#i think of the people who have hurt me in my life and i don’t want them DEAD.
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"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"
Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.
Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:
The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.
Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.
You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.
But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.
You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.
“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory
“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”
They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.
And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.
“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.
You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”
Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.
“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”
You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?
“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.
Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”
You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”
Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”
You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.
They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.
Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.
“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”
You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."
Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.
Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.
“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.
You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”
At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”
The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.
You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”
A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.
You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?
You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.
Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”
You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"
Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.
Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.
Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”
Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.
You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”
Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.
“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”
You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.
As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”
You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”
He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.
“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”
You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.
You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.
He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.
You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.
Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.
“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”
You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.
Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"
You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."
"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"
Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.
You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.
“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”
Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”
You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.
“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.
But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”
You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.
The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.
“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”
It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.
Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.
“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”
You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.
You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”
Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.
Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”
Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.
It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.
The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.
You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.
It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.
“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.
“Can we talk?”
You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.
“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”
Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.
“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.
“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.
“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”
Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.
“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”
He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”
The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.
The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”
For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.
Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.
One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.
"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.
You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?
“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.
He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.
"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."
“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”
When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.
He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.
You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”
He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.
And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.
He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.
And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.
You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.
Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.
Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.
He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.
At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.
But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.
You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.
Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.
“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”
It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.
Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.
After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”
In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.
Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.
The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.
Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.
Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.
Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.
Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.
And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.
You couldn't wait to leave.
The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”
You stared at him, confused. “What?”
“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”
Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.
“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”
“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”
“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!
But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”
“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”
Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.
You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.
There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.
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Repopulating the whole world with Wonyoung
Male reader x Jang Wonyoung
Plot : You are from a random country "X". World War 3 is ongoing. Genre : Survival, Romantic, Emotional. Includes: 69, rimjob, facesitting, wony pissing, breeding, lots of kissing.
I drag myself onto the rocky shore, my body aching from the endless swimming. My clothes are soaked, my breaths ragged, and my arms feel like they could fall off any second. But I made it.
The world is in ruins. World War III tore everything apart. Cities burned, people scattered, and survival became a desperate gamble. I don’t know how long I was in the water, moving from boat to boat, trying to stay afloat. But somehow, I reached this island near the Korean Peninsula.
I push myself up, coughing out of the salt water, and scan out my surroundings. The island is covered in dense trees, the sand untouched, the wind eerily silent. No signs of life.
Except for one.
A girl stands near the water’s edge, her long, damp hair flowing in the wind. She’s wearing a torn white dress, clinging to her body from the seawater. Even in this chaos, she looks unreallike -- gorgeous.
I blink. My brain struggles to process what I’m seeing.
It’s Jang Wonyoung!
The Wonyoung. The famous K-pop idol. The girl that once stood on dazzling stages, worshipped by millions. And now, she’s here, stranded just like me. Wonyoung also came to the same island through swimming to save herself from the war.
She notices me. Her eyes widen, and she steps back slightly, uncertain. I must look like a wreck, an exhausted or an average looking guy.
I raise my hands slightly, trying to show I’m not a threat. “Hey… I’m not here to hurt you.” My voice is hoarse.
She hesitates, then speaks, her voice soft yet sharp. “Are you alone?”
I nod. “Yeah… just me.”
A pause. The wind howls between us. Then she exhales and sits down on the sand. “Same.”
I look around again. No ships, no planes, no humans. Just us.
Two strangers. A famous lost idol and me.
Alone in the middle of nowhere. Wonyoung asks for my name~ "I'm Y/N!" Nice to meet u! We have a handshake.. Her hands feel soft.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pt1:
I take a cautious step closer. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. A few hours, maybe. I was on a boat, trying to escape… then everything went wrong.” Wonyoung replies.
I nod. I get it. The war didn’t care who we were, celebrity or nobody, we all ended up fighting for survival.
I sat onto the sand beside her, keeping a respectful distance. My body still aches from the swim, but at least I’m alive. “We should find shelter,” I say, more to myself than her.
Wonyoung doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at the ocean, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.”
We explore the island together. It’s small, covered in thick trees, with no sign of civilization. No food, no supplies. If we want to live, we’ll have to find a way ourselves.
We build a shelter from fallen branches near a rocky cliffside, something to protect us from the wind. It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.
I know Wonyoung is feeling hungry, I can hear the sounds from her stomach. She's embarrassed. I hunt for fruits around in the forest and give some off to her. Wonyoung smiles and thanks me for the first time.
As night arrives, we sleep inside the shelter with a distinct position from each other. I can't believe I'm sleeping nearby a famous K-pop idol!
Wonyoung must be a very clean and neat girl. As morning arrives, with no proper shelter, no soap, and no change of clothes, Wonyoung specifically start to feel disgusting. We both only got one outfit for ourselves and its also getting torn apart.
Wonyoung tugs at her damp, dirt-streaked dress, grimacing. “I can’t take this anymore. I feel gross.”
I look down at myself. My clothes are stiff with dried saltwater and sweat. “Yeah, me too.”
She crosses her arms, thinking. “We need to wash them.”
I nod, then realize the problem. “But… if we wash them, we’ll have nothing to wear.”
She sighs. “I know.”
We stand there in awkward silence, both aware of what that means.
“…Maybe we take turns?” I suggest hesitantly.
She gives me a sharp look. “You mean one of us stays naked while the other waits?”
I scratch my head. “I mean… yeah?”
She groans, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
I shrug. “We don’t have a choice. It’s just us here.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “Still!”
After a long pause, she exhales sharply. “Fine!" “This is so worse!” she mutters.
I chuckle. “At least we’ll be clean.”
She grumbles but doesn’t argue.
And so, in our strange little world, even washing clothes becomes a ridiculous challenge. But somehow, we manage—awkward, embarrassed, but surviving together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But suddenly, it seems Wonyoung has realized survival takes priority over everything else. Embarrassment, modesty—those things start to feel pointless.
To my surprise, Wonyoung just… pulls her dress over her head.
I freeze. My brain short-circuits as the gorgeous Wonyoung directly takes off her clothes near me, her medium sized breasts with pretty pink nipples, a luscious curvy figure that takes my breath away. Her natural scent is divine yet there's a hint of dirt clinging to her perfect skin. Now as soon as she also takes off her smelly and dirty underwear the same time, I see her pussy is hairy, maybe she doesn't shave it often. I keep looking in at her hungrily, finding every aspect of Wonyoung naked incredibly sexy.
She throws her dress and underwear onto a sea, standing now in nothing but her bare skin, completely unbothered. “You should do the same,” she says casually. “It’s just us, anyway.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I swallow hard, staring at the ground now. “Uh… are you sure about this?”
She shrugs. “Why not? Clothes are useless if they’re this filthy. We might as well just stay like this.”
I feel my face burning. “I mean… isn’t that a little—”
She raises an eyebrow. “What? Weird? Embarrassing?” She sighs. “At first, yeah. But think about it—we’re stuck here, just the two of us. Why should we care?”
I can’t argue with that logic. She’s right. There’s no one else. No society. No rules.
Still, I hesitate.
She smirks slightly. “You’re overthinking it.”
I exhale, then slowly pull off my shirt. Then my pants. The air feels strange against my skin, but at the same time… freeing.
Wonyoung smiles. “See? Not so bad.”
And just like that, we accept our fate. No more shame, no more awkwardness—just two survivors, stripped of everything, living in the most natural way possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As now I'm naked as well, Wonyoung starts to look at my rod standing at attention. I caught her biting her lips and smiling, which I found adorable. She playfully teases, 'I can't help it, it's so…funny!' I blush furiously and retort, 'Hey, don't laugh!'". I'm confused why the heck Wonyoung is laughing at my dick? Maybe she has never seen one before?
"You look funny naked, especially with that thing down standing out of nowhere so hard" Wonyoung teases.
I'm sure Wonyoung knows herself why my dick is hard at the moment. It only get this way when there's a pretty hot girl around. Also the fact, Wonyoung is naked herself too. Wonyoung's stomach makes a noise again, its time for food and we realize we should start hunting for survival.
Yesterday we survived on wild fruits & coconuts, and anything remotely edible that we can scavenge. But soon, we realize that if we want to stay strong, we need real food ~ fish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung figures out that if we trap fish in small tidal pools near the shore, we can just grab them with our hands. It’s tricky, but with patience, we manage to catch a few.
Since we don’t have pots or pans, we cook the fish directly over a fire. We create a simple fire pit using dry wood and stones. We skewer the fish on sticks and roast them over the flames until they’re cooked through.
The first bite of was Incredible. We eat in silence, both of us savoring the moment. Wonyoung licks her lips, grinning. “I never thought I’d be this happy just eating a burnt fish.”
I laugh, nodding at her words.
As night falls, the temperature on the island drops, and the once-refreshing breeze turns into a chilling wind. Its getting cold. Yesterday we had our clothes but this morning, upon Wonyoung's idea, I also threw my clothes and we're both naked still.
With no clothes, no blankets, and only a small fire to keep us warm, the cold becomes a real problem.
At first, we try to endure it, huddling close to the fire, wrapping ourselves in large leaves, anything to stay warm. But nothing works.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung shivers beside me, hugging herself tightly. “This isn’t working,” she mutters, her teeth slightly chattering.
I sigh. I’m freezing too. Then, reluctantly, Wonyoung says, “There’s only one thing we can do.”
I looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
She hesitates. “Body heat. If we stay close, we’ll be warmer.”
I stare her for a second, then exhale, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this…” But then, after another shiver, I mutter, “Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I try to be positive, trying my best to be a gentleman ”
But Wonyoung seems to have something in her mind, she has been trying a little to seduce me even in this kind of survival condition ever since we both got naked.
We move closer, our bare skin pressing together. The warmth is immediate, awkward at first, but undeniable.
She rests her head against my shoulder, her body still tense. “I love this,” she whispers.
Slowly, her body relaxes against mine, and I feel my own muscles easing. The cold doesn’t bite as much anymore.
After a few moments of silence, she sighs. “You’re warm…”
I smirk. “So are you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung hugs me tigher, her chest pressing over mine. I can feel the size of her breasts, I have never grabbed them yet with my hands. I feel so good as well as her skin presses over mine more tightly..
Wonyoung and I can see the full moon together, it looks beautiful.
And just like that, we fall asleep, two survivors, pressed together against the cold, finding warmth in the only way we can.
The next morning, fever hits me suddenly. One moment, I’m fine, tired but fine. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside. My limbs are weak, my vision blurry, and every breath feels heavy.
I collapse near our shelter, barely able to keep my eyes open. Wonyoung rushes over, panic written all over her face.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” She kneels beside me, pressing a hand to my forehead. The moment she touches me, she gasps. “You’re burning up…”
I try to respond, but my throat is dry, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m… just tired…”
She bites her lip, looking around as if searching for a solution. “You’re Sick OH God!!"
Wonyoung has gotten emotional. She swallows hard, taking a shaky breath.
For the first time, I see her cry.
Even in this desperate situation, I hate seeing her like this. I slowly reach out, grabbing her trembling hand. “Hey… I’m not dead yet.” I try to smile, but even that takes too much effort.
She sniffles and squeezes my hand tightly. “You better not die,” she whispers. “I can’t be alone here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Wonyoung stays by my side, cooling my forehead with wet leaves, giving me water, whispering words of reassurance even when she thinks I’m asleep.
And in my fevered haze, I realize something—she’s not just the famous girl I once admired from afar. She’s not just my survival partner. She might be someone special in my life.
The fever doesn’t break overnight, that day Wonyoung does all the job, cooking the fishes and finding survival resources. My body feels weak, my head heavy, and every movement sends waves of exhaustion through me. But Wonyoung never leaves my side.
She brings me water from the stream, carefully tilting a coconut shell to my lips. “Drink,” she murmurs. Her voice is soft but firm, her eyes filled with worry.
I manage a few sips before resting my head back down. “Thanks…” I whisper.
She sighs, brushing my damp hair back. “You’re burning up.”
That night, as the cold wind howls through our shelter, Wonyoung presses herself against me, wrapping her arms around my body. “This should help,” she whispers. “You need warmth.”
I’m too weak to argue, and honestly, her body heat is comforting. She rests her head against my chest, holding me close. She takes care of my body.
At some point, I groan, my muscles aching all over.
She notices immediately. “Does it hurt?”
I nod weakly.
Without hesitation, she shifts, her delicate hands moving to my shoulders. Slowly, gently, she starts massaging me, her fingers pressing into my tense muscles. She also gave me a handjob at the middle. I don’t even know if I should count it as lewd since we have been naked together and staying like this for 2 days already, but this is the first time she grabbed my dick with her hands.
“Relax,” she whispers. “You always do everything for us. Just let me take care of you.”
Her hands move down my arms, across my back, easing the knots of pain. Her touch is soft but firm, careful yet reassuring.
For the first time in days, I feel a little better.
I close my eyes, letting her warmth, her touch, her presence lull me into much-needed rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung asks, “Do you think the war is over?”
I exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”
She stares at the horizon. “What if… no one is left?”
I glance at her. “What do you mean?”
She hugs herself tighter. “Last time we saw the world… there were nukes being launched. Countries were falling apart. If the war is over, does that mean someone won? Or does it mean no one is left to fight anymore?”
A heavy silence falls between us. The thought is terrifying, but not impossible.
I swallow. “Even if there are survivors, do you think anyone would look for us? We’re on some random, uncharted island. We don’t even know if this place is on any map.”
Wonyoung’s expression darkens. “We could be doomed.”
I don’t want to believe that. But deep down, I know she might be right.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s just us now,” she whispers.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “Then we survive. No matter what.”
“But if we are the only ones left…” Wonyoung hesitates. “Should we… you know… repopulate?”
The word hangs in the air, heavier than anything we’ve ever spoken before.
I swallow hard. “You’re asking if we should have kids?”
She nods slowly. “It’s what humans do, right? Continue the species.”
The idea makes sense, logically. But something about it feels too real.
I exhale. “That’s a big decision.”
She glances at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I know. But if the world is gone… doesn’t that mean we’re responsible for rebuilding it?”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process. “It’s not just about responsibility. We’d be bringing a child into a world with no hospitals, no medicine, no help. It’d be dangerous.”
She bites her lip, thinking. “Yeah… but if we don’t, then when we die, that’s it. The end of humanity.”
Silence. The fire crackles between us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pt2:
Wonyoung finally sighs, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”
After some while, Wonyoung asks, "Do you want some special comfort?"
Without understanding what special comfort she meant, I nodded yes.
Wonyoung winks and positioned her face between my legs. Her hands reach up to gently caress my thighs, sending shivers through my body. Leaning in slowly, I suddenly feel her pink tongue extends and swirls around the tip of my dick. A soft gasp escapes her as she tastes me, her eyes never leaving mine. She takes the head into her warm, inviting mouth.
I feel my full length inside her mouth. I finally realized Wonyoung is giving me a blowjob already. Wonyoung pulls back a bit. She grins, still stroking me gently. "Mmm…you like that y/n?" She teases before taking me deep again, bobbing her head with purpose now.
"Wonyoung, are you serious right now? You're a famous idol… I can't believe ur doing this!?!" I say.
Wonyoung replies, "Well, I don't think there's anyone left in the world. We should start reproducing already!." She continues taking my length more inside her mouth.
I realize Wonyoung must be feeling emotional, and that I'm the only person in her life now. It doesn't matter if I'm attractive or not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wonyoung is absolutely magnificent as she works to please me with her lips and tongue. Her tongue dances against the sensitive under side of my dick each time I hit the back of her mouth. She gazes up at me with desire, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper still. Every flick, suck and lick from Wonyoung feels heavenly, it's clear she was made for this. I can't hold back my cries of pleasure - "Oh wow, Wonyoung please stop, you are amazing at this!"
Wiping a strand of saliva from her chin after she finishes sucking my rod, Wonyoung sits up and spreads her legs wide. Her thick bush of dark hair beckons me forward. "Alright, enough pleasing you. I want the same feeling as well. Mind eating my hairy pussy now?" she commands.
"Are you serious? But I'm sick!" I reply to her command.
"Oh right", Wonyoung pauses, a look of determination crossing her face. "Can't stand or return the favor hmm?" She grins slyly. "No problem, I can adapt." She positions herself above me, her beautiful eyes twinkling. "Here, I'll just…sit right down."
And with that, Wonyoung lowers herself, her vertical lips parting as she envelops my face in her warmth. I feel her weight settle on my face as she slowly sits on my face, her pussy hair tickling my nose.
I get flashbacks of watching Wonyoung's performance through my screen at home last year before the war started. It's exactly that same ass! Now that ass is about to be buried all over my face.
As Wonyoung lowers herself onto me fully, I am enveloped by her feminine heat and scent from her ass… She is totally face sitting on me.. Wonyoung is now riding my face!
Eager to please, I decide to really explore Wonyoung's shithole. Gently I spread her ass cheeks further apart, gazing at her tight little bud. I push my tongue forward deep, pushing more deep into Wonyoung's most intimate place. Inside her anus, my tongue meets warm, velvety smooth walls that grip me gently. A faint musky scent fills my senses as I wiggle and stroke within her sensitive rim.
My tongue inside her asshole is absorbing up every sticky morsel. The taste is intense, earthy and undeniably naughty. I delve deeper, driven by an urge to clean every inch of her filthy depths.
Her inner walls clench and grip my probing tongue as I feel the wet, dirty texture inside her tight little shithole. It's a decadent mess inside here. Oh fuck, Am I really eating her wet messy holes as she commands?
Shee gasps but then urges me, "Deeper...stick your tongue in!".
I oblige, slowly working my tongue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her ass shakes over my head with a playful excitement from taking in charge, she still asks teasingly, "Is OK?"
I nod, surrendering to pleasure her. My tongue extends, lapping up her slick nectar. She tastes divine. I feel her move, grinding against my mouth harder. She shifts a bit and my tongue finds her hairy wet pussy, making her bite her lip and smile wider.
I eagerly lap up every drop of her juices, my tongue tracing her folds and circling her engorged clit. I suck the bud into my mouth, flicking it while my hands press against her thighs for balance. Wonyoung gasps, riding my face harder. I insert my tongue as deep as it will go inside her within her wetness.
Wonyoung grinds down harder, inviting me to continue. I oblige, gently probing at her holes with more intention now. The salty-sweet taste of mixing her essence on my tongue drives me wild. Wonyoung cries out, clearly enjoying using me completely.
"Mmm…you're so good with that tongue, I just can't resist returning the favor!" Wonyoung cries. She leans down, taking my throbbing length back into her mouth. Now our bodies form a delightfully lewd 69 position - me eating her treasure while she continues to suck me off.
Her hips move in a sensual rhythm, grinding her wetness all over my face as I feel the base of my shaft hit her throat each time she takes me deep.
Our 69 is smooth and rhythmic now, both of us falling into it as the ecstasy builds. My tongue works her clit in firm circles while I thrust my tongue as deep as possible into her tight back doorway. Wonyoung's mouth moves expertly along my shaft, her lips sealed tight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just when I think it can't get more intense, I feel a warm fluid against my chin and mouth. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Wonyoung cries out. But I don't pull back - I simply extend my tongue, catching her pee with every skillful lick. She trembles above me as she finishes, spent. A mixture of her fluids coats my face but I don't mind one bit, still savoring her completely.
Against my will, I'm forced to drink down her warm, tangy urine. It's strong and acrid on my tongue but I obediently swallow, NOT wanting to displease Wonyoung. She seems shy now, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Here, let me make it better." She whispers. Wonyoung begins gently licking my face with her soft, pink tongue. She methodically cleans every inch, the bitter taste slowly fading. When she reaches my lips she takes me into her mouth again, our tongues meeting. She swallows some of her own urine back from my mouth as we have a mouthful french kiss. Her eyes closed, slipping her tongue into my mouth. There it mixes with my saliva too, a lewd, taboo French kiss. When she finally breaks the kiss, her eyes search mine - a mix of apology and invitation.
She again engages me in a deep and soulful kiss. Wonyoung breaks the kiss, her eyes glinting with newfound desire. She stands up now. "I hope you can forgive me," she purrs before sitting over my shaft. Wonyoung positions herself now ready to ride my dicm. "Now fuck me…fuck me hard, its time for reproduction already! Forget the humanity outside! Theres no one left!" she screams.
She cries out as I claim her. I watch my rod disappearing between her thighs, feeling her walls tighten around me. "Yes, that's it!, Oh my god I can't believe I'm having my first time!" Wonyoung moans as she rides my dick hard. Our bodies connect with a primal rhythm as I punish her core. I know I won't last long after that intense buildup. "Don't stop!" she gasps, pulling me deeper. I'm determined to satisfy us both.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tears spring to her eyes but she keeps crying out "Yes yes yes!".. Wonyoung is literally screaming and riding me at the middle of the island. We don’t know what's happening outside in the real world. But here, it seems we both are actually enjoying. Birds and insects are watching us fuck in the silent island. The island is full of her screams and cries in pleasure.
Wonyoung starts bouncing on my rod harder. Each deep thrust draws out prolonged, wailing cries from Wonyoung's lips: "AHH! AHHH PLEASE!". Wonyoung leans down upon my mouth for a kiss now.
She breathes, "You're taking me so well", "but I'm not nearly done with you yet until u cum inside me."
Wonyoung's forcefully kisses me deep and moans. "Ahh, please, I can't.. Cum already.!" she cries desperately, a mix of fear and excitement in her voice.
Wonyoung screams again, her voice rising in pitch as I cum inside her "OOOOHHH!"
Wonyoung feels the sticky white cum fill inside her. Its a big load. She still continues riding, but now Wonyoung feels something tear inside her… "You…you tore me," she whispers, eyes wide.
I push her away from my dick, I see a mess down in her pussy. Its full of my sperm and cum, her insides must have broken and torn apart since its her first time. "It hurts but we succeeded. I'm probably finally pregnant!." Wonyoung cries.
I get emotional too. I hug Wonyoung, and as she hugs me back, we hold each other with love, and I can feel her warmth and heartbeat. Inside Wonyoung is a complex mix of emotions and physical sensations.
I can't believe it, did I actually breed Wonyoung, the most popular K-pop girl? This feels so real, it’s definitely not a dream! Yes, thats right! If I and Wonyoung are really the only humans left, the next world generation will be descendants of us!
#wonyoung smut#girl group smut#kpop girl smut#izone smut#ive smut#yujin smut#yuna smut#itzy smut#twice smut#karina smut
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About the interview thing where Bakugou say "when I make love to my wife", here is a few more lines he could say! Imagine Bakugou softer when talking about that. He has a lost look and a strange smile on his face, all because of his girl.
"The bed it's our kingdom and she's my queen".
"That's where I belong. In her."
"Being a hero is just my job, something I'm good at for a while. But making love to her? There's nothing better. Knowing that I'm the only one who can make her feel like that, who can adore her like that... And she's the only one for me too. Nothing else matters. Not the fights, the danger, the villains, the paperwork, the pressure or the expectations. Just a husband and wife loving each other all night along."
And in this context, Bakugou would say that he finds pathetic and sad that a man only lasts a few minutes and only one round. Sometimes he hears his fellow heroes talk about sex and he can only feel sorry for their girlfriends, but also proud to know that his wife will never know how those girls feel, because for Katsuki Bakugou if a man is not willing to last at least all night, if each round does not last more than 10 minutes, if he does not have his woman crying with pleasure and love, If he doesn't make her not remember how many times she came, if he don't have sex with her every single day without miss, if she is not on the verge of fainting without being able to walk the next day, is the man really a man or just a poor attempt?
as your husband walks through the threshold of your home, the sound of the lock clicking behind him echoes in the quiet room. katsuki immediately notices the change in the air—there's an awkward tension that wasn't there when he left.
you’re avoiding his gaze, busily moving around the kitchen, trying to keep your mind occupied. you’re embarrassed, the thought of his words replaying in your mind again and again.
the fact that he shared such... intimate, genuine thoughts with the entire world... it wasn’t that you were ashamed, but the sudden attention on your private life caught you off-guard.
"so... you’re gonna act like you didn’t just see me on tv?" katsuki says with a hint of curiosity, and a touch of worry as he notices how your back was turned away from him.
without a word, you feel the heat of his body as he presses himself against your back, his strong hands settling on your waist. he presses his lips to the side of your neck, warm and soft against your skin. it starts off slow and gentle at first, but there’s an underlying urgency to it, a need for your attention.
"i'm sorry, baby," he murmurs between kisses. "i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, alright?"
"katsuki," you scold as he apologizes, your breath hitches when he places a particularly slow kiss on your collarbone, warmth from his affection still lingering in your chest.
"i’m sorry… but i don’t regret saying any of it. you’re my wife, and i’m fuckin' proud of it. i'm the one who gets to love you like this. i'm the one who gets to fuck you so hard you see stars."
katsuki doesn't stop kissing you, his kisses growing more insistent, but you don’t let him off the hook so easily. you finally turn around, gently pushing him back, even as your heart races.
"i just can't believe you said all that. on live tv," it’s clear you’re not mad, unsure of how to handle this side of him— this soft, unfiltered honesty as his lips trail down your neck to your shoulder.
his fiery gaze softens just a little, and then presses another kiss to your lips, this one slower, deeper, as if to reassure you. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. just… don’t ignore me, okay? it hurts."
"you’re unbelievable," your voice holds more affection than you’d like to admit. "you just gonna let millions of people know how much stamina you have, huh? bet they all think you're some kind of—"
sex god. but before you can say it, katsuki presses a firm kiss to your lips, cutting off your words, his hands slipping around your back to pull you in even closer. he doesn’t let you retreat this time, his lips working their magic on you, unable to ignore the way your body betrays you.
"don't fuckin' care. you're still my wife, sweets. you’re the only one who matters to me. maybe i just need to show you how much i love you. properly."
you scold him with a half-hearted shove, but there's no real heat behind it. "you really know how to make a woman want to kill you and kiss you at the same time, don’t you?"
as he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, feeling the heat of his gaze. you can’t deny the way his words, his kisses, have melted the tension between you. "you know you're the only one for me, sweets. always."
"i know. but you’re still crazy for doing that."
he chuckles, pulling you close, burying his face in your hair. "yeah, well… crazy’s what you get when you’ve got an amazin' fuckin' wife like you."
‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚ ‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧
⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYER NUMBER TWO OMGOMG
#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugou#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bnha#mha#bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#bakugo fluff#bakugo x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagine#bakugou x you#bakugo#mha fluff#mha imagines#bnha drabble#bnha katsuki#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bakugou x y/n
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But I'm overwhelmed with jealousy
Jealous! Se-mi x fem! reader
Summary: jealous gf se-mi headcannons!
Tw: jealous, possessive, aggression, intimation, killing/sabotaging players (didn’t get into detail), light hearted threats, se-mi is down BAD, se-mi wants readers attention, physical touch, humor + exaggeration (the kid part.) swearing and snarky remarks.. (kinda?) let me know if i missed anything!
authors note: can you see this is an enhypen reference? (the name of the fic and the pictures used..) dyk i actually name all my fics after my favorite artists (enhypen, illit, and ariana grande?!) also im gonna cry i miss my wife gabby but she’s doing SCHOOL. gonna sob
Not proofread!
Word count: 531
Jealous! Se-mi x Reader Headcanons
• Se-mi isn’t the type to openly admit she’s jealous, but the moment she feels threatened, her entire demeanor changes. Her eyes darken, her body stiffens, and her jaw clenches ever so slightly.
• She has a sharp resting glare, so sometimes people don’t even realize she’s fuming with jealousy—until she makes a snarky remark under her breath.
• If she sees someone getting too comfortable around you, she’ll silently step closer, standing just a little too protectively beside you, as if she’s reminding them who you belong to.
When a Kid Compliments You:
• You two were just casually walking down the street when a little kid looked up at you and innocently said, “Wow! You’re really pretty!”
• Before you could even react, you felt the air change—Se-mi went completely silent.
• You turned to see her standing still, her eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line. Instant panic.
• “Oh nononono, Se-mi! You’re not gonna hurt the child—he just complimented me!” you blurted out, quickly stepping in front of her.
• She scoffed, shaking her head. “You think I’d actually fight a kid?”
• …You weren’t sure. Because the way she was looking at that child made you think she just might.
• The poor kid, oblivious to the tension, just giggled and ran off. Meanwhile, you spent the next five minutes calming Se-mi down, reassuring her that even toddlers weren’t competition for her.
When Another Player Flirts With You in the Game:
• Se-mi is not subtle when another player tries flirting with you.
• She immediately steps between you and them, fixing them with a cold, unreadable stare.
• “Keep your eyes on the game, not my girlfriend” she says flatly scaring the other player away.
• If they don’t get the message, she doesn’t mind “accidentally” knocking into them during red light green light or making their life slightly more difficult.
• One time, Player 230 “jokingly” said, “Damn, Y/N, if we make it out of here, you should go on a date with me instead.”
• Se-mi didn’t say a word—she just gave him a look that made him rethink and question what he said then he takes what he said back.
Random Moments of Jealousy:
• Eye Contact? Nope. If someone so much as stares at you too long, Se-mi will stare back—until they get so uncomfortable they look away first.
• Physical Touch? Absolutely Not. If someone puts a hand on your shoulder or leans in too close, she’ll immediately pull you toward her with zero hesitation.
• Possessive Gestures. She often rests her hand on your waist, gives you her jacket, or calls you “mine” loud enough for others to hear.
• When she’s feeling particularly territorial, she’ll kiss you in front of others—just to make it crystal clear who you belong to.
When You Reassure Her:
• Sometimes, her jealousy is unreasonable, and you know it.
• “Se-mi, do you really think I’d leave you for a random stranger?”
• She crosses her arms and looks away, muttering, “I don’t like people thinking they have a chance.”
• You can’t help but smile and grab her hand, pulling her close.
• “You’re the only one for me, dummy.”
• She doesn’t respond, but you see the corner of her lips twitch—and that’s how you know she’s secretly pleased.
Overall:
• Se-mi is undeniably protective and territorial, but she trusts you enough not to lash out unless absolutely necessary.
• She won’t always voice her jealousy, but she’ll make sure everyone knows you’re hers in one way or another.
• Despite her sharp and intimidating nature, she secretly just wants reassurance that you love her as much as she loves you.
• And honestly? You think it’s kinda cute—as long as she doesn’t actually try to start a fight with a child again.
@semisasseater
#lesbian#player 380#player 380 x reader#lgbtq#se-mi squid game#se-mi x reader#squid game fanfic#squid games#wlw#se mi squid game#squid games fanfiction#squid game#squid games 2#x reader#squid games fluff#won ji an#wonjian#🫐𓏵﹕ 𝐌𝐄𝐈 ˎˊ˗₊˚ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬
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Uh oh 😎 stinky found me again. @spoonbread5 my biggest fan. I’ve missed you harassing me in my inbox.
I would ask you what countries radfems are wanting to remove legal statuses of minorities in other countries. But unfortunately I know that all you will spew at me is the same old rhetoric because you don’t care what I say.
So I’m not sure. If I was to explain to you that there is a difference between being a gender critical conservative, who is anti trans because they are homophobic, and then radfems who believe that sex based oppression of women from ALL around the world is still innate and built into society. Whether or not you want to admit it or not.
And that women are not free from sex based oppression no matter where we live, what walks of life we are from, and even the people around us. And that having those rights taken back and written over is going to hurt women and let society regress from the rights that we fought for not long ago. Fights that so many women are still fighting for in countries all over the world.
So you can say all you want to me. But it appears you are allergic to using your critical thinking skills and reading the difference between gender critical conservatives and “terfs”.
It’s not my fault that you are trapped in an echo chamber of either being an amazing grifter, a troll, or genuinely somebody who doesn’t allow themselves to listen to people or learn. Regardless of what you are, I encourage you to reassess what you do with your time aside from spread disinformation.
one thing that is INSANE to me is people are being rounded up and hunted by ICE, being afraid of going to work, going to school. Being sent in a plane SHACKLED out of the US. Women and girls are getting their bodily autonomy ripped even further from them. Marginalised groups are getting their right to fair employment and fair chances dismantled. There are people who could barely afford medical care seeing a future where they will NEVER afford medical care. Trump is pulling the US out of the world health organisation, the climate change crisis organisation. Pausing cancer research.
While transgender folk are worried about a letter on their fucking drivers license. For once, just once, transgender activists couldn’t BEAR to move the fuck over and advocate for anybody other than themselves.
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I want to know what it’s like to die without actually dying.
I want to know what it’s like to be a robot. Know how it feels to have a hard steel chassis instead of flesh. Know how it feels to have wires inside me instead of nerves. Know what its like to have no lungs or heart. Know what its like to computers inside of me, and know what it’s like to have fans constantly cooling them. Know how it feels to unscrew parts of myself and screw on other parts in it’s place. To be modular in a way that only mechanical things are modular.
I want to know what it’s like to be a dragon. To fly despite being the size of a whale. To feel bullets bounce off of my body. To feel fire spilling out of my lungs and not burn at all. Feel what it’s like to bite a tower in half. Feel what it’s like to look over humanity knowing that none of them are able to hurt me. Know how it feels to have wings, and scales, and fangs, and know what it’s like to fly into space and then dive into the ocean.
I want to know what it’s like to be a spirit. To go somewhere merely by deciding that I will be there. To choose exactly what my form looks like to mortals. To pass through solids as if they were made of gas, as if they were made of mere vacuum. To not take up any space. To not need to eat, or breath, or sleep. To not be effected by the physical at all. To be free from all my mortal bounds, and to know that nothing can hurt me. I want to know what it’s like to possess someone.
I want to kill the president. And walk away from it. And have people see me on campus and casually know me as the person who killed the president.
I want to know what it’s like to be in space. To be so far away from anyone. To know a steel wall is what keeps me safe from a vast expanse of void, of a void that will kill me. And I want to come back to earth, and see all the people walking around and going about their lives. And I want to be changed by having been to space. I don’t know how I’ll be changed yet because I haven’t been to space. But I’ll be changed. I’m sure I’ll be changed.
I want to kiss a girl from a dying world. To see her walking among the ruins. And to hug her and pet her hair knowing it will all be gone soon. And to tell her it’s ok as we walk along the beach of a poison sea. And I’ll go back to my world. And I’ll tell her to come with me. Because of course I’ll tell her to come with me. But she’ll say no. That she has to be here. But that I have to go. That I have a future somewhere else. And she’ll tell me that I made her fate better by being there. And we’ll never see each other again.
I want to die on the sun. But not on impact.
I want to be able to talk to animals. I want to debate politics with an octopus. I want to know what elephants think of religion. I want to explain mathematics to a python. I want to tell my cat how much he matters to me, and I want him to be able to understand. I hope he understands.
I want to go to the afterlife just to talk to people. To chat with Ned Kelly, and Joan of Arc, and Diogenes, Jon Brown. I want to tell an ancestor from hundreds of years ago how my life is going. I want check in on all the fish my family had to flush down the toilet to make sure they forgive me.
I want more people to have the empathy for humans that they have for dogs.
I want the president to know what it’s like to die in a drone strike. And for a ceo to know what it feels like to work in a cobalt mine as a child. And for the mayor to know what it’s like to spend your birthday in jail. And for the pope to know what it’s like to be disowned as a fifteen year old. And for the richest among us to be buried in unmarked graves.
I want the earth to be infinite and flat so that we could explore it forever. Not to conquer, but just to find out more about humanity.
I want to see what a peaceful first contact looks like.
I want everyone to know that the world can be saved.
I want to see what humanity does after the revolution.
I want this story to have a happy ending.
#196#writing#my writing#leftist#leftism#creative writing#writers#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writers and poets#writerscommunity#prose poetry#prose poem#poem#poetry#original poem#dragons#dragon#robot#robots#ghosts#ghost
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This post is going to be a bit heavy and boring. I'll talk about Astarion, but also about real life, so if you're not interested, scroll away without hesitation!
So, lately, I've been pretty pissed off. I feel like I'm being made fun of by certain comments I see around regarding Astarion's redemption arc—how I supposedly have some kind of "Florence Nightingale syndrome" that makes me want to "fix" him with the power of my love (a syndrome that, in real life, would obviously put my own life at risk) and how I’m supposedly willing to justify anything he does just because he's traumatized. Seriously? So I must be some kind of idiot, a lovestruck teenager who knows nothing about how the world works, who's never stepped outside her house, who's never had a healthy relationship, and so on. And that pisses me off. Because maybe, just maybe, I know something more, not less.
And that’s exactly why I read between the lines, why I don’t judge instantly, and why I don’t delude myself into believing in the power of love as some kind of absolute force that magically fixes everything just because. Maybe the love we're talking about here has nothing to do with romanticizing (butterflies in the stomach, kisses and cuddles, "I’m the only one for him, and for me he’ll do this or that") a horrific situation—one where a man has been mentally and physically broken, one that comes with a whole range of possible unhealthy behaviors that could be dangerous to himself and others.
Maybe we’re talking about something more real, about lived experiences, about how people can support and help each other crawl out of the darkness. About how love simply means being there, without necessarily doing anything. In both good times and bad, because healing isn’t a straight line. There are ups and downs. Love means being aware of the struggles and working hard on them, it means listening, accepting, waiting, being patient. It means pushing back when necessary, confronting the person you love, and stopping them from hurting themselves. It also means giving up, running away, screaming at the sky, and then coming back more determined than before—even knowing you might have to start the process all over again.
Are the people who love this hard just idiots who think they can "fix" their loved ones with the power of love? And what if it were your child? Fuck no, I won’t accept that! That’s a message that cannot and must not spread, not when there are people out there fighting this battle every single day.
Sure, there are plenty of lost causes in this world, and yes, real danger exists. But the key is being able to recognize them. No one wants to be a martyr, but there will always be someone worth fighting for. Because yes, loving someone who struggles—with depression, personality disorders, eating disorders, anxiety, PTSD, etc.—is a fight. But that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve love.
And Spawn Astarion is not a lost cause. He comes from a background of every kind of abuse imaginable. He’s an asshole because he has to be (and he’s also a fucking vampire!), but then—something changes. Possibilities open up before him. And immediately, he shows he can adapt, that he can learn, that he wants to change.
And when that internal drive is there (that inner force of the individual himself, which makes all the difference in the world), you can’t and shouldn’t ignore it—even in real life.
It’s not about "fixing" someone. It’s about helping them feel better, about helping them achieve their goals (yes, their goals—even when they can’t quite articulate them), about changing in a healthier way, about healing. Because Spawn Astarion wants to live more than anything else. And he wants to do so fully, not as a broken man.
That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge tells him he just needs to find a place for himself, that he can find so many people willing to care for him if only he is willing to care for them. That’s why he approves when Tav/Durge reminds him—despite his fear, despite the intoxicating scent of blood—that maybe, just maybe, ascension isn’t what he truly wants. He approves. There’s no room for misinterpretation here—this is as sincere as it gets.
And in both cases, these situations are directly opposed to his obsession with taking Cazador’s place.
But, going back to the point—thinking that the power of love can magically fix everything is stupid. But we also cannot allow the message to spread that, in real life, a person who struggles due to trauma (and hell, it doesn’t even have to be torture in a dark dungeon—it could be something as "simple" as a profound loss) is incapable of healing or being loved, despite the difficulties. It’s not easy, but there are men and women in this world with immense strength and hearts big enough to do this and more.
If this isn't for you, fine. No one is forcing you. But make room for these heroes instead of spouting nonsense.
Now, fortunately, BG3 is a fantasy game where you can do literally anything, freely, even recklessly, without any real risk. And that’s fine—let’s have fun experimenting, living out our fantasies, being heroes (after all, we’re not actually picking up swords and charging into hordes of pissed-off goblins), becoming ultimate villains, bringing the world to its knees, killing anyone who gets in our way.
But when we bring real life into the discussion to make a point or compare it to the game, let’s do so with a little more thought and tact. Kindness is a virtue, not a flaw.
And to end on a lighter note—hell no, I don’t approve of everything Astarion says or does! I try to understand him, to grasp the many whys behind his actions, but if I had him in front of me, I’d straight-up say, "Oi, what the fuck are you doing?! Asshole!" I’d argue with him, I’d get mad at him—just like I did in my playthroughs.
And for the record, I never had to step off my heroic path to gain his approval. I simply disagreed with him when I felt it was right and treated him kindly when he needed it.
Honestly, earning his approval in this game is the easiest thing in the world—let him drink your blood, trust him (defend him from the other companions’ suspicions), let him decide how to handle his diet (which, honestly, is a fair compromise), tell the devil to go to hell (xP), and do something ridiculously stupid like giving him the necromancy book, interrupting the two ogres having sex, licking a goblin’s boots, and getting whipped a little—voilà! Suddenly, you have Astarion in your arms, and you haven’t even had time to save the druid grove yet.
In my very first playthrough, with my super-good Selûne cleric who was always helping the needy, I was actually trying to romance Shadowheart—when I somehow found myself magically in a relationship with Astarion just because I told him, "I care about you" (the same reason I didn’t let him bite the pervy drow). Lol.
Ok, I'll try not to make any more heavy posts like this. I feel a bit like a broken record, singing the same song over and over—sorry about that. And of course, have a great day, everyone! <3
#astarion#astarion ancunin#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3 astarion#spawn astarion
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[patience is a virtue…?]. in the over two hundred years that dokyeom has been working as a guardian angel for heaven— cycling through various humans needed proper guidance time after time— never had he met someone so, so—
“hello! my name is dokyeom, and from today on, i will be your guardian angel.”
—so morally problematic.
“oh, it’s alright. i don’t need one.”
that was the first thing you said to him during your first meeting. it still rattles him three, four months into being assigned to you, and throughout these past four months, he’s slowly started to realize exactly why your previous angel resigned.
“ex—excuse me?” dokyeom stammers, and the heavenly halo spotlighting him in the middle of your room flickers a bit, in tune with the flustered twitch of his smile. you’re not even looking at him. you’re sitting cross legged on your desk chair, swinging it back and forth as you pour a hundred percent of your attention into your cell phone. “haha, everyone needs and has a guardian angel, silly! you are one of the special people to actually meet yours!”
special is a stretch. it’s a general rule in the GAORAP (Guardian Angel Operating Rules and Procedures) that no angel may, for whatever reason, materialize in front of their assigned human— except in special cases, where direct contact between angel and assignment is deemed absolutely necessary for the latter’s spiritual growth and development.
in other words, when someone’s strayed too far from the path towards god, heaven has to directly intervene.
“hey.”
his words seemed to have caught your attention.
“catch.”
swoosh!
thwack!
just not in the way he had hoped.
“whoa. holy shit. seems like even angels can get hurt.”
his first meeting with you ended with a phone getting punt straight into his nose. no wonder mingyu looked like he’d gone through hell and back in the six months he’d been assigned to you, and the moment his resignation got approved, it’s like he regained back seventeen years of life, singing praises of hallelujah while skipping out from the management office.
that was because you are way worse than hell. case in point—
“can’t you just— can’t you just talk it out?! ack, stop! stop! he’s already unconscious!”
right now, the nth person you’ve dragged into alleyway simply because you didn’t like the way they were looking at you. dokyeom is stressed. so, so stressed as his words fail once more— bam!— and your fist lands on the nameless victim’s nose again. he winces. he can’t intervene directly. your reformation should start with you after all. but you’ve shown no signs of even wanting to become a better person.
“c’mon, he started it! he glared at me from across the street like he wanted to start a fight! look, he even punched me too!” you let the poor guy fall onto the dirt ridden floor to snatch dokyeom’s hand, press it up to your cheek— your blood grazed cheek, warm and burning— almost like an inferno from hell. “see. it hurts when you touch it here. don’t you have healing powers or some shit?”
dokyeom lets out a squeak and snatches his hand back.
you cackle, turn your wildly grinding face back to the opening mouth of the alley, and start walking away (not without landing a spit on the guy that allegedly tried picking a fight with you).
“gonna stop by the market! you can head home first, mr. angel!”
so much for reformation. this is worse than dealing with a murderous convict. what makes you worse than someone who has committed numerous crimes against humanity, is the fact that you seem to get a kick out of seeing an angel in distress. you seem to enjoy testing just how much of your bullshit he can handle before snapping.
“haha, maybe think twice next time before taking someone’s—”
“please think about the consequences of your actions.”
“where did you get that phone?”
“that’s— that’s trespassing! this is illegal!”
“what…what was your reason for breaking his nose this time?”
it’s fine. this is fine. he can handle all of this. he was trained for this very thing. you should become a positive person who is considerate of others, his mentor had told him on the day of his promotion. he’s so, so patient. he’s the embodiment of patience. that virtue is literally imbibed into his very being. one day, he’d be able to get you to do something good. it doesn’t have to be grand. it doesn’t have to be virtuous.
but if he keeps trying, if he could just stop you from acting out just once, then the rest will follow.
maybe his words will work this time. maybe you’ll—
“what the fuck did you just say to me, you prick? hey, get over here! i’m gonna kick your— whoa!”
nevermind.
“hey what the fuck, angel, what are you doing?! dokyeom! put me the fuck down!”
no amount of coaxing or convincing can stop you from succumbing to your violent impulses. nothing. “stop squirming,” he grunts. you hang over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. your fists hammer against his back as he walks a set of stairs that lead the way down. he skips a few. you let out a sharp yelp. “if i drop you, you might just end up straight to hell at this rate.”
“let me go! hey! are you even allowed to do this?!” sure, he isn’t supposed to intervene directly, but 1 john 3:18 reads: “let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.” actions speak louder than words— if words fail, then he’d just have to pick you up and stop you from doing wrong himself.
#prompt: dokyeom + angel#i'm starting to think i made this activity just to give myself an excuse to pull out the dumbest shit out of my ass.#and pretend it's literature#dokyeom x reader#seokmin x reader#lee seokmin x reader#dokyeom x you#seokmin x you#lee seokmin x you#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt x you#svt fanfic#seventeen fanfic#svt scenarios#seventeen scenarios#dokyeom au
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hometown blues. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE
pairing: alpha!johnny x human!afab!reader
words: 7.4k+
summary: you fail to recognize the only man you’ve ever loved after he undergoes a life altering transformation.
genre: angst, smut
warnings: twilight universe lore, soulmate!au, slight xiaojun x reader, slight jaehyun x reader, breeding kink, biting, marking, spanking, degradation, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms
this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview
“You look like you could use a drink.”
A cup is shoved in your direction, and you raise your eyes to see Jeong Jaehyun outstretching it to you. You wrap your cardigan tighter around your frame, your toes dug into the sand below. You smile hesitantly and take the offering from him, despite having no intention to actually drink its contents. He takes the spot next to you, plopping himself down in the sand to watch the waves crash against the shore.
“Where’s your bodyguard?” Jaehyun asks with a chuckle.
You scoff. “Preoccupied, I guess.”
Johnny and Jaehyun were close, being lauded in the town for their impeccably good looks. You didn’t know Jaehyun that well, only catching a glimpse of him at gatherings like this.
“You don’t want to join the circle? Donghyuck’s telling scary stories,” Jaehyun states. Your gaze drifts behind you, where people are sitting by the fire, hanging on to Donghyuck’s every word. The younger boy’s hands gesture about wildly as his peers ooh and aah during all the correct points in the story. “You don’t need Johnny around to have fun, you know.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “And I have a personality without him, you know. It’s simply that I prefer to be left alone, is that so hard for you to comprehend?”
His smile doesn’t waver. “You sure are a firecracker,” he muses. “Say, have you decided what you want to do after graduation?”
The topic has you squirming, afraid to admit you haven’t given much thought to it at all. Mr. Baek offered for you to work at his bait shop full time and you were accepted to the community college only an hour away, but neither of those options seem massively appealing to you. You don’t harness a liking towards being surrounded by fish all day or paying tuition when you don’t even know what you want to study.
You divert the subject. “I assume you’ll be heading to Paris as a model.”
His dimples peek out in full view. “You flatter me. Rome was calling to me instead.” He earns a giggle from you, which is enough for his smile to widen. “Hey, would you be opposed if I took you out some time-”
You gasp when Jaehyun is suddenly tackled to the ground, one hand wrapped around his throat. Johnny’s towering form hovers above him, pinning him down to the muddy sand while water pools around their figures.
“Johnny!” You exclaim, rushing to your feet and running over to him. His startling appearance attracts the rest of the party, who stampede towards the scene. You tug on Johnny’s arm, attempting to tear him away from Jaehyun, but he doesn’t budge.
He snarls down at his friend. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jeong?”
Jaehyun’s tone is equally venomous. “What you don’t have the fucking balls to do.”
Johnny’s arm swings upwards but before he can permanently injure Jaehyun’s striking features, you grasp his fist as hard as you can. The bottom of your jeans is thoroughly soaked and your feet are screaming at you to take them out of the mud, but you ignore the blatant discomfort.
“Johnny,” you whisper in a gentler tone, heavily aware of the audience analyzing your every move. “Stop, please. Don’t hurt him.”
Your voice seems to be the only thing that knocks some reason into him, and Johnny withdraws his flurry of anger. He stands up, dressed in nothing but a pair of black jean shorts and a loosely fitted t-shirt. Despite the cold nipping at your skin, he’s unfazed by the weather, evidenced by the sweat pouring from his forehead. You move your hand to rest over his shoulder in comfort, but snap your fingers back when you feel the heat sizzling at his flesh.
“Johnny, I think you have a fever,” you say with concern, trying to have him look at you. However, his eyes are still focused on Jaehyun, who lifts himself off the ground with rosy cheeks. “Can you please sit down? I need to check your temperature.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t talk to her again,” Johnny seethes.
Jaehyun shakily sits up, dirt covering his entire backside. He pushes back the humiliation of having Johnny display such a clear power play over him.
“Why? So she can spend the rest of her life waiting for you?”
Johnny moves to attack him but you’re faster, squeezing yourself between the two men and planting your hands over Johnny’s chest. You cup his cheeks in your palm, forcing him to look at you.
“Johnny,” you say in a calm voice, searching for your best friend in the haze of anger surrounding him. You’ve never seen him this prone to violence before, especially over something so minuscule in nature. Jaehyun was no threat to you, and as a longtime friend, Johnny should know that. “Just listen to me. Jaehyun wasn’t trying to hurt me.”
He flinches away from you, lip curled in irritation. He glances around, swallowing when he registers all of the curious eyes on him. He shakes his head, taking a step back from you carefully.
Clarity engulfs him. “I-I need to go.”
“You just got here,” you say with furrowed eyebrows, even though you doubt people would want him to stay after the scene he caused.
His stare shifts from Jaehyun to you once more.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s not directed at the man he assaulted. He’s only looking at you, hoping to convey his regret through his eyes.
Then, he’s taking off, running through the crowd as they part for him. You watch his figure turn into a blur across the beach.
What the hell just happened?
want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!
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Setting boundaries is one of the most difficult things to do in one’s spiritual journey, because it requires a healthy dose of self focus. Which doesn’t make one any less spiritual, it’s just a necessary step to self integration.
Those of us interested in exploring this incarnation on a deeper layer tend to think, that compassion is the only value we have to offer. It’s like a curse plaguing the spiritual community, people who get walked over in their personal relationships because of their sensitivity. It’s not necessarily that we do it as a favor to others, we just feel everything so deeply, that feeling the pain of another becomes part of that equation…so we try not to hurt people. And we become roadkill when we meet those, who walk over others without a second’s doubt.
It is an equally valuable thing to give that compassion back to ourselves and feel compassion for those who refuse to change from a distance. To give you an example, I have done that for a relationship with my father, who has never treated me well. I went from giving him breaks because I felt sorry for him to cutting off contact. I’m now at a stage where instead I feel compassion for myself for not having a better father and all the emotional and practical difficulties it brought me in life. If I think of him, I feel sorry for him being so incapable of growing but I no longer do anything about it.
It might seem selfish, but it is actually fixing a problem. If you don’t deal with yourself, you’re not cleaning up your own mess and over time you will begin hurting others even if you were victimized originally. It’s actually one’s moral obligation to edge on the balance between caring for both oneself and others just enough to do as little damage as possible.
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it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏
#there’s a threshold I think of what I accept in comments about characters#and their actions or about who is in the wrong or what should happen#because I do like reading people’s opinions#and sometimes when someone is like I didn’t like obi-wan in this fic#I’m like makes sense! maybe you weren’t supposed to or maybe the argument they had was supposed to not be clear cut on who is right#because arguments in real life don’t always have a clear cut winner or morally superior person lmao#I’m ok with that I’m ok with comments saying boo this character is annoying#because sometimes they just are (eg the amount of people who just don’t like obiwan in pbatmb like?? yeah of course he’s not gonna be nice#but I digress lol#anyway but there’s a threshold of when comments about not liking a character go too far and you’re just like.#saying mean things about the writing itself and that’s not something lm gonna allow to be normalized#no matter the intention behind it#you do not type a comment like this knowing it wil be send to an author#who will get an email notification about a comment#click on it and go oooo long comment :D and then go oh.#you don’t do that it’s rude it’s being a jerk#I’ve been here for like 3 almost 4 years I feel ancient in this fandom sometimes#and I’ve gotten so much feedback on my work through that time and so many nice comments and community#but mean comments can really hurt especially new writers#and they can make people who maybe would write fic for a fandom decide to not#like this isn’t even that mean I can almost see the writer just wanting to say how they feel#but sometimes you do not have to 🙏#also I just think this understanding of the characterizations in the fic and probably their understanding of the characters in the films#is a wee bit trash but that’s for me to say in the long tags of my own blog post and not for me to comment on their fics for the fandom#(they don’t have any but I did check because 3am kit felt nosy)
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It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.
#I fucking hate having bpd#while I’m at it I don’t understand the fuckin audacity some people have to say they love you and do horrible things to you#I feel so stupid#I feel so stupid for believing all the lies#but I was so in love and put him on such a pedestal that I just allowed it all.#thinking about someone constantly and grieving over them and knowing they’re perfectly fine and to them you don’t exist#I’m still in such a state of grief and I don’t understand why time hasn’t healed#it honestly feels like it’s gotten worse w time#I just torture myself but I can’t help it my brain wants me dead#it’s so painful I feel so fucking stupid#being abandoned with no closure by someone who’s your entire world#for someone they were unfaithful to you with multiple times (I don’t even know how many and dony want to know) immediately#like that was the plan all along#he took our cat hundreds of miles away and I don’t even know if he still has her or if she’s still alive and I miss her every day#I never loved someone like that and it feels like the heartbreak is actually physically killing me#i spent 1/5 of my entire life with him#I was my prettiest and had the best body at the time and I wasted it on someone who didn’t appreciate me#not wasted. it wasn’t wasted. we had some incredible times together#I’ll never be that beautiful again#and now idk what do so bc i can’t decide which is worse: being alone and isolating or loving deeply and ending up horribly hurt all over#it’s all just so upsetting.#and I feel so stupid for allowing it all#he knows more about me than anyone and he made me feel like he loved me so much sometimes and then did horrid things and it’s so fucked up#nobody read this I’m so embarrassed and horribly broken#it traumatized me so much there was so much abuse and pain idk if I’ll ever recover#I deserved it but it still hurts my heart#I was so mentally ill and sick I know it had to have been miserable to be around me#there are so many things only he understands and knows about me and I need to talk about them I j wanna b able to b there 4 each other#but that girl is so beyond insecure and controlling so. if I want to talk to who fuckin gets me I’m just fucked#why lead someone on like that for years knowing you’re going to abandon them the second it’s convenient
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1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?
I feel like a lot of these questions reveal a very different approach to writing to mine. I don’t set out to impart lessons, I’m not interested in writing didactically.
Unlikely Salvation has I guess some kind of lesson about change or forgiveness or that hurting people radicalises them and helping each other is the only way to mend rifts or something. But all of that grew organically, and there’s also a lot of fucked up stuff in there, a lot of “don’t try this at home”. Alex is way too forgiving early in the story, that’s not coming from a healthy place, that’s not a moral recommendation. It’s just an interesting thing for him as a character to do.
I think my other stories are further from having any “lessons” in them. Shit just happens, in some kind of sequence.
2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?
Large parts of the Resistance ‘verse were made up by my co-author, so I can’t speak to that. The structure and behaviours of the feds are mostly based on reading about real-world fascist organisations.
My BBU works are obviously very heavily inspired by other BBU stories, especially the way @ashintheairlikesnow writes it.
Annihilation is purely vibes. I’m throwing in everything that feels cool to me at the time and I couldn’t name where those ideas are coming from. (I’m more likely to be able to put my finger on it in retrospect, once the shape of it comes clearer.)
3a. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them?
Ariadne, my prime blorbo, is primarily motivated by seeking atonement, and by seeking Victory for her Cause.
Smith and Spider are mostly just trying to survive. Spider later trying to carve out her own identity.
Nikef is trying to win a war, preferably without losing what’s left of her selfhood along the way. Ahden is trying to keep Nikef alive and sane and not deciding to murder everyone.
I, the writer, am trying to tell interesting stories with characters who feel three-dimensional and textured.
3b. Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?
No.
4. How many chapters is your story going to have?
Don’t know, don’t care. I’m not trying to write complete, finished things at this time in my life. Honestly I find the notion a bit intimidating, and while I’m sure I could do it and probably will at some point in the future, at the moment writing is mostly an outlet for random creative energy. I write out of order and at a whim.
5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?
Original content. Only putting it on tumblr at present. If tumblr went away or became intolerable, I’d probably move it somewhere else, since enough people seem to enjoy it.
6. When did you start writing?
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t, honestly. Probably around the time I learned to, physically, write. There have been years and patches of years where my output was very low, but I’ve always made up stories and scrawled at least some of them down.
7a. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?
It’s been said before, but write whatever you feel like writing. If you enjoy your story, if it matters to you, if it has meaning to you, that stuff will come through in your writing.
Don’t worry too much about quality. You’re always learning, you can always go back and edit stuff if you want it to be better. Stressing too much about the quality of output just gets you stuck in a loop of infinite editing or worse feeling too bad to write at all.
7b. What other writers do you follow?
So many. I’ve recently listed a few favourite stories. I’m following *checks* 279 blogs write now and I’d estimate 90% of them are writers.
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I’m terrible at coming up with people to tag but uhhhh @mottinthemainpot, @justplainwhump ? No pressure.
Tag Game: Author Ask Tag
thxxxxxxx @sacratos for the tag!
Question Template: 1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it? 2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding? 3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person? 4. How many chapters is your story going to have? 5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? 6. When did you start writing? 7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?
1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?
Don’t be an idiot and actually communicate with those you love, lol. In all seriousness, I don’t know if my story has a main theme, but there are several themes for sure. The importance of having family that loves and supports you (whether found or biological), taking back autonomy of oneself, and the importance of community.
2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?
Other BBU/pet whump authors! If you have written for the BBU, trust me, I have used some idea of yours as inspiration somewhere. I also use middle school me’s obsession with dystopian novels as inspiration as well.
3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?
All my MCs are trying to heal, in one way or another and I want my readers to connect with my characters in some way. Not really teaching a lesson or having some big, major theme, but I want my characters to feel real and connect with the readers (yes, even if you want to kill them you cannot touch Star, he is immune from death)
4. How many chapters is your story going to have?
Hahahaha ha ha ha. . . yeah, no clue
5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?
Original content from my brain! I post it here, and only here
6. When did you start writing?
The minute I learned what stories were. I think I wrote my first “story” (bible fanfiction. No I will not be taking questions about that) when I was about seven or so, then my first full fanfiction at nine and I have not stopped since.
7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?
Read! Seriously, I cannot stress this enough! Read! And not just to compare yourselves with other writers–please don’t do that at all–but read to see how others write emotion, descriptions, characters, plots! Take what you like and figure out why you don’t like other kinds of writing, then apply what you want to your own writing. Also, your writing voice will develop in time. Don’t worry about that.
A large chunk of people I follow are writers! Can’t list all of them here, but they know who they are and their writings have inspired and shaped both my style and my content. Ilyasm!
Tagging (w/o any pressure!) @quietly-by-myself @whump-card @sparrowsage @whumble-beeee @whumpyourdamnpears and anyone else who wants to join in!
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If I close my eyes and concentrate realllyyy hard I can pretend im in my animal crossing room
#im in need of a change I don’t like the way im living rn.. a lot of my belongings were picked out for me#by people who thought their way of doing things was better and Ive had to find workarounds my whole life bc of how I live differently#Ive never thought of myself as someone who cares abt how their room looks. but i want it to have things I like even if its just preference#Ive thought abt it for a while and I dont think Im picky I just dont like it when ppl buy me things expecting me to use it the way they#expect me to.. I just end up with a lot of crap that I feel too guilty throwing away just bc someone thought of me#the only way I can describe my taste is that I know what I’ll like when I see it.. if I can clearly see myself making the most out of it#if I constantly have to use workarounds just to use smth you decided for me im not gonna wanna use it unless I have to#literally i could not be bothered to pull out a notebook and write down important information until I got a blues clues notebook#because I liked it and it made it fun for me to whip out that I actually wanna use it. yknow#so rn im trying to get a drafting table because the one that came with my loft bed is ass and I cant cut my prints on it#I end up cutting on the floor and my back hurts if I do it too long.. and I wanna get a bookshelf for my closet and a bench for my bag#things Ill look at and want to use because I already knew how I wanted to use it and just do it without thinking too hard#yapping#diary
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it’s frankly amazing and dumbfounding how little my family actually knows about me and how little they care to remedy that
#⟡°⋄ ◜ ooc . ◞#vent tw.#to be both an only child and an only grandchild and feel like a stranger in your own home is so daunting#i’m almost 30 and i have never had the chance to live my life authentically#or express myself openly or even at all at times#to have to rely on these people emotionally and financially who can’t even grasp the foundational aspects of my personhood#on a political scale on a gender or sexuality scale…#they will never understand me and they don’t want to and some days it’s really hard to love them and it hurts that they’re all i have#anyways i just screamed my throat raw after a completely uncalled for phone call from my grandmother#i don’t think i’m gonna be reachable for a day or two…#i’m really not doing well
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Oh. Thats a friend group of mine making a whole ass new group chat without me in it. Okay cool. Love that.
#we had one but they went silent#one person said they were upset with me bc I had ‘ditched them for my new friends’#which. I don’t have any new friends. I’ve been trying to keep in contact with them but get hardly any response.#tried to apologize and say I’d ’do better’#but am still getting little to no response#and. one girl sent me a screenshot with the fb group icon in the corner#and it was everyone except me#which. lovely.#and they’re acting like my life has been amazing and wonderful#when it’s been one thing after another with the move my friend dying and a bunch of other shit#so yeah sorry I’m a bit absent a lot is going on#and I feel like they think im lying to them or making it up#like. idk what to do anymore#this isn’t about anyone here btw#btw the person who sent the screenshot didn’t send it to be mean she was showing me something she was going for#and I pretended I didn’t see it and just acted happy for her#now I’m not even gonna bring up my stuff to these people at all#idk man#this just hurts
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