handsome face and kind to you, doesn't mean you could get comfortable! It took you hours to practice talking to yourself in the mirror to prepare for an interview and now you were blabbing away nonsense to a stranger!

Feeling the elevator come to a stop. You gasped lowly, admiring the lobby before you.

"Here is your stop." Miguel spoke.

"Thank you," You bowed your head slightly, still embarrassed from rambling off.

As you stepped off the elevator, you gulped. Nerves started to kick in as you took your first step to a better future.

"Oh, and (Y/N)," Miguel called out, causing you to turn, "Best of luck."

"T-Thank you!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson

[nastyc2nt]

⊹౨ৎ Perv!Yan!Nerd!Izuku ⊹౨ৎ

Thoughts/Dabble

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

Warnings: small town izuku, yandere behaviors, killing mentions, sweet!reader, and really disturbing and violent acts also mentioned, stalking, stealing, watching someone without permission, taking “intimate” items, taking pictures and videos with no consent, peeping Tom izuku, just izuku being a nasty guy.

Izuku would fall for the only person that would show him some acts of kindness, you being his first target and only one after. He was a nerdy who had no confidence, everyone in town thought he was weird from a young age and now up to college. Girls knew he was creep too. People avoid him, never talking to him, not sitting near him, only ones that did just bullied him. Katsuki being one of them—

Anyway, you moved into town for college and are just the sweetest angel to him. He accidentally ran into you while running down the halls to get to class, knocking into you and falling down with you. Something was sweet, your perfume stung his nose in a pleasant way and sent jilts down his whole body. Feeling another persons heat below him got his cock already excited. So when he backed away from the person he hit, he saw you. A beautiful person who he’d never seen before.

Izuku apologize frantically afraid of another person wanting to slap him around but you never did. “Don’t worry about it,” while he picked up your things, you did the same to his stuff and hand it to him with a gorgeous smile, “no harm done.”

Freak Izuku couldn’t get you off his mind from that moment and decided to try and find you after his class…and every day after that. Izu followed you around like a shadow in the dark, if he had time he was near you. Watching everything you did.

Weeks passed and his obsession was growing out of control, skipping his lessons to break into your apartment while you’re not there. He’s take your dirty clothes while also laying on your bed, everything smelled just like you did- your underwear smelling so good. “Hmm,” he’d moan while fisting his cock with the cloths in his mouth. Pictures of you that he took from your outside window, in class or around campus was all he could look at while jerking off.

“Making you mine, wanna make you happy,” his words spilling from his mouth as he babbles on and on. And it was all true. He’d do anything for his darling, to see you laugh and smile and be worshipped like you deserve. Everyone in this stupid town was unworthy of breathing near you— he’d kill them if you want him too, take their heads, body parts and display them to you if that’s what you wanted.

He’d be your puppet for just a bit of attention.

You bet your cute little ass he has videos of you touching yourself, when you all alone in your apartment with a toy stuffing deep within you. He’s outside wondering how warm and wet you’d feel, what it would sound like if you called out his name. And you never noticed the strikes of white outside on the building near your window— you didn’t have to clean it!!

Izuku also cries to himself while masterbaiting for hours to your pictures. He was so dry but he just couldn’t stop stroking himself, you are just in his mind all the time. Naked and spread out on his bed, his sheets sticking to his sweaty body and his thighs and area around him painted white from his many rounds of cum.

Lets just hope no one finds his shrine of you in his closet. Clothes, pictures, hair and trash you threw away.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[aanxiousangel]

happy endings ༄ Portgas D Ace .MDNI. AANXIOUSANGEL ©

AANXIOUSANGEL © DO NOT FEED ANY OF MY WRITINGS TO AI PROGRAMS OF ANY SORTS; I DO NOT CONDONE THE USE OF AI. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

synopsis ༄ you saved ace that day but nearly lost yourself in the process content ༄ mentions of death, the war at marineford (pre-timeskip), mentions of kid!reader bullied, uh…semi-described smut(?),… wc ༄ 2.5k author's note ༄ this actually is another request on ao3! i love ace so much and i ended up sobbing because this sweet boy deserved to live. actually, crying over whitebeard rn too LMAO im very sensitive rn SORRY!

No one knew why you were a part of the crew. Not why Whitebeard kept you around. No one knew you were the captain’s blood daughter. His one and only. His dream come true. Well…mostly. It wasn’t all that complete once your mother had passed giving birth to you. He’d never say it, but that broke him inside. Just a little.

After he’d collected so many ‘brothers,’ you had lost track of who was who at some point. Mostly, you stuck around the fleet commanders, recognizing them with ease. Marco, Jozu, Thatch… The list goes on. Honestly, they were all pretty sensitive about your slight forgetfulness so you had resorted to calling everyone ‘bro.’

Years and years had passed when you’d met Ace. At first, you really didn’t like him. He kept trying to fight your father, attempting to kick his ass and get the jump on him.

It never worked of course.

And finally one evening, he quit. You were at Marco’s side, hand on your katana’s handle. He carried a bowl of fresh soup, still warm and steaming. And all alone, you saw it. Well, you saw him.

Ace sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, head low as he wallowed. You tensed and stayed just a few feet back as Marco walked over, setting the bowl beside him. For the first time, you heard this man’s voice low and serious.

“Tell me… Why does everyone on this ship call him Pops?”

“You don’t get it? Because he calls us ‘sons.’”

You watched Ace’s brows knit ever so slightly, staring at Marco.

“None of us have any family left. Hell, the whole world hates us.” Marco continues, still smiling, “So, it’s nice, right? I mean, I know it’s just a word… But it still feels nice.”

Ace doesn’t speak. He drops his head, clenching his teeth as he fights off tears. Marco walks over, kneeling before him. You sigh, stepping closer to the two.

“What’s the deal? Are you really gonna keep on doing this even after he spared your life? You can’t keep this up.”

Your voice is quiet and gentle, making Ace’s shoulders tense, “Hate to break it to ya, but you’re not strong enough to kill him.”

“You can either get off this ship and start over,” Marco sighs, “or you can stay here and wear the mark of Whitebeard on your back.”

From that night on, Ace changed. He was a bubbly, fiery spirit. You ended up learning more about him and becoming closer. He had this kid brother he was so insanely proud of. Luffy. He was strong and ruthless, all with a smile on his face.

Eventually, Ace was granted the title of Commander over the second division. The party and feast prepared for the night he accepted was magnificent, courtesy of Thatch and his division. Into the night, while everyone danced and drank, you got a moment alone with Ace.

“Congrats, Fire Fist,” you bump his hip with yours.

“Thanks, princess,” he chuckles, leaning back against the rail while your elbows rest on it.

“Think you can handle it?” You glance up at him, watching the way his head tilts to look at you.

“I can handle anything.” He smiles, his arms folded against his chest.

Your eyes roll, smiling as you let your eyes drift back to the sea, “Always so cocky.”

“Nah,” Ace chuckles quietly, still staring at you all googly-eyed. “Maybe I just wanna impress ya.”

“And if I told you that you do?” You prop your chin on your palm, looking over at him.

“I’d…” Ace’s cheeks grow warm, a pink hue dusting his skin. “I’d ask you out. Duh.”

“Hm, cute.”

You laugh under your breath. He was the most attractive man you’d ever seen on these seas, but that didn’t say much.

Most people you’d witnessed were old pirates and gross. You know, scurvy and whatnot. Guess they’d gotten tired of taking pride in more than their strength and egos.

The townies you met were just stuck to their islands. Families married with kids who always wanted to play with you, begging you to tell them all about your adventures. The people around your age were just scared because you were a part of the most infamous crew. Adults of the town were just as wary, not even wanting the town’s kids to look at a criminal.

And you? You wanted your own son or daughter one day. You wanted your own family just like your pops wanted all those years ago. Well, now you did anyway. You used to hate the families of the islands, their children a bunch of bullies when you’d come to town. They’d run with their tails tucked when your dad’s crew would come along, scaring them away.

“Don’t worry, kid! We’ll play whatever games ya want back on the ship!”

“Yeah, Y/N! We’re way cooler than those little brats!”

You didn’t let them know how much it actually hurt though. You were…all alone. No kids to hang out with, no mom to hold you and tell you it was okay, no sense of childhood endeavors. Just…a kid having to keep it a secret that her dad was truly her blood. Eventually, you gave up and trained with everyone else.

You trained until you couldn’t take it. Sometimes wiping you out for days at a time.

When Ace came along, you finally had someone your age. Someone who made you feel like you could breathe. Like you could be free.

That only made it so much worse when Ace left in search of Marshall D Teach. And you took it even harder when he was captured by the government and set to be executed at Marineford. But everyone banded together and your father had come through. You finally met Luffy and swore that you’d kill anyone who dared get in your way to help Ace. Luffy definitely took a liking to you for that.

Even more so when Ace was rescued rather than killed. You fought yourself into a coma before you could see his freedom though. For weeks, Ace was a wreck. Beaten and bruised, he stayed at your side, desperate for you to wake up.

After sixty-seven days, your hand twitched around his fingers, clenching. He nearly passed out from the excitement, burying his face in your stomach as he sobbed. Something in you realized it was time to finally give in to his antics. To stop teasing and dragging him along.

“I love you, Ace.”

Those were the first words you croaked, throat dry and sore.

“What?”

“I love you.”

A loud thud hit the floor, making the door burst open. Marco was right there, panic wide in his eyes. He looked at you, mouth hanging open, and then at Ace laying on the floor.

“What the fuck happened?” Marco pointed to the male groaning on the ground.

“He fainted,” you wince as you speak, reaching for the glass pitcher on the nightstand.

“You’re awake…” Marco breathes out, walking over to you.

Marco called in a nurse, getting her to check on your vitals. Meanwhile, he helped Ace back into a chair, making sure his bandages weren’t off of his healing wounds. You watched Ace, watching him rub his head. His hat… His necklace… They were gone… You didn’t like that. His signature looks stolen by the war raging on. It wasn’t even close to over.

“Is…is Luffy okay?” You ask quietly, brows pinched in worry.

“He’s okay. Little brat is more resilient than anything,” Ace smiles softly, looking over at you.

Marco grinned, “Runs in the family, huh?”

You relax, finally getting cleared by the nurse. She gave Ace a quick once over before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her. You dip your toes to the floor, finding your footing. Ace got up quickly as you stood, clearing the path with two steps. His arms find their way around you, holding you close.

“My girl,” he breathes against your hair. “My pretty girl. Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. Ya hear me?”

“I hear you,” you laugh against his chest, wrapping your arms around him weakly.

Eventually, the night falls, leaving you and Ace encased in the dark room. He cradles you almost all night, playing with the ends of your hair. You trace little patterns against his chest softly, listening to his breathing even out.

“I love you,” Ace says quietly and you hear his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

“I love you more,” you smile, moving to look at him.

The moonlight casts a soft glow across his bruised face, softening his features under the gentle light. He seems so peaceful even if only for a night. You find yourself hoping for this to last forever.

“I’m sorry…about your dad,” he brushes a strand from your face, frowning softly.

“He didn’t die in vain,” you whisper, swallowing thickly.

“He was your real dad though,” Ace murmurs, finally having learned about the bloodline.

“All those years… He taught me family is more than just blood,” your hand reaches up, brushing through his hair. “He loved us all more than anything.”

“I love you more than anything.”

His voice, quiet and timid, trembles ever so slightly. He meant it with all of his heart. Ace had nearly lost you, terrified half to death on that battlefield. Too much had already been lost in his life. You? He wasn’t letting go without all hell breaking loose.

“I want to live.”

Those words send a bone-chilling ache throughout your entire being, eyes widening.

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“...I’ll hold you to that, you know. I won’t ever let you die.”

“Promise?”

His grin makes you roll your eyes, swatting at him softly. Ace can’t stop the laugh that slips past his lips and grabs your wrist to press a swift kiss to your palm. The kisses don’t stop, continuing along your arm until he reaches all the way to your jaw. He hesitates, breathing heavily against your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Ace breathes out, screwing his eyes shut.

“Mhm?” You murmur, head tilted back.

“Can I kiss you?” His teeth scrape softly against your skin, desperate and fighting the urge to capture your lips without permission.

“I could never say no to you, could I?” You murmur, reaching under his chin to tilt his head.

Your lips meet, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He straddles you, cupping your face like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned from something innocent and sweet to carnal and desperate. You claw at his shoulders, noises escaping you as your thighs tighten.

“Ace, please,” you mumble against his lips.

Ace grins against you, pulling away for a moment, “I’ll never get tired of your voice, you know that?”

“Don’t start being all cute,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“I can’t help it,” he pecks your lips through a laugh. “It’s just natural.”

“You’re so lame,” you grin, pulling him back to you.

Deeper into the night, he took his time with you, slow and patient. Ace pressed against you after his movements slowed, growing uneven from his rhythm. You were in tears, sweat coating the both of you when you felt something drip onto your cheek.

He hovered over you, panting. You weren’t expecting to see tears in his eyes.

“Ace? What’s wrong?” You rasp, reaching to cup his face.

“I didn’t think…” He sniffles, looking down at you, “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be with you. I was so scared…”

“You don’t think I’d go out so easily, huh?” You smile, wiping his tears.

“I wouldn’t let you,” he leans down, resting his forehead against yours.

What would he do without you? His pretty girl. His other half. Thinking about it was the last thing he needed at this moment. He couldn’t let your first time go to waste now, could he?

Ace pressed a kiss to your dampened skin, rolling his hips against yours. Your breath hitched at the contact. Goddamn, he loved this side of you. One that belonged to him and him alone. How could he ever let you go?

Once he graced that weak spot that blew stars behind your eyes, he repeated it over and over and over. With half-lidded eyes, he watched your reactions to keep his movements in rhythm, careful and methodical.

But at this rate, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your walls were squeezing the life out of him.

“A-Ace, I-”

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

Your legs found their way around his hips, locking at your ankles. Your teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder, somehow keeping you tethered to the earth. His hips stutter again with a grunt before he…

“F-fuck!” Ace buries his face into the crook of your neck, hands grasping at your plush hips.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to you, but he buried himself so deep within you that you didn’t stand a chance to avoid this new future. You blinked, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

“Did you…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs tiredly against your skin, taking the time to catch his breath. “Promise I’ll make it up to ya.”

And you, poor thing, were so exhausted that you didn’t give a damn about any repercussions that might come of this. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple before passing out.

Several years later

“Uncle Luffy!”

“Rouge!”

“Rouge! Don’t run off like that!”

Your sweet little girl giggled as her uncle snatched her up, spinning her. You shake your head, smiling at their antics. Ace stuck by your side, arm always wrapped around you as the two of you walk over to the Strawhat crew.

“She gets that from you, you know,” you nudge Ace’s side.

He grins, ruffling your hair, “Yeah, yeah, so she’s a little rebellious. You sayin’ you weren’t a troublemaker back in the day?”

“Not what I’m saying,” you roll your eyes but still can’t help the smile ghosting your lips. “I’m saying that neither of you listen.”

“Just wait,” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “she’ll give that damn government a run for their money.”

Rouge gets all the attention from her ‘aunts and uncles,’ telling them all about your last little trip to Sphinx. You take your time, greeting everyone almost in tears. It felt far too long since the last time you saw everyone. Since you saw your family.

“Can’t believe you’re already three! You’re growing up so fast, Rouge!” Nami squished her cheek just as Sanji was bringing out a cake, decorated with pink hibiscus flowers.

“Happy birthday, Rouge!”

Ace held you from behind, chin resting atop your head. He thought back to all those years ago, to the battlefield where he nearly lost you and himself in the process. His sweet girls, safe and sound once again… He wouldn’t trade this for the world. Not now, not ever.

author's note ༄ sorry, gotta yap more rq! uh idk why i added in that tidbit about it being 'secret' you were the blood daughter of whitebeard and am now realizing that was probably dumb LMAO

dividers used: sister-lucifer. cafekitsune. anitalenia.

op masterlist

[darnell-la]

Dark!young logan and female human reader as his teacher. It sets in earlier x men back then when logan was young, feral, and didnt realize fully about his mutation. He just knew that he sexually and emotionally attracted to his teacher since she's been so nice to him and protected him from the bullies in his school. He gets bullied bcs he's always alone and super silent in class.

note: needy, dom, and darksih Logan is what we need (irl).

———

“What’s wrong with you today? Need an animal to eat!?” One of the students said to Logan, making the class laugh. Logan was sitting on his desk, legs shaking and hands balled up, trying to control whatever feeling he was feeling right now.

“Hey!” Y/n turned around before slamming the chalk she was using, on her desk. “I don’t know which teacher at this school told you that it’s funny joking about other people’s powers — But I know it wasn’t me. Cut it out!” the young teacher demanded.

All of the kids were silent, never really hearing miss y/n raise her voice, but for the past week, she’s been getting tired of the jokes being said to Logan.

Logan was around the age of 30. He was a hot head and started most of his fights, but for a few days, he’s been weak and silent. Y/n wondered why, but maybe it’s best he didn’t lash out.

After y/n’s long day, she finally decided to pack up and leave her office to go to bed. Almost every week, a new mutant comes in, and she has to do the paperwork. She never complained because she loves helping her students. They deserve to be treated like humans.

As y/n walked past Logan’s room, he quickly leaned off of his bed and sniffed, smelling her like he hadn’t smelled before. Usually, the man only smelled her when she was close by, but as she walked up the stairs and got closer, he knew it was her. So sweet.

Logan slowly walked towards his door opening it and sticking his head out to watch the teacher. She was close to her age, and she anyways stuck up for him. She saw something in him, and Logan adored her for it.

Y/n sang as she took her keys out of her purse and unlocked her door. After she went in and closed her door, Logan stalked after.

Logan swore he loved this woman like no other before, even though his been alive for nearly one hundred years. She was so different.

Logan knew he had something for y/n after the first week. He had his own room, a nice bed, and thick walls. As a normal man, he showered and touched himself, rubbing until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

As he was jerking off in his new room, he thought of y/n. At first, a small image of her popped up. Then her voice rang through his head. Before he could ask himself why that was, he came silly around his hand, stomach, and thighs.

“Miss y/n?” Logan knocked on his teacher's door right as she wrapped herself in her robe. If this was another student, she would’ve ignored him, but this student was Logan. She grew a small place in her heart for him.

Y/n got up from her bed and walked over to her door, opening it to the sight of a very down Logan. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

The man thought this would be easier, but it wasn’t. How would he explain what he’s going through? What would he say? He doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“Hey, it’s okay — You can tell me anything,” Y/n said, but all the man did was ignore eye contact. “C’mere,” y/n motioned him to come into her room. Within seconds, he was in, standing in the middle of her room as his heart pounded.

“Now we’re in here. No one can hear us, so you're safe with me,” the young lady spoke to him like a child, only because he was her student. Other than that, he should be the one to the king to him the way she is.

“For a week I’ve been going through this-this cycle. At first, it was just a small pain, but then my mouth felt dry. Dry like I needed something to eat or — or taste,” the man said, but she didn’t understand.

“Is this like an animalistic thing? Not calling you an animal by the way, I’m just trying to know you better before I start,” she said as she sat down on her bed. She wanted to help him, but he was afraid she might not want to help in the way he needed it.

“No, no, it’s- I honestly don’t know,” the man cut himself off. Even though he didn’t understand himself fully, he knew he needed to touch her. Get close to her and taste her.

“How about you relax tonight, and when you wake up, we can go talk to Hank. Get you checked out,” Y/n smiled at the boy as he walked over to her. The way she looked up at him, made him crumble. She was so pretty.

“Thank you, y/n,” the man cupped the woman’s chin. “Oh, there’s no problem. Really! That’s what I’m here for,” she smiled as she looked away from the thanks he gave, happy that someone saw the hard work she put in.

“No,” the man spoke, voice low as he softly pulled her back to look up at him. “I need to thank you,” the man whispered as he leaned down. “You already have-“ Before she could finish, his lips were on hers.

The girl's eyes widened, shocked at her student's actions, but didn’t push him away. On the other end, Logan’s eyes were shut and his stomach crumbled from the nervous but thankful feeling of her lips on his.

“Logan,” y/n spoke in between her kiss. He responded by softly pushing her down on her bed, shifting her to her liking right before he hovered over her, crotch instantly pressed into her clothes heat.

“L-Logan, wait,” y/n tried speaking, but he kissed her hard, grinding on the woman to earn s few shaky moans. He thanked her god she was in a robe and only had panties on — made his little plan easier.

“Ssh,” Logan shushed her as his lips traveled to her neck, sucking hard to make sure something shows up. He wanted people to know she was taken, even if they didn’t know it was him.

“Logan, you can’t — We can’t,” she spoke as she pushed at the man’s shoulders, but he wouldn’t budge. “Yes, we can,” he assured her with a low voice before hooking his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off.

“Logan!” She finally shouted in shock. He continued his work by unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers down. “I need you, now,” the man slightly growled as he took his cock in hand, feeling his heart raise.

“Logan! Logan, listen — I-I can’t do this. My job!” She said as he tried pushing at her entrance, but she kept shifting to stop him. “You do so good at your job, miss y/n. Made me need you more,” the man spoke into her ear, still trying to get in, but she was a fighter.

If it wasn’t for her job, she would’ve let this happen, but she can’t. She’s his student, and he’s so sweet. She never thought anything like this of him.

“C’mon, Bub — Help a kid some more,” the man smirked down at the young lady before he finally pushed through her walls. He watched y/n struggle on his cock, whining at the instant stretch he gave her.

“L-Logan,” she stuttered as her hands pushed at his hips. She never knew how fit he was until she touched him. He used all his working out and power to snap his hips, jolting her body into her mattress.

“Fuck, baby,” the man dragged, looking down at himself disappearing in her cunt. She already coated his cock with her wetness. “Need you to soak me some more, y/n. Help me like any other time,” the man’s voice still felt low and soft to her, but nothing about his thrusts was soft.

“Logan,” she whined, forgetting about her job, and took him in without wanting him to stop. He rolled his hips so well. “Cum on my cock,” the man’s voice was close to her ear again, this time with a growl.

Logan’s left hand dug into her side as the other pushed her knee back to fuck he’d in a new angle. Now he’s hovered over her, watching her eyes squint in pain and pleasure.

“Do it, y/n — Fuckin’ do it before I get angry,” the man slightly threatened through his teeth. Logan slammed into the woman, taking in her whines and yelps as she squeezed down onto him.

“That’s it — Look at you,” Logan spoke as y/n shook from her orgasm taking over her body. “They always say I’m an animal. Tellin’ me I’ll never be normal, but that didn’t matter to you. You like me like this. Like me burning my cock in your sweet cunt,”

Y/n’s head nodded, agreeing how much she loved this, but deep down, she couldn’t take it. He was rough, but she didn’t want him to stop.

“Gonna breed this pretty girl, then see the looks on their face. Sweet favorite teacher knocked up by the Wolverine. By the animal — Fuck!” the man grunted at the thought of that. He was going to make it happen.

[starlattethesqueakwal]

All of the proof that we have that Vivziepop is abusive. (So far....)

While you support this post please go ahead and support my channel to see more about Vivziepop's abusive behavior. Thanks!

1. She rushes her employees.

Season 1 was made in 2020. While Season 2 was made in 2021 while being released with MULTIPLE EPISODES only ONE year later.

That's-

INSANE!

-and im about to tell you why:

The average cartoon needs almost ONE WHOLE YEAR to produce one episode. And this is what we see in MAINSTREAM shows.

Meanwhile, Helluva Boss took only one year (and a half) to make MULTIPLE ENTIRE EPISODES that last over 20 minutes. The longest waiting time for an episode being 8 months. Not even a year, and we get multiple episodes off the drawing board.

You can even see here that it's taken only three years to make 16 episodes. When this is an indie studio, so this should have taken so much longer to make. Yet for some reason, it took only a few years for us to get full seasons. In 2021, we got over 4 episodes alone. Have you ever wondered why these episodes come out so fast while other shows take a lot longer to get new seasons? That's an easy question to ask... Spindlehorse...

Is being ABUSED.

And I have the proof to show.

2. The pay controversy.

Spindlehorse's payment has been under controversy for providing the lowest pay possible to those that work at the studio.

One piece of evidence was given by Adam himself (albeit unintentionally) by saying this:

This kind of pay is highly unstable! And before you say "But he didn't force them to be there-"

LOOK.

The employees themselves admitted that they had no choice. People had no choice and Vivienne Medrano took advantage of that for her own selfish desires. This is disgusting treatment of a studio as small as Spindlehorse. Or any studio for that matter.

Hell! chaifootsteps said once that once Zeurel released that he was paying his animators too low, he deleted one of the tweets showing the low pay and decided to do something to give his employees better wages. Meanwhile, Chimera Bunny pays even less than Viv does and just because paying your workers low is normal in the animation industry- plot twist: Doesn't make it ok!

People have suffered so much in this industry, it's why "New Deal for Animation" exists. The only reason you haven't seen many Vivziepop workers having protests and speaking out is because Vivziepop says things like this behind people's backs if they "dare" do anything she doesn't like:

So that explains as to why so many people remain as "anon" or say nothing at all because they got cold feet. Vivienne's terrible!

Especially since even her top employees have admitted to not being paid enough despite Adam's "I pay them to stay if they make us the most mon-ey!" claims from the article:

Also this:

This is how she speaks about her own employees:

"YOU DONT LIKE HOW I TREAT YOU?! FUCK OFF!"

Straight up abuse.

Also, wasn't Walt Disney known for abusing his employees?

To the point where people had an entire protest in 1914 about it?

Wow... such a healthy workplace treatment comparison. Doesn't make Vivziepop look more like a jerk.... at all! /s

3. She bullies kids/laughed at a sa victim that was sa'ed by her friends. As one kid was bullied into a panic attack (I know them personally) back in about 2020 and Viv decided to vague post about them behind their back even after they apologized.

For someone who's so focused on "forgiving despite cancel culture" she sure likes to blame and harass people for disliking even ONE thing about her show or herself. One thing- and you're harassed over making a meme about a cartoon with fictional characters (What Froot Did that set Vivziepop and Gumball off.)

Secondly, one of her friends sexually harassed a minor.

And instead of acknowledging the sa, Vivziepop wrote this:

She ended up calling it a "joke" and made fun of the victim involved.

This is outright abusive behavior that should not be tolerated.

Children don't deserve to be traumatized this way. Especially over something as simple as making memes about a cartoon (negative or not) or simply telling someone to stop fetishizing abuse.

More on this in this video made by Gummypop:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND-

That's all that I have for now!

Will likely be updating this post in the future. Goodbye!

EDIT:

More evidence of Vivziepop using abusive language and slander against her employees behind their back. Claims of them being a "stalker" (like she did to Kedi and also its clear that she told her employees to say that Kaz was a "stalker" otherwise how else would they be saying these things after she fired them.) along with using abusive language such as "CUNT!" to prefer to Kaz this way in a professional setting I cannot. 💀

More evidence of Vivziepop harassing a kid:

ANOTHER edit:

More evidence, she's burning them the HELL out!

Yet ANOTHER edit:

More evidence of Spindlehorse being abusive:

EDIT:

Even MORE evidence:

The fact that the story AND the storyboards AND the animating for season one's episodes were all done in one year is just so crazy to me like... WHAT?! Either way, this post will continue to extend the more that I find evidence. So remember to look forward to that one!

EDIT:

Sadly no, as animation abuse is so common that the police dont even see it as an issue. The last time I tried to call the police on her they needed a location. The problem? There is no location of Spindlehorse since it's a "private" studio. So because of that viv gets away with abuse despite the obvious implications of her behavior and how many people came out with allegations towards her.

[aajjks]

The Devil Wears Glasses (m)

Synopsis. you were a bitch and he was your puppy.

Pairing: jungkook x Reader

Genre: bully au, mature. Fluff, angst.

warnings: sêxǔäl thèmès, YÂNDÈRÈ, dïrty thêmês, büllyïng, másôchïst kôôk, mâtürè thèmès, jèálôúsy, pôsèssïvènèss, pröfânïty.

note. OH MY GOD GUYS I JUST KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HIM. HE’S SO UNPREDICTABLE AND THERE’S A HUGE SURPRISE SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. ;) you can send asks for him, so let’s welcome a new jk into the multi.

You are such a bitch.

Oh you are the bitchiest person to ever grace this planet. How can you be so insensitive? You are heartless.

You deserve to burn in the deep flames of hell. Do you even have a heart? Were you even a human at this point? You could be a witch. Oh! Yes, that must be it, because...

You have got him tranced.

What does he even see in you? Jungkook is not sure, You are only a pretty face, with a hot smokin body, But that was about it.

He should hate your guts because he hates people like you.

Because you are a bully.

And he is a sweetheart. An innocent young man. While? You are the spawn of the devil. There you stand right in front of him, Jungkook fixes his glasses, feeling so nervous.

His heart is thumping, so loud.

“Puppy!” You call out to him, his eyes widen, you’re right in front of him and his mind is going blank. He stands tall over you, but you’re the one who is in control.

It’s so obvious and ironic.

You’re so pretty. And that cruel smile on your face, is making his pants grow tighter. Fuck, you’re not supposed to have this effect on him.

“P-Please don’t pity me.” He utteres in a small voice. You raised your eyebrow as your “friend” giggles.

“Oh, aren’t you a little masochist, puppy?” You coo at him, leaning in and whispering the words in his ears. He shudders, goosebumps on his neck. A sadistic laugh leaves your lips. Your eyes fall on his face.

Red as a tomato.

He seems to be lost as you trail your freshly manicured fingers on his rather hard chest. Your finger stops for a moment, can’t believe that you’re feeling his chest up.. right in front of your friend.

Yes, he works out.. it’s important.

Your touch feels so good- oh, someone help him.

He looks up in surprise, his doe eyes widen as he closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “God.. this is all? A simple touch is all that’s needed to bring out the sick bastard in you?”

Your tone is mocking, cold.

He bites his lip, your words are crude but so true.

“You better complete the project, jungkook. Or else.” You spit in sarcasm, your eyes hardening, his heart flutters, He is pathetic.

He quickly nod. “y-yes I will, Y-Y-Y/N!!! I-I promise, p-please don’t get angry with m-me....” he pouts as you roll your eyes and leave him alone with your friend.

He watches with heart eyes as you walk towards the other direction of the school hallway with your minion.

God. You have such a bouncy ass, and such pretty legs. He blushes shamelessly, watching you move, his sudden lewd thoughts that surround his mind are making him feel a little embarrassed,

But you’re just so perfect.

You’ve got a perfect body, And a worth dying for laugh too?

Your laugh makes him weak in the knees. No, just a glance from you is all it takes to make him fall on his knees.

The way you walk, and the way that your hips sway make his mouth water. He stands still on his spot as his hand finds itself touching his chest, where you touched him.

He smiles, You touched him!!! Again! Was it the third time or fourth? He needed to know!!! He needed to write it down.

He needed to! But.. first, he needed to give you the already completed project. He smirks.

He turns to walk where you are now.

Slowly and cautiously.

...he feels like a really bad boy for lying to you... but as much as he deserves to be punished.. he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

And also... if he didn’t lie then how would he get to see your pretty face and feel your touch? And listen to you cuss him.

God.. that turns him on so much.

Your pretty mouth saying such dirty words... he gulps quickly. His throat is getting dry.

But he adores it the most when you called him puppy.

That was so romantic!! It was such a lovely term of endearment. His heart flutters abnormally when you called him that.

He is your puppy. “gah, I love her so much.” He gushes to himself as he walkea slowly. “She’s so lovely.. I’m going crazy.” He breathes. Walking so carelessly, lost in his fantasies as he bumped into a person.

It was yunho.

His right hand man. Jungkooks face does a complete 180 change, now, jaw clenched and his eyes... hard. “Watch where you’re going, fucker. This was the First and last time. I’ll fucking shoot you next time.” He growls in a dangerously low tone.

Making sure that you can’t hear him.

Yunho eyes widen with fear. “I-I am so sorry Sir but... this was important..” he stutters. Looking down at the floor. The weight of jungkooks murderous eyes on him is making him regret every single decision in his life.

Jungkook looks around to see that the whole hall was finally empty. Everyone has gone to their classes, even you, he scoffs in annoyance.

This fucker is going to die.

“Spit.”

“W-We found him. The guy you asked for...”

Jungkook smirks. “Great.” at least now he will get to get his frustrations out on someone, he doesn’t exactly appreciate your stupid bitchy attitude, but- you manage to get him hard so.

Oh today is really a great day, Now he could finally be his real self. He’s getting tired of hiding to you, of course. It’s just been awhile since he got to kill someone.

He loves being always be your ever so loyal puppy, but now it’s about time he makes you his bitch.

But to the underworld. He was Jeon Jungkook.

The biggest fucking gang leader of South Korea.

Jungkook fixes his glasses once again, these glasses are fucking annoying- he needs to take them off- his eyesight is perfectly fine, but he looks cute in them like you said-

“where is my fucking homework?” He asks.

He only does your homework, and his people do his, sometimes he’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing.

he doesn’t even understand what he’s doing here because he doesn’t need to study. He just needs to take care of the business, but ever since you caught his eye when he was visiting this University, since his mother had insisted.

He wanted to be with you.

“I-I have it in my bag!”

“Fuck off now.” He growls, and Yunho doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh, the things Jungkook does for you. It’s OK.. once he has you? You are going to find out about everything. Just a little bit more.

You were just the spawn of the devil. But he was the fucking devil himself.

[richeeduvie]

Birdhouse in Your Soul / DRABBLE

Oswald can’t believe a girl like you would like him. Unprovoked - especially after he thought you were finding him funny when there's nothing to laugh at. He don’t deserve it, but he’s not gonna deny himself.

IM SORRY DOG N BONE AND MADMAN GIRLIES I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM 😭😭🧍🏻‍♂️ik I'm gonna get bullied down to my ass for this

WARNINGS: Jealousy, insecurities, self-hatred. All from Oz, I love lonely men, Oz is a lgbtq ally but he thinks some stereotypical things concerning fashion. Annoyance against the reader (only for a bit)

-- OVER 1.5K --

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

The first time he sees you is in shit lighting. The diner Oz’s chosen got swinging lamps over him, dim as fuck. But he doesn’t choose a place to eat for the ambience. So, he chews on a burger - enjoys his meal alone. He doesn’t prefer to eat alone, but he usually does, don’t mean nothing but everyone’s busy at different times.

Then, he sees you. Or…really, he catches you seeing him. Oz doesn’t blink when he does, but his brows come down when you turn your head quickly.

The fuck you staring at?

Oz swallows his bite before he takes another, his eyes still on the woman in the booth across from him. He saw you when you came in, he tried to forget you were there at all.

He ain’t no got no business staring at a beautiful woman he can’t pay for.

That’s a simple fact. He means…his eyes took to you - his heart went up in his fucking ears at a two, three second glance. He’s not gonna fucking give you that, not now - with all your staring problems. It don’t matter if your looks, not just beautiful, but is also something to grip him by the neck as he forced himself to turn away.

Then, he almost forgot you were there when he was enjoying his burger, too much tomato, though.

But now, he catches you staring at him again.

The fuck is wrong with you? There ain’t such a thing as manners for pretty girls? He’s seen it before, that there’s some people in life that can get by without learning how to survive, how latch onto any sense of the word decency because of what they were gonna grow up to be. In your case…he didn’t think extreme beauty can be such a negative on a person, but it's getting at him. He wishes it didn't, but it's really getting at him.

Oz looks away from you with another bite and swallow, he sighs out - it's heavy on the breath. Trying to breathe away the parts of himself that are close to getting pissed off.

You're a fidgety broad, something about him scare you?

He tries not to look again in the seconds of facing the front of his booth, but he fails. Maybe it's your unfortunate beauty a man's not gonna keep himself from even though he should, maybe it's him wanting to know if you're gawking at him again, despite the fact that he knows it ain't gonna feel good. Ignorance is bliss works in how he turns people in his favor in his line of work, and ignorance is bliss works in how he wouldn't feel his heart drop and arms burn like a little fucking pussy boy if he didn't look to see if you were staring at him.

But Oswald does. And you are. His eyes meet yours before you try turning like he didn't just fucking catch you again. Fine, he's not a pretty guy, catch a glance or two at him - but he's not gonna tolerate wordless bullying when he's trying to enjoy a meal alone. Not when he doesn't have to.

Not when he can't stop himself from saying anything about it, Oz hasn't ever been able to, really.

He drops his burger on his plate, it clunks as he straightens his back out.

"You-"

You turn at the word just when a glob of sauce falls from Oz's mouth to his suit.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Fuck."

Oz's chin presses into his neck when he looks down to try and wipe the stain off of his suit's breast.

And everything burning at the sight of a most beautiful lady trying to go ahead and stifle a laugh when he looks back up.

Always something to ogle at, always something to laugh at - they don't know what he can do, he can't hide his anger. He shouldn't, nobody should be laughing at him anymore. Why do people laugh at him? After all this time, everything he's done.

You're not even apart of his work, you're not laughing cause you find him a weak gimp at his own job, you're just laughing at the outside - because all of his body and face is just fucking hilarious.

Why does he gotta think you're so pretty?

Oz leans forward, throwing his crumpled napkin on the table.

"What's so interesting about what you're looking at that you can't go two goddamn seconds without staring at me while you're eating your food? Huh? Look what you made me do."

He's sorry for a second, talking to a woman like this - especially when your face drops, but somebody's gotta teach you manners, before you mess with an even uglier guy with a worse disposition, yeah?

Oz watches your throat bob.

"I'-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...gawk. I know, I shouldn't stare. I just..." Your mouth parts, but no words come for three or so seconds. "I really..."

And in the silence, there it is - that face. Oswald wears that face something, or whatever's on yours. Of course, you wear it better. But it's how he looks when he's trying to figure out what to say, how to turn a situation in his favor. Head slightly tilted down, mouth slightly parted. He's sure that if his eyes weren't waiting on you, that you'd be staring at him.

Trying to lie your way out of this. Fine, he understands. Whateva.

"I really like your suit. Sorry I ruined it."

Oz's muscles around his nose scrunch with his brows. He doesn't like how the compliment hits his veins like it's drops to a drophead's eyes.

He doesn't like how he almost falters.

"...You trying to buy one for yourself?"

A lesbian, maybe. What a damn shame for the better-looking fellas of Gotham. But alright, good on the ladies. Oz takes in a breath.

"Oh, no."

"...Watching the model to see if you'll like it on your boyfriend?"

"No. No, I just - I just like it on you."

Oz doesn't blink, not when you turn away from him, not when your eyes come back to him with a smile. Something warm, gorgeous. Fucking confusing.

What in the absolute hell?

You're still in on the joke in your own head, this is material for whatever you'll laugh at, because that's too close to a woman who looks like you calling him handsome. You wouldn't ever naturally do that.

"Listen, sorry I came at you like that - but you don't have to make up a..." Oz turns his hand over and over, rolls his wrist. "A story to get away from the heat."

You shake your head and scoot closer to the outside of your booth. You're wearing a cheap outfit, but it fits you well.

Jesus, be a gentlemen, Oz - even if this broad is making fun of you. Either that or she's crazy. Or maybe she's legally blind and don't got her glasses on.

"No, I just like the way you wear it. Really. It wouldn't take much like a man like you to make a suit look good."

Oz is still. Fucking stiff. You laugh at yourself, you sound like you're embarrassed at what you're saying.

"I know it's wrong to stare, if I was a man and you were...not a man and you caught me staring at you, I'd be a creep. I guess the fact that I have a vagina doesn't make my gawking any less creepy. Sorry, would excuse my creepiness if I told you you were too handsome to look away?"

Oz blinks. He looks to the sugar packet on his table. He remembers reading somewhere in a magazine, years ago - when he was driving for Sofia and waiting for her in the car, there was something about if how you're in a dream, you can tell you're in one if you look at something that has words on it, but you can't read them. That's what he tries to look for, because what do you fucking mean?

What the hell is going on?

Oz decides he can laugh too. He smiles with it.

"Really, sweetheart...you don't gotta-"

"I know, it doesn't change the fact my eyes were looming, I'm sorry-"

"You want a refill on the coffee, sweetheart?"

Oz doesn't end up picking diners cause of their lighting, but he takes the service into consideration. What kind of waiter just breaks into a conversation like this?

It's a guy asking you if you want more coffee, not old enough to be the fatherly type calling every younger patron "sweetheart" or "buddy". He's a pretty boy.

Oz's hand comes into a fist, he knocks on the wood of the table for the sake of stimulation. He breathes through his mouth before pulling his lips from side to side.

"I'm good, Will. Thank you, though."

"Going for afternoon desert?"

"I don't think for today."

His eyes flicker up from his fist to where pretty boy smiles at you. You smile back.

Yeah, you're just saying things. Saying things don't mean anything. Oz should know. But he bets it's easier for you to get people to listen to you - believe you with a face and body like that. With a smile that rolls through the...entirety of him. He scratches his brow.

"Alright...I'll just-"

"Guy behind you don't get a refill?"

Pretty boy turns to him. Yeah, buddy - do your job.

"...Oh. Sorry, sir-"

Oz puts his hand up, his head nods once before he lifts his chin up slightly.

"I'm, uh...I'm just keeping you alert, Buddy. I don't need anything."

"Oh...okay."

The boy doesn't laugh. People don't laugh when they should sometimes. He turns to leave after you ask him for the check.

"What you doing not telling him he's a handsome fella? Don't call him humorous, though."

It's a real question. You're just saying things to the guy, for a minute - he thought you could've been real in your compliments. God forbid, he almost called it flirting. Like a doll like you, someone he's taken with so quickly, flirts with Oswald Cobb for free.

Now, he's not completely avoidant in giving credit where credit is due. He can be a good guy for a lady, lady of the night - lady in the club. Hell, Oz is sure that if he really tried, a broad on the street could take a liking to him without knowing the life he's making for himself. He's said it...he's an acquired taste. He dresses well, sometime he can look good. He tries to keep clean. But Oz ain't blind. You look like that, a beauty even in this diner. That's not him just being loose, you are beautiful. Oz is...he's real about it.

What lady like you would want him so damn openly?

You blink fast, eyes flicking before smiling thin at him.

"I've got my own tastes."

Oz's charm drops from his fucking face. What you're hinting smacks the word stunned across it.

You look down at your watch, also cheap. The fact you probably don't got a man in your life to buy you better things strikes him too. The thought comes in.

He could take care of you.

It comes too fast, Oz thinks. It's been six or so fucking minutes of what he thought was a bullying he couldn't handle like a pussy-fuck to thinking you was crazy, and the second you've convince him with that..."I've got my own tastes", Something like belief comes beating at his heart. The thought this can go somewhere, all from a woman he hasn't know for more than stares and excuses to want to believe, against every bone in his damn body.

But he'd be too stupid to believe you based on words alone, he knows how to spin words - pull them apart from his hand and watch people eat out of it while he plays it like he's eating out of theirs. But maybe it's your face that makes it hard.

But maybe you're telling the truth, and if so, it feels too fucking good.

"Shit, I gotta go."

You throw money on the table before standing up.

Lucky you, gotta go before you have to make something out of your sweettalk, but it still feels good. Feels fucking good to be like, but it doesn't feel real.

But he has it in the palm of his hands.

"That's the last I get of your flattery? That's a shame, doll."

Oz is good at making it sound like a tease instead of a real question of offense. Yeah.

"If you enjoyed that burger enough to come back, maybe you'll catch me around here. I'm a regular. Nice to meet you...and your suit."

"...Yeah, nice to meet you too."

Oz watches you leave out the door with its bell ringing.

What a woman with words he don't deserve. He'll keep himself humble here. He don't deserve your flattery and smiles to be a truth, as much as it rumbles all over his body - he thinks he'd be fucking blushing if he let himself be more of a pussy-fuck than he can be. Not now, though.

Now, the ideas roll in. You like him. You think he's handsome. You smiled, and you're not taking a car to wherever you're going. He can see you walking down the street from his window booth.

He ain't no fucking stalker, not when he has to be. He'd never do that to a lady who don't like him, even if she was as pretty as you are.

Oz takes one last bite of his burger, yeah. Sure. It's good enough. He leaves his cash on the table before taking himself out the door.

But you do like him. And unlike him, you shouldn't ever have a reason to lie.

[harrysfolklore]

husband and wife - harry blurb

those harry pics gave me major new husband!harry vibes so here we are, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

The Caribbean sun, the man you loved and your friends. There was definitely no better way to start the year.

In good old fashion, you decided to travel down to Anguilla for New Years, just like you did back in 2019 and it ended up being one of your best trips ever.

You were soaking up some sun, laying comfortable on a beach chair and occasionally sipping on the fruity drink Harry provided for you earlier, totally blissful as you enjoyed the moment.

That was until a muscular body that you knew too well blocked the sun for you.

“Enjoying yourself, gorgeous?” Harry asked, in his shirtless glory and wearing just some black swimming trucks.

“I was a few seconds ago,” you teased, “You know, before someone interrupted me.”

“Heyyyyy,” he used his topical fake hurt voice, “That’s not a nice way to talk to your husband.”

You smiled at this, feeling butterflies on your stomach as he called himself your husband.

It happened after the end of the tour and before his infamous haircut. Your weeding took place on your Italy villa and all your close friends and family were there to celebrate your love. It was a beautiful and intimate ceremony that everyone always would hold close to their hearts.

The public and fans still had no idea about it and you loved how much you were enjoying your marriage with that kind of privacy.

“That’s right, you’re my husband now,” you said as Harry squeezed himself next to you on the beach chair, “I can’t bully you like I used to.”

“Mr and Mrs Styles, come join us!” Jeff’s voice interrupted was Harry was about to reply and made you turn your heads his way, noticing that your friends were gathering around to watch the sunset.

“I think we’re good mate,” Harry replied sassily, “Don’t feel like sharing my wife right now.”

Your friends laughed at this, yelling some stuff like “you’re whipped!” and “she must be sick of you.

“You’re mean to them.” You joked, closing your eyes and leaning into him, feeling his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“They deserve it, they haven’t let me be alone with you all day,” he shrugged, making you roll your eyes and look up at him, holding his jaw and rubbing the stubbled skin of his chin, “Besides, an I mean for wanting to love on my wife?”

“You’re not,” you said, grazing his bottom lip with a smile on your face, “You drive your wife absolute mad.”

Harry smirked, throwing his head back at your words and grabbing your chin to kiss your lips.

“I love to hear you call yourself my wife,” he smiled widely, his eyes full of love and glee, “I still can’t believe we’re married, It’s the best thing that happened this year.”

You only smiled, connecting your lips again before Jeff’s voice interrupted you one more time,

“Seriously lovebirds, get in here. You already had your honeymoon!”

Harry groaned as he let go of your lips, standing up and facing your friends.

“Fine, we’ll join you,” he grabbed your hand to walk towards them, “Don’t you hate when lonely people ruin the moment for happy couples?” Harry said to you, making the entire group laugh.

“We’re literally married!” Glenne said, pointed to herself and Jeff.

Harry only shrugged with a smug face, sitting down beside Tommy and pulling you to his lap, laying his chin on your shoulder.

The sun sank lower, painting the sky pink and golden. Harry's arm was around your around your waist and he occasionally placed kisses on your shoulder as you engaged in conversation with your friends.

"This is perfect." You leaned back into him, whispering so only he could hear him, his heartbeat steady against your back and his breath hitting your neck.

"Absolutely perfect," Harry whispered back in agreement, his lips grazing your skin as he nestled closer.

You were starting the year at one of your favorite places, surrounded by your friends and as husband and wife, and you couldn't wait to see what 2024 had in store for your perfect life together

[papercorgiworld]

hi!! Could I request a fic with like Mattheo and Theo, or either of them. The reader wears glasses but only for reading stuff so her "friends" makes fun of her and Mattheo or Theo comforts her?? Love your fics xx

I got this request a century ago, but I promised myself I would only post this if I finished the second request as a way of keeping myself motivated... Did not really speed up the writing process, but here we are! The good news is: I finished the second request... bad news, I will only post it if I manage to finish the third request.

Anyways, thank you for the request and I'm sorry for my absence, I hope you've all been well. Either way you all deserve the world and lots of happiness. Sending you lots of love! AND of course: Happy Readings!

Merlin, she looks beautiful

Reader that needs glasses with Mattheo or Theo

Gently you stroll through the endless bookcases searching for something that would help you and your friends with your Transfiguration’s group project. “Found it.” You mumble to yourself, thinking that no one would hear you. However, a sneaky slytherin was adoring you from a bit further. Lounging with his friends in a corner of the library his eyes traced you until Draco snapped his fingers. “You’re gonna start drooling if you don’t stop that.” Your eyes move to the laughter but you can only guess what it’s about.

Your friends groan as you drop the books on the table. Honestly you weren’t excited about it either, but the work had to be done. Everyone grabs a book. Flipping through the pages you quickly spot an interesting chapter. You squint your eyes as you try to read, cursing yourself you grab your bag searching for your glasses. You blink, remembering how much more fun reading is when you don’t struggle with every letter. 

Merlin, she looks beautiful. 

Your one paragraph in when your vision gets misty. Confused, you take off your glasses and everyone at your table starts laughing. The person opposite of you had used a spell to fog your glasses to everyone’s amusement. 

You felt your insecurities peak. Wearing glasses was new for you and you hadn’t quite adjusted to life with them, feeling a little stupid. “What’s up with the glasses? Are you going blind?” Someone at the table quipped, making the others chuckle. Instead of explaining why you had to wear glasses you just fell silent, everyone staring at you until you finally stuttered some words out. “I’m gonna read this later. I need to meet up with someone.” You could hear the snickering as you left the library. 

You feel your heartbeat quicken and turn around a corner, pressing your back against the wall you try to calm yourself. You look down at the glasses in your hand and for a moment you stare up the staircases. If you would go up and drop your ugly glasses, you would be rid of them forever. It wasn’t going to work like that, but for a second it seemed like a good idea to just pretend like you didn’t need them.

Theo

POV: Theo watching you when you hurried out of the library, clearly upset.

You sigh and turn to continue walking without having anywhere to go, but suddenly you feel magic tug at you. You’re swirled around so that you’re now face to face with Theodore Nott. “Ey bella, you seemed upset when you left the library.” You blink staring at Theo who you had never known to show emotion leave alone concern for you. “Uhm… no it’s fine. I’m good.” You nod a few times as a way of convincing him, compensating for your shaky voice. “You forgot this.” Theo shows you the case for your glasses. You stare at the pattern, a bit concerned about whether or not he thought it was cute or not. You mentally cursed yourself for caring about what Theodore Nott thought of you simply because he was a popular guy. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Thank you.” You reach for the case but Theo immediately lifts it higher and out of reach for you.

A slytherin bully playing around was really the last thing you could use right now. Even though Theo and his friends were notorious for causing trouble, you had always been spared from it… that is until now. “Can I please have it back?” You bravely ask, stressing the please and hoping that the slytherin would be merciful. “Only if you promise to find some better friends.” You meet his eyes and he can see the clear confusion. “They make you feel unhappy with yourself. You make yourself small when you’re around them, I’ve noticed and I don’t like it. So promise me you’ll hang out with other people.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You noticed? Have you been watching me or something?” At your question Theodore's confident smile turns into a nervous chuckle. “I’m allowed to admire beautiful things, am I not?” His eyes look at you with cheeky innocence. 

You blush and bite your lip. “Admiring, huh?” Theodore smiles at you and hands you the case for your glasses. “Yes… and I hate it when others dim your light.” You look away from him as you put your glasses in their case. “My friends aren’t that bad. The glasses just make me look silly.” Theo shakes his head at your words and closes the distance between the two of you. “I disagree.” His voice is raspy and you can’t believe the slytherin heartthrob is standing so close to you. “Bella, look at me. You’re gorgeous. Glasses or no glasses, you turn heads when you walk by.” You drown in his eyes as his words soothe all your insecurities. Theo gently pushes your chin up. “Promise me that you’ll hang out with better people.” He whispers with an enchanting voice. When you nod, he smiles and takes a step back. “Good.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and winks before walking away.

There’s a silence as you stare at him with dreamy eyes. “Hey.” You suddenly say, to your surprise, out loud.” You can feel your heart thump loud when he turns to face you. “Can I hang with you?” The left corner of Theo’s mouth tugs up and his hand leaves his pocket gesturing for you to come with him. “Of course. I don’t mind. I could admire you all day.” You bite your lip to try and hide your happy smile and walk with him. 

Mattheo

POV: Mattheo anything but pleased with your snickering friends as you leave the library with teary eyes.

“There you are.” You wouldn’t have thought those words were meant for you if you weren’t the only one there. With dumb eyes you stare at none other than Mattheo Riddle. “You alright, love? You seemed upset when you left the library in a hurry.” Your eyes widen at the realisation. You thought you were hiding it well but it was probably obvious to anyone with proper eyesight that you were close to crying when you practically ran out of the library. Mattheo took your silence as an invitation to get closer to you. Significantly closer. It made you worry what people would think if they saw you so close to him. Hogwarts loves juicy gossip. 

“You look gorgeous with or without glasses so don’t worry about it.” Mattheo smirks, confidence radiating off of him. Not knowing how to take the compliment, you chuckle and look away from the handsome slytherin towering over you. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?” You replied jokingly, but as soon as you meet his eyes you realise that considering who you’re talking to that it was a really bad joke. Your eyes fill with panic as you question whether to run or apologise. Meanwhile Mattheo lips form an amused smirk and his eyes playfully watch your nervous figure. “Not really, I was thought to never get caught in a lie. But what I said about your glasses was not a lie. It was a compliment. You’re gorgeous. Don’t doubt that, love. However, when the professors ask me later if I had anything to do with turning your friends’ hair into snakes, I’ll lie without shame.” Your mouth drops when you hear his confession. You immediately forget the sweet things he just said and panic. “What! Oh Merlin, no! Why did you do that?” As you try and walk away, back to your friends Mattheo stops you. “They deserve it and you know that. You don’t need glasses to see that they’re not real friends.” He’s still holding onto your wrist when you move closer to him. You let your head hang in defeat for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But still no reason to hex them.” 

You give Mattheo a judging look, but your soft smile gives away that you don’t really mind that he hexed them. His eyes land on your smile as he chuckles. “Hexes were invented specifically for people like them.” You shake your head but at the same time you feel yourself drawn to him. His hand moves from your wrist to your hip. “You’re stunning. So don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about yourself.” 

Just when Mattheo is about to make a move Pansy’s coughs, making you jump and take a step back. Standing at the end of the hallway, a very sassy looking Pansy darts her eyes between you two. “Am I interrupting something?” She asks with obvious fake innocence. You immediately shake and say your goodbyes to Mattheo. 

“What did I ever do to you, Pansy?” Mattheo asks after he watched you leave. “I think it was something you said in first year.” Pansy bluntly answers before walking away. Mattheo nervously chews his lips wondering if you were okay and curious if you had felt the heat as much as he did.

***

You had gotten so flustered after Pansy had caught Mattheo and you so close together that you went to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes. Feeling fresh and calm you step outside again, only to realise that you were late for class. You rush in to find Mcgonagall stare at you in disappointment. “Let’s not waste anymore time standing there. Take a seat.” You nod, wanting to disappear now that the whole class is staring at you. You look to your left to see Mattheo sitting alone. Puppy eyes locked onto you.

Look at his eyes!!!!

You freeze as you feel the heat on your cheeks return. I must look like a tomato. Mcgonagall turns away from the board to see you still standing up. “Miss (l/n), is there a problem?” Her stern voice sends shivers down your spine and you feel like you’re a first year again. Within seconds you're seated next to Mattheo with your books in front of you. “Hello again.” Mattheo whispers amusement ringing in his voice. You nervously flip through the pages. “Chapter 4 and don’t forget your glasses.” Mattheo whispers, you softly chew your lip as you fumble to get your glasses. “I think you look cute with them.” At those words you turn to Mattheo with glasses, blushed cheeks and wide eyes. He gives you a cheeky wink… and that class you did not hear a thing the professor said to you.

Picture 1: I lost the source, sorry 😞

Picture 2: https://pin.it/57e7ZitKL

Picture 3: https://pin.it/5i3RGZvgQ

Picture 4: https://pin.it/37cX6axUM

[searenbound]

Based on this post it was really fun to explore the concepts in this one

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Warnings: non-con/dub-con, reader is bullied briefly at the beginning, oral(female receiving), afab reader with she/her pronouns, vaginal fingering and penetration, omegaverse

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“H-hey! Stop!” (Yn) yelled, knowing her pleas would fall on uncaring ears as the pack of girls shoved into someone’s room.

“Oh stop crying! We’ll let you out soon, probably”

She could practically hear the dismissive shrug and cruel smirk the leader of that little click likely gave.

“I guess that depends on how long Bakugou’s workout takes, you know how Alphas are! It'll probably only be an hour, maybe two? Hope he believes you when you tell him you weren't trying to steal from him!” they laughed, jamming the door shut and leaving (Yn) alone with nothing but her thoughts in the seemingly empty, strong-smelling room.

What did she do to deserve this? Whatever it was it couldn’t possibly warrant anything like this!

She was just a simple Omega, just trying to get a good education so she could get a good job, what did she do wrong to earn such scornful treatment?

Why di—

“The hell are you doing here?”

A heavy, labored, and husky voice sounded from behind her. She froze, her own voice trapped in her throat as she turned towards it to find the Alpha in question rising from his bed. His face flushed and hard to read as he observed her.

He knows her, well sort of? She's in a few of his classes. Always sticking to the corners of the room hoping no one noticed her, but he had.

He took note of every detail, head to toe, from the way her hair fell and complimented her face to the way she walked with a little sway in her hips.

He had wanted to talk to her at least once before his rut had started, but he never got the chance, and now that choice had been taken from them both.

“I uh, I don't know? I got s-shoved in here a-and.…” she stammered and rambled, getting his attention again.

But he couldn't focus on her words though. Her strawberries and cream scent was too sweet and distracting for him to ignore. In a desperate attempt to stave off his growing lust for the oblivious Omega, he tried to subtly palm himself quietly but he groaned at the contact making her jump.

He sounded pained, and her Omega instincts kicked in and brought her to his side quickly to see what was wrong and if she could help.

It was the biggest mistake she could have made. As soon as she was near, she could smell the scent of a frantic, rutting Alpha. It quickly became apparent the type of danger she was in quickly, but not as quick as Bakugou was.

He, in a matter of seconds, had torn through her clothes. Too far gone to ask any more questions or explain himself, too out of it to even notice her fearful begging for him to reconsider his actions.

All he could hear was that pleading tone and god was it easy to imagine that pretty voice begging him to breed her. A pretty little sound that made his knot twitch and ache. God, he needs to breed her.

He has to, needs to so badly, he couldn't stop himself when she smelled so danm good. He was going to breed her, but first, he had to make sure she was ready for him.

He shuddered at the thought, pinning her hips to his bed before laving his tongue over her sex, trying to put a taste to the sugary scent. This was the pussy he’d own. The one his Omega was in possession of. His, all his and he’ll make sure she knows it.

It didn’t matter that he’d never introduced himself properly to her, there’s plenty of time to know his mate better after this.

She tried to get him to stop. Squirming in his grip and tugging at his hair in a futile attempt to get him away from her, as she whimpered “Please, don’t”.

Only to be interrupted by a growl and a finger pushed into her already sopping wet cunt.

In his lust-altered state, her actions seemed like she was just impatient. Her plea was easily written off as her trying to beg him not to be a tease.

“Fucking god, you’re so damn wet, you want it bad don’t you?” he groans adding a second finger, and it must have sounded like some sort of sick taunt to her. His fingers thrusting and rubbing against her inner walls, unwanted and unwavering, but pleasurable in a way that felt like the deepest betrayal.

Her body was welcoming his actions and he seemed to be enjoying his perverse power over her. His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it before sucking and licking on the sensitive little bundle of nerves.

Pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. Closers to the cliff’s edge that she didn’t think she’d survive if she fell from it. It’d leave her broken, useless, and unable to fight his advances, but could she fight this anyway?

He seemed to have no problem overpowering her, seemed unbothered by her begging and feeble attempts to tug him off of her.

Should she just accept her fate? Should she just let herself fall apart and be his toy for the time being?

Her body felt hot and the little bit of internal thread he’s been toying with tangled, knotted, and pulled tighter and tighter until it snapped with a sobbing cry and blanking mind.

She clung tightly to him, not bothering to fight him when he kissed her and lined his thick cock with her entrance. Too far gone to even think about fighting this.

“P-please, at least be gentle with me, I um… I’ve never—”

“You’re still a virgin?” he cut her off, the gravity of their situation finally settling in his mind and he would have backed off. Apologizing profusely for how he behaved, how he let himself be taken by his rut.

She was probably waiting until she was more established to find herself a mate, and in a moment of selfish desperation he almost ruined her. He really did want to back off and let her go but…

“I— d-don’t you want me?”

But her instincts had kicked in and his hesitation must have read as rejection because she looked hurt.

Why did it hurt? She hadn’t wanted this, she didn’t want this!

But it hurts, it hurts so bad, tears started to prick up at her lashes.

Her body was going into heat because of him, and now he doesn’t want her?!

She was being rejected! She was being refused as an Omega and it hurts so much! Why would he be so cruel?

In reality, he doesn’t know what he was meant to do, he was no good at this.

No good at consoling words or gentleness, but he was good at expressing himself through his actions.

So he silenced her with one smooth roll of his hips, sinking into her until he was buried to the hilt.

Forcing back his growl and letting out a deep rumble of a purr in an attempt to assure her she would be safe sharing this first with him. He was determined to stay in control of his body through this, to touch her the way she wanted him to.

He was determined to force himself to be gentle, to slow his thrusts and take his time with her and…

“A-alpha”

Oh fuck.

He swallowed thickly, his pace quickening slightly. He didn’t know if he could keep this gentle facade for her if she wouldn’t even put up a fight against him. She’s being too accepting, too cute for him not to ruin thoroughly.

“I-it feels good! Feels— aha!”

Fuck it.

He took up the ruthless pace he was much more accustomed to and moved a hand to play roughly with her clit and a growl slipped out passed his lips. He couldn’t hold back after all, no, it was more like he just wouldn’t anymore.

He was allowing himself to get drunk off her whimpers and moans, taking pleasure from her blank and dazed expression as she practically crumbled under him.

“Are you, fuckin’ hell, you going to cum already?” He breathed against her ear, groaning at the resulting shiver that wreaked her body.

“You’re clenching around me so tightly, you wanted me to fuck you senseless like this, huh? Wanted to cum my knot, didn’t you?”. He grunted and she couldn’t find the words to respond.

She hadn’t wanted this at first, but now? She didn’t want to want this, but her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, and her nails clawed into his back of their own accord, her mouth ran without hesitation or thought.

“Please! Want it so bad! I want your knot Alpha!”.

She cried out and was silenced with a kiss and the overwhelming sensation of being pushed past the edge and stuck in that blissful free fall as he knotted her.

They stayed tied for what felt like hours before he could safely pull out. In truth it was only minutes, but the conversation they needed to have afterward made the wait unbearable.

Only for it to be as simple as explaining how she ended up trapped in with him, and a promise that he’ll never stop working to earn her forgiveness for this. Because no, it doesn’t matter how this happened or ended, he still did something awful to her and he won’t forgive himself until he’s made sure she’s living a happy fulfilling life with him.

The first step is tearing the heads off her soon-to-be former bullies.