#shadow continues to be a relatable character
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A COLLECTION OF MOMENTS .

⌗ synopsis: today’s izuku birthday, and you’re his lovely spouse. so, you surprise your husband izuku on his birthday after his teaching day at ua with a heartfelt gift which shows the memories of you and him.
⌗ pairing: (MHA/BNHA) {timeskip} izuku midoriya x spouse! reader
⌗ a/n: sry for like the sudden thing, but seriously happy birthday izuku!! legit has been one of my favorite characters to EVER stumble upon in my life (cause he’s totally relatable?) ILYSM IZUKUUU 🫶🫶
the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of class 1-a, casting long golden shadows across the empty desks. izuku stood at the front of the classroom, erasing the last of the day's lesson from the whiteboard, his green curls catching the light as he moved. the soft scratching of the eraser against the board was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.
"great work today, everyone," he had told his students just moments before as they filed out, their excited chatter about weekend plans fading down the hallway. teaching at ua had been a dream come true, watching the next generation of heroes grow and develop their quirks under his guidance. but now, in the peaceful silence that followed, izuku felt the familiar weight of exhaustion settling into his shoulders.
he was just gathering his papers when he heard the soft knock on the classroom door.
"come in," he called, not looking up from his desk.
"i hope i'm not interrupting anything important, sensei midoriya."
izuku's head snapped up at the familiar, teasing voice, and his face immediately broke into the brightest smile as he saw you leaning against the doorframe. even after all these years together, his heart still did that little skip whenever you appeared unexpectedly.
"you're never interrupting," he said, practically bouncing over to you. "i thought you were working late tonight?"
"i might have told a little white lie to my boss about feeling under the weather," you admitted with a gentle smile, reaching up to smooth down one of his unruly curls. "someone i care about has a birthday today, and i couldn't let him spend it alone grading papers."
izuku's cheeks flushed pink, and he ducked his head slightly. "you didn't have to do that. i know how important that project is—"
"izuku." you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, making him look at you. "nothing is more important than celebrating you."
his eyes immediately began to well up with tears, and he leaned into your touch. "i love you so much," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"i love you too, birthday boy," you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "now, are you done here? i have something for you."
izuku nodded eagerly, quickly shoving the last of his papers into his bag. "what is it? you didn't have to get me anything, really. just being here with you is enough—"
"izuku," you interrupted gently, taking his hand. "let me spoil you a little bit, okay? it's your special day."
the walk to your shared apartment was filled with izuku's animated recounting of his day, his free hand gesturing excitedly as he told you about his students' progress and a particularly impressive quirk development he'd witnessed. you listened with fond attention, occasionally squeezing his hand when he got especially enthusiastic.
"oh! and yamamoto finally managed to maintain her ice constructs for a full minute without them melting," he continued as you unlocked the front door. "she's been working so hard on her temperature control, and i think she's really starting to understand the breathing technique i showed her. it's the same one todoroki used to use, actually, and—"
he stopped mid-sentence as you led him into the living room, where you'd set up a small celebration. soft fairy lights twinkled around the room, and his favorite dinner sat waiting on the coffee table along with a small cake decorated with green frosting and a single candle.
"you did all this?" izuku's voice was barely a whisper, and you could see the tears starting to form in his eyes again.
"i wanted to make tonight special," you said softly, guiding him to sit on the couch. "i know you've been working so hard lately, and i thought you deserved something just for you."
izuku was quiet for a moment, just taking in the scene before him. then, without warning, he turned and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck as his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs.
"hey, what's wrong?" you asked gently, running your fingers through his hair.
"nothing's wrong," he managed between tears. "i'm just... i'm so happy. i can't believe i get to have this, to have you. sometimes i still can't believe this is real."
you held him close, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. "it's real, izuku. you deserve all the happiness in the world."
after a few minutes, he pulled back and wiped his eyes, giving you a watery smile. "sorry, i'm such a crybaby."
"you're my crybaby," you said fondly, thumbing away a remaining tear. "and i love every part of you, tears and all."
you spent the next hour eating dinner together, izuku's eyes lighting up at every bite of his favorite katsudon. he told you more stories from his day, and you shared funny moments from your own work. the conversation flowed easily, as it always did between you two, comfortable and warm like a favorite blanket.
when the cake came out, izuku's face practically glowed in the candlelight as he made his wish. you had a feeling you knew what he'd wished for – the same thing he always did. more time, more moments like this one, more life to share with you.
"so," you said after you'd both finished your cake, "i have one more thing for you."
izuku perked up immediately, his eyes widening. "another surprise? really, you've already done so much—"
"trust me," you said, reaching behind the couch where you'd hidden his gift. "i think you'll like this one."
you pulled out a carefully wrapped package, not too big but substantial enough to hold weight. izuku took it with reverent hands, as if it were made of the most precious material in the world.
"can i open it?" he asked, and you nodded.
his careful fingers peeled away the wrapping paper, revealing a beautiful leather-bound photo album. the cover was a deep forest green – his favorite color – with golden lettering that read "our story" embossed on the front.
"oh," izuku breathed, his fingers tracing the letters. "it's beautiful, but—"
"open it," you encouraged softly.
with trembling hands, izuku opened the album to the first page. his breath caught in his throat as he saw the first photo – a picture of the two of you from your second year at ua, both of you grinning widely after a particularly challenging training session. your faces were dirt-streaked and exhausted, but the joy in your eyes was unmistakable.
"this is..." he started, but his voice failed him.
"keep going," you whispered, settling closer to him so you could look at the photos together.
page by page, izuku turned through the album, each photo carefully chosen and placed to tell the story of your relationship. there were pictures from your ua days – study sessions in the library, festival preparations, quiet moments in the dorms. photos from graduation, both of you in your caps and gowns, izuku's face streaked with happy tears even then.
"i remember this," he said softly, pointing to a photo of you two at your first apartment, surrounded by boxes and looking overwhelmed but happy. "you insisted we unpack the kitchen first because you said home wasn't home without the ability to make tea."
"and you cried when you found the mug i'd gotten you with 'world's best hero' written on it," you added with a gentle laugh.
"i still use that mug every morning," izuku said, turning the page.
more photos followed – your first anniversary, holidays spent together, lazy sunday mornings, and quiet evenings. there were pictures from izuku's first day as a pro hero, his face beaming with pride and nervousness. photos from your own career milestones, izuku always right there cheering you on.
"this is our engagement," izuku whispered, his finger hovering over a photo of him down on one knee in the park where you'd had your first date, his face red and tear-streaked but determined. "i was so nervous i almost forgot the speech i'd practiced."
"you were perfect," you assured him, remembering how your heart had felt like it might burst from your chest. "i would have said yes if you'd just asked without any words at all."
the photos continued through your wedding day – both of you radiant with joy, surrounded by friends and family. izuku had cried through the entire ceremony, and there were tissues visible in nearly every photo. your favorite was one of you wiping away his tears as he said his vows, both of you lost in your own little world.
"and here's our honeymoon," izuku said, voice growing thick again as he looked at photos of you both on a quiet beach, completely relaxed and happy. "that was the best week of my life."
"just that week?" you teased gently.
"well, every week with you is the best week of my life," he amended, making you laugh.
the album continued through your married life – moving into your current apartment, adopting your cat (who had somehow managed to get into several photos), quiet domestic moments, and celebrations with friends. there were photos from izuku's first day teaching at ua, his nervous excitement palpable even in the still image.
as you reached the more recent photos, izuku's tears were flowing freely again. there were pictures from just last month – you two cooking dinner together, izuku grading papers while you worked on your laptop nearby, a selfie you'd taken during a rare day off spent in the park.
"how did you get all of these?" izuku asked, his voice wonder-filled.
"i've been collecting them for months," you admitted. "every time i saw a photo of us, i saved it. i wanted to show you how beautiful our life together has been, how many wonderful moments we've shared."
"we have shared so many moments," izuku agreed, carefully turning to the last page.
the final photo was from just last week – izuku had fallen asleep grading papers, and you'd found him curled up at the kitchen table, his reading glasses askew and his hair mussed. you'd covered him with a blanket and snapped a quick photo, not because he looked silly, but because he looked so peaceful, so content. it was a perfect representation of your quiet, domestic happiness.
but it was the message you'd written on the last page that broke him completely.
"to my izuku, on your birthday – these photos represent just a fraction of the moments we've shared, but each one is a treasure. from that first day you nervously asked me to study with you in second year, to this very moment as you read this, you have been the greatest gift life has ever given me. thank you for sharing your dreams with me, for letting me be part of your story, and for making every ordinary day feel extraordinary. i love you more than words could ever express, and i can't wait to fill a hundred more albums with our adventures. happy birthday, my hero. here's to forever. all my love, forever and always."
izuku completely broke down then, clutching the album to his chest as he sobbed. these weren't just tears of happiness – they were tears of overwhelming gratitude, of disbelief that he could be so lucky, of pure, unconditional love.
"i can't— this is too much," he managed between sobs. "i don't deserve this, i don't deserve you—"
"stop," you said firmly but gently, pulling him into your arms. "you deserve every good thing in this world, izuku midoriya. you deserve love and happiness and someone who sees how incredible you are."
"but i'm just me," he whispered into your shoulder. "i'm not special, i'm not—"
"you're everything," you interrupted, holding him tighter. "you're the kindest person i know, the most dedicated, the most loving. you inspire everyone around you to be better, including me. you are so, so special, izuku."
you held him as he cried, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft reassurances. it was several minutes before he calmed down enough to pull back and look at you, his eyes red-rimmed but shining with love.
"i love you," he said, voice hoarse from crying. "i love you so much it hurts sometimes, in the best way possible."
"i love you too," you replied, cupping his face in your hands. "more than you'll ever know."
izuku leaned forward and kissed you then, soft and sweet and full of emotion. when you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours.
"this is the best birthday i've ever had," he whispered.
"it's not over yet," you pointed out with a smile. "we still have the rest of the evening."
"what else could there possibly be? you've already given me everything."
"well," you said, settling back into his arms, "i was thinking we could look through the album again, and you could tell me your favorite memories from each photo. and then maybe we could watch that hero documentary you've been wanting to see. and tomorrow, we could start working on new memories to add to the next album."
izuku's smile was radiant as he nodded eagerly. "i would love that. all of it."
as you settled together on the couch, the photo album open between you, izuku couldn't help but think about how different his life had turned out from what he'd imagined as a young boy. he'd dreamed of being a hero, of saving people and making a difference. and while he'd achieved those dreams, what he hadn't expected was this – the quiet, domestic happiness of being loved completely and unconditionally.
"thank you," he said softly as you turned back to the first page of the album. "for all of this, for everything. for choosing me."
"thank you for letting me choose you," you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. "and for choosing me back, every single day."
as the evening wore on, you went through the album photo by photo, izuku sharing memories and stories, laughing and crying in equal measure. the fairy lights twinkled around you, the remnants of birthday cake still on the coffee table, and your cat curled up on the armchair nearby.
it was a perfect moment – not because it was grand or dramatic, but because it was real. it was your life, your love, your collection of shared moments that had built into something beautiful and lasting.
and as izuku looked at the photos of your life together, he knew that his birthday wish had already come true. he had more time, more moments, more life to share with you. he had everything he'd ever wanted, wrapped up in the gentle smile of the person who'd chosen to love him.
"happy birthday to me," he whispered, so quietly you almost didn't hear it.
"happy birthday, my love," you whispered back, and in that moment, everything was perfect.
⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites @bakugouswaif [OPEN]
⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @cupkiki @par4disee [OPEN]
✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ���
© KENZDOLLS 2025 . do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work in anyway including the use of ai onto any other social media platforms or it will permit an instant block on all platforms.
#mha x reader#x reader#bnha x reader#izuku midoriya x reader fluff#izuku midoria x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya izuku x reader#izuku midoriya x you#izuku midoriya x you fluff#mha oneshot#mha x y/n#mha x you
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Can I request headcanons for how would Akaza, Gyutaro, Gyomei Himejima, Giyuu Tomioka, and Kyojuro Rengoku reacting to his shy gn s/o asking him if you can kiss his cheek when both of you are alone please?
↳ The Shy and the Bold II.
A Demon Slayer × Gender Neutral! Reader.
Other Parts: The Shy and the Bold I.
Requester: Anonymous.
Characters Included: Akaza, Gyutaro, Gyomei Himejima, Giyuu Tomioka, and Kyojuro Rengoku.
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❄️ Akaza loved seeing you flustered almost as much as he loved fighting worthy opponents. Though, it was easier to fluster you than to find good fighters, so. ❄️ Anytime he'd hug you, he'd chuckle as your cheeks lit up in a color similar to a cherry blossom and then become similar to his hair.
❄️ But, while he would hug you anytime he wanted, kissing was something he'd keep away for longer, finding it to be more for close couples than just-beginning ones. ❄️ When he first kissed your cheek, his fangs showed as he laughed as you continued to darken in shades of red. Rather than letting your face show, you continued to bury into his chest. ❄️ A while later, you hugged his arm; pressing your lips against it and catching his attention suddenly. His yellow irises narrowed as your lips left his bicep and your cheek nuzzled against it instead. ❄️ A small smile appeared on the Uppermoon's face as he sighed, I'm happy you're comfortable around me now, love. He thought.
🩸 Gyutaro and you both had hard lives because of your differences; him for his physical appearance, and yours for your extreme shyness. 🩸 While others didn't like your shyness, Gyutaro loved it. He would happily leave his sister's body in order to spend time with you. Daki would merely watch from the rooftop as her brother spoke to you, and while she wouldn't show it, she'd be happy he finally found someone to bond with. 🩸 Now, physical affection was never his strong suit. He mainly relied on words of affirmation, acts of service, and giving gifts. It was his preference, so you didn't mind. He respected you, you respected him. 🩸 But, one day was rough. A demon serving the siblings had tried attacking you, and only stopped when Daki grabbed him from behind and began torturing him for trying to attack you. 🩸 As you heard his screams from a ways away, Gyutaro's arms wrapped around your midsection and held you close. "Are you okay?" He asked. 🩸 Feeling you press your lips against his cheek, his face erupted in a blush. "Yeah... thanks to you and Daki."
🪨 Gyomei, much like Kagaya, really wishes he could see the flush that can cover your cheeks whenever he gave you affection. But, whenever he feels your cheeks and the heat rises, he thinks that makes up for it well enough. 🪨 He also enjoys physical affection, viewing actions over words. So, anytime he kisses your head, he feels like he's doing more than what it words can do. 🪨 "Dear?" He asked as he walked into the estate. Gyomei had returned from a week-long mission, and all he wanted at the moment was to embrace you in his strong arms. 🪨 You cheered his name and jumped into his arms. Thankfully, he caught you in time and felt his eyebrows jump upwards when your lips pressed gently against his forehead scar. 🪨 He let out a breathy laugh and kissed your forehead back. "I missed you just as much, my love."
🌊 Giyuu found your shyness relatable. He didn't exactly relate to your tendency to flush and hide away from others, but rather your dislike for attention and preference to be in the shadows. 🌊 He's not a huge physical person, so kisses aren't very constantly coming in your relationship, but they're not rare either. An example of that is when he comes back from work, he likes to give you a hug and a quick peck on the top of your head. 🌊 The Water Hashira knew your boundaries, so he never wished to pressure you into reciprocating his affections. 🌊 It was after training with Sanemi that Giyuu saw how you acted with Nezuko, a gentle smile on your face as you kept teaching her some words to help out. She laughed as you booped her nose and asked if she'd like some mochi, sending her off to grab some from Mitsuri in the kitchen. 🌊 Strolling up to you both, he wrapped an arm around your waist. Leaning his face into the crook of your neck. "Good afternoon, dewdrop." 🌊 Facing him, you smiled and kissed his cheek. His cheeks erupted in a blush, and he looked away swiftly, causing a giggle to come out of your mouth. "And I thought I was the shy one." You teased.
❤️🔥 Kyojuro is known for his eccentric and fun-loving attitude, a smile ever present to lighten whoever he comes across' day. That was one of the things you fell in love with about him. ❤️🔥 Because of his happy persona, Kyojuro absolutely adores to give you hugs and kisses galore. He says he can "see his future within your embrace and its as bright as the sun during summertime." ❤️🔥 At the time, he was busy healing from a mission. He had been given a gash on his side that needed close observing from risk of infection from a demon. Because of the risk, he was forced to stay at the Butterfly Mansion for a weeks time. ❤️🔥 You walked inside with Kanao guiding you. She smiled and nodded when you thanked her, walking outside to give you privacy. ❤️🔥 "Kyojuro?" You asked. "Little flame!" He cheered. "How have you been? I hope the house is perfectly fine during my absence." ❤️🔥 "It has. But, are you okay? I heard you got hit pretty bad." You replied, petting his hair as he hummed and smiled. ❤️🔥 "I am quite alright. Better now that you are here." He said. Leaning down towards him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. His face has a slight flush appear afterwards. ❤️🔥 He then jumped up and hugged you. "I love you very much, my love." ❤️🔥 "I love you too, Kyo'."
🌊 Copyright © 2025 by Bones4thecats on Tumblr. All Rights Reserved. 🌊
#Demon Slayer#Kimetsu no Yaiba#KnY#The Demon Slayer Corps#Hashira#The 12 Kizuki#Demon Slayer x Reader#Kimetsu no Yaiba x Reader#KnY x Reader#The Demon Slayer Corps x Reader#Hashira x Reader#The 12 Kizuki x Reader#Akaza#Akaza x Reader#Gyutaro#Gyutaro x Reader#Gyomei Himejima#Gyomei Himejima x Reader#Giyuu Tomioka#Giyuu Tomioka x Reader#Kyojuro Rengoku#Kyojuro Rengoku x Reader#S/O! Reader#GN! Reader
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When you talk about Cass being a dancer, you say she is not drawn to the performance aspect of it, and I was wondering if you could elaborate on what you mean by that? I don't know a thing about dancing but it sounds interesting. (If it's not too much trouble, of course. Thank you.)
I'd LOVE to elaborate on what i mean!
ok so cass's tie to dance is something that's been arguably, quietly present throughout her entire existence. even with her first few appearances as her only form of communication was body language. the very first language she knew was the body and movement, something a lot of dancers can relate to! while she obviously understands and speaks english now, she still relies heavily on her ability to read body language as well as using her own body to convey her thoughts and emotions.
now, you might be thinking, "fran, that's just how body language works" to which i say, "correct, but.." with dancers (specifically choreographers) movement is typically also our primary "language". it's not straightforward like stating our exact thoughts, but it is easier for us to convey emotions and express ourselves (as cliche as that sounds).
movement is one of my favorite aspects of cass's character and her stories! so i find it very frustrating when the fanon (and that one wfa chapter) depict her relationship with dance as one of her enjoying performance, when she textually is not interested in the performance aspect.
the first explicit, textual tie between cass and dance comes from azrael: agent of the bat #61
the dance that she performs is mainly acrobatics; it incorporates a lot of jumping and flips that are technically sound. its her listening to the music and repurposing the skills she was taught intended for hurting people to gift jpv with a dance. this is by definition a performance, but the purpose of the dance wasn't "performance" if that makes any sense. cass can't communicate verbally at this point in time. all she has is her body, so she communicates in the only way she knows how.
now after knowing english, the next time she dances on page is with brenda when they go moshing in Batgirl #63
mosh dancing is as bare bones and unprincipled as dance gets! it's all about just feeling the music and adding your feelings to the sound by letting loose. none of cass's dance resembles anything close to a fight, instead she starts copying the way that the people around her are dancing (this will come up again later). the panels of cass noticing the boy and the two of them running together to dance together means so much to me because that is the POINT of dance! it's about sharing parts of yourself that you don't know how to vocalize with the people around you, and connecting with the people doing the same.
now, cass's tie to ballet specifically comes from tynion's run on TEC 2016 (TEC 2016 #950). and this is unironically one of my favorite TEC issues/probably comic issues of all time.

first, we see cass shadowing christine montclair's early morning rehearsals (en pointe without pointe shoes or toe pads i must point--no pun intended-- out. she is insane.) this is the most formal training we see cass get, which adds onto the idea of dance as another language for cass because children learn how to speak by hearing those around them and mimicking those words. in the same way, cass mimics christine's dance (remember how i said this would come up again), but she isn't "speaking for herself" yet!




the issue continues to have a through-line of cass not knowing how to voice her thoughts and emotions which matches sooo perfectly to her still not fully understanding what it is about dance that draws her in as well as her having not found her artistic voice yet!

and now, my favorite spread of the issue. during this fight scene so many of her steps resemble those of ballerinas (very intentionally). this in direct juxtaposition to her first dance for jpv that repurposes her martial arts training to dance makes me want to run laps and start biting. the page and it's accompanying text really speaks for itself on cass and her relationship to dance, and so to avoid repeating myself or tynion too many time's i'll just reiterate that the focus of cass's attraction to dance is as an art form that communicates things words can't.


and finally we've reached the pages where she does find her artistic voice. i particularly love these pages because she's NOT performing for anyone! she's NOT communicating to anyone but herself here. one of my favorite aspects of dance is how personal it is to the point where sometimes when you're improving sometimes the only person you're trying to reach is yourself. cass isn't trying to be seen or understood here. there isn't any aspect of performance in these pages at all, in fact they're incredibly intimate pages.
thank you so so much for this ask anon i love thinking about cass and dance! hopefully this makes sense!
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NEW... EXPERIENCE
summary: Sylus, at his own risk accepts your offer to do his makeup. But the question is, will he like it?
#CHARACTER: Sylus
#FANDOM: Love and deepspace
#WARNINGS: holysh is that Sylus doing makeup?
#TEGS: comfort, doing makeup
© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
masterlist ▪ navigation ▪ rules

In a room shrouded in the soft light of a desk lamp, in front of a huge mirror surrounded by a scattering of bottles of tonics, palettes of shadows and brushes of all stripes, you are an artist. Sylus is next to you, and his icy, piercing eyes follow your every move in this sanctuary of beauty with undisguised curiosity.
— "Are you ready to take the risk?" ― You ask, twirling a fluffy blush brush in your fingers.
He tilts his head slightly, and a waterfall of silver hair gently falls on his forehead.
— "Isn't this an unexplored facet of human existence?" ― There's a faint note of anticipation in his normally even voice. ― "If you find it... worthy of attention, I'm at your service."
Your laugh sounds light and casual when you take the sponge, touching its velvety surface of the foundation.
― "Then freeze. And no blinking."
Under your touch, he freezes like a fragile statuette, afraid to break the magic of the moment. His skin is as cold as marble, and immaculately smooth—not a single flaw, not a single pore. It really seems to be made of perfection, created not by nature, but by art. You apply a weightless foundation, as if bringing his face to life with light touches on his cheekbones.
― "Now... a little play of light and shadow," ― you whisper, choosing a thin contouring brush.
Sylus is watching you in the mirror, his gaze darting between your face and its transforming reflection.
— "What is the purpose of these manipulations?" ― he asks, as you begin to deepen the hollows under his cheekbones.
— "To emphasize the advantages. To make them... more tangible."
― "Aren't my virtues enough?" ― There's a hint of irony in his voice.
You bite your lip, stifling a laugh.
— "Let's just say it's just a game of shades. The art of nuances."
He silently accepts your answer, allowing you to continue to create. In your hands is a palette of shadows — cold, shimmering, metallic shades that perfectly match the color of his eyes. You carefully shade the silver-gray over the eyelid, adding a little drama to the crease with a dark charcoal.
― "Do you often... do this?" ― he asks suddenly.
― "Painting someone? No," ― you smile. — "You are my first... volunteer participant in this performance."
The edges of his lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile.
— "I would venture to say that I am incredibly lucky."
You snort and pick up your eyeliner. The most crucial moment is to draw a perfect arrow on such an unearthly eye. But your hand is firm: a thin, clear line highlights the slit of his eyes, making his gaze even more piercing, even more dangerous.
― "Well, what do you say?" — you pull away, appreciating the fruits of your labor.
Sylus slowly turns his head, studying his reflection carefully. His face remains impassive, like a mask, but there is something new, unexplored, almost... human in his eyes.
— "Interesting," ― he finally says. — "I didn't realize that such minor changes could transform perception so much."
― "So I didn't waste my time!" — you declare triumphantly.
He turns to you, and his cold fingers suddenly touch your hand, burning your skin.
― "Thank you. For this... experience."
You freeze, feeling your heart racing. Makeup has really created a miracle — it looks even more mysterious, even more unrealistically beautiful.
— "Come on," you say with difficulty. — "Maybe next time we'll take a chance with lipstick?"
The man sighed and chuckled a little.
― "If you insist..."
#headcanon#comfort#female writers#lads sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#sylus my beloved#love and deepspace#lads
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Hello everyone! Welcome to the Sonic Pride Corner!🌈✨
We're very excited to announce the Sonic Pride Corner project, a blog run by queer Sonic the Hedgehog fans with the purpose of celebrating the LGBTQIA+ community within the StH fandom!
We are making this post not only to announce our presence as a blog, but also to announce that we will be opening Sonic character Pride Month requests on the 29th of May, 2025! You will be able to request whatever StH characters you want, with one or more LGBTQIA+ headcanon(s) of your choice, and our team of over 20 mods will make it reality! (Through our art, of course.) More info as well as request/blog rules have been provided under the cut! For those of you interested in participating in the project with your own art and/or writing, we will also be running a Sonic Pride Week event taking place from June 23rd through June 27th! Keep an eye on our blog for updates on this, as we will be making a separate post with information on it! Edit: You can now find the post with more info here!

Our Sonic Pride Month Requests
Information
Our inbox is currently open for blog and event related questions ONLY. Requests will open on May 29th, 2025. Any request sent before this date will be deleted. Additionally, requests will close on June 23rd, 2025.
You will be able to request any Sonic the Hedgehog character(s) you'd like, along with one or more LGBTQIA+ headcanons you'd like to see them drawn with! You may also request ships for us to draw, but please specify that you want them to be depicted as a ship (you may also specify romantic or QPR if you'd like) and make sure to include LGBTQIA+ headcanons for any characters involved!
Examples of requests we'd be happy to draw:
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the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.
GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;
WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;
WORD COUNT: 11k words
NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3
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YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing.
When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.
It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil.
And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor.
The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted.
The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.
Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them, this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear.
It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.
The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.
You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.
At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.
And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.
His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.
Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.
And now, it was your turn.
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YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic.
You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.
And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.
But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.
Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.
If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.
Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief.
No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world?
As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.
Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.
A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.
"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"
You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.
"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."
You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."
His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.
"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”
"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”
His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.
"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"
You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."
Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must.
"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."
"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."
He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.
"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."
But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.
For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.
He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.
“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”
The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.
“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”
You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.
“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”
Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”
“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”
He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.
“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”
You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.
“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”
He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.
And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.
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IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection.
But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.
Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.
Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.
A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.
But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.
The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.
No, the truth was much crueler than that.
You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.
It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.
And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.
“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”
You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.
And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.
He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask.
Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.
The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.
"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”
His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.
You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.
Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.
And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.
“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.
You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”
“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”
You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.
Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”
He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”
The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost.
“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”
His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”
The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.
“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”
For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.
“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”
He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.
And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.
Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.
Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.
At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.
You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.
You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.
Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”
You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”
He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”
You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”
And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.
Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.
You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.
You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.
One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.
Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”
You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”
He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”
You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.
And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.
You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.
But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.
Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.
But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.
You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.
For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”
You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”
He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”
He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”
“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”
His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.
“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”
“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”
He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”
You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”
He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”
You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.
But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.
You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”
He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.
“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”
You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”
He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.
“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”
But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”
And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.
══════════════════
TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.
Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.
He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.
But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference.
You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.
You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.
For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.
There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.
Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.
You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.
You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.
You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”
He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”
You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”
He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”
You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.
The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.
But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.
Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.
You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.
But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.
There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.
A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.
“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”
You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”
The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”
“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”
She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”
“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”
The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”
“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”
The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.
“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.
You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.
You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.
You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.
══════════════════
YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.
He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.
The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.
It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.
You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.
As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."
Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.
"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."
You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord, but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"
Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.
Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.
For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.
"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."
Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.
You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.
He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.
You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.
The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.
As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.
When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.
And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.
The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.
As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.
Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.
Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.
"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.
"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."
Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.
Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.
You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."
Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”
You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”
“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”
“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.
He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”
You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.
"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."
With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.
You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.
You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.
══════════════════
THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.
If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.
You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.
On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.
Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.
“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”
Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.
After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.
You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”
Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”
He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”
“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”
Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”
“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”
For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.
“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”
You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”
Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.
As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.
And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.
To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.
You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”
Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.
A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”
Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”
You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.
The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.
“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”
Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.
“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.
With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.
“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#ryoumen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk sukuna ryomen#sukuna jjk#jjk angst#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen angst#kayu writes ! ! !
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anyone looking for more wincest fic recs?? nobody?? okay here you go anyway. i have a bunch of fics i couldn't fit into the other list, so i needed to make a brand new one with more variety this time around. i organized it by wordcount to make things easier, however i rarely read long fics, so these are mostly pretty short. once again this list got way out of hand...
(for mature or explicit rating, you can assume it's [sometimes implied] bottom sam, or it isn't discussed. for bottom dean or versatile samdean, i made a small separate section of my favorites.)
1k~5k
Remember the Mountain Bed by nigeltde (G, 1k): post canon. sam and dean jr. one of the only fics that have ever made me cry and with only a thousand words! this one is so very dear to my heart, heartbreaking in its details, yet warm and soothing at the same time. just gorgeous.
Are You by lovetincture (G, 1k): one of my favorite gen fics. i adore second person POV and this is a great example of how it can maximize impact.
I Was the Dirty Little Boy (E, 1k): a quick weecest sparring session turning into spanking... you know. the good stuff.
Stealth Run by LaughableLament (E, 1k): late seasons + established relationship + possessive dean + slutty sam. i love this author a lot.
State of Mind by lovetincture (M, 2k): the summary goes "It's legal in the state of Ohio." yes it is as good as suggested. the tension in this fic mwahh
The Euphoria Emporium by Laughable_Lament (E, 2k): sam and dean visit a sex shop and dean gets jealous. quick and nasty.
Be Mine by De_Nugis (T, 2k): first part of a short series. for people who love silly, goofy samdean. this is no plot, pure crack. the kind that actually makes you laugh out loud.
Dating for Dummies by sevenfists (M, 3k): there's not enough first time aftermath fics. this has ruined me because it is the exact level of lighthearted i love, where the brothers continue being brothers first and foremost, even after boning.
We Are Drinking Beer at Noon on Tuesday by whirlpoolsleep (M, 3k): neat outsider POV. always love seeing the brothers through normal people's eyes.
With Mercy for the Greedy by whiskyandoldspice (E, 3k): unmatched weecest pwp. the amount of hits/kudos doesn't always mean quality but for this one it absolutely does. this is pretty much flawless in my eyes.
August 5th, 2001 by coricomile (M, 4k): established weecest! this was cute and tender with the right amount of angst surrounding sam's imminent departure. bittersweet ending.
Run It All Over by runawaydr3amer (E, 4k): first part of a series. the classic "brotherly handjobs" scenario, but it immediately stood out to me. really on point voices and hot atmosphere.
Dean's palm would be rougher by FrancesHouseman (M, 4k): hand kink! i think we can all relate to sam here. this has a scene that's hotter than many pwps i've read lol
Know when to walk away and know when to run by deirdre_c (E, 4k): brothers playing strip poker goes too far... set in s3. great sexual tension and a super satisfying first time.
At Least It's Only One Song by ADeedWithoutaName (E, 4k): dean-gifting-sam-a-lap-dance fic. another outsider POV with an instantly likable OC. she can tell there's something off about those guys...
sticks and stones and weed and bones by aeroport_art (M, 5k): sam seeing a therapist at stanford. really great character study and winchester family dynamics. the conclusion to this story is just... crazy. so well done.
Shadows on the Sun by Linden (M, 5k): soft weecest first kiss! the thing i liked most in this story is how protective they both are. nice brotherly feelings.
wretched creation (M, 5k): one of my favorite reads of last year! criminally underrated work with less than a thousand hits. angsty feels and an unsettling atmosphere. dean facing a demon who knows more about his feelings toward his little brother than he'd like.
Forty-One by themegalosaurus (E, 5k): angsty unnegotiated kinky sex with lots of hell trauma. the kind of porn that's so nuanced and well written it doesn't get me horny (that's a compliment!)
Monumentally Stupid by strive2bhappy (5k): dean helps sam shave and it was hotter than i could ever imagine. great banter, tension, and emotional weight.
Double Solitaire by objectlesson (M, 5k): post mystery spot. amazing character study through a very creative concept. this is one of the authors who really knew how to write dysfunctional wincest.
6k~10k
this bullet inside me by missroserose (E, 6k): who's up for angsty first time in a long time? if you enjoy hathfrozen (i'm sure you do), this will definitely hit a similar spot.
Belonging by strive2bhappy (6k): wifey sam. i repeat Wifey Sam!!!
Lucky Streak by merle_p (M, 6k): thirsty pining done so right. incest that gives you butterflies in the stomach, believe it or not.
You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (E, 6k): nigeltde is an incredible writer. from beginning to end this fic is insane. angsty, desperate, emotional, shameful, this takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions. top notch characterization.
How it Works by Dyed_Red (M, 6k): this is probably in my top ten fics of all time, peak codependent, obsessive, dysfunctional samdean. this particular fic really nails their dynamic and the most delicious, fucked up aspects of it.
Taking to Give by Dyed_Red (M, 7k): lovely character study. this one is a bit softer than most Dyed_Red works, it offers an emotional view of sam and dean growing up. heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.
Wire Inside Me by merle_p (E, 7k): the sam-is-carrying-lucifer's-baby fic. this story is great for how it deals with the pregnancy pushing dean over the edge. the first time tension here is excellent!
Dean is badass. Sam has always known it. by FrancesHouseman (E, 7k): very interesting dynamic with sam and dean playing mind games to see who gives in first. i like this cocky sam a lot.
Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey (E, 7k): CNC weecest. sam and dean go to a haunted house and get up to some nasty freaky shit. it's even better than you can imagine. fyi there's dean in a clown costume.
they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (M, 7k): set in s6, the aftermath of sam getting his soul back through dean's POV. pure angst and overwhelming emotions, beautifully written, it hurt so good.
Man of Steel by glovered (T, 8k): THE lighthearted incest fic for me. along the lines of paxlux's 'Artery', at least to me. this borders on crack, a hilarious, feel-good story that always makes me smile when i think about it.
Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red (T, 8k): gencest/weirdcest in its best shape. sam as sleeping beauty! and obviously dean being very very very weird about handling the curse. i loved how this touched on the obsessive aspects of their relationship while keeping the tone light.
Architecture of Choice by Dyed_Red (E, 9k): yes another Dyed_Red work bc they're my favorite author. this one has one of my fave tropes (fuck or die) and it deals with sam's lack of bodily autonomy in a visceral way.
Pull over by jjtaylor (E, 9k): for my piss play enjoyers! this has lots of great tension and it goes way beyond kinky sex.
This Is All Very Meta by road_rhythm (E, 10k): loss of virginity roleplay fic. except it's sooo much more than that. i thought this would be fun and lighthearted, couldn't have been more wrong. the emotional depth delivered here caught me by surprise, but it shouldn't have, given the author. flawless characterization as usual.
God will forgive me but by sammyatstanford (E, 10k): weecest with lots of pining!sam and angsty yearning. brothers who need each other in sick, twisted ways. there was also a great amount of actual brotherly feelings, which is always a plus in my book.
>10k
Acid by Goshen (E, 12k): to this day one of the most insane things ever written. this fic is a classic, it's a surreal experience, a fever dream. dissecting the brotherfuckers, no stone left unturned.
Baby Blue by Edwardina (E, 13k): sam gets hit with a curse that makes him need to suck on a pacifier 24/7. it turned out to be way less sexual than i expected, this is for caretaker!dean lovers.
Learn to say the same thing by glovered (T, 14k): great case fic. sam and dean go to a singles' retreat in the mountains for a case and eventually have to confront their incestuous feelings. every glovered fic just fills me with joy.
Supersize Me, Sammy by awabubbles (E, 16k): sadly one of the only size queen sam fics ever written, but it is absolutely perfect so i made my peace with that.
Only Natural (Be My Hands) (E, 17k): sam manages to break both his wrists so dean steps up to take care of his needs. and i mean all of his needs.
Relapse by ani_coolgirl (M, 21k): lebanon AU. i adore this fic, i'm in love with it, i think about it all the time and will think about it forever probably. everything here was done incredibly well, one of those fics that feel specifically made for me lol
Edges by glovered (M, 23k): amazing banter and lots of UST. set in stanford era but it's not really angsty. the tone was just perfect for me, this fic had me GIDDY.
Driving Down the Darkness by Nutkin (M, 39k): one of my faves in terms of Brotherly Feels. extremely well written and thoughtful, super slow burn. outstanding early seasons getting together fic that everyone should read.
Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (E, 46k): my favorite demon!dean fic. some of the wildest scenes i've ever read. pretty disturbing and incredibly delicious. if you're into fucked up consent stuff, this is a must read. it has a happy ending!
Burn the Witch by urchinesque (E, 80k): very solid case fic, set in s10, with sam and dean trying to work through their issues. slow sloww burn, witch!sam shenanigans, mild pining. really enjoyed their voices here.
bottom dean and versatile samdean recs:
Take Backs by saltandbyrne (E, 2k): swesson + switching. hands down one of the best PWPs i've ever read, which was to be expected from saltandbyrne. it really doesn't get filthier than this.
How to Wear Polka Dots by homo_pink (M, 6k): swesson. this one is so so weird. and so charming. interesting and refreshing writing style, i had so much fun reading this.
Here's Your Future by autoschediastic (E, 7k): weecest with teasing!dean for a change. loved the power dynamics here, and the intensity throughout the whole fic. desperate, guilty first time, badwrong at its finest.
Enduring Love by oschun (E, 7k): really enjoyed the relationship study here, insightful and well written.
there will be better days by deadlybride (E, 9k): my favorite heaven fic! so warm and peaceful and emotional, full of love and longing and happy reunited soulmates. just thinking about this story makes my heart ache in the best way. really really beautiful.
Yeah, I'm a Back Door Man (E, 22k): established relationship. dean's hell trauma. this was a rollercoaster, great character study, good mix of angst and schmoop as well. probably the best bottom dean i've read so far (along with a couple Goshen works)
Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen: (E, 29k): speaking of applecrumbledore... this fic truly rewired my brain. the queen of "fucking for years without talking about it until one of them snaps". brilliantly executed, one of my favorite deans ever.
yay it's finally over! still i wish i had more long fics to rec lmao do check tags carefully before reading! enjoy the wincest goodness! do also check out this tiny list i've previously made for 3 of the best angsty fics set in stanford era!
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Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.
pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader
word count: 8.2k
preview
a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)
reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it?
“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back.
“Good. Nightwing?”
“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent.
“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for.
“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom.
“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.”
Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”
“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.”
Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”
He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read:
Attempt 1: G6B24
Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)
Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown)
Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision
‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass.
“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did.
Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.
His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick.
“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind.
“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.
Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him.
“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you.
The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.
You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file.
“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.
You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.
“Batman?”
Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.
Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.”
You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?”
Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised.
"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.
He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."
You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected.
When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.
They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”
“What’s going o-”
He hung up.
Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’”
Damian covered his laugh with a cough.
You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on.
Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.”
Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave.
Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.
You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.
He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”
“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry.
Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?”
You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.”
He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”
You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.
Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well.
Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.”
You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different.
Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first.
“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile.
You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?
“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.”
Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.”
At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you?
Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.
Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state.
You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.
“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”
Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.”
You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile.
“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.”
“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.”
Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.”
“Wayne.”
He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”
“Wayne.”
This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”
The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares.
Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”
“No.” came their simultaneous response.
Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.”
Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…”
Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper.
Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”
Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”
Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”
You nodded, “I like it.”
Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”
Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose.
Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement.
Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”
Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you.
Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.”
You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain.
“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.”
“They’re fine…Thank you.”
He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.”
You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change.
You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over.
Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner
You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you.
You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase.
Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first.
Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.”
“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.
He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.”
You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own.
“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.
His eyes widened, was that why you were there?
“How?”
All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first.
“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.”
Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”
“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.”
Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.”
Bruce simply gave a nod.
Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all.
Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian.
Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe.
She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest.
Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”
“Hi!” he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you.
“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.
Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”
You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”
“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.”
Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?”
He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”
“Sounds about right.”
Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own.
The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.
The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.
Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.”
“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.
The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her.
“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.
“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.”
You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey.
Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.”
You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.”
Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.
Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front.
“This better be good.”
Tim mumbled, “Finally”
“Miss me Timmy?”
“Quite the contrary.”
The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away.
His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce.
“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.”
Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.”
“Holy shit, man.”
“Jason, will you shut up?”
“Never.”
“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.”
“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.”
“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.”
“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.”
“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.”
Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you.
“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her.
“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit.
“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-”
Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled.
Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.”
“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.”
Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone.
Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.”
“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied.
She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.”
“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.”
Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.”
“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do.
“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.
“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered.
“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.”
“I want time with her, Bruce.”
“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.”
Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer.
Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?”
You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”
She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”
You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”
Clark gave you a fond smile.
Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.
The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face.
“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.”
You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away.
It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?”
You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.”
He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”
“I suppose so.”
“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.”
“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–”
“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news.
Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him.
A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated.
You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done.
Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.
Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.”
You nodded, “Yes, please.”
Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.”
“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”
Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”
Cass nodded in agreement.
“We’re just buying training clothes.”
“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.”
You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.”
“See?”
Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”
Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site.

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.
Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that.
You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself.
The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.
He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself.
He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about.
The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings.
By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.
The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere.
When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off.
The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.
As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.”
You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.”
He nodded, walking away to change as well.
You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill.
“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”
You nodded.
“Let’s see it.”
You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.
Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.
Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”
He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”
You nodded. Made sense.
“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.”
You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.
Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”
You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing.
This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine.
Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite.
You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.
He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit.
And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying.
“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction.
You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.”
You nodded, “How are we doing that?”
He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?”
You nodded.
“Okay… and…. Go!”
You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds.
“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you.
You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner.
They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking.
That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case.
They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor.

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother.
Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in.
Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there.
You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.
Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough.
Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.
Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled.
You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.
Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.
Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.
True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.
Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal.
You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.
Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it.
You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.
Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’
Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine.
Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.
These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.
These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.
And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.
You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow. Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)
#bruce wayne#clark kent#batfam#dick grayson#damian wayne#jason todd#tim drake#conner kent#batfam x reader#supers x reader#superfam#superbat#superman#batman#lois lane#clark kent x reader#bruce wayne x reader#platonic#x reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#x y/n#clone! reader#kon kent#damian wayne x reader#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#cassandra cain#young justice#project cadmus
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Dissecting the Watcher's story & characters
⚠️ BIG EDIT ⚠️ I want to share a much, MUCH more compelling reading of the DLC's primary ending, courtesy of @characteranalysisthethird. You can find it in this reblog, spoilers of course.
I've seen a number of people claiming that the Watcher DLC has no story and that the slugcat has no characterization, but I definitely think it's there.
(SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE DLC!) There are no spoilers for the secondary ending until about halfway down, where there is a warning.
Adventurous...
Since this post gets a bit meandering, I will spell out the general framework of the story here:
The Watcher is a shy, lonely individual who desperately struggles to find companionship after their childhood was cut short. They will go to great lengths to achieve this connection.
Timid mouse
"And through the middle of it all, a lonely lost slugcat trying their best to outlast the ravages of a warped world."
Why are they called the Watcher? It's due to their nonconfrontational, withdrawn demeanor. This is immediately apparent in the intro dream:
When Watcher's parent steps up to fight the aggressive slugcat, Watcher's sibling joins in. But Watcher just hides away, afraid to confront the danger. It's unclear if their family survived the tussle, but they never reunite again. Watcher's shy demeanor has severed them from their family.
Time passes and Watcher grows a bit older, wandering around in what seems like a futile search for their family. Here, they meet Spinning Top, the child Echo.
A desire to bond
Within the DLC's story, youthfulness is tied to a fear of isolation & loneliness.
Spinning Top has been lost & drifting for a long time. When they ascended, they feared the loss of connection to their old life and their loved ones. So they remained on world, searching for a sign that their loved ones still miss them.
This desperate pursuit has led them to travel across reality for eons and eons. By the time Watcher meets them, Spinning Top is now combing through places that have no relation to their life. Spinning Top won't find any sign of grief or remembrance in Coral Caves or Rusted Wreck, so why are they drifting along these pointless locations?
Spinning Top's loneliness and persistence arose because, as a child, they lacked the experience of maturing and could not handle the radical acceptance required to ascend. They are scared to accept the truth: their childhood has come and gone. Their loved ones eventually moved on and also left the world behind. Spinning Top is the only one holding onto this long-defunct family.
Shadow reflecting radiance
Watcher and Spinning Top are very similar characters. Both are lonely children that have been severed from their parents and siblings, and wish to revive the childhood that was ripped away from them. They're desperate to rekindle some kind of connection.
Throughout the campaign, Watcher continually searches for Spinning Top because they're the only individual that Watcher has seen who could bring a greater connection than chomping, fleeing, or stabbing. They even give Watcher the gift of infant godhood!
These childlike characters both find companionship in each other. In fact, Watcher's companionship is what gives Spinning Top the strength to return to the location of their actual memory, and confront the truth of their loneliness.
"All my mothers and fathers and crechemates who went along without me… Do they note my absence? I've traveled from the furthest future to the very seed of our past, and I see no evidence. Only echoes and strays. Aloof. Alone. Afraid."
Spinning Top accepts that it is best to grow up and move on, and so they disappear, finally ascending for real. Watcher, however, does not seem to learn the same lesson from this journey.
I NO LONGER AGREE WITH THIS READING! Instead, I believe that the ending shows Watcher having accepted their isolation in the same way that Spinning Top did, which is why they're content... and alone. I discovered this reading courtesy of @characteranalysisthethird, and you can find a reblog of it here.
While they may seem happy playing with toys, it's still a symbol of juvenility. Despite everything that has happened to them, they still embody a desire to recapture their lost childhood.
And now, Watcher is alone once more. Soon, they will seek out a new companion.
Ripplespace as a symbol of isolation
Before I discuss the second ending, I want to talk about Watcher's abilities and the symbols they embody.
The ripple-world that Watcher is (accidentally?) transported to by Spinning Top is a continuation of the aching, drifting nature of these two characters. They are unable to stay in place for long, constantly seraching for a sign of connection.
Watcher's "gift" of invisibility is a clear extension of their characterization. They tackle threats by hiding away, slipping past unnoticed. As their Ripple level rises, the cloak begins pushing Watcher further out of their typical plane of reality, creating tears into a wholly different plane. And when they reach the (as of now) maximum Ripple level, Watcher is fully pulled out of the material plane and into Ripplespace. Here, they are truly alone except for the primitive, gnawing voidspawn.
Every gift seems to give way to a curse of isolation. Watcher has to detach themselves from reality itself to survive, and the gift-giver Spinning Top leaves them behind.
Endless hunger
SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND ENDING.
SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND ENDING.
Here's a cool divider.
While the purple Throne Rot seen across the campaign may not play by the same rules as Five Pebbles' Rot, its behavior is equivalent. The Rot is the ultimate embodiment of primal struggle, a collective consciousness of brain meat that forever hungers to consume as much of the world as it can reach. It is not unintelligent, but it is very one-minded.
From The Throne itself, a giant flower blooms and gives birth to the Prince.
The Prince is a piece of the Throne Rot that has partially separated itself from its collective consciousness. It is an individual connected to the Throne Rot, but it has its own mind. "STARVING, pressing, grinding, SQUEEZING against... us? But now... I? A... SELF. And… an OTHER."
The Prince is an imitation of an Iterator puppet. This part of his identity causes him to believe that he was born to solve the Big Problem, by assimilating the entire world into the Throne Rot. "The imperative that was in THEM [the Iterators] remains in me." "Imagine: a single substrate… Life! (...) Nothing lost. No one lost. From bug to god, all as one. A TRUE end to the pattern."
I personally don't believe this was the original goal of the Throne Rot, but rather the Prince instinctually assigning purpose to his new life as an individual. He rationalizes his intrinsic hunger to consume in the lens of a "higher" ideal.
You can see how the Prince reflects Watcher's desire for connection in a deeply twisted manner. They're both in an endless pursuit to connect—Watcher offers itself to others as a companion, while the Prince takes companions and forces them into himself.
Opposing will
The Prince loves Watcher. He considers them to be a great friend, as they are the primary individual responsible for spreading the Throne Rot and the only one to have witnessed their genesis. "You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me."
Watcher has finally found it—a new companion, who showers them with praise and affection. Out of an acute desire to retain this friend, they go on to spread the Throne Rot across all the threads that connect the ripple-world. Every viable world is corrupted.
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—something goes terribly wrong for the Prince. "I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own."
Karma is antithetical to corruption. When the Throne Rot sufficiently engulfs the "fringes" of the ripple-world (Outer Rim and the Rotted vanilla regions), these regions become unstable and you cannot create a warp to escape them. However, there are pockets in The Throne where a bed of Karma Flowers allows you to exit. It's unknown if the phenomenon is natural or intelligent, but Karma inherently opposes the Rot.
When Watcher returns after corrupting all the regions, Karma Flower begin sprouting from the ground of The Throne. The Prince attempts to keep them in, but he ultimately fails—he freezes up, and countless Karma Flowers sprout from the corruption. The Throne Rot might not be outright dead, but its power has clearly been drained. The Prince has failed.
Karma Flowers are all over the map now. The "unstable fringes" have also been stabilized by their presence. You can create a warp to leave Outer Rim and the Throne from anywhere, and the same goes for the Rotted vanilla regions.
Going by the tone of the select screen art, Watcher just seems to mourn their loss. Another new friend, unceremoniously ripped from them.

Moving forward
Watcher cannot seem to find connection. Their family left and possibly died. They helped Spinning Top mature, but Spinning Top left—given that they viewed corporeal and primal life as absurd, they were bound to do this.
Watcher may have attained infant godhood, but their powers encourage them to hide away and detach themselves from the world, concealing them in the desolate Ripplespace with nothing but occasionally violent voidspawn.
It's almost scary how this godlet is willing to go such great lengths to secure companionship, falling for the Prince and corrupting the entire accessible ripple-world to make their friend happy. This friendship ends fruitlessly, too.
Watcher will eventually have a full conclusion to their story. So where will they go from here?
Narratively, I don't think Watcher will get what they want. Their next (and final, I believe) venture for companionship will end in ruin once again... but possibly, Watcher will recognize that while other people come and go, the only constant who will always be there for them is Watcher themselves, and they will learn to overcome the trauma and yearning of their lost childhood.
^ (I think this theme is actually what the Spinning Top ending is already trying to say, andWatcher realizes this very principle thanks to Spinning Top.)
That's my slightly blunt prediction for the overarching theme of the Watcher.
Extra thoughts
Scav Prediction
I personally believe the next arc will involve Scavengers. In the old pre-release Watcher concept, Watcher journyed with an enlightened Scavenger. While James Primate has stated before that Downpour kinda stole the old concept's thunder (i.e. with Artificer), I get a strong indication that the next arc will still involve Scavengers because of the new Acolytes.
Acolytes are Scavengers who are BRIMMING with attributes that reflect a knowledge of Karma and Ripples.
Acolytes wear glowing golden masks and clothes
A faint Karma symbol between 6-10 surrounds them, suggesting that they are already enlightened (or their armor is imbued with some kind of karmic concentration)
When they are grabbed by a predator, they initiate a crazy karmic retaliation blast to free themselves (which I failed to get a GIF of)
The blindfolded Disciple Acolytes emit a sort of karmic echolocation ping that detects entities from a distance
The definition of an "acolyte" is "a person assisting the celebrant in a religious service or procession". The celebrant is someone performing a rite; often a priest. This implies the acolytes are carrying something out for a leader who is almost certainly not the Chieftain Scavenger in Downpour.
Overall, these guys know something, and I think we're going to find out why.
#rain world#rain world lore#rw lore#rain world spoilers#rain world the watcher#rw the watcher#rw watcher#the watcher spoilers#rw watcher spoilers#rain world watcher#rw the watcher spoilers
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demo (prologue + ch.1-3, 200k words)
please mind the content warnings! anon is currently disabled.
latest update: May 10th 2025
cog forum post | author's patreon | patreon side story masterlist
You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene.
It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.
It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.
And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.
Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)
Play as a pop-rock vocalist
Name your band and customize your music and image
Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears
Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker
Give one hell of an interview
Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.
TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma, disordered eating
ROs:
Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”
She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…
Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.
Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”
Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.
Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.
Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.
Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”
Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.
Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes.
Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”
Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.
Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue.
Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.
Others:
Maddox Wells (m), drummer
Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.
Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”
After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.
Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”
Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.
Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”
The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.
Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist
Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2
Stevie
Lincoln
Angel
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Please consider reblogging <3
#interactive fiction#choicescript#hosted games#romance options#if wip#choose your own adventure#if: wip#music inspired#demo update#demo available#dashingdon
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This is moreso to the blog owner, do you plan on any arcs or anything to eventually happen? Like if Dark Enchantress strikes again or something angsty? Your art is amazing btw!

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((Mio the mod here! Thank you for the ask and for everyone's amazing questions and continued support of this blog!
(and thank you so much for the compliment, it means the world ❤️ Here's my answer below-!)
I do have some future story arcs planned for this blog! Mainly developments for the family that focus on the depth of Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla's characters, their relationship, traumas and how their experiences shape their lives as a couple and as parents.
I love these two so much so exploring their dynamic in this way is so much fun, both for just silly asks and for future story related plans! Some of the plans will be lighthearted and fun, but there will also certainly be angst in the future (both in story and in some backstory related asks!)
Part of the fun of ask blogs is also developments based on the questions given, so it'll be exciting to also see what changes and grows based on everyone's questions!!
I hope everyone will enjoy the developments that come over time; I'm enjoying working on this blog so much and don't plan on stopping any time soon!!
Thank you again for the great question!! ❤️))
((PS! This feels like a good time to mention, tomorrow, I'm leaving for a three week trip to Japan!! I'll have some posts queued up for while I'm gone, though! Feel free to check out my personal blog or my bluesky where I'll probably be posting some pics from my trip!))
#cookie run kingdom#pure vanilla cookie#shadow milk cookie#puremilk#pureshadow#pure vanilla x shadow milk#vanillashadow#mod ask#I have so many fun ideas for the blog's future :3c#i really hope everyone enjoys what's to come!#and I have so many good asks with so much potential I can't wait to get to >:3c
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Hero’s Paradox Archive

Post to keep my stuff organized, I will be updating this as I continue with the comic.
Main Storyline
Where are we?
Fi
What?
The plan PT. 1
The plan PT. 2
Independent chapters
Bunny Legend
Related art
Character list
Height chart
Legend, Koholint
Shadow
Zelink Relationship chart
Time and Malon
Tracks and Wind
The depths
Good dad vs Bad dad
Zelda and Hyrule
Doodles Worlds, Wild n Four
Ravio
Minish and Four
Downfall team
Text entries
Inventory
Minish, Four, Tracks and Wind
Four
Nicknames
Timeline
Healing magic
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Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU - summary
When I read a long fanfic I like I do a little summary on what happens each chapter so I can easily reread the parts I want.
So I did one for @kyri45 Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU comic.
Link to comic Master post (from part 1 to 8) Link to Second Master post (with FAQs Q&As) (has the rest of part 8 and part 9) Link to Spin-off Master post
THIS IS SPOILERS, GO READ THE COMIC BEFORE READING THIS!!!!
The way it goes is "summary (characters that show up, by emojis the first time a character shows up it will also have a name, INDEX at the end of the post) extra".
The extra is like if someone is blushing or no-glamour, easier for compilations. and Sun = Sun Wukong.
P.1: First Arc 1) master post 2) we will co-mentor MK (🐒MK ☀️Sun 🌑Mac) 3) MK has shadow powers, Mama!Macaque (🐒☀️🌑) 4) MK has 4 ears, he is perfect (🐒☀️🌑) 5) Don't you know powers are genetic (🔥Redson 🐒) 6) Pigsy phone call (☀️🌑,🐷Pigsy-phone📞) 7) too much noise (🐒☀️🌑) 8) we are related talk (🐒☀️🌑) 9) Pigsy shovel talk (☀️🌑🐷)
P.2: Week 1 and 2 1) MK corner (🐒☀️🌑) 2) new clothes (🐒) bonus) 🪭PIF finds out (🔥🪭PIF 🌑) 🚪Door 3) afraid to apologies (☀️🌑,🐒-sleeping) 4) train Kaiju form with Mac (🐒☀️🌑) Mac-kaiju 5) Mac apologies to MK (🐒☀️🌑) Mac-MK-kaiju 6) MK planed this (🐒☀️) reddit-ing 🔗Fan made a fake MK reddit story 7) Redson and Mei find out (🐒🔥🐉Mei 🪭) 8) Redson gives MK support (🐒🔥)+(☀️🐃DBK)🚪Door 9) Bull gives advice to Sun (☀️🐃)
P.3: Training montage 1) Sun stepping down from an argument (🐒☀️🌑) 2) never gives up (🐒☀️🌑) Sun blush🔴 3) Grooming train (🐒☀️🌑Monkeys) Sun🔴 4) more for MK (☀️🌑👓Tang) bonus) Family dinner (🐒☀️🌑) 5) soft ears (🐒☀️🌑🔥🐉) Mac🔴 6) MK's room (🐒☀️🌑)
P:4: Un-divorce arc 1) APOLOGY (☀️🌑) glamour-less Sun 2) Mac nightmare (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 3) Sun nightmare (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 4) made bed bigger (☀️🌑 Monkeys) 5) 🍼MK is baby now (🐒☀️🌑) 6) Mama Mamacaque (🐒☀️🌑) 7) Mamacaque shadow play (🐒🌑,☀️-watch) 8) Want parenthood talk (☀️🌑) 9) family cuddle (🐒☀️🌑) 10) MK wakes-up to family cuddle (🐒, ☀️-🌑-sleep) bonus) Spicynoodle (🐒🔥🐉)🏳️🌈🔴
P.5: More than a successor 1) 2am waiting for Mac (☀️🌑) 2) MK sees past (☀️🌑,🐷-phone📞) 3) giving Pigsy and Tang advice (🐒🐷👓, ☀️-🌑-phone📞) 4) Sun freakout (☀️🌑) 5) not a nightmare (🐒☀️🌑) glamour-less Mac 6) it was the only way (🐒☀️🌑) 7) family hug (🐒☀️🌑) talk 8) Sandy therapy (🐒 🐱Sandy) 9) not a successor anymore (🐒☀️🌑🐱) 10) continue part 9 (🐒☀️🌑) 11) Xiaotian , new weapon (🐒☀️🌑)
P.6: Training Arc 2, Electric Boogaloo 1) ask ⚔️Chiyou [god of war] (🐒☀️🌑 ⚔️Chiyou) 2) making weapon (🐒☀️🌑⚔️) Mac🔴 3) weapon reveal (🐒☀️🌑⚔️) 4) human Sun and Mac (🐒☀️🌑) 5) Lilo and stitch (🐷🐒 ,☀️-phone📞) 6) Sun nightmare: cuddle prison (🐒☀️🌑) 7) Sun nightmare: family cuddle (🐒☀️🌑) 8) 3 monkies clinging (🐒☀️🌑) 9) Red and MK sparring (🐒🔥🐉) MK!🔴🔴🔴 10) puberty talk (🐒☀️🌑) Mac🔴🔴 11) puberty talk + tickle attack (🐒🌑) Mac-MK🔴 12) trans (🐒☀️🌑)
P.7: Full Moon Eclipse 1) Mac's cold, Sun takes to hot springs (☀️🌑) Sun-blush🔴 2) why Mac was cold (☀️🌑) 3) MK goes to Red to clear misunderstanding (🐒🔥 Bob) 4) MK and Red talking, demon etiquette, white hair (🐒🔥) 5) not a freak (🐒🔥🐃☀️) everyone-blush LMAO🔴🔴🔴🔴 6) Mac explaining to MK about white hair (🐒🌑🔥☀️) Sun🔴 🔗What cover text says: link *deleted sorry 7) parents reactions (☀️🐃🌑🪭) 8) 🌑eclipse (🐒🌑☀️ ,🐉-phone📞) glamour-less Mac & MK + white fur 9) fully charged, MK makes a quick call (🐒🌑☀️) glamour-less Mac & MK + white fur 10) MK calls Mei (🐒,🐉-phone📞) 11) Mac, I forgive you (🌑☀️) glamour-less Sun 12) Baba Mama (🐒☀️🌑) Sun-cry bonus) joke comic 4th wall: 🔗LINK reblog 13) Sun's and Mac's reactions, Heaven! (🌑☀️, 🐒-sleep) Mac-Sun-cry Sun🔴
P.8: A Dark, Long Night 1) Nezha you are joking? (🐒 🛞Nezha 👺li-jing) 2) Mac stops Wukong from being impulsive (🌑☀️) 3) MK gets a circlet and a contract (🐒🛞👺 🌿Guanyin) 😭HURT ANGST 4) Family meeting (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱🔥) at FFM 🚪Door 5) Bonding over daddy issues (🐒🛞) Sunset Lotus Duo 6) Tied name contract (🐒🛞🌿🔥) 7) Nezha gives Red and MK space (🐒🛞🔥) 8) Red is upset (🐒🔥) 🔴 + color🎨 🚀History from when the comic was posted: We got a challenge from kyri54 to make the comic tag trending, and this is the result, reblog. Stars, the day of was wild, so many posts. 9) MK self sacrifice did damage to his loved ones part 2, electric bogaloo (🐒🔥) 🔴 🔗What cover text says: link , reblog 10) 🎉KISS!!!!!!!! (🐒🔥) 🔴 color🎨
11) Kissing for 20 panels (🐒🔥) 🔴 12) Nezha walk in on them (🐒🔥🛞) 🔴 13) MK asks for Mac's help (🔥🌑☀️🐷🐒) Red🔴 14) A distraction and a challenge (🔥🌑☀️🐉🐷👓🐒) Red🔴 15) Wukong took the news about MK's circlet very well /j (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱🔥) animation! Sun-kaiju 16) Girl fight! (🌑☀️🐉) kaiju 17) See yourself the way I see you (🌑☀️) 🔗links to the flashbacks from the show: link reblog, link reblog, link reblog 18) you're beautiful (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🐱) Mac-kaiju🔴 Sun-kaiju 19) Show Them The Real Sun Wukong! (☀️🌑🐷👓🐉🔥) Sun-kaiju🔴 Red🔴 20) Dads to the rescue (🐒🌑🐷👓) hugs 21) Dad council vote: should MK change his name? (🐒🌑🐷👓) 22) The baby is FED! (🐒🌑🐷👓)
23) 𝄞🎤 HIT IT! IT'S SHOWTIME (🐒🌑☀️🐉🛞👺) Sun-kaiju SONG 24) ♪ LET THE DESTRUCTION BEGIN!! (☀️🛞🔥🐉) ☀️-kaiju 25) 🎵 THEY ARE GOING DOWN, BABY! (🐒🌑🐉) SOYSAUCE 26) ♬ BABY CHAOS BEING CHAOTIC (🐒🌑☀️🔥👺) ☀️-kaiju 27) 🎶 NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTON (🐒🌑☀️👺🛞) ☀️-kaiju 28) ♫ END SONG (🐒🌑🌿☀️👺🔥🐉) ☀️-kaiju 🔗fan edit of the whole song in sink with the panels🎸 reblog 🔗fan edit that I can't help but include , reblog 🔗they made a longer version , reblog
29) Napping while scroll hunting (👺☀️🐒🌿) ☀️-kaiju 30) My name is what? (👺☀️🐒🐷 👓🐱🪭🌿) 31) Wake up (👺☀️🐒) 32) Sibling PIF Macaque IRON SHADOW (🌑🪭) * on stream we found out they don't have a pair name so we made one, IRON SHADOW! 33) Nezha MK sibling bonding time (🐒🛞) Sunset Lotus Duo + 🟥▶YouTube video * I realized that there isn't a ship name (platonic) for MK and NeZha, any suggestions? @sypher-moon05 gave the idea for Sunset Lotus Duo, since it's an actual orange lotus. (full name 'Amazon Sunset Lotus'). 34) Did you hear that? (🌑☀️🪭🐷👓🐱) ☀️-kaiju 35) 🐉MEI EXPRESS! (🌑☀️🪭🐷👓🐉🔥🐱) ☀️-kaiju 🤣 36) Wukong, I forgive you for everything (🌑☀️) ☀️-kaiju 37) 🎉KISS!!!! + 🟥▶YouTube video (🌑☀️) glamour-less 🍑🎨 38) What’s your answer? (🐒🌑☀️🛞👺🐷👓🐉🔥🐱) 🔴 39) MK The Monkie Kid (🐒🌑☀️🛞👺) 🔗Who is in the audience: link, link 40) How did that work? HUG (🐒🌑☀️🐷👓🛞👺🌿) 41) Why did that happen? NAP (🐒🌿🌑☀️🐉🔥🐷👓🐱) NAME, Red🔴 🔗All the Spirited Away references in Part 8: A Dark Long Night , reblog 🔗About MK’s name
Part 9: A new Dawn (Epilogue) 1) Poor Red Son ❤️💛 (🐒🔥🐃🪭🐷👓)🔴 2) Mildly spicy, noodles❤️💛, which aren't free (🐒🔥🐷👓)🔴 🔗Oh my heaven stars 3) 🙈🙉🙊 Moderate spicy shadowpeach, did it change? (🌑☀️)🔴 4) Immortal, Hey new jacket (🐒🐉)😭😭 5) 🍜cry over a bowl of noodles (🌑☀️🐷👓)😭 🔗 Playlist music from kyri45 🎶 reblog 6) Combine power (🐒🌑☀️?) 7) 🍼baby MK (🐒🌑☀️🌿) 8) The rest of your story (🐒🌑☀️🌿)😭 🔗 explanation on how chaos magic work by @passiveaggressivebisexualchaos reblog ( how they reached to me adding them LMAO) 9) Mac know about chaos (🌑☀️) 🔴😘 10) You are invited (🔵Bai He 🌑🐒🔥☀️⚔️🐉🐷🌕) 11) Coronation Time!👑 (🐒🌑☀️) outfit 🚀We got a Challenge!!!! reblog on March 8th, make #Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU and #Lego Monkie Kid trending. mention of challenge(Feb 6) 🚀 🔗 Road map to the end 12) You look good (🐒🔥🐉🐃🪭☀️🌑⚔️)🔴 Red’s dress color 🔗 Art content winner reblog 13) MK is collecting parental figures like pokemons (🐒👓🐷🌕⚔️🌿🔥🐉🔵🛞) 🔗Kyri45 story about making this AU reblog with my own ramblings 14) FINALE 🟥▶YouTube video 🔗 Parallels to part 1 reblog 🔗 Elemental movie reblog
The End Credits: 15,16) party🎨 17) courtnap (🐒🔥)🎨 18) Pijama party time! (🐒🐉🌑☀️)🎨 19) Father-son bonding experience (🐒🌑☀️)🎨 20) Pride parade! (🐒🐉🔥🌑☀️)🎨 21) Photo Booth (🐒🔥)🎨 22) Shadowpeach Wedding! (🌑☀️🐒🐉🐱👓🐷🔥🪭🐃🔵) 🎨🔴🚪Door 23) Secret Post-Credit Scene (🌑☀️🐒🐉🔥)🎨
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SPIN-OFF 1 Second Star
1) master post (🌑☀️🐒🔵) kaiju hug 2) baby talk (🌑☀️) 3) We are planning a baby (🌑☀️🐒👓🐷) 4) 🥚 the 5 elements (🌑☀️👓⚔️🔵🐱🔥🐒🌿) 5) no egg for you (🌑☀️👓🐷) 😭 🔗 The end. 😎 6) Chinese Mythological shenanigans off-screen (🌑☀️) 7) baby preparation (🌑☀️👓🐷🐒🪭🔥🛞🐱) 8) 🍼baby pictures 📸 (🌑🐒☀️👓🐷🐉) 9) 😭 sleep time (☀️🐒🌑👓🐷🪭) 10) LONG HAIR!MK!! (🐒☀️🌑) 11) 🐣 (☀️🌑⭐baby) 🔗 birthmark 12) ALL THE REVEALS (🐒☀️🌑⭐) ⭐color 🚀BABY SHOWER/TAKEOVER TIME!✨ On June 5th (the finale of the Spin-Off)! 13) baby meets family (⭐☀️🌑🐷🐒🔥🪭🐉🛞🐱👓) 🔗 RedSon's new haircut 14) It's like we don't even exist anymore! (⭐☀️🌑🐒) 🔗What cover text says 15) Non-verbal (⭐☀️🌑🐷🐒) 16) 🦄MLP (⭐☀️🌑🔵🛞🐒) 17) Name party part 1 (⭐☀️and everyone else) 18) Name party part 2 💫 (⭐☀️and everyone else) NAME DROP
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SPIN-OFF 2 Spicynoodles Bio Parents AU Fankid of Spicynoodle is Kai from Ninjago. (Cross Over Time)
1) Family Portrait Link to master post 🐒🔥K 2) This boy is on fire KN 3) let visit ante Mei 🐒K 4) chaos cracks 5) not only human 😈 6) both adopted 🤯 7) July 12th 1PM ET
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INDEX: ☀️Sun = Sun Wukong = Monkey King l🌑Mac = Macaque | 🐒MK 🔥Redson | 🐉Mei | 🐷Pigsy | 👓Tang |🐱Sandy 🐃DBK = Demon Bull King | 🪭PIF = Princess Iron Fan 🛞Nezha |👺li-jing | 🌿Guanyin |🔵Bai He |⚔️Chiyou |🌕Chang'e
What are the "Reblogs"? So Kyri45 sometimes cleans their blog from posts, so I make sure to reblog and add a link to the reblog, so if they ended up deleting the og post there will be my reblog for record keeping.
THE MAIN COMIC ENDED😭😭😭, @kyri45 will continue to draw LMK but it would be much more lightly, without a precise schedule, so go follow them (if you somehow aren't yet). I might add links to those posts but who knows what the future hold.
💛🧡💜
🛒MERCH🛍️
If you liked this kind of summary then here is my AO3 bookmarks, where you can see my other summarys for other fanfics
Extra things: Door compilation, Door ask joke
Fics born from this AU: # right after P.9 part 3 shadowpeach fluff # How does Red Son take MK being immortal # Bad ending What if fic # Sun Wukong gets pregnant instead of the egg # The Desire to Move # Ao3 gift fics for Kyri45 (in ao3 you can gift fanfic, like writing a fic for someone else. so the link goes to all the gift fics)
#shadowpeach bio parents au#kyri45#lmk#lego monkie kid#fanfiction#fanfic summary#lmk shadowpeach#shadowpeach#lmk spicynoodles#spicynoodles bio parents au
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Tower Chaos
Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You have had feelings for Bucky for a long time. Yelena finally questions you about it.
Disclaimer: Spoilers for Thunderbolts. Kinda Tower fanfic, reader helps Bucky when he's hurt, established relation/friendships with characters, YelenaBob pairing, found family chaos, yelling in Russian, mentions of injuries and cuts, happy ending. Not Proof Read.
You sighed. They never had your favourite ice cream flavour. You’d think being a regular customer, who regularly asks for your regular favourite ice cream, they would keep it stocked.
But no. So, reaching for your second favourite, you threw it into your basket and continued shopping.
Five minutes later, you were being handed a plain plastic bag and your change.
“Have a nice night,” you called as you left the store.
Usually, you’d have your headphones in, playing whatever playlist Joaquin had mashed together from your work laptop before you could stop him. Some songs were good, others not so much.
But since they’d died before you’d stepped a foot out of your apartment, you’d left them behind.
The emergency ice cream run was too important.
However, it was as you were walking back to your apartment you started to hear noises. Grunting, mostly. And it was one you seemed to recognise.
Down the alleyway, Bucky tried to catch his breath. All he’d tried to do was help, but instead he’d gotten the crap beat out of him. Just because he was a super soldier didn’t mean he didn’t bleed.
Yet, as his body slumped to the floor, he saw a shadow cast over him. And just for a moment, he accepted what might come next. A death? A kidnapping? A ransom note? More beatings?
That was when he got a shock to his chest.
“Come on,” you sighed, hoisting him up. “Suppose you’re coming with me.”
“Y/n?”
Bucky had to be dreaming. Was he already dead?
“Well done. I see the old-man eyesight hasn’t kicked in yet.”
Bucky just grunted and tried his best to walk on his own, inevitably leaning on you for support.
Once you’d gotten him through the door to your apartment, you helped him onto the sofa.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
As Bucky held his side, trying to make himself a little more comfortable in his seat, you walked behind him and towards the kitchen.
Pulling the freezer door open, you placed the plastic bag from the store inside and shut it in. you moved across the kitchen and grabbed your first aid kit from under the sink and eventually found yourself kneeling on the floor besides Bucky’s legs.
“How did you find me?” Bucky asked you as you ripped some packaging open and shook the ice pack.
You pressed it into his side. “I was getting supplies.”
“Medical?”
“Ice cream,” you told him. He held onto the pack as you moved back to the kit to grab something else. “So, do you wanna tell me what happened? Or am I gonna have to guess?”
“I didn’t plan on it.”
“Nobody plans on getting hurt, Bucky.”
He looked at you, but you didn’t look at him. Your focus remained on the cut on his arm as you cleaned it.
“Why didn’t you just come to me?” You asked him, eventually. He’d gotten hurt a few hours before, but thought he could walk it off.
Bucky’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
For a moment, your eyes flicked to his face before going back to the second cut you were gluing shut. “We had a fight, Bucky. Doesn’t mean I want to see you get hurt.”
Bucky sighed a little before he looked around your apartment. There seemed to be more stuff on your shelves than usual. Books and pictures that were usually kept in your office at the Compound.
“Why aren’t you staying with Sam and the others?”
You were avoiding his gaze; he knew that much. “We’re, uh, we’re not really talking right now.”
The small bottle rattled against the other items in your kit as you threw it inside. Bucky leaned forward as you sat back on your heels.
He just looked worried and concerned. “Why?”
You gave a short sigh. “Because I stuck up for you, and now he thinks I’ve chosen a side. There are no sides to this, Buck. You, Yelena, and the others. You saved people that day. That deserves to be recognised. But none of you even had a choice.”
It felt like the battle had been going on forever. When the woman you’d come to know as ‘Val’ had introduced the world to ‘The New Avengers’, you’d taken one look at their faces on the screen.
They hadn’t been expecting it.
And your thoughts were confirmed as much when you called Bucky a few hours later to check in on him and the others.
However, Sam hadn’t been as composed. He’d been asked by the President himself to start up a new team of Avengers. And, somehow, six people the country had seen as enemies of the State were suddenly being introduced to the world as the very people who should be trusted with civilian lives.
The rift had started immediately.
And you’d been stuck in between ever since.
“Again,” Bucky added, solemnly.
Even before you’d met Bucky, you already knew enough of his past to know not much of who he was in the modern world had been consensual.
You reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry Sam doesn’t see that. But he will.”
Bucky nodded for a moment, squeezing back. “I know. Do you…want to come and stay with us for a while? I know Yelena misses you.”
You smiled, if a little sadly, for a moment. Yelena had been your best friend – once she stopped trying to kill Clint.
And for a moment, you nodded your head. Only to then shake it. “It’s probably best that I don’t. But I wouldn’t mind coming to dinner once in a while.”
Bucky smiled a soft smile. He missed you, too. “We’d like that.”
Three days later, you arrived inside the Tower.
It was mostly open plan, with grey, black and gold. Every once in a while, there was a hint of red.
Surprisingly, you’d been let through immediately.
Apparently, your name was on the security list.
And so began the steady elevator climb to the top penthouse.
Once the doors pinged open, you stepped out. And for a while, no one was there. You knew you were early, but an hour before, something in your gut told you they needed your help.
“Hi,” a soft voice said somewhere beside you.
Eight feet from where you were standing was Bob; dressed in a purple sweater and a pair of jeans.
“Hi. I-I know I’m early but-”
That was when swear words erupted from the direction of the kitchen. Three pan crashes and two seconds later, Bucky emerged from the kitchen. John was following behind him as Alexei yelled something in Russian.
Bucky visibly relaxed. “Hey, you’re here.”
Before you could say anything, someone called your name from behind you.
Yelena was across the room, her Guinea Pig in her hands. For a moment, she’d stopped. Then she was rushing. Carefully placing him in his pen, Yelena dusted off her hands and ran towards you before hugging you, tightly.
You smiled and hugged her back.
Then she moved back, keeping her hands on you. “You’re early,” she said, a little surprised.
You looked around at the others. “I know-”
“Some might say it’s rude to be early.”
You gave a subtle glare to John. “But something told me you might need my help.”
You looked at Bucky and despite his smile and his nod, he seemed…tired. If a little scared.
“You couldn’t be more right.”
From having both hands on his hips, he reached out and took yours. Once you were standing beside him in the kitchen, you realised why.
“Oh.”
Two pots were overflowing with some kind of chilli…soup…mix. One pan had been burnt with, what you assumed was meant to be mashed potato and the rest…
“Oh my god,” Yelena practically threw her words up. “Dad!”
Ava appeared beside you. “We all drew straws for who got to cook tonight. Alexei won and nearly burnt our home down. Is that wine?”
You wondered what she meant until you realised you were still holding the bottle you brought. “Oh, yeah. Thought we could drink it with dinner.”
Your other hand was still in Bucky’s.
“We don’t usually let him cook because of, well, this.” Bucky breathed.
As Yelena moved across the kitchen, yelling at her dad and almost chasing him out of the kitchen whilst yelling in Russian, John leaned in.
“Can any of this be salvaged?”
“Should it be salvaged?” Bob asked, standing on the other side of you.
You remained quiet for a few minutes. Both because you were still registering the mess of the kitchen, but also because a plan was being drawn up in your head.
“Where’s your storage cupboard?”
Bucky nodded to the otherside of the kitchen. “Through there.”
“Come with me.”
Pulling him with you, you both managed to avoid slipping on whatever red-oil monstrosity was spilling onto the floor. On the way past, Bucky turned the heat down before the entire thing blew up.
“What are we looking for?”
You quickly gave Bucky a list as you reached and grabbed things. As he helped you, you popped your head back out into the kitchen.
“How quickly do you think you two can clean this up?”
John pointed at himself. “Us?”
“Yes, you. And Bob.”
“But- this is not a two man job.”
“Then ask Yelena and Ava for help.”
John groaned as you disappeared back into the storage space with Bucky.
Twenty minutes later, Alexei was apologising to you for not correctly making his…whatever he called it, dish properly.
“You’re forgiven, Alexei.”
“Thank you.”
What followed was an evening of…fun. For the first time in a long time, you saw each of them smile. Bucky, Yelena…hell, even John.
Yelena gave a small gasp. “You should stay for a movie. You can stay right?”
You hadn’t answered before she’d answered for you. “You’re staying. I’ll go and get Bob. It’s his turn to pick the movie.”
You chuckled softly as you watched Yelena run away and down the hall. You’d all long since finished your dinner. Bob had offered to wash up, but when Yelena had cut in and said Bucky had already volunteered, he’d walked away.
“She’s right, though.” Bucky said to you, a short moment after she left. “You could stay.”
You nodded, but once again, shook your head. As much as your heart wanted to stay, your head wouldn’t let you.
“I know. But I don’t…I don’t want the others thinking…”
For a moment, Bucky met your gaze. Then he lowered his head before he transferred the freshly clean plate onto the drying rack. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
Two hours later, you were deadly asleep as you rested against Bucky.
Within twenty minutes of the movie coming on, the familiar soundtrack and feeling of Bucky beside you comforted you more than you knew you needed. You didn’t even try to fight it. You closed your eyes and leaned against him.
The next time you woke up, it was feeling his arms slip away from underneath your body.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna stay on the sofa,” Bucky whispered in a low voice. From the way his scent was enveloping your senses, you could only assume you’d been placed in his bed.
You pouted a little, your eyebrows furrowing at the thought. “No, that’s…stupid. This is big enough for both of us. Come to bed.”
“Y/n-”
“Just come to bed. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”
It didn’t take much more convincing before Bucky was laying in bed beside you. Almost immediately, you moved closer to him under the covers until you’d placed his arm around you.
Bucky chuckled quietly. “Thought you said it was big enough for the both of us.”
“Shut up.”
Chuckling once more, Bucky fixed the bedding over both of you before leaning closer to you. There was no denying he got a better night’s sleep when he was lying beside you.
It was somewhere in semi darkness your phone started to ring, loudly.
With a groan, you turned over to search for your phone. Somewhere in the darkness, Bucky slurred the direction where he’d put your phone.
Reaching across to one of the night stands, you finally found your phone and answered before looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Are you okay? Joauqin said he tried texting but you didn’t answer.” Sam started. “I’ve found an old box in the storage room. Finally started clearing this place out-”
From just above you, Bucky mumbled, “Everything okay?”
You nodded, still tired. “It’s just-”
“Are you with Bucky?”
The air felt heavy as he asked. “Sam-”
The shift in his tone was instantaneous. “No, I see how it is. Look, I’ll let Joaquin know you’re busy.” And then, “Maybe it’s best you don’t come back to the Compound for a while.”
You tried to cut in but by the sounds of it, his mind was already made up. And if, without letting you explain, or knowing that you weren’t taking sides, he’d become certain in his decision…
All you said was, “Okay.”
As Sam hung up, you locked your phone; the click echoed around the room.
“Do you need to go?” Bucky asked, quietly. His arm was still around you.
“No,” you laid back down with Bucky. “No.”
Three weeks later, you decided to head to the Compound. As much as you’d ‘moved’ out, some of your stuff was still there. As you packed the last box into your car, you turned back and looked at the outhouse down the road.
Sam was still there. You knew he was; boxes were still being shuffled in and out.
Tearing open another dusty box filled with crap, Sam looked up to see you walking in his direction.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
You stopped just short of the door. “Came to see you.”
The cold was starting to settle in across New York and you’d dressed for it. Boots, jeans, hoodie under your jacket.
“Thought you’d be with the rest of your team.”
“They are my team,” you agreed before hearing Sam give a humming laugh as if to say, “I knew it. You did pick a side.”. “But so are you, Sam.”
You sighed, continuing to talk. “You’re all my family. They’re yours, too, Sam. Or are you gonna shut them out, as well?”
Sam looked up. “I’m not shutting them out.”
“You’re shutting everyone out,” you argued. “They didn’t have a choice, Sam.”
Pulling something from the box to move it towards the mini trash skip, he said, “They stayed. That was their choice.”
Again, you sighed. You averted your eyes from him for a moment to look around the outhouse. He was almost done. It was just the final unit of boxes.
Sam moved back over to the box. “Look, I appreciate you coming here. But I meant it when I said it’s best you don’t come round here.”
“Sam.” you looked at him.
“I get we’re all family, and nothing can truly change that. But…” Sam sighed. “As much as you love us all, you made your decision.”
You felt fire in your belly. “Hey, do not put this on me. That is not fair.”
“Do you love him?”
The fire got hotter.
“That’s got nothing to do with this-”
“Do you love him?” Sam repeated, practically spelling out each word.
“Yes,” you answered before you could think. “But that doesn’t change-”
“It does. You’re too emotionally involved-”
“Emotionally involved!? I get you can be a pain in my ass some days, Samuel. But being an actual ass has never been in your true nature. Deep down you know Bucky didn’t have a choice. Neither did Yelena, or Ava or the rest of their team. And once you’ve finally pulled your head from your ass, maybe you’ll just be able to admit that. This is not on them, and it most certainly is not on me.”
Sam could see the fury in your eyes. He could see the fire in your chest and the hurt in your heart. And he wished he could take it all back.
He’d been there to see you and Bucky grow feelings for each other. He’d been there to witness you both actively avoiding feelings because you both thought it was dangerous.
It was in that garage he realised, this time, he’d been the one in the wrong.
Of course you loved Bucky. But one thing you’d never done is go with your emotions when it came to something on this level.
But that still didn’t change the rift between him and Bucky. He doubted that it would.
“Y/n- I didn’t mean-”
“Yes, you did.” Your gaze was fixed on Sam. “And one day I’ll forgive you for being an ass, but right now…”
Part of you caved and you looked away. You rarely cried, but when you were angry and frustrated…your body betrayed you.
You managed to hold it in as you looked back at him. “Maybe you were right about me coming here. I’m gonna go.”
“Y/n-”
“Bye, Sam.”
Bucky didn’t see you until two days later. And you were still angry from your talk with Sam.
As he walked into the Tower, Bob lifted his head from his milkshake and book. “Y/n’s in the kitchen.”
He dropped his bag by the sofa. “She’s here?”
Bob nodded. “She brought food.”
He held up his milkshake before pointing towards the cup holders on the table. “She got you one, too.”
Picking his cup up on the way, he walked towards the kitchen, already having an idea of the image that was about to greet him. He could smell the lemon blondies from the living room.
The kitchen was mostly clean, which was his first sign. Whenever you did bake, the kitchen tended to be a wonderfully organised yet flour-sprinkled chaos.
When you were pissed, it was almost as neat as a pin.
His second sign was that it was quiet.
Whenever you were baking, there tended to be music or a show in the background. That was if you weren’t already on the phone to someone – specifically, Yelena.
His third sign was the amount of baking you’d done. Lemon blondies, blueberry muffins, chocolate cupcakes, frosting, flapjacks, cornflake cakes, raspberry and vanilla cakes, confetti cakes, protein muffins and many others. They were all stacked and piled in tupperware cases on one of the side counters, if they weren’t still in their pans cooling down.
His fourth sign was that you didn’t move, didn’t even look up, when he walked inside. You were fully focused on what you were doing.
He approached you slowly in the deep silence. “Not good?”
You shook your head, your focus on the batter pouring from the stand mixer into the rectangular cake tin. “Not good.”
As you put it down, Bucky stepped behind you and opened up the oven door. Slotting it inside, he closed the door as you set the timer.
Bucky watched you for a few moments as you took the cake battered bowl to the sink, brought over another one filled with icing and started dishing them out into different food colouring segments.
As he leaned against the counter you were working on, Bucky’s gaze flickered over your face.
He’d known you for so long, he’d easily seen every emotion come across your face. Anger, love, fear, joy, anxiety, embarrassment, confusion, rage, numbness, laughter, and many more.
A lot of them, he’d seen through your eyes.
“Have you been crying?” Bucky asked the question, but he already knew the answer.
He was certain of the answer, even more so, when you didn’t look at him or answer him. So, with a gentle finger under your chin, he tilted your head to look at him. “Hey.”
His voice was soft. Soft enough to break the dam you’d been holding in place.
You didn’t have to say anything. You rarely had to say anything to Bucky. Without hesitating, Bucky took you by the shoulder before holding you into him. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him. It was hard to breathe evenly when you were trying to keep your tears at bay.
“I might take you up on that offer,” you mumbled into his blue henley. “If it’s not too late.”
Bucky smiled, briefly. His hand stroked down the back of your hair before cupping your head. “There were no limitations.”
A bubble of slight laughter rose up your throat. But you just held onto him tighter.
“This is gonna be so cool,” Yelena said as she helped you carry your stuff towards your room. “We finally won’t be outnumbered. We can watch movies- Oh, I’ve already added you to the rota. Your choice is after John’s. A lot of his are military movies which are boring-”
Yelena continued to tell you all about her plans as she helped you move into your room. About her and Ava’s ‘girl’ days. Their on going prank on John, changing a lot of his dark coloured items to bright neon pink; for example, his dark navy towel to a bright neon pink. Same with his face clothes and gym shower bottles.
Both she and Ava warned you about Alexei’s hoarding room; it was mostly filled with memorabilia of the Thunderbolts and ‘New Avengers’. Apparently someone on Etsy had gotten wind of their original title and made t-shirts.
“Oh, the room next door to that one is filled with everything on Yelena.”
You gasped. “Please tell me there’s baby pictures.”
“Pictures?” Ava asked. “Please, there are projector wheels full.”
You looked at Yelena. “Oh, I have to see them.”
“No, you don’t.”
Ava leaned into you. “I’ll get them for you.”
“You know, sometimes I hate the fact you can walk through walls.”
Ava just smiled.
It didn’t take long to get used to living with them. Often Bob joined ‘girls night’ which eventually developed into ‘team’ night when Alexei and John got bored. Games night was every Friday. Bob stayed home most of the day, keeping an eye on reports coming in.
On your days off, you’d help him. A lot of the time, you’d both just talk away until the others came home. You’d even taught him how to bake, which had eventually turned into a baking lesson for a lot of the team considering they’d never really had those moments to learn out of simple enjoyment.
Meanwhile, you and Bucky…were you and Bucky.
And it didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice.
To notice the way Bucky always stood close to you, or how your eyes flicked to each other when the other wasn’t looking. More so if they were. Or how you both seemed to have an unspoken language between each other, already knowing what the other needs.
It didn’t take any of their specialist training to notice the way you looked at each other, or how you interacted. How Bucky’s hand always ghosted over your hip or led you by your lower back. You were also the only one Bucky wasn’t afraid to…touch. To hold hands, or to hug. He’d never been like that with anyone.
Yelena knew, especially. She’d heard stories from her sister.
“Do you think we should do something?”
“What was that film? The one with the single twin? Lainey…Linda…no, that’s not it.”
Yelena sat up straight and sighed. “We watched it last night. The Parent Trap. And it’s Lindsey Lohan.”
“Yes. That one. Why don’t we…just do that?”
Ava sat up. “You really think tricking them onto a boat is going to work?”
Alexei shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be a boat. It could be a closet, or a training room or-”
“We’re not locking them in anywhere.” Yelena told them all. “They’re grown adults.”
“Do you think they’ve always been like that?”
“They were when I first met them,” John said as he transferred food from the stove onto each plate. “He would have died protecting her. And she would have killed him for doing so. They hadn’t even known each other very long from what I knew.”
“So it can’t be that long before something happens, right?” Ava asked. “I mean, she slept in his bed that night she came here for dinner.”
“But that could have been a fluke,” Bob pointed out. “The guest rooms, and her room, weren't finished yet.”
Yelena thought for a moment. “Okay. We need an agreement. If things don’t start naturally, we give them a little push. Nothing big, just…maybe show them the right direction.”
They all agreed.
But six months later, they were sick of the subtle differences they’d all been making. Name dropping, schedule changes, lighting changes, stories. Ava was the first to make the big leap from subtle to not-so-much when she arranged a blind date for you.
The annoyance from Bucky had been clear from the moment she phased through the front door.
However, despite being the one to draw up the agreement, Yelena was the one to truly break it.
“Do you like Bucky?”
She’s marched into your room, dressed in her pajamas, holding onto her guinea pig. Although the question had been a surprise, Yelena bursting into your room at nine at night only to flop down on your bed in front of you was not.
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you like him?” Yelena paused to reframe the question. “Okay, do you have romantic feelings for him?”
You stuttered, “For Bucky?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
She didn’t give you time to answer before explaining. “Because I think you do and since you’re my best friend, I think, legally, I should know.”
“Yelena-”
“I can keep a secret, I promise,” she sat up and talked to her pet. “You know I can. Well, I tell you my secrets but we live with Ava. She knows everybody’s secrets.”
Yelena finally looked back at you. “So?”
So?
So…the answer was yes. You had done for a while. Probably since you met him, if you were being completely honest; though you didn’t recognise them to be romantic then. Just feelings.
Mainly the feeling that you wanted him to be safe, and to be free.
A man willing to lay his life down for his country, only to lose something worse than that to a different cause; one he never chose, one he never consented to. Only to be brought back and be blamed for the act forced on him despite fighting against deadly torture for over twenty years.
That was a man that needed someone in his corner.
“Yelena.” Just from the tone of your voice told her everything she needed to know.
“I knew it. I knew it.” She smiled to herself before repeating herself to her pet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You shrugged, putting down your legal pad. “What was there to tell?”
Yelena pretended to think, “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m your best friend and I should know who my brother in law is going to be. Or that he’s the reason every date I’ve sent you on has never worked out. Or-”
You reached out for her. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”
“Y/n, why don’t you tell him?”
You looked away for a split second. “We…have an agreement. Kinda. We’ve never spoken about it but, we know.”
“Know what?”
“That it’s too dangerous.”
Her brows furrowed. “Dangerous? Because…it’s so electric you might blow a spark?”
You ran your tongue over your lips. “No, it’s…how do I put this? When he worked together…there was a chance of things going wrong because we wouldn’t be thinking. Neither of us were willing to risk putting people in danger because neither of us could focus properly.”
“Well, that’s…”
“Yeah.”
“Stupid.” Yelena finished. “That’s really stupid. I suppose you two being in love, I have to give you some slack. And the sentiment. That is very sweet. But also incredibly stupid.”
You just looked at her, dumbfounded.
“You like each other. If someone is going to get hurt, then they get hurt. It’s a part of the job. Just because you work together doesn’t mean people will get hurt because of it. The only people who you’re hurting are yourselves. And us, but that’s for another time. You should tell him.”
“Lena-”
“No. You should tell him. And he should tell you. I’m sick of seeing you two act like lovestick cowards.”
You both kept her frustrated for another two months.
You’d been sitting with Bob for most of the day. Around mid-day, you’d both left the Tower to go and get some food. But it was when you were standing in the kitchen, Bob telling you about his ideas for Yelena’s birthday, that a warning flashed around the room.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
Then you heard the noises.
Both you and Bob took one look at each other before heading out back into the living space. “Guys?!”
Through the elevator doors, Yelena hobbled through with Bucky by her side. They all looked like hell.
“What the hell happened?”
Ava and Alexei took the semi-conscious Bucky from Yelena and rushed him down the hallway. Yelena tried her best to keep your focus on her. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”
“What the hell happened, Yelena?”
Beside you, Bob’s focus remained on the blonde Russian. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, knowingly taking Bob’s hand in her other one. “We ran into a few hurdles.”
“I thought this was meant to be a search and rescue.”
“It was,” she nodded. “But apparently Sam and the others also got wind of it. They’ve taken some bruises home, too.” Yelena was quick to add her next sentence. “Not from us. Well, mostly not from us. The search and rescue was tied to a hostage situation.”
“So,” your head kept turning to the hallway Bucky had been taken down. “So what-”
“A kinetic energy blast.”
Yelena saw the fire in your eyes. “Sam- Sam did this?”
Yelena shook her head, then nodded. “No. Well, kinda. But it was- Bucky was helping him. Sam thought he was clear of the blast. So did we.”
“I need to see him.”
Yelena let you go and Bob stepped into your place. “Yelena,” his finger traced over her brow. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m okay, Bob. I’m okay.” Yelena took his other hand in hers before resting her head against his. Then she hugged him.
Meanwhile, you ran down the hall and into the medical wing where Ava and Alexei had Bucky. He seemed a little more awake.
“I’m okay-”
You hugged him immediately. Somewhere behind you, Alexei made a soft noise and Ava hit his gut.
“Wilson said he’d be sending a medical officer over.”
“I don’t need one-”
“Yes you do,” you cut in before looking at Ava. “Yes, he does. Where are the medical supplies?”
“Doll, if you can fix me-”
“I still want someone checking you over.”
As Bucky agreed and the others left, John brought you the medical kits and left you and Bucky to it.
“He didn’t mean it, Y/n.”
You swallowed. “I know. Yelena said.”
“Look at me?”
You eventually stopped cleaning one of his cuts to look at him. He smiled for a moment. “I’m okay. We both know I’ve been through worse.”
You tilted your head. Too soon.
“They were helping us, and we were helping them. It’s not much but it’s a start. Maybe I can call him. He might actually pick-”
Bucky’s talking was cut off by your lips crashing into his. The only thought going around in your head as he was talking was that you could have lost him. Sam and the others might not have been there, Bucky and the others could have been outnumbered, and you might never have seen him again.
Yelena was right. The only people you were hurting were yourselves.
Once Bucky had come out of his trance, he looked at you, his fingers absentmindedly running through the ends of your hair. “What was that for?”
“I don’t want to ignore us anymore.”
“What made you change-”
“I could have lost you,” you spat the truth out. “And I don’t want to lose you and not have you with me in the first place. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Bucky admitted. Then a glint came across his eyes. “I should get hurt more often.”
“Absolutely not.”
Bucky chuckled before cupping his hand against your head. “So…we’re not ignoring it anymore?”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
“Good.”
Pulling you closer to him, he kissed you like he’d been dying to for years.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#thunderbolts#thunderbolds x reader#bucky barnes x you#tower fic#james bucky buchanan barnes#fluff#angst#falling in love#kissing#marvel#mcu#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#marvel x you#marvel x reader#mcu x you#mcu x reader#plantonic!joaquin torres#platonic!yelena#platonic!sam#sam wilson#sam and bucky#thunderbolts spoilers kinda#x reader#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction
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Shino Aburame X Chubby Reader!
Warning: Cowgirl Position, Handjob, Hickey's, Fingering (Female receiving), Shino being a bit of a tease, Confession, Friends to Lovers, In Love Reader (You're literally ovulating for this man), FLUFF, Praise Kink, Mating Press Position, Dirtytalk, Nipple play, Virgin! Shino, Unprotected Sex, Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻♀️
Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (Besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊
Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.
MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!
P.S. All characters are 18 and up.
It started with a shift.
With the man she’d known since they were both just genin.
Back then, he was the boy who rarely spoke, avoided eye contact, and kept himself hidden behind a high collar and dark-tinted glasses. He was mysterious and unreadable, like he belonged more to the shadows than the sun.
On the other hand, she had always been his opposite—loud, expressive, and relentlessly curious. She didn’t find his quiet nature intimidating, just… fascinating. A walking challenge wrapped in mystery.
So naturally, she made it her mission to get a reaction out of him.
Poking and prodding at his calm demeanor became her favorite pastime. Teasing him mercilessly, tossing out nicknames just to see if she could get a twitch of the lips or an eye roll.
“Mister Mute and Moody.”
“Bug Sage.”
“Cloakzilla.”
“You okay under there, Count Aburame?”
He never reacted much. Maybe a blink. A small adjustment to his glasses. Occasionally, a grunt that could almost pass for a laugh if you were paying close attention. She always was.
She’d laugh like a hyena at her own jokes while he continued doing whatever deeply focused Shino thing he was doing. But he never pulled away. Never shut her out. And maybe that’s why it felt so easy—natural, even—to keep him close.
Over the years, she became a constant in his quiet world. A presence he allowed in.
But adulthood changed things. Life got busy. Jobs took up time. Missions, work, distance—it all crept in. They saw each other less. Spoke even less than that.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t notice the shift right away.
Until that day.
The day she noticed everything.
She had always seen Shino as her weird best friend. The tall, quiet one. Stoic and cryptic, wrapped in layers of dark fabric, sunglasses perpetually in place like he might burst into flames if touched by direct sunlight.
But now…
Now he was standing taller. More confident. He’d grown into his height, broad-shouldered, composed. That high collar no longer swallowed him whole, and when she caught a rare glimpse of his face, she noticed sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, smooth skin, and lips that looked far too kissable for someone who barely used them.
Gone was the shy, elusive boy. In his place stood a man—quiet, yes, but assured. Intentional.
The coat that once drowned him now framed his physique perfectly, hugging his chest and arms. Even those ridiculous sunglasses somehow managed to look good on him now, catching the light just right. Like they belonged.
And his voice—deeper now, with a gravelly undertone that made her knees weak whenever he said her name. Calm, composed, steady—and infuriatingly hot.
Even his bugs had changed with him. They moved slower, more lazily across his skin when he was at ease, retreating when flustered, reflecting the subtle shift in his mood. She found herself watching them more than she should. Watching him more than she should.
She used to tease him endlessly.
Now? The jokes died on her lips whenever he looked at her too long. She stammered. Looked away. Her face burned way too easily.
She hated it.
Hated the way her thoughts turned inappropriate at the worst times—wondering what his voice sounded like first thing in the morning or how those long fingers would feel tracing parts of her no friend should be thinking about.
She was spiraling. And it was so obvious—to everyone but him.
...Or so she thought.
Kiba noticed first.
Of course he did.
He didn’t say anything to her, though. No, he went straight to Shino one afternoon during a break between missions, biting into a rice ball like it was just another day.
“So…” he said casually, mouth half full. “What’s going on with her?”
Shino blinked. “Who?”
“You know who,” Kiba muttered.
“She used to clown around you nonstop. Now? Barely teases you at all. Still gives everyone else hell, me included. But you? She gets quiet. Flustered, even.” He polished off the rest of his rice ball and pointed at Shino. “It’s funny, actually. She’s stuttering like Hinata did whenever Naruto walked by shirtless.”
Shino was quiet for a beat, adjusting his glasses like he always did when he was thinking.
Kiba raised a brow. “She’s totally into you,” he said flatly, just to see if he could get a rise out of his friend.
Shino’s face didn’t change, but his mind was clearly ticking.
“She’s… quieter,” he murmured.
“Exactly,” Kiba grinned. “That’s the point.”
-----
She stayed late one evening. The academy was quiet—students long gone. The usual excuse? Helping Shino with grading, like she often claimed.
Realistically?
She was just there for the company. For him.
Lately, she found more and more reasons to drop by—bringing snacks, making tea, or sitting cross-legged beside his desk, chatting about anything and everything. She talked his ear off, but Shino never complained. Not once did he seem annoyed.
And as always, at some point, she began to trail off.
Her voice softened. Her words thinned. Until silence took over—her eyes fixed on him. More specifically, on his hands. Long, veined, confident fingers sorting through lesson plans with ease. The calm in his expression, unbothered even by towering stacks of paperwork.
Maybe it was the way he pushed up his glasses, slow and casual, as if unaware that such a small action completely short-circuited her thoughts.
Lost in her little daydream, she didn’t realize how quiet she’d gone—until he spoke.
“You’ve changed,” he said, eyes still on the paper in front of him. “You don’t tease me anymore. No weird nicknames. No jokes about my coat. Not even a single bug pun in two weeks.”
She shifted awkwardly.
“I’ve just… matured.”
“Mm.” He hummed, then added, “Is that why you’ve been staring for the fourth time this week?”
She froze.
Her lips parted, voice caught.
“I have not—!”
“You were doing it just now.” Calmly, he set his pen down with careful precision, folding his hands atop the desk. “You think I wouldn’t notice?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he stood—slow and deliberate—and began walking toward her.
She instinctively stepped back, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Say it.”
He stopped just inches away from her. Her back pressed against the wall behind her as his hand rested beside her head. He didn’t touch her, but his close presence washed over her like a current.
Her breath hitched.
“S-Say… what?”
“Tell me.” His head tilted slightly, his voice quiet, unreadable. “What exactly were you thinking?”
“S-Shino…” She squirmed under the weight of his gaze, biting her lip.
“What was it?”
Her face burned. Her mind spun. Her hands pressed against his chest, solid and warm. Too firm. Way too firm.
She stammered, looking down. Shaking her head.
“It’s nothing important.”
“I’m patient,” he said, stepping just a bit closer. “And I’ve learned to listen between silences.”
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower.
“So say it. What’s been going through that pretty little head of yours? Your wildest thought.”
She bit her lip, trying to escape with a joke—but his gaze cut through her playfulness with unbearable calm.
“Use your words.”
Her throat tightened. Her eyes darted away from his. And finally, in a breathless whisper, she gave in.
“Fine,” she muttered. “You’re not supposed to be handsome, okay? You were supposed to stay my weird bug-boy best friend forever, not turn into this calm, grounded, actually pretty hot teacher who makes me imagine what you'd sound like losing your composure.”
Silence.
Not from tension, but from how still he became.
His eyes locked onto her—sharp, unreadable, and consuming.
“So,” he said softly, “you find me attractive now? And you’ve been thinking about what it would take… to unravel me?”
She nodded weakly, still trying to hide in his shadow.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
He leaned in—lips brushing her cheek, her ear, her jaw—and for a heartbeat, she swore he was going to kiss her.
She closed her eyes, tilted her chin up, and parted her lips.
But…
Nothing.
No warmth. No kiss.
Just stillness.
She opened her eyes to find him gone, already walking back to his desk, as if her confession had been a casual weather update.
“I should finish these before the evening’s over,” he said, voice steady, already uncapping his pen.
She stared at him, slack-jawed.
“You’re so mean!”
He didn’t even glance up.
“You jerk! I just confessed my deepest thoughts about you, and you’re sitting there like I asked if you’ve had lunch?!”
Still nothing.
“You made me say it! You cornered me and made me spill every unholy thing I’ve imagined about you—and now you’re just going back to grading?!”
She marched over to his desk and slammed her palms down on it.
“You don’t get to let someone confess and then go back to paperwork!”
Finally, he looked up. Calm. Unbothered.
“Are you finished?”
That hit a nerve.
“No!” she snapped. “Because I—”
But before she could finish, he stood. One hand reached out, curled behind her neck.
A firm pull—and the kiss she thought she’d get earlier came crashing into her. Only this time it was deeper. Rougher. Unapologetic. Like all the tension he’d been holding back, it erupted in one perfectly timed moment.
“You were loud again,” he murmured against her lips, voice low and sure. “I missed it.”
Her thoughts scattered like leaves. There was only one thing she was sure of now—it wasn’t an accident.
He planned this.
The bastard planned to leave her flustered and wanting, then kiss her while she was too angry to think straight.
“Y-You’re mean.”
He simply shrugged and turned back to his work.
“You’re the one who said I was distracting.”
-----
“Let’s grab something to eat,” Shino said casually a few days later, inviting his curvy friend like he hadn’t kissed her against his desk.
Just food. The two of them. Like always.
And yet… it felt different.
Of course, she said yes. It was her favorite spot—a cozy little eatery tucked behind the marketplace. Warm lighting. Quiet ambiance. Great food. They’d been there countless times.
But tonight, everything felt new.
On the way, she found herself walking closer than usual. Her arm brushed his—once, then again.
She didn’t move away.
Neither did he.
His scent—cedarwood and earth, something unmistakably his—lingered in the air, and she had the sudden urge to wrap herself around him. She didn’t, but her hand hovered near his. Her fingers twitched once, craving contact. Her eyes dropped to his hands—the same ones she’d admired for years.
Now that she’d felt them—grading papers, guiding insects, pulling her into a kiss—she wanted more.
She wanted all of him.
Not just as a friend. Not as a teammate.
She wanted his attention, the full weight of it.
Inside the restaurant, the warmth was comforting. They sat across from each other like always. She wore a soft smile she couldn’t wipe off, no matter how hard she tried to play it cool.
Shino hadn’t said much, but she caught the rare upward curl of his lips when she leaned in to steal a bite from his plate.
Familiar—but now charged with something electric.
Just as she was about to say something—
“Sensei!”
They turned toward the voice.
Three of Shino’s students stood nearby, grinning and carrying scrolls and skewers of street food.
“Shino-Sensei, is that your girlfriend?” one of them asked—loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
She choked on her drink. Eyes wide.
Shino blinked.
The kids didn’t let up.
“She’s so pretty! You never smile like that when we’re around!”
“Are you guys on a date?!”
Shino, ever composed, adjusted his glasses. “We’re simply having a meal.”
One of the kids snickered.
“Right. A meal where you’re sitting real close and she’s got hearts in her eyes.”
She was ready to protest—or die of embarrassment-but Shino calmly said, “It’s past curfew. You should head home.”
Groaning, the kids waved goodbye, tossing a final, “Have fun on your not-date, Sensei!” over their shoulders.
Once they were gone, she finally breathed again. She looked at Shino. He stared right back at her.
Then, unexpectedly, they both started laughing—quietly at first, then fuller, freer.
Why were they laughing?
Because truthfully… the kids weren’t wrong.
This was something new, and also wasn’t.
They’d always gravitated toward each other. Always teasing. Always lingering.
This closeness wasn’t sudden. It had been growing for years.
The only difference?
Now, they were finally letting themselves feel it.
And it was just the beginning.
The air outside is cooler now. Night has settled over the village, soft and still, with only a handful of people out on the main street.
The buzz of the restaurant faded behind them as she and Shino walked side by side once more—silent, yet undeniably connected.
Mentally telling herself, it was just like every other time. Just another meal and just another walk home. Shino was just being a gentleman, as he had done in the past.
But this time, she couldn't withstand just being close to him. Her fingers itch.
Every step makes her chest ache a little more because she wants to touch him. Not accidentally. Not subtly. She wanted to hold this man's hand. Leaned into his warmth and made up thousands of excuses to stay close by.
And this time, temptation got the upper hand. Not being able to stop herself.
Her hand reached out—almost without thinking—and gently tugged at the fabric of his sleeve.
She didn't say anything. But the look she gave him—soft, vulnerable, full of unspoken longing—was louder than any words she could've said.
Shino stops mid-step, glancing down at his sweet, curvy friend. His face was unreadable, but the sigh he let out was soft, almost amused—more like an exhale of surrender than annoyance.
He reached out and took her hand anyway, threading his long fingers through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The moment his hand wrapped around hers, she melted.
"You're persistent."
She gave him the tiniest pout. "You sighed like I was a handful."
"No." He said. "I sighed because you're bold when you want something."
Her face burned.
Without thinking, she leaned into his side, pressing her cheek against the curve of his bicep like she was trying to sink into him.
"W-well, you make it hard not to want more," she mumbled.
"Mn," he hummed. "I'm starting to notice that."
Her fingers tightened slightly around his.
"You're quieter than usual," he added after a pause. "That only happens when you're thinking too much."
"Maybe I am..."
"Softheart," Shino murmured, almost to himself.
"W-What?"
“You try to act like you’re teasing me, like you’re in control,” he said plainly. “But the moment I let you in a little… You melt. Getting soft on me.”
She let out a mortified whimper. “That’s not fair…”
“No. It’s accurate.”
She huffed against his sleeve, hiding her face further. "You're too calm about all of this."
"Someone has to be."
A few moments of silence passed, her cheek still pressed against him, her hands perfectly nestled in his. She didn't want to go home—at least not to her own.
He glanced down, noticing how quiet she had become again. "Do you want to go home?" he asked, pausing before adding, "To mine."
She nodded against his arm, her heart racing in her chest. "Yeah," she replied softly. "To yours."
He didn't tease her this time. Shino simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze and continued walking, leading her there without saying another word.
-----
She had visited Shino's place many times before, but this time felt different. The quiet warmth of his home sent a buzz throughout her body, clouding her thoughts. She observed him moving with his usual precision and coolness, but something seemed off.
He took a little longer to hang up his coat; his shoulders were stiffer, and he avoided her gaze. He was deep in thought, which could only mean one thing: she was on his mind.
“You’re quiet,” Shino finally said, breaking the silence without turning around.
“So are you,” she replied, her eyes fixed on his back. “Almost like you're nervous.”
“I’m not,” he said, a little too quickly.
That made her smile. Wide and warm. He finally turned to face her, and there it was: a crack in his composure. A slight pink rising up his neck, a furrow between his brows, and a stiffness in his stance that betrayed his heightened awareness.
“You’re not used to this, are you?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Used to what?”
“Feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
She paused right in front of him, her hands moving up his arms in slow, smooth strokes. He didn't grab her, but she could feel him tensing, breathing harder, and trying to maintain control.
She leaned in, brushing her lips over the shell of his ear and blowing gently. “Like I’m all you’ve been thinking about.”
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t flinch. But his lips parted, and nothing came out.
She had never seen Shino like this—so contained, so unreadable. And now, here he was, flustered and struggling to keep his calm. All because of her. It was adorable and undeniably hot. She couldn’t stop the small grin tugging at her lips.
“You’re usually better at hiding it,” she said softly, stepping closer.
“I’m not used to being looked at like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m not allowed to breathe wrong, or you’ll pounce on me.”
She chuckled softly, a hint of guilt in her tone. “Then I suppose I’m being a bit too obvious.”
“Blatantly.”
He shifted to the couch, leaning back with his legs slightly spread. His hand extended in invitation, not demanding, simply open. “Come here,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier timbre.
She walked over and placed her hand in his. With a gentle yet firm pull, he guided her into his lap. Her palms rested against his chest for balance, their faces mere inches apart. One hand slipped to her hip while the other cradled her lower legs. Her hands moved tentatively to his shoulders, wrapping around the back of his neck as if anchoring herself to him.
Even in this intimate moment, he fought to maintain his composure, yet she caught the faint blush blooming under his cheekbones, the subtle hitch in his breath, and felt his thumbs drawing slow, soothing circles on her hip and leg as if to keep his own calm amidst the rising tension.
She leaned in and softly kissed his cheek, lingering longer than necessary. She repeated the gesture, each time gently sucking at the skin beneath his cheekbone. This finally earned her a reaction: a sudden inhale, his jaw tightening, and his thigh twitching beneath her. “You should know…” she breathed out, “I’m absolutely planning to ruin your concentration for the rest of the night.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, but she could feel his heart racing beneath her palm. She pulled back slightly and caught a glimpse of his restraint snapping, just a little. Now he held her close, as if he had been denying himself that right for far too long.
She gasped softly, thrilled by those hands on her, finally touching her the way she had been craving. He looked up at her, his jaw tight, ears slightly pink, and eyes heavy with desire. Without a word, one of his hands slid up to cradle her face. His thumb brushed her cheek, his palm warm. Then, he kissed her—slow, deep, and sensual. It wasn’t rushed or messy; it was the kind of kiss that made one feel chosen, as if all his silence was finally being transformed into something tangible that she could feel.
She whimpered against his mouth, losing her composure and melting completely. Unable to withstand even a simple kiss, she deepened it, asking for permission as she flicked her tongue against the seam of his lips. He granted it. His lips parted, and the moment their tongues touched, he groaned—deep and low, like the sound had come from a place he didn’t mean to share.
Their mouths moved in sync, tongues tangling, hot, wet, and slow. It was the kind of kiss that made her spine arch, fingers dig into his shoulders, and her whole body ache. He wasn’t gentle anymore. He was assertive, pulling her tighter, while her fingers found his hair, tangling and tugging, needing more of him.
Finally, she pulled back, panting softly, her lips swollen and her chest heaving. Saliva glistened on her lips, a thin thread still connecting them as the kiss broke. She didn’t speak; she couldn’t. The way he tenderly touched her burning cheek after their heated make-out session, his thumb brushing gently along her face, left her breathless.
She shifted off his lap, her breathing hitching when she felt it: his arousal, pressing and undeniable evidence of how much he wanted her. If Shino thought she was already needy before, he better guess again.
"You're already this worked up?" she teased softly, her voice dropping to a whisper. She stared at him in a daze, one of her hands cupping him through the fabric, feeling the heat of him—hard and heavy—beneath her palm.
He groaned, stripped of pretense, tilting his head back as he exhaled deeply, shaking it slightly. “You’re... overwhelming.”
“Good,” she replied, her lips still pressing against his cheek with a mischievous smile.
As he spoke, Shino surrendered to her lead, allowing her to explore him freely. Her palm glided slowly, pressing against him through his pants in a rhythm that ignited a trembling response in both of them. Instinctively, her thighs pressed together, seeking friction in a desperate dance fueled by an insatiable need. The warmth pooling low in her stomach intensified, becoming almost unbearable, while her overwhelming desire yearned for recognition, even as her attention remained focused on him.
His reaction—slack-jawed and with eyes darkened by barely contained control—told her everything she needed to know. She had breached his defenses, undoing him just enough to glimpse the depths beneath his cool, quiet exterior. But she wasn’t finished yet.
“Does it feel good?” she asked, pressing a loving kiss to the corner of his mouth while her hand continued to move slowly and firmly.
He exhaled a soft, guttural sound caught between pleasure and awe. "You're dangerous when you're like this."
She giggled at the vulgar expression he was providing under her sweet touch. His mouth searched for hers, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched her own. She moaned into his mouth, his tongue brushing hers as she felt his hand gliding between her thighs, his touch ghosting up the inside of her legs.
She didn’t expect him to be so bold; this wasn’t like Shino. But the heat of his touch, the quiet authority in the way he curled his fingers just under the edge of her clothes, past the soaked fabric of her panties, made her gasp. She quietly tried to conceal her burning face, using her free hand to muffle her shaky breath as his finger teased the edge of where she was dripping for him, just enough to have her knees shake and stay apart.
He didn't say anything at first, simply grabbing the hand that was muffling her and pinning it to her side before continuing to kiss her. His long, thick fingers explored her heat deliberately, circling slowly at her throbbing bud, teasing her reactions. Learning every twitch, breathless moan, and the way her hips rocked in response.
And still, her hand didn’t stop. She pulled his cock free, stroking him slowly as she left kisses all over his neck, leaving hickeys on his pale skin. She loved the way his face was already red, his breath ragged from gasps.
"Goodness, you're so hard for me, Shino," she murmured, her voice a mix of awe and seduction. "I love how you respond to my touch."
She was relentless, stroking him slowly, her thumb circling the sensitive tip, spreading the bead of precum that had formed there. She could feel his body respond, his hips rocking harshly as she rubbed the tip of his cock, teased the slit with no mercy, and slipped a hand under his shirt. Brushing a palm over the warm skin of his stomach, her fingers trailed higher to what made her breath catch: firm, defined muscles. All of it, toned.
Her eyes widened slightly as she pushed his shirt up and revealed smooth skin, the hard cut of his torso, and the distinct outline of his abs.
“What the hell…” She whispered, stunned. “You’ve been hiding all this under those big coats?”
Shino looked away, clearly flustered. But she couldn’t help herself. Her hand roamed higher, reverent and hungry, smoothing over his chest. She leaned forward, lips brushing the center of his chest, and tilted her head, her mouth finding his nipple, her tongue teasing before drawing it gently between her lips.
He gasped, sharp and barely restrained. One of his hands flew to her waist again, gripping tight. She sucked softly, slow and deliberate, then grazed it with her teeth just enough to make his breath stutter.
“You’re really full of surprises,” she murmured, her lips brushing his skin.
She kissed lower, then returned to his chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along every inch she uncovered, tasting him, adoring him. His fingers were thick, so much thicker than she expected. Long and strong, calloused just enough to make the drag of skin against her most sensitive places send sparks throughout her body. Every stroke made her clench around nothing. Her hips ground down against his hand, instinctively chasing friction, but all it did was make her more aware of how big his hands were and how warm and how utterly perfect they were pressed between her thighs.
"S-Shino~ I think about your hands too much," she breathed, not even realizing the confession was spilling out. She continued to stroke his meaty length. "What they'll feel like... touching me like this. How strong they are and how thick your fingers are..."
Her own words made her shiver and made him still for half a breath before his fingers moved again. Going deeper this time, past her puffy folds and sinking into her warm, slick heat.
"So this is what you've been thinking about," he murmured, low and unbearably pleased. "All that babbling. All those excuses to stay late... just waiting for my hands?"
She nodded wordlessly, her nails digging into his bunched-up shirt as her own hand slowed, unable to focus while he thrust two fingers deep within her. "And now that you have them?" he asked, dragging his fingers against her G-spot. "Is it everything you imagined?"
"Yezch..." she slurred out pathetically.
Shino chuckled at her sex-dazed face, unable to help himself from gripping her chin and bringing her forward to leave open-mouthed, passionate kisses. His tongue swirled around hers as moans left her lush lips. Shino's hands weren't idle either. He was beginning to know her body like the back of his hand, and he used that knowledge to drive her wild, his touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through her, milking him for everything he was worth.
As her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she pressed her upper body so close that her breasts pressed against his chest while his fingers were still between her thighs, continuously getting aggressive pounding. There was no denying the slick, steady heat that covered his fingers, not just damp but dripping. Soaking through her underwear and trailing down the inside of her thighs and into his palm as he cups her firmly.
"Dripping," he muttered to himself, staring in awe at the aftermath in his hand. "All this... just for me?"
"Hm..." She couldn't even find the words to respond, her thigh trembling from the way he stroked her with a touch that felt more possessive than teasing. But she wanted more. Now she desired to see him unravel.
Biting her lip when feeling his hip thrust up into her hand, seeking more friction. The way she could feel his cock throbbing, his body trembling with need. She squeezed the base of his length, feeling him pulse and twitch in her grip.
She leaned in, her lips firmly grazing his earlobe as she commanded, "Not yet, Shino. You’ll wait until I say so." He released a low growl, his body trembling with the struggle to contain himself. She sensed his desperation, his need, and it only motivated her further. She was determined to push him over the edge, eager to watch him shatter in her hands.
She loosened her grip from the base of his shaft, her hand moving with a purposeful, unyielding rhythm. Her thumb traced circles around his sensitive tip, alternating between long, slow strokes and short, teasing ones, feeling him leak and slick his hard length. "You're so close, aren't you?" she murmured, sensing his body tensing, his breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. She knew exactly how close he was.
Leaning in, her hand wandered to his chest, her fingers dancing over his nipple, teasing it until she felt it harden and twitch under her touch. She began to play with it, tugging, rolling, and toying with his sensitive pecs while her mouth trailed kisses along the side of his neck and jawline. She reveled in the way his muscles jumped under her hands, the way his thighs tensed every time she pinched. She licked his nipple, slow and wet, drawing it out, and he groaned deeply, his chest arching into her mouth involuntarily.
And with that, he was undone. His body tensed, and with a final, firm stroke, the girl of his dreams pushed him over the edge. He came undone, shooting ropes of cum onto her hand, a hot, messy release.
They both subsided then, their bodies entwined, breaths syncing as they came down from their high. When she pulled back to look at him, she saw it: eyes heavy-lidded, head leaned back, and a thin strand of drool slipping from the corner of his parted lips. He was so lost in the sensation of her that his body had stopped pretending. Every breath was ragged. Every twitch of his hips beneath her was pure instinct, not thought.
She bit her lip, watching him drool from the intensity of his pleasure. The sight was intoxicating. She leaned in, slowly swiping her thumb over the drool on his jaw, tilting his face to meet hers. He blinked, dazed, finally noticing the intimate smirk that played on her lips.
“You’re drooling, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek, her voice thick with desire.
His eyes widened for a split second, then flicked away, embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to let go that far. “You—” he exhaled, his voice broken. “You’re… relentless.”
“Only because you’re so damn sexy when you fall apart,” she whispered, kissing just beneath his ear. “You’re letting me feel all of you. It’s turning me on like crazy.”
She felt his cock twitch, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. Looking down at the semi-hard member still in her hand, she was shocked to see a mixture of his bugs in his cum.
She gasped, her eyes wide with fear. "Oh my God! I killed them!" Panic surged in her voice, and Shino could sense her distress.
With a gentle smile, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest, allowing the bugs to reembed themselves with him. "They're fine," he reassured her softly, hoping to calm her racing heart. "Are you sure?" she asked, uncertainty still flickering in her gaze.
"I promise," he said tenderly, kissing away her worries with a gentle touch of his lips against hers. "Now, where were we?" he asked, his voice deepening with warmth and affection, ready to ease her fears.
-------
The room was enveloped in darkness, the only light coming from the gentle glow of the moon outside. In that moment, it felt like enough.
The air was heavy with anticipation, filled with the sweet scent of their shared desire. Her heart raced as she followed Shino, a blend of longing and nervousness coursing through her. She could sense the tension in his muscles, a reflection of their unspoken connection, as he guided her toward his bedroom.
Standing at the foot of his bed, she felt a whirlwind of emotions. As his long-time friend and secret admirer, this was a moment she had dreamed of but was now filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. With a soft, sincere whisper, she poured out her heart: "Shino, I can't hold back any longer. I want you. I've always wanted you. And now, it feels like we finally have the chance to be together."
Shino's response was a mere whisper, but it held a world of meaning: "Then take off my clothes."
Her hands shook with anticipation and nervous energy as she complied, her fingers tracing his skin as she slowly peeled away each layer of clothing. She took a moment to admire his body, her eyes roaming over his toned chest rising and falling rapidly with each eager breath, his nipples hardening under her gaze, and the defined abs that led her eyes down to his hips.
Shino stood before her, completely exposed and vulnerable, his cock hard and ready, the tip glistening with pre-cum, a testament to his arousal.
With a soft, encouraging smile, Shino reached out, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek. "Now, it's your turn," he whispered, his voice a mix of shyness and raw desire.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly began to undress, her clothes falling to the ground in a soft heap. She stood before him in just her panties, her body flushed with arousal, her nipples tight and aching for his touch.
With a playful yet determined smile, she gently pushed him onto the bed. Shino's eyes were glued to her as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them off, her arousal glistening on her thighs. She straddled him, her soft, thick thighs pressing against his hips as she leaned down to kiss him, her body shaking with anticipation. She ground against his erection, feeling his length press along her entrance, both of them moaning at the contact.
Shino's eyes fluttered shut, his head jerking back as a low, guttural moan escaped his lips. "This...this is my first time," he confessed, his voice filled with shock and vulnerability, his face a picture of nervous excitement.
She paused, surprise and tenderness washing over her. She had known Shino for a long time, aware of his introverted nature and his tendency to keep to himself, but the idea that he was a virgin had never crossed her mind.
A profound sense of tenderness and protectiveness enveloped her. She offered him a soft, reassuring smile, her thumbs gently circling his wrists as she held his hands and rested them against the bed frame. "It's okay, Shino. We'll take this nice and slow," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity and love.
Seeing the genuine care and desire reflected in her eyes, he nodded slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. With newfound confidence, she reached down, positioning him at her entrance. She ran his length along her slick folds, coating him in her wetness, before finally, slowly sinking down onto him. They both moaned deeply as he filled her, inch by inch, the sensation intense and overwhelming. His virgin cock stretched her, the pace slow and deep, allowing them both to savor every second of their connection.
Shino let out a low cry, his body trembling with need and anticipation.
"Please," he begged, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want to touch you. I need to feel you."
She shook her head, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she leaned down and captured his lips in a heated kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth as she continued riding him.
"Hmm," He moaned into her mouth, his hips bucking up to meet her movement, his cock throbbing inside her with a primal intensity. She could feel her own arousal coating him, the wet sounds of their union filling the room like a symphony of desire. Shino's breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, every muscle taut and ready to explode.
Breaking the kiss, she pulled away, her breath coming in short, panting gasps. Her hands still held his in a firm grip, confining him to her will. "You still want to touch me?" She teased, her voice breathless and laced with a playful challenge. "Still want to feel my curves, don't you, Shino?"
Loving the way his eyes darkened with desire and his eager nod, she leaned in to nip at his earlobe, her voice a sultry whisper. "Then beg for it."
"Please," Shino pleaded, his voice shaking with urgency. "I just need to touch you, to understand that I'm not dreaming. Just for a moment, I beg."
Her heart swelled with a mix of triumph and affection, seeing him so utterly consumed by her. She released his hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, pulling her down to him completely. Shino's hands roamed her body with a newfound hunger, exploring every curve, his touch gentle yet firm, as though committing every inch of her to memory.
"Shino~" She moaned, her body arching into his touch as she continued to move her hips, their bodies slick with sweat and desire. She felt one of his hands cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.
Taking advantage of her momentary loss of control, Shino, with a newfound confidence and strength, flipped them over. He positioned her legs on either side of his arms, opening her fully to him. With a growl, he began to pound into her, his hips moving with a primal rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, her juices overflowing around him. He thrust into her with purpose, his hips moving in a rhythm that left both of them breathless, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.
Leaning down, his hot breath against her ear, he whispered sinful, dirty words, his voice a low, growling purr. "You're so tight, so wet for me. Your body was made for mine. Made to take my cock, to milk me for every last drop."
She was amazed at how this once-virgin boy could take control so effortlessly, his body moving with a grace and power that left her spellbound. “Shino," she moaned, her nails digging into his back, leaving red marks on his skin as she held on for dear life.
"This isn't teasing anymore," She pants softly, barely holding herself together. "This-This is... dangerous."
His weight pressed her into the mattress as he gripped her ass, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving bruises on her skin.
"Then let's stop pretending we're afraid of it," he declared, his words hitting her like a lightning bolt. They pierced through her clouded mind. This is what she wants: the bold honesty she had longed for and desired.
With a sudden, powerful thrust, he pull her body deeper onto his cock with each movement. Her body stretched to accommodate his full eight and a half inch length as her orgasm built, her body tensing and toes curling as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her cunt milking him for all he was worth.
And Shino followed soon after, his body shaking as he buried himself completely, holding her body against him, his cock throbbing deep inside her, shooting load after load of his hot, thick seed into her willing, eager hole.
With a final, powerful thrust, he collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, as their breath came in ragged, satisfied pants.
In the aftermath, the room was filled with a thick, heady scent of sex and sweat, the air heavy with the evidence of their passionate encounter. Her fingers lazily combed through Shino’s damp hair, gentle and slow. He lay sprawled across her, head resting over her chest, arms around her waist, fully relaxed in a way she’d never seen before.
She sighed softly, her other hand trailing along the curve of his back, fingertips brushing the dip of his spine.
“That was… amazing,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. A little stunned. A little dreamy.
"You're so sexy," she confessed, her voice filled with desire and admiration.
Shino didn’t say anything right away. He just hummed low in his throat, nuzzling deeper against her skin, his breath warm against her chest. His grip around her waist tightened, like he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Shino blinked. Sexy? Him?
Not precise. Not disciplined. Not reserved. Sexy.
That was not a word he was used to hearing attached to himself.
A surprised breath escaped him, followed by a soft laugh, a warm, low sound from the base of his throat.
She pouted instantly.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
He shook his head slowly, eyes meeting hers, unreadable and soft at once. His lips curved with quiet amusement.
He lifted his head just enough to look at her, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, so rare, playful, and dangerous in how devastatingly soft it made him look.
“Because,” he said quietly, “you’re still watching me. And completely melting from the slightest attention I’m giving you.”
She opened her mouth to argue—to deny it, deflect, or defuse.
But nothing came out.
Because he was right.
The way she trembled just from the weight of his gaze. The way she kept brushing her fingers through his hair just to feel him closer. The way her thighs instinctively pressed around his hip when he shifted against her.
He chuckled again, softer this time, and leaned in close until his lips hovered just above hers.
He whispered, "My sweet… Softheart," against her lips before kissing her. This kiss was slow and deep, unlike the teasing ones before; it conveyed his love and respect. A kiss is meant to express admiration.
She melted instantly, sighing as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his skin, as if he were something truly special. Her chest moved closer to him, and her mouth opened beneath his, as if her entire being was meant to hold him close.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. He lingered, his lips still brushing against hers, his breath warm as he looked into her eyes. She felt dazed, flushed, and was breathing shallowly.
“Shino…” she breathed, her voice trembling with desire—soft, heavy, and raw. The way she said his name and looked at him—her eyes filled with lust and affection—made it seem like he was the only thing in her world.
Desire surged through him in a hot pulse, sharp and sudden.
He felt himself harden again, the ache stirring against her thigh. The tension was undeniable and intensified with every second she locked eyes with him, a clear indication that she wanted him again.
Shino felt his breath catch in his throat, his composure fraying with each moment that passed. His voice emerged low and gravelly, charged with an undeniable intensity.
“Then say it.” His gaze was steady and unwavering, reflecting the powerful pressure of his body against hers. “Tell me you want me…”
The air between them thickened, pulsating with desires. Her breath trembled as her hands gripped his shoulders, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest.
He stood firm, patient, and open, fully aware of the effect he had on her. He didn’t push—he didn’t need to.
This was her moment to decide.
After all the built-up tension and longing, would you really leave him in suspense, or finally express the desires that burned within yourself?
#naruto smut#x plus size reader#fanfiction smut#chubby reader#anime x chubby reader#plus size reader!#shino aburame#shino aburame x reader#fluff#tw.virginity#shino aburame smut#shino x reader#lemon 🍋#x chubby reader#anime fanfiction
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Eleven years ago, Marvel made a brilliant decision to cast Elden Henson as Foggy Nelson. His performance was charismatic, warm, and a perfect representation of the character. Ten years ago, we fell in love with a sweet, stubborn man who finds comfort in having sex with his ex-girlfriend after discovering his best friend's secret. He bribes police officers, flirts, and drinks late into the night. He has a good heart, knows everyone in his neighborhood, and is well-liked by most. He is determined enough to search for clues on his own and works tirelessly until he finds answers. He is both ambitious and humble, funny and witty, moody yet kind, and undeniably adorable and sexy. He's the best friend everyone needs around, a good person who conveys positivity just by being present. Foggy is more than what Born Again made him. That man is not the true Foggy. Foggy protected Karen, took care of Matt, and sacrificed his political career for the sake of his family. He was a man full of flaws, but he continuously tried and persevered until he achieved his goals.
Elden did an excellent job of making Foggy relatable. He also helped thousands of fans accept their weight. For Netflix's version of Foggy, weight was never an issue; he had self-esteem and confidence, even though, for the sake of the plot, he often found himself in Matt's shadow. Over the course of three seasons, Foggy matured significantly. By the end of the third season, he returned to Matt out of love; he never actually needed him.
That Foggy—the one who took charge of his own story—is the one I miss.
#happy anniversary Elden as Foggy#foggy nelson#daredevil#elden henson#foggynelson#matt murdock#netflix daredevil#netflix foggy nelson#daredevil comics#eldenhenson
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