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brokenpieces-72 · 3 days

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Prom Knights

Gotham Knights x f!reader

Scenario: It's prom night, and you are super excited because your crush asked you out and you got advice on your outfit to look perfect for them. You got a loud dress and cut your hair. Originally you were supposed to take a limo, but your crush texted you to say there were some issues so you just get dropped off. When you get to the doors and wait for your date you text them to see where they're at. He texts back saying he and his date are almost there. The whole thing was a set up by him and your mean girl bully. You feel humiliated when you go to confront them, and they make it worse with mocking. You rush out, and call for help. Hopefully they weren't on patrol tonight.

When you call Barbara you're choking back tears as hard as you. You feel so stupid. When Barbara picks up she's bright and professional, right up until she hears your tone. Big sister mode activates, and she's asking what's going on. You tell her you just want to be picked up, and she comes to get you. When she sees the cut hair and the dress she's immediately hugging you and getting you in the car. During the drive back to the clock tower where she made sure you had a comfortable change of clothes, she asked if you wanted to make any stops for food.

You get sat down at the clock tower to properly explain what happened, self esteem low, and blaming yourself for not thinking it through. Like your crush would eve- NO! None of that! Barbara is not gonna sit here, and listen to you hate yourself for something that was the fault of a group of immature teenagers. You're wonderful, kind and generous to give them a chance. If they can't see your worth, they're blind, enough said.

Barbara then gets out her phone and asks for their names, and socials if you have them. Vengeance can be a dangerous thing, she knows, but this? This was personal and well deserved. While you shower to get the crap out of your hair and off your face, changing into your comfy sweats (including an oversized hoodie), Barbara gets to work on her laptop. She don't need the bat computer for this shit, she was willing to make it personal. Accessing their social media and using your phone (with your permission) she tracks your bullies' socials and gets to work messing with them. First she exposes them online, leaving multiple comments on their prom posts calling them out, along with posting screenshots of your text conversations. Second she gets the guys to help by posting comments from time to time to ensure no amount of deleting can erase your bullies' exposure. Finally, and you've finished your shower by now, and are curled with a mug next to her, she sets up bots and spam messages to be sent to embarrass them and subscribe them to free trials for a number of things that make you laugh and gasp.

You still insist you aren't worth it, and she just gives you a hug and reminds you, that sometimes it's the small saves that make being a vigilante fun. Especially when she gets to see you laugh and smile. Now would you prefer pizza or Chinese? What movie do you want to watch and throw popcorn at?

Okay so originally you weren't going to call Jason. You work with him the closest and you know he can take revenge to a whole new level. Honestly though, you can't think of who else to call. When he answers and hears your unsteady voice and sniffles, he knows. You just ask him to pick you up, and to bring a change of clothes but he already has an idea of what happened. Jason hangs up and as he gets your clothes, he calls up Tim. Tim is a little confused because Jason doesn't usually ask for help, except for maybe Barbara and Dick, but that's it. When Jason asks about you though (you and Tim go to the same school), Tim looks around the venue and just sees your laughing tormentors mockingly imitating your pain. Jason just asks for their names, and Tim gives the main two. Then Jason asks for a massive favour. Tim agrees, he hates them too.

Jason finally shows up with your change of clothes and wow yeah short hair and that dress? Not important, you need to go back inside that venue. You really just want go home, miserable this once in a life time night got ruined because you were gullible for a few minutes. No no, you need to go back inside. Trust him. But you're a mess, and they'll just mock you more. Clean yourself up, get changed and then come back. He'll wait. You do so, and you go back into the dark dance hall with him. Your tormentors see you, and decide to mock you for pulling a new date from off streets, desperately trying to make yourself look good. Jason straight up crosses his arms as they talk, and half way, he barks at them to shut the fuck up. They should be lucky he wasn't willing to deck a couple of losers who will only ever peak in highschool. They don;t get the chance to protest before someone goes up on stage to announce winners for prom night.

Most of them are via draw and you did win yourself a gift card. Lucky you stayed. Then your tormentors were voted king and queen. They of course rub it in your face as they excitedly hold hands rushing up stage like some cheesy highschool movie couple. You ask Jason if you could go now. He tells you to wait, focusing on the stage as the crowns are given, pulling out his phone to record. The two of them stand happily, waving like celebrities... And then the buckets of soapy, foamy, water get dunked on them. You cover your mouth in shock, and yeah it's childish, but Jason has a grin on his face, before texting Tim, "Thanks".

He takes you to the clock tower after. You rewatch that video with him a few times, smiling. He didn't have to do all this. Jason did. You're his friend and basically his sister. That's what older brothers should do.

You don't need to call Tim, Tim is likely already there, and saw it all happen. Wow people are pathetically stupid sometimes. He did warn you about it a couple times, but didn't want to overstep. Seeing the situation there's a hint of guilt. Doesn't take long for him to get a text that says "you were right". Not a message he wanted to see, and not one that goes unanswered. Tim leaves to find you, and enlists Bernard (I know he's not in Gotham Knights, I don't care) to help him. The two of them find you feeling miserable.

The two of them come over to you and sit next to you, letting you cry it out. Tim has already sent an extra text to Barbara, asking if she has any dresses in your size and if she can bring one to the venue. Bernard takes you inside to help clean up the runny makeup off your face, while Tim gets the dress for you. While you get changed they wait, brainstorming ideas of how they could get revenge. Tim thinks small bits of revenge can be petty, but this? Nah, this was justified. You got humiliated and your heart broken all at once. No way your bullies walk away from that Scott free.

You come out and they plan to hang with you for the rest of the prom. No way they were risking you being alone with that couple. It's small but you figure the best revenge is to prove that shit like this won't defeat you. Whether the bullies liked it or not you did have people who cared about you, you have friends. This was your night, the same as everyone else! Live a little. Unfortunately, your tormentors refuse to let you be happy. The girl decides to try and ruin the dress, that fits well enough by trying to come up and apologize to you. Tim is about to get between you two, but you already know what she's planning seeing the messy food she's brought as a 'peace offering'. Oh she's so sorry, it was all just an innocent prank, she's so glad you were able to come back to enjoy yourself, awww. As soon as you see the hand with the cupcake move, you swipe it from her, and take a bite. Oh wow you're glad you didn't miss these. Her stunned look is enough to make you smile, but what Tim does is pure classic gold. Tim fake trips with a drink in his hand. OH HOW HORRID HER DRESS, HAIR AND MAKE UP ARE RUINED!!

Tim just hands her the glass, saying the drink is called Karma. You burst out laughing as Bernard pulls you into the crowd of other students, with Tim close behind. God you guys look like corny teen movie kids, but you don't care. Was it childish? Maybe. Do any of you care? Nah, it was worth it.

When you call Dick he says he’s busy but will be there in a bit. He asks if you want to stay and he’ll grab you something to change into, or if you want to just head to the clocktower. Honestly you don’t really know. You wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, but you feel humiliated.

When he arrives he gives you more comfortable clothes to wear, but still nice, and offers to be your date for tonight since your other one is a piece of garbage. Yeah, Tim is in there too, so why don’t all four of you hang out and you enjoy being a normal teenager for a night. He knows you put a lot of work into school and your night life, along with work. Tonight you get to forget everything. Live for a minute. Yeah he brought a suit. Yeah you can have a hug too.

You go in and you just avoid the popular pricks, while looking for Tim and his date. The four of you enjoy yourselves and you don’t feel alone. Of course you tormentors can’t let you have a nice night, that would be asking too much. The girl tries hitting on Dick, but he’s not having it. Just constantly repeats no thank you, no, and please leave us alone. Didn’t stop her from taking minor jabs at you. You didn’t want to start a fight or give her a reason to make your night worse. Dick wasn’t having it. He’s getting frustrated now, and is close to doing some he really doesn’t want to do. All it takes is a final comment as she turns and walks away. He makes another comment about her rear after she made plenty of friendly comments about his. Oh she didn’t like that. Not like her ass existed to begin with.

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in. Tim is shaking his head but laughing alongside Bernard. The girl’s date kept her from going off on Dick, who just sat there with the “I don’t care” grin. You grin and enjoy the night while the two bullies get dragged off by chaperones, telling them they are way out of line. Once the night is done and Dick even offers a slow dance, you go back with Tim and Dick to the clock tower. He says he’s sorry you had a shitty night at the start. If you want to just chill with him and Barb in the clock tower for the rest of the night he’d be up for that. You do and you have a good time. No more tears. You have family and friends who make you feel special no matter what.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #barbara gordon #prom night #fluff #reader comfort #gotham knights #gotham knights x reader #headcanon #batfamily #batfamily x reader #female reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #barbara gordon x reader

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plussizefantasia · 1 day

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Broken Together

BlackCat!reader x Bucky Barnes

Chapter 5/6 : <Prev/ Next>

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Talks of violence, suggestive language

A/N: okay so I fully planned to do a smut scene but then I chickened out because I've never written one before so.... sorry. ALSO: keep your eyes peeled for the kickoff post of my 300-follower (holy shit) celebration along with chapter 3 of the Fluttering Hearts series, both will be coming out before the end of the day!

You nod a solitary nod and reach for the door handle.

“I love you.”

That stops you cold in your tracks.

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s not really the reaction I was looking for if I’m honest.”

“Well what did you want me to say James?”

“I don’t know, really anything but don’t say that. I tell you how I’m feeling and you know that I’m not good with that feeling shit and your reaction is to tell me not to say it?”

“Jesus Bucky, I can’t ever tell with you! Two minutes ago you were giving me the silent treatment and being all pissy and now you tell me you love me? What am I supposed to do with that?!”

“I- just… I spent the whole night worrying about you, you were back there in that room all alone with those bastards and I couldn’t get to you. I just had to listen through comms and hope and pray to whatever God there is that you come out the other side.”

“Bucky, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, really I do. I have never ever doubted that you could handle yourself but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when you go somewhere I can’t reach you. It’s bad enough I had to watch you hanging off that asshole all night. Watching him touch you in the way I’d wanted to all night.” Bucky’s hands tighten around the wheel. You watch as he swallows something caught in his throat.“I watched and stood there like an idiot while he held you close and made you laugh and did everything I’d been dreaming about. I couldn’t look away though, as much as I wanted to becuase even a glimpse of your smile is enough to make all that shit worth it. But then I hear you being threatened, I watch you walk away with the target and not even five minutes later he pulls a gun on you? It took everyhting in me not to run to you, not to burst in and protect you with all I have.”

“I don’t need your protection-”

“I know that! Goddamn it I know that! I know that your amazing, that’s the only thing that kept me from running in there, knowing how good you are. How good my girl is at her job, she doesn’t need me, but I really fucking wish she did.”

“You’re girl? I’m not your girl James I- you don’t even like me?”

“What?! Why the hell do you think I don’t like you?”

You scoff, “You give me shit all the time. You call me Fury’s pet and you never fail to let everyone know just how much you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you, I trust you with my whole life, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“You have a funny fuckign way of showing it.” You cross your arms over your chest, this whole night scratch that day has been a total fucking emotional rollercoaster, you almost died and now here you are. The man who you love to hate and hate to love is spouting all kinds of heartfult shit and you’re reeling, I mean… what are you supposed to say to that?!

Bucky takes your silence harshly, he tries to fill the space with as many words as he can. He knows that he’s not good at this shit. He isn’t James Barnes the ladies man from the forties anymore, he’s too broken for that. But he can tell your broken too, and maybe you can be broken together?

“When I say that I love you, I mean it. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about you, when youre not next to me it’s like i can’t breathe. When I hear you laugh or see you smile my whole world lights up. God even when you’re yelling at me an throwing pillows and shit I can’t help but feel like a goddamn wire. I don’t know when I realized it was love, if it was months ago or minutes ago but I’m not taking it back. I don’t think I can ever take it back.” Bucky ends his rant with several big breaths. The whole time he was talking, his eyes never left the road, his hands never left the wheel.

“James, I- God fuck. I’m not a good person. I don’t deserve good things. Anyone i’ve ever been close to has told me the same shit, i’m too broken to be good to anyone.”

“Yeah. You’re broken. You’re a smart-mouth little piece of shit who doesn’t lok after herself and can’t follow a sleep schedule for the life of her and I love you.” He finally looks into your eyes.

“I don’t need a perfect girl, I don’t want a perfect girl, someone to hang off my arm and laugh at my jokes and just stand there looking pretty? I’ve had that and it gets boring really fucking fast. But you? I could spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out and I really really want to.”

“I’m not easy, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

“I like a challenge.”

“Well,-”

“Jesus, Stop trying to talk me out of this, I want you. I want you and all the messy shit that come’s with that.”

“I’m running out of reasons anyway.”

“What does that mean… for us I guess?”

“It means that if you can get us back to the hotel within the next five minutes I’m gonna let you see the pretty little number I have on underneath this dress.”

Bucky slammed on the gas.

_____

It took the two of you four minutes to get to the hotel, the entire time people were honking at your car weaving through traffic. You’re really fucking surprised that the two of you didn’t get pulled over.

Four minutes is a lot of time though, especially when your nervous as hell and have a penchant for self-sabatage. You don’t know how this is going to go. This is brand new territory for you and honestly your shitting bricks right now with how nervous you are.

It’s not like you’ve never been with anyone, but Bucky is the first guy that you’ll genuinely care what happens when it’s over. Most of the guys you’ve been with before have been the type to only want something physical from you, not that you were complaining, you had needs and they were willing to fuffil them. They just didn’t want to date you, and never once had any of them used the L-word.

You’re still reeling from Bucky’s confession. You have no idea how long he’s felt this way but the more you think about it the more it makes sense. For as long as you’ve known the man he’s been difficult to read, he build walls as easily as you do and he uses them to block out 99.99% of people in his life.

Now that you’re really thinking about it you’re astonished at how much he told you tonight. You guess having a gun pulled on the person you care about really makes you want to tell them everything you’d been holding back.

You’d be lying if you thought that there wasn’t something you also wanted to tell Bucky when you heard the safety click off. You don’t know if love is the right word, not yet but you do know that he means just about the world to you. The only person in your life who really seems to see you and understand what you’re thinking. You’ve always liked working with Barnes, it was easy, but now you think there might be something else to it.

Bucky pulls into a parking spot right at the front of the building and within seconds he’s by your door opening it and offering you a hand to step out.

“Eager?”

“Very.”

He pulls you out of the car but doesn’t step back, he crowds you in every sense of the word. You see and smell and think nothing but him. This close you notice the little things that you hadn’t before, like the little piece of hair that keeps falling onto his forehead, escaping the gel holding the rest of his locks back. Or the way small scars he has, one above his eyebrow, a line to the right of his lip, a little triangle under his eyes. You could spend hours studying him, he doesn’t give you that long tough,

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, moving closer to your mouth. You don’t answer, just push yourself into him. You practically melt at the little groan that falls past his lips.

His hands fall to your hips almost instintually, the grab ahold of you firmly not willing to let you move even an inch from his hold.

His mouth moves passionalty against yours, he takes his time really trying to get to feel you, to taste you. The pulls away only enough to get air into his lungs, resting his forehead agaisnt yours. God he could kiss you for a lifetime and even a bit longer than that.

“That was…” you start.

“Yeah.” The corners of his lips turn up into a genuine smile. You love his smile even if you don’t get to see it that often.

“James?”

“Yeah Kitty?” He giggles… this grown ass man giggles into you.

“Take me upstairs, these people don’t need a show.” You nod your head at the gathering of people outside, trying and failing to make it look like they weren’t just staring.

“Gladly.”

#james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #requests wanted #requests open #blackcat!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 days

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≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot), porn with feelings, past relationship trauma (see: toxic relationship, slight implications of mental and physical abuse), reader with insecurities (self-worth, relationship), angst ish?, hurt/comfort, kissing and making out, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, soft sex, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited))

wc : 5k+

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @thoupenguinman (sign up here!!)

an : a lot softer and less... explicit? than the rest of my works i have on here?? but happy june guys, have my compensation for not including jem in the youtiful lineup <3

Thinking all love ever does is break, and burn, and end; but on a Wednesday, in a café—you watched it begin again.

The walk home was always tedious.

You passed this way every night; it was always quiet. Nothing but the click clack of your heels against the pavement would echo, the streets devoid of life as they usually were, especially at this hour. It didn’t bother you. It never did. Even the rhythmic buzz of the lamplights were familiar to you, little lulls of comfort that were always welcome.

It was lonely, usually.

You were used to it that way.

But it was different tonight.

You leaned against the warmth to your side, his arm on your waist drawing you close. He chuckled, almost as if he found your more obvious display of affection a little endearing, and then he responded in kind—a soft, barely-there kiss over the top of your head, just enough to remind you fully of his presence.

“Still a little far?” came his voice. And the soft shake of your head caught another whiff of his cologne, that grounding, earthy scent mixing well with the smell of flowers you’d come to associate him with.

It made you smile.

“Just a couple of blocks ahead. But… thanks for, you know. Going out of your way to walk me home, and all. You really didn’t have to…”

You didn’t look at him, but you could almost hear the raise of his eyebrow as he spoke; “What? Of course I’d walk you home! Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me not to make sure my date gets home safely, right!?”

He sounded bewildered that you would even ask such a thing, and you laughed. A genuine laugh. One that you hadn’t had in quite some time.

“I know, I know. I’m just used to this route, that’s all. I come home at this hour on most days, so it’s nothing new to me…”

“Hey, hey. Come on. I wouldn’t leave a pretty girl like you all alone, especially not after we’ve just had dinner. Cut me some slack, won’t you? Let me spoil you a little bit, maybe I just… want this date to last a little longer.”

His voice seemed to soften the more he spoke, and as your steps slowed down—almost as if in response to him—he turned to look at you.

“Everything okay?”

That his first instinct was concern for your wellbeing made you blink in surprise.

“Huh?” you hadn’t even noticed the way you’d slowed down, the sting against your heel much more obvious now than it had been at the start of your date. You didn’t mean, either, for your gaze to shift down, maybe testing a couple of your steps—

“Oh… Is it your heels? Do your feet hurt?”

Jeremiah was observant.

His voice came out a lot gentler than it had been, and he immediately pulled you over to the side. “Not much further, right? I can carry you, if you want. That way you wouldn’t have to trouble yourself too much…”

There was something like a sense of hesitation that passed in your eyes. Perhaps, you hadn’t noticed it yourself—not until you turned your head away from him, gaze drifting a little off to the side.

A beat, and then; “...Okay,” you sighed, giving in. “But, I…”

He crouched down, barely giving you much time to react, helping you over his back. He was much warmer like this. Much closer to you. And you wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to revel a little more in the moment. The floral scent was much stronger, too, up close, the way you were. Reminiscent of how long he’d work in the shop for a day; of how much time spent around the plants he cared for so tenderly. You recalled how he mentioned he could never get the scents out from him completely, but you liked it.

It was comforting.

You buried your face into his hair for a moment as he walked.

“...Sorry,” you mumbled out next. Your chin rest against his head, looking out into the lamplit path before you. “I don’t mean to trouble you. I won’t wear heels next time…”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

He glanced back, turning his head slightly, just enough to make brief eye-contact. “There’s nothing wrong with heels. Must’ve been tiring for you to walk in them this whole evening, so I get it. I don’t mind helping out a bit, you know? Besides…”

He paused, and you caught a glimpse of a smile.

“You look really pretty in them.”

Simple words that made your heart flutter.

Perhaps, words that you’d never heard directed to you yourself, not in this context.

And that was the first time—probably, the first in the longest while—that you’d ever felt so… loved.

And then there would be several more instances after that.

Simple things, too. Like the time he listened to your favorite song with you; new, and unfamiliar to him, but taken without judgement. Accepted with a cheerful smile.

You remembered that day.

The little speaker had been sounding out some music as the two of you moved around the kitchen. Flour in your hair, flour on his apron, hands busy molding the dough into those perfectly round shapes that gave you joy… A little hum, here and there, the casual bob of the head to the beat. In a lighthearted atmosphere, you simply enjoyed being in his presence. The love that both of you had for baking became a comfort in your relationship, any moment spent next to him that way was enough to chase most of your worries away.

But a shared playlist between the both of you also meant that there would be a couple of tracks tailored each to your own tastes—

Yours, you knew, were not always so… well-received.

“Oh? What’s this song?”

His ears had perked up at the very start of the tune, hands pausing if only to be able to get a closer listen.

It was reminiscent, almost; the image of it familiar. Because these were songs that they wouldn’t get. Songs you’d be forced to change; songs you’d be told to listen to alone—sometimes, oftentimes, you had to cater to the tastes of others. You’d taken a risk by putting the song on the playlist at all.

He could listen, and then…

“O-oh, that’s just… Um, you know. One of the songs from my side of the playlist…”

You’d laughed a little awkwardly, pausing, too, in your movements, only to dust off your hands and reach for your phone. “We could find something else!” was your immediate reaction, scrolling through the playlist, easily prepared to switch if need be.

And his reply would’ve been one to stick with you for quite some time.

“I don’t mind, you know,” his voice had softened, as if having noticed your shift in demeanor. For a moment it didn’t matter that the both of you were covered in all the mess that your baking session had caused, and he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I think it’s a pretty cool song! I’ve… heard that sometimes the things people listen to say a lot about themselves. And I want to know more about you. So I’d listen to any kind of music that you would, too, princess.”

It was the first time he’d used the nickname with you.

You’d retaliated with a flick of leftover flour into his hair, but you smiled.

Typical Jeremiah.

The swirl of doubts that had settled into the pit of your stomach seemed less daunting—

And he would do it again.

He made sure that he would.

You’d never talked about it, not really—it wasn’t a topic you were ready to open just yet, but Jeremiah was patient.

He would love you, anyway.

Legs tangled with yours on the couch, hands running softly through your hair… He’d let you talk with him. You wouldn’t get reprimanded for speaking, even despite the movie playing on the TV, even despite whatever it was he’d be working on. The walls were less dividing, you felt a little bit more like… yourself.

You hadn’t, in a while.

And that night, he told you he loved you.

For the first time, as you drifted off to sleep, his lips against your forehead, soft murmurs of adoration into your hair… he told you he loved you.

And maybe it didn’t matter anymore, what happened in your past.

He made you want to believe again.

That this could work.

That this was worth it.

That he was worth it.

It was all you had thought about for several days; the what ifs.

The way you could crash and burn at the prospect of another cycle repeating—of letting your guard down, of letting him in, of all the uncertainties that came with diving in headfirst when you so desperately wanted to trust in him, only to fear what felt like an inevitable end. All fragrant perfumes as petals unfurl one by one, a sea of beautiful pinks and reds enough to blind you into their allure and have you bleed—you had always felt this way. Every rose had their thorns; and you’d just never learned to love… without them.

Never learned to love without the lies.

Never known how much to take before you realized enough was enough; never known how far to let them sink, how many cuts and scrapes and bruises you had to endure.

But Jeremiah made you want to believe.

That maybe this rose had thorns that wouldn’t be so skin deep. Maybe this rose was worth it; maybe this rose could be sweeter, a bed of roses, torture redistributed, something… different.

Jeremiah felt different.

You wanted to believe it.

You felt that you believed it.

And perhaps, that was why you wanted desperately not to mess things up.

The phone call was the last thing you remembered. His voice had been cheerful, particularly upbeat, no doubt looking forward to coming over once he was free—you checked the time, then, you remembered. He would have been over in a little more than an hour.

You’d fallen asleep.

The idea was to cook dinner; the idea was to be a little fancy—for all that he had been spoiling you, you only figured that you could return the favor as best as you could.

Clearly, things worked out much… differently. If you could still call it working out at all.

You woke up to a gentle shake of your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your forehead. His voice was soft in your ear when he spoke this time; “Hey, princess. You nap okay?”

Your eyes widened.

Your phone, clutched in your hand, held close to your chest, had been turned off—likely due to the fact that you’d forgotten to charge it, again.

“J-Jeremiah?” You were still a little groggy as you sat up to face him, barely registering the little smile on his face. In the moment, you couldn’t quite tell if he was trying to tease you; instead—the panic set in.

If he was here, and if he’d taken to waking you, that only meant that you weren’t able to prepare dinner at all.

And you knew that Jeremiah would most likely let it slide, you knew in your heart that he wasn’t upset.

But, perhaps, your natural response remained rooted in patterns of the past.

It was quick, almost—the way flashes of red seemed to cloud your mind for a moment as you jumped up, nearly bumping into him in the process, not at all processing the look of surprise that had formed on his face.

“Milady?” He’d called out tentatively.

“I— god, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know you’re coming home from a really long day, and we promised we’d have this dinner, and—shit— I-I’ll get something ready! Just give me a few moments, I promise I’ll—”

Rambling.

A habit you had developed very, very early on, and a habit you knew often lead to your own demise.

Jeremiah reached out as if to steady you, his brows knitted together in concern, his hand poised—

And you winced.

The physical recoil was nearly instantaneous.

You took a step back, shoulders tensed, face turned slightly to the side, almost as if bracing for something you knew would have been familiar to you.

“Princess, hey…”

It didn’t come.

Instead, Jeremiah inched closer, taking your hands into his, giving them a little squeeze.

“It’s alright,” he gave you a little nod, voice slow and gentle. It was enough encouragement to coax you to look back at him—and the love in his gaze made you draw in a breath.

“‘Miah,” you choked out, and you felt tears sting at your eyes.

“It’s okay, princess, look at me. You good? I’m not upset with you, you must’ve been tired, too… I feel a lot better knowing you got some rest, so don’t worry about dinner. We can just order something from outside.”

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe him—almost.

But you knew that look in his eyes. They were sweet, and tender, and loving. Caring—adoring. So much so that it was overwhelming, almost. The honesty, the sincerity in his words… Knowing you were unable to fulfil something you promised him, yet still choosing to prioritize you out of it. How you felt. How you rested, despite being undoubtedly tired himself.

You couldn’t help it, then. You fell forward into his arms, burying your face into your hands, trying not to look at him as the tears flowed down your cheeks. Your sobs remained choked back, as if refusing to let them free, and he rubbed comforting circles into your back.

You could feel his confusion, undoubtedly.

“C’mon, princess, talk to me. What’s wrong? Did something happen today?”

A shake of your head.

“But I gotta hear it from you, pretty… Hey, I’m not upset, you know that, right?”

This time a nod of your head, and your hands moved to wrap around his waist.

“I know, I just… M’sorry, ‘Miah…. I know you don’t want to see me like this, I just—it’s all so overwhelming, I—I’m sorry, I’ll fix this, I’ll fix me, I’ll—”

“Shhh, shhh. Shhh. Shhhh.” He tucked your head under his chin, the warmth of his embrace tightening its hold on you. A little shift, and he tugged you back onto the couch with him, resting in his arms, thumb reaching over to wipe away your tears. “You don’t need to do anything now, princess. You don’t have to fix everything from the start, sometimes it’ll just… Take some time. S’alright to cry with me, I don’t mind. You’re still pretty when you cry. It won’t make me love you any less.”

You listened, sniffling, arms wrapped around his chest.

“You can be vulnerable with me if you want to,” he continued; repeated. “You can cry all you need to, too. I’ll always love you, milady.”

And you didn’t protest.

Not as he tilted your chin back up to look at him, leaning in to place another kiss on your forehead—”I love you like this,” he whispered.

The space between your eyebrows; “I love you like this.”

Then on your cheeks—the tips of your ears—the tip of your nose.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

A promised whisper with every little peck, the graze of his lips against your skin so gentle that you could melt.

“I love you,” another whisper, before his lips were on yours. Supple, and soft, and your eyes closed to relish the moment.

“I love you,” you mumbled back.

And his lips were back on yours as your back hit the couch, fingers threading through your hair, resting over the side of your face only to cup your cheek and tilt his head, deepening the kiss. His other hand lay on your waist, gentle, rhythmic strokes over your clothed skin, moving in time with the way his lips seemed to dance with yours. It was quick, how things began to escalate. But you didn't protest. You fell into it, the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, the heat radiating off of your bodies, flushed together, leaving the air heedy with want. Time seemed to slow to a stop in that moment, and your lips parted just enough to let his tongue delve into you.

He did it first; a soft “Mmh…” against your lips, reverberating in his chest and leaving you with tingles all over your body. Each time he pulled back you would gasp, only to have him back against your lips, as if neither of you could stop—and neither of you wanted to stop. Within seconds, the sounds of hushed moans and slick, sloppy kisses seemed to bounce around the living room.

His hands began to play coy, sliding beneath your shirt, the direct skin-to-skin contact making you jolt. He'd leave goosebumps in the wake of his touch, hands trailing up the side of your waist…

It was intoxicating.

Your eyelids felt heavy, and you felt the way you would lift your head, chasing the warmth of his lips when he pulled back, despite the way your chest heaved as you panted for air.

“‘Miah…” you spoke first; a little tug on his sleeve. It was the only way you could ask for more, what with the way you were desperately trying to catch your breath.

He smiled, as if he knew.

Of course he knew.

“Pretty princess,” he mumbled, leaning in to place a kiss against the corner of your lips, just barely missing your own—teasing. “I love you.”

He said it again.

Your heart fluttered.

“I love you, and…”

You could feel his breath on your skin, hot, and heavy, and laced with threads of desire you both knew had stirring within you.

It was as if he couldn't resist, barely getting his sentence out—not even at all completing it—before his gaze dropped to your lips, and there you were again: crashing.

It was his hands that seemed to do the talking for you, sliding further up your body, his touches more intentional. The fabric of your shirt rode up more and more, and then it was you who was doing it for him: pushing his hands up against your breasts, allowing your shirt to bunch up over the top of your cleavage, moaning into the kiss at the intimate contact.

“Milady…” he would groan against you, pressing his body into you, letting you feel the extent of his own desires. “God, I… I love you.”

He pulled back slightly, panting over your lips. His hands moved to undo the clasp of your bra, and then they were back—”Can I show you how much I do?” he whispered.

“But, you… You haven't—we should have dinner…”

“It can wait. You're more important. Please, princess?”

And you knew you could never refuse.

Within seconds he had you pressed up against the couch, kisses as heated as they were, hands kneading into your flesh. His thumb grazed over your nipple, so pert and standing to attention—you could feel the way your chest arched into him in response.

Your moan came out louder than you expected when he pulled back, lips glossy and swollen from how much you'd been kissing. He rest on his heels to watch you writhe—his fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples, massaging into your breasts… Your eyes closed if only to avoid the head of his gaze, but you could feel it—the way he observed you, the way his eyes roamed over your body, the way it would twist and arch into his ministrations.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered.

And then you felt a jolt through your body when a hand traveled down, dipping beneath the waistband of your lower garments—and that was when your eyes opened.

A soft gasp fell from your lips.

His eyes were careful on yours, his face just as flushed, his hair much more of a mess than you remembered it had been before you'd even started—whatever this was.

“May I?” You could melt at the slight widening of his eyes into a pleading gaze, his hands rubbing against your hip. “I want to feel you here. I want to love you there, too.”

There was a moment of pause between you both, then.

You took a while to catch your breath, before you were lifting your hips, allowing him to pull down your garments, and he smiled.

“That's my girl.”

You had to close your eyes, the back of your hand moving over your mouth as you waited. It was slow, the way he undressed you. It was as if your body had his gaze completely enraptured, his movements agonizing, his eyes locked onto the trail of slick that snaps as he pulled off your underwear. Your cunt was flush and needy for attention, clit throbbing, wetness leaking onto the couch—you nearly had to close your legs when you saw the smirk that formed on his lips, but he was quicker. His hands moved to spread you apart and keep you in place, and then you were sitting up against the couch, legs hooked over his shoulders.

And he'd reached up to take your hands in his. Your fingers laced through together, a reassuring, loving squeeze—and there it was.

The first lick had you clenching your jaw, drawing in a sharp breath. One long stripe from your hole up to your clit, and your body jolted; his hands gave yours another squeeze.

“Shh, shh, relax, princess,” he mumbled—you nearly shut your eyes at the way he looked, your juices coating his tongue, the way he licked his lips as if to prove a point. “Look at me, pretty, okay? Breathe for me.”

His tongue darted out again, the contact against your folds having you gripping his hand tightly.

“Sh-shit—” you cursed, his tongue swirling a circle over your clit, slowly, slowly.

He would tease, still: dragging his tongue in a slow, light pattern, never quite touching your nub, only barely dipping into your hole. His eyes raised to look at you—you could tell he was enjoying himself, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

“S'it feel good?” he mumbled, the vibrations against you sending tingles up your spine. “You like that, pretty?”

“R-really good, ‘Miah, please—”

He smiled, placing soft kisses around your clit before finally, finally taking it into your mouth.

You gasped, your back arching, nails digging into his palms, his thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. You felt his praise in his movements, the way he sucked on your clit, the way he'd roll his tongue over you, between your folds, taking in every inch of your wetness that he possibly could… He let go of your hands, then, grabbing hold of your thighs, pulling you towards him. Your toes curled, his tongue prodding your entrance—

And then it slipped in.

“'M-’Miah!” you cried out, throwing your head back with the shiver of pleasure that coursed through your veins. “Pl-plea— please, nnh—”

You could bite your lip to maintain a volume less embarrassing for the both of you, but he was unrelenting. His hands gripped at the plush of your thigh before they snaked inwards, thumb attaching to your clit. His tongue swirled inside of you, and every roll of his thumb brought on a jolt of your hips—Cries of his name fell from your mouth; a chant, nearly beyond your control, the way your body would writhe and buck from his ministrations.

“M-Mmh!” you moaned; “J- Jeremiah! ‘Miah, ‘Miah—don't stop, pleas—right th-there, don't—nnh—!”

You felt the corners of his mouth twitch up unto a smile, and that was it for you.

Your muscles clenched, your thighs tensing around his head, hips lifting, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

He'd smile as you cum, lapping up your juices, each languid lick encouraging the twitch of you pussy, riding out your high.

“Pretty,” he mumbled.

He let you go only to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. You could blush at the mere sight of him—lips red and swollen, slick dribbling down his chin, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips, taking in remnants of your juices.

“Jeremiah, you…”

You covered your face with your hands, feeling the embarrassment settle, but he only chuckled.

“I love you when you cum, too,” he whispered. His voice was close to your ear, and he placed a kiss against it—you let out a squeal, peeking out from behind your fingers before he pried them away from you. “You're beautiful, milady,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, “so pretty when you cum, so pretty for me. You'd be pretty with me inside you, too…”

You watched him delight in the way your face would redden, the way you feebly pushed at his chest as if to get him off of you.

But he laughed.

In his gaze, again, he held that same loving stare, eyes full of an adoration you could never match yourself—not when he looked at you like that.

“Only if you want to, of course,” he smiled, gently tucking an awry lock of hair behind your ear. “Seriously. I really, really love you… And I’d want ro do this with you. If you’re comfortable with it, if you'd let me… I want to love you like this, too.”

And there was so much love.

His eyes, a deep, deep brown you could get lost in any day, were reassuring. Calm, despite all that had gone on just moments ago. You felt… safe.

Safer than you've ever felt.

His touch was a warmth you welcomed, a gentleness so comforting, like the onset of spring. Like the sprouting of blossoms, like the gleam of the sky… Like—home. A pile of leaves you would gladly jump into.

You felt tears prick at your eyes again, your hands reaching out to tug on his sleeve—

“Want you, ‘Miah,” you whimpered. You'd plead and hold him close, wanting to feel him, to see him.

You could do this, you thought.

If it was with him, then—you could shard through any rose bush, weave through any forest. The bushes didn't block out the light anymore. It was different from diving in headfirst without much of a warning, when all he'd ever shown you was to be… Loved.

Thorns, and everything, and—

Maybe the challenges ahead didn't seem so… scary anymore.

Within moments he had you carried in his arms onto your bed, clothes discarded into a pile on the floor right there with yours. Your hair was in disarray as your head fell back against the pillows, linen sheets and the mattress plush against your body.

“I love you.”

He brought your hand to his lips, a manner of adoration, his eyes soft against the haze of the moonlight that shone through.

“I love you,” again.

Like he knew it was something you needed desperately to hear, like he was telling you he'd say it—again and again, as many times as you needed him to.

And you smiled.

Because this time, you say it back.

“I love you, Jeremiah.”

And his lips were back on yours, plush and soft like you've always known them to be, his hands trailing over your body. You were warm, still—so sensitive with the way you jolted and shivered against the pads of his fingers, the aftereffects of your earlier orgasm still reeling.

Then he pushed your legs apart and rest between them, rubbing against your entrance—your hands are held gently beside your head, fingers intertwined.

His lips never left yours.

He remained soft, and tender, molding his lips into yours when he entered. The initial thrust was slow and gentle; your moans swallowed into his kisses.

And everything—the way he filled you up, every ridge of his cock rubbing so sweetly against your walls; the way he kissed you, so loving; the way his hands had yours pressed into the mattress, a safety in the warmth of his fingers laced with yours—everything was perfect.

This was perfect.

Your shadows danced against the wall as he moved, starlight and gleam of the evening before you painting a scene so intimate—so… real.

The roll of his hips against yours brought you back into that lull of his name, his head buried into your neck. His breath was shaky against your skin—deep, breathy groans, the very sound of them shooting straight to your core, and you held each other tightly. Closer than close. As close as you could be; as close as you always wanted to be. The scent of your arousal remained heedy in the air as he claimed you, his strokes slow and deep, the steady rhythm enough to have your eyes rolling back into your head.

“H-hnngh, feels… Feels so good,” you whispered, clawing against his back, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him.

“Mhm? It does, huh?”

He'd plant kisses over your neck, dizzying whispers of sweet nothings into your ear.

“You're so pretty f'me, my lady,” he rasped. “So good around me… Taking me so well, haaahh, god—mmh, fuck—”

Hushed, muffled moans into kisses, into your skin, echoed with the soft, slow, pap, pap, pap, of his hips against yours.

And you felt it build.

“M'gonna cum,” you whined, and your hands found themselves buried into his hair, his head sneaking down to take your nipple into his mouth.

“Mmmhh. Go 'head, milady. Cum for me.”

With a final, deep breath, you shattered under his touch, crying out in ecstasy as your body convulsed around him. It was then that Jeremiah released you with a little wet pop, panting above you, his own thrusts becoming more sporadic.

He felt the way you clenched over him, the groan falling from his lips a melody that made your head spin.

“‘Miah,” you murmured, dizzy. “‘Miah, c'mon, c'mon…”

A word from you had him collapsing into your body, holding you tight, stilling as he spilled into you. You felt the pulse of his cock, hot liquid filling you to the brim, the scent of sweat and slick lingering in the air.

“I love you,” he mumbled again. It was something like a whine this time, a little less controlled, a little more… vulnerable.

Just as you had been.

You stroked his hair, falling back into a rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, breathing in time with the beat of your heart.

Your eyes closed, for a moment.

“Can I hold you?” you whispered. “Let's just… stay like this, for a while.”

“Mhm.”

“We can… get dinner later…”

“Mhm...”

You smiled.

“‘Miah?”

“...Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, princess. Always.”

an : a lot of a more personal piece, hence the insane amounts of self-indulgence laced into this fic <3 took me forever to decide which of my lnds cast i wanted to use for this, but eventually settled on jem based on the pure fact that he is the most realistically my type (zayne being ideal, xavier being fictional) LMAO <3 may has been a hard month (it tends to be) and i wanted to get this out as june starts, so !! happy june, everyone~~~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace smut #l&ds smut #lnds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace jeremiah #love & deepspace x reader #love & deepspace jeremiah #jeremiah smut #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by cafekitsune

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lordprettyflackotara · 3 days

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slide || chris sturniolo || the finale

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: slightly unrealistic virginity loss. the long awaited finale is here!! i hope it was worth the wait :)<3

Chris Sturniolo did not want to fall in love with you.

It sounded brutal when he said it out loud, so he didn’t. He allowed the next few days to go by in silence, his phone on do not disturb. You had somehow managed to have woven a delicate web in his mind. The kind that invaded all of its corners.

Chris would lay awake in his bed at night, his eyes centered at the ceiling as he thought about what to do. Would you really allow him to corrupt you? To strip you away of your innocence? Of course he meant that in a sexual way, but in a lifestyle way too. If he encouraged you to fall in love with him, if he allowed it. Would you really be accommodating to his lifestyle? More importantly, would you be safe? It was these questions that kept him up late at night, his head beginning to hurt.

When Friday finally arrived he contemplated bailing. It didn’t sound good when he said it out loud. So again, he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure what you’d be expecting. Was his definition of wine and dine different from yours? The most important thing was simple. It was the one thought that he craved to have an answer to. Some sort of explanation. It didn’t matter which way he tried to wrap his brain around it. It didn’t make sense. Why would someone as pure and good as you, want him?

It was this question alone that brought him to your doorstep. He had never done anything like this for a girl before, or at least, not in a very long time. Once his product began selling things became different, his priorities shifted. Yet, you made him feel like he could throw it all away and still be happy. As long as he was with you. Even with watching as many romcoms as possible and googling how to impress a woman, Chris was still unsure of his capability in impressing you. He didn’t like that. He had never cared about impressing anyone before.

Yet on the contrary, there he stood. At your doorstep with a single rose in hand. Hesitantly Chris rang the doorbell, awkwardly shifting his weight on each foot. He perked up once he heard your familiar heels clicking down the staircase. You opened the front door with a big smile. “Hi,” You greeted. It looked like you couldn’t contain your happiness. Your aura alone was contagious. “Hi,” Chris said, giving you a small smile. He cleared his throat as he held out the rose to you. “I uh, thought you might like this. I cut off the thorns and everything,” He explained.

He watched your face flush pink, your small hand taking the rose from him. “Thank you, hang on let me get it in a vase,” You say, rushing back further into the house. Chris felt a bit out of place, your gated community sub division full of elderly people walking their dogs. Many who seemed to be staring. As you rejoined him you shut the door behind you. “So is there somewhere particular you wanted to go tonight?” Chris asked you. An elderly pair of women seemed to be obviously gawking at you both. Chris licked his dry lips, before realizing the cause.

His eyes flickered to his orange ferrari. The only purchase he allowed himself to spurge on.

Huh. Not the most subtle choice for this kind of neighborhood.

“Honestly i’ve been at enough traditional fancy dinners this week with my parents,” You say. Chris walked you around the car, opening the passengers side door for you. The pair of elderly women were walking past your house, Chris delivering the friendliest wave and smile he could. Once he got inside of the car his full attention returned to you. “Maybe we could just go on a drive then?” Chris suggested. The sun was beginning to set, a deep orange and salmon painting the skies above. Once Chris exited your neighborhood he took a side road, which allowed him to be out of sight from nosy cops.

After all, being twenty one and driving a ferrari is awfully suspicious.

“So this car goes pretty fast huh?” You asked, breaking the silence. Chris nodded. “Yeah it’s the main reason I got it,” He said. That and the neon orange was a bit hard to miss. When he drove this car he did it on purpose. He wanted everyone to know it was him. You bit your bottom lip. “You wanna show me how fast it can go?” You suggested. Your curiosity made Chris chuckle, his right hand immediately switching gears. He watched as you slid off your seatbelt, your short white dress riding up your thighs. He watched as you leaned over, pressing teasing kisses on the outside of his crotch.

Chris swallowed, putting his foot off of the gas. “Go any slower and i’ll stop,” You threatened softly. You couldn’t sound threatening to Chris even if you tried. But in that very sweet moment, he was completely at your disposal. Your small hands began pawing at his belt, the metal clinking. “H-hey are you sure about this?” Chris asked gently. As much as he didn’t want you to stop, he didn’t want you to feel pressured to impress him either. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” You purred. Pulling Chris’s cock out you took his length in your hand, pumping it a few times to max hardness.

He held back a whimper as you kitten licked the slit, his precum coating your tongue. “Do you want me to guide you? I know you haven’t-” Chris began. His question was interrupted by you taking his tip in your mouth, sucking it like your life depended on it. His eyes glanced over, noticing your dress was riding up your hips. Your ass was on full display. He groaned as you licked the underside of his shaft, his eyes threatening to flutter shut. The sun was coming down rapidly, night beginning to ensue.

You had secretly been watching a lot of porn, preparing yourself for Chris. You’d never admit it, but you wanted him so badly it was mind invading. He moaned your name as you began to bob your head up and down his cock. “Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” Chris groaned. One of his hands found your hair, gently pushing you further down onto his shaft. He was getting too lost in the pleasure, the sound of you gagging bringing him back to reality. He had accidentally pushed your head down too far. “Oh shit, i’m so sorry-” He began. You pulled off of him, the beautiful sight of saliva coating your chin appearing in front of him.

“Pull over, please. I need you,” You whispered. Chris didn’t need to think twice, pulling his car over. “Backseat?” He asked you. You shook your head, getting out of the car. His eyebrows furrowed as you rounded the front, opening the drivers door.

“You ever fuck a girl on the hood of your car?”

The sentence hardly registered in Chris’s brain as he picked you up, your thighs wrapping around his waist. He sat you down on the hood of his car, his large hands harshly grabbing your ass. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” He confessed, bringing his lips to yours. Your lips. Oh your fucking lips. It was like he had just rolled the perfect blunt. “Really? What have you been thinking about?” You asked, groaning as his lips trailed down the side of your face to your neck. He didn’t hesitate to suck harshly at your skin, his lust clouding his judgment.

“Everything about you. How badly I want to fuck you,” Chris admitted. You giggled, guiding him to pull away and look at you. “I thought you didn’t take virginities,” You say. Chris admired the hickey he had littered on your neck before answering. “Hey don’t get it twisted kid I usually don’t but you, you’re something else. I need to. I need you,” He answered defensively, but honestly. Chris lowered himself onto his knees, yanking your panties down to your ankles. “Can I show you?” He asked softly. Your eyebrows furrowed, questioning his question.

“Can I show you how much I want you?”

“Please.”

Your plea was all he needed, the brunette placing slow kisses up your thighs like he did before. You didn’t seem as nervous this time, your head tilted back and eyes screwed shut. “Hey kid, look at me,” Chris ordered. Hesitantly your eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris’s blue ones. He licked a stripe up your cunt, a shudder of pleasure shooting down your spine. “Like that? You’re so fucking wet,” He hummed. Instinctively you grabbed his hair, attempting to bring him closer. If you had it your way you’d be grinding on his face. But Chris wanted to take his time with you.

You weren’t just a quick fuck to him. He was finally actually completing the fantasy he had been jerking off to for days. He began lapping at your cunt like a starved man, your moans harmony to his ears. He groaned into your folds as he gripped your thighs, squeezing the flesh. “Fuck Chris, just like that,” You whined, tugging at his hair. He knew your roughness was unintentional. But fuck, your desperation was hot.

He brought one finger to your soaking wet entrance. “If anything hurts you have to let me know, okay?” He asked. You bit your bottom lip, looking down at him. “Okay,” You agreed. Chris inserted the finger inside of you, your walls squeezing around him. His other hand was wrapped around your thigh, your small hand reaching down and grabbing it. He intertwined his fingers with yours, your palm gripping onto him for dear life. “This okay kid?” He asked. You nodded profusely, your walls beginning to relax.

“More, please,” You answered. Chris slowly brought his lips back to your clit, sucking at the bud gently as he inserted another finger into your eager cunt. Your moans grew louder as he curled his two fingers inside of you, hitting your g spot. He released your clit with a pop, his chin covered in your juices as he admired you from below. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” He praised. You were so fucking tight Chris questioned if he was even going to be able to fit. You mumbled a thanks, your response making Chris smile.

He began to finger fuck you, going faster with each roll of your hips. “Have you ever cum before?” Chris asked you. The moon had settled into the sky, the only lights being the beams of his headlights. “Just from a vibrator,” You panted. Chris grinned mischievously as he abused your g spot with his fingers. “This is going to feel ten times better, just let go for me,” He advised. He resumed your assault on your cunt, lapping up every ounce of juice you provided. You were practically grinding on his face at this point, the cord in your stomach tightening.

“F-f-fucking, fuck, Chris!” You moaned loudly, your orgasm washing over you. Your vision temporarily went white as you came on Chris’s face. His tongue eagerly lapped up your cum, before licking his fingers clean. “You taste so good ma,” He praised. He rose to his feet, bringing his lips to yours. You were overwhelmed in the best way, your own juices coating your tongue. “We can stop here kid, we don’t have to go any further,” Chris told you, his lips barely straying from yours. You leaned forward, grabbing handfuls of his hoodie.

“Please. You have no idea how bad I want you,” You told him. He brought his thumb to your lip, dragging it down slowly. “There’s someone better who can make you feel this way. Someone who doesn’t have five keys of coke in their trunk,” Chris answered. He gulped as he anticipated your answer, the honesty slipping off of his tongue. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “There is no one else on the planet I want to take my virginity than you,” You answered. When Chris didn’t seem to believe you, you added, “I trust you Chris.”

He began slowly pumping his shaft, bringing his lips back to yours. His tongue traced your bottom lip, your mouth slowly opening more to grant him access. “If you change your mind at any point just please tell me,” Chris told you. You nodded, meeting his lustful gaze. Your pupils were blown with lust, your cheeks flushed red. “I need more than that kid. You can never take back this moment,” Chris said. You lifted your hand to his, lifting up your pinkie finger. He laced his own with yours. “I pinky promise,” You whispered.

With that Chris brought you to the hood of the car, rubbing his tip up and down your aching cunt. You whimpered as it brushed against your clit. This time Chris brought his hand to yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. He guided you to lay on your back, trying to relax you as much as possible. He licked his lips as he began pushing himself inside of you slowly, your face scrunching up in pain. “It’s okay, look at you. Taking me so well,” Chris praised. He could feel your walls spasming around his cock, struggling to accommodate to his size.

Once he was in enough, Chris began to draw slow circles around your clit. This seemed to help you relax, your beautiful eyes slowly fluttering open. You met Chris’s gaze, his cock sinking further inside of you. “You feel so fucking good,” You told him. A goofy smile danced across Chris’s lips, his hand squeezing yours. “So do you ma,” He quipped. His cock had finally bottomed out inside of you, his thumb still circling your clit. You sat up, wrapping your arms around Chris’s neck as you kissed him slowly.

You began to buck your hips against his, the brunette taking it as his queue to start moving. “You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled against your lips. Your mouth dropped into the shape of an O as he began thrusting slowly. “Faster,” You whispered. Chris started picking up the pace, his hips beginning to snap into yours. You had no idea how pretty your face was when Chris was fucking you. He was providing you a foreign pleasure, one that was sending you on a cloud of ecstasy.

Your moans were loud and turned into babbles of his name and curses. “Fucking hell, you’re perfect for me,” Chris grunted. His cock continued to abuse your g spot, your thighs trembling as the cord inside of you tightened. You felt embarrassed your second orgasm was going to come so quickly, your hand squeezing Chris’s. “Thats it, such a good girl for me. Aren’t you kid?” Chris panted. You babbled a response, his hips continuing to snap into yours. Chris could feel his own high coming, the brunette biting his bottom lip.

A girl had never made him cum this quick before. He felt like a teenage boy all over again. Your thighs were visibly shaking, Chris’s hands entangled themselves in your hair. “You wanna cum for me? Make a mess all over my cock?” He asked you. Your moans were pure noises of sin. Those noises ones of music to Chris’s ears. “Fuck yes, please make me cum,” You groaned. With your spare hand you grabbed a handful of Chris’s hoodie, throwing your head back. “R-right there. I’m gonna cum,” You warned him.

Chris continued his pace, smirking. “Yeah? Cum for me ma,” He hummed. He watched in satisfaction as you came around his cock, a white ring forming around his shaft. Without thinking twice he thrust into you one more time, his seed filling your womb. Both of you were panting messes. “Oh shit i’m so sorry, I didn’t ask-” Chris began rambling, fear washing over him. Dazed, you kissed him. “Relax, just buy me a plan b ‘kid,’ You replied teasingly, giggling as Chris ran his hand through his hair.

He pulled himself out of you, both of you mesmerized as his cum dripped down your cunt. “Was that okay?” Chris asked you. You met his concerned gaze. You chuckled as you pressed your forehead against his. “That was fucking amazing Christopher,” You told him. Biting your bottom lip you added on, “Wanna go again?”

Chris teasingly rolled his eyes. “Alright kid let’s get you some food and i’ll consider it. In the mean time let’s get you cleaned up,” He replied. He picked you up by your arms, setting you down onto the ground. He pulled up your panties and made sure your dress was presentable. Your face flushed pink in embarrassment as you noticed both of your cum on the hood of his car. “Uh Chris do you want to wipe that off?” You asked. He rose to his feet, redressing himself. He smirked as he threw his arm around your shoulders.

“And what? Hide from the world I just got to fuck the baddest bitch ever? I don’t think so,” He responded. He flashed you a genuine smile, reflecting the one radiating off of you. “Now let’s slide so I can get you whatever you want kid.”

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you

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canirove · 2 days

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Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 14

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)

Masterlist

"I hope your birthday present is the best one ever. I deserve it after tonight" Adele sighed when the car dropped her and Mason at the hotel where they were staying, the launch of his perfum and everything that came with it finally over.

"Thank you very much for this, Addie. It means a lot."

"You're welcome" she said, taking his hand on hers. Holding hands had become something they now did without thinking, something that had become normal and organic for them.

"And about your birthday present… I wasn't going to say anything until tomorrow, but fancy an Italian road trip?"

"A road trip? Where?"

"It's a surprise" Mason smiled, his dimple showing.

"But when are we leaving? Tomorrow?"

"The day before. Tomorrow is a day to relax and recharge."

"I don't know if I'll manage to relax or even sleep knowing that you are taking me somewhere."

"You've been as worried about the launch party as I've been, Addie. So the moment you get into your room, you'll instantly fall asleep. But try to make it to the bed first" Mason smirked.

"It'll try" Adele laughed. "Same goes to you, tho."

"I'll do my best. And here we are" he said, stopping in front of her room's door. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Breakfast tomorrow" she smiled.

"Ok."

"So… ummm… Good night, Addie."

"Good night, Mase" she said. Though neither of them moved, their hands still linked together.

"Good night, Addie" he repeated, finally moving and kissing her cheek. Her cheek, or the corner of her mouth, the feeling making her knees go weak. "I'll text you when I'm up."

"Ok" Adele whispered, still trying to process how close his lips had been to hers.

"Good night, Addie. For the third time" he laughed.

"Good night, Mase" she said, frozen in place as she watched him walk towards his room. As he opened the door, he looked at her one last time, giving her a smile that made Adele's stomach flip inside her and that she was pretty sure would show up in her dreams. And it did.

She dreamt about that smile and about his lips almost on hers. Though maybe not just almost…

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Mason, is that… no! It can't be!" Adele said as she looked out the window. They had been on the road for a few hours, laughing and singing their hearts out to the playlist he had made especially for this trip with all their favourite songs.

"Do you recognize this town?"

"Of course I do! My dad took a photo of us looking at something on our cameras in front of that church! I actually printed it and have it in my room."

"What? Why? It is such a random photo" he laughed.

"I don't know. I like it" Adele shrugged. "I have many others from that summer printed. It was one of the best of my life."

"Same" Mason smiled. Though he suspected she didn't remember it for the same reasons he did.

"If we are here… does it mean…"

"Maybe" he smirked.

"Oh my God, Mase. Please tell me you managed to do it. Please, please, please."

"You must be patient, little padawan."

"Little what?" she laughed.

"Just be patient, ok? It'll be worth it."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"And?"

"It was worth it" Adele smiled as she looked at the view. Somehow, Mason had managed to rent the same villa where them and their families had spent the summer when they were sixteen.

Their parents' original idea had been to do a road trip around Italy, but they soon realized that doing it with two teenagers and two early teens, would not be the dreamy vacation they were expecting. Instead, they rented a huge villa in a small town, which turned out to be exactly what they all needed.

"How did you come out with this idea?" she asked him.

"The perfume" Mason smiled. "Since we were already in Italy for the launch party and it was your birthday month, I thought it would be cool to remember the summer that inspired it all."

"So a whole month in Italy, away from everything and everyone?" Adele said, a big grin on her face.

"And just the two of us" he smiled back. "At least until our families arrive to celebrate your actual birthday. Do you think we'll make it?"

"What?"

"To your birthday. Do you think we will survive spending so much time together just the two of us, or that we will end up hating each other?" Mason chuckled. Though there was something in his voice that made Adele think he wasn't completely joking.

"There is nothing like trying" she replied, taking his hand on hers and giving it a squeeze. "Should we go for a tour around the house? I want to check what they have changed."

"You mean you want to see if they painted over your graffiti" he laughed.

"It was an accident, and it was all your fault" she said, pointing at him with their joined hands. She had been painting her nails in her room and minding her own business when Mason, Luca and Alex decided to scare her, which ended up with the little bottle of red paint all over the wall. They tried to clean it and cover it, but they only made it worse. "You better not try anything like that again if you want to make it alive to my birthday."

"I won't, I promise" he smiled.

And he kept his promise, making the following two weeks and a half basically perfect. They had even found themselves following a routine, feeling as if they were actually living there, as if that was their real life.

They would wake up in the morning and go for a run before it got too hot. Once they were back in the villa, they would make breakfast and eat it while catching up on everything that had happened in the world. Then it was time for a quick shower before going into town to do some grocery shopping, most people saying hello to them as if they had been living there for years, some even remembering them from when they had visited for the first time. "It is impossible to forget women as gorgeous as your mothers" one man had said.

After making lunch and eating it in the garden, they would either take a nap or just chill, most times falling asleep on each other's arms. And then it would be time to go for a swim, sometimes to the little beach hidden just a few kilometres away from town, sometimes in the big swimming pool the villa had.

It had been during one of the days where they had stayed in, that Adele had noticed Mason's eyes following her every move as she got out of the pool and laid down in her hammock.

"Mase, are you checking me out?" she asked him, finding the courage to do it God knows where.

"What? No, no, no, no" he quickly said.

"Then why are you so red?"

"The sun. I guess I didn't put on enough suncream" he shrugged. "Anyway, I think I should probably go for a dip too."

"Sure" she replied, trying to hide a smile.

After that day, they would constantly tease the other about it. And especially at night, when they would go into town to have dinner and enjoy the night, and make themselves look a bit more presentable.

"Addie, are you checking me out?"

"I'm sorry, Mase. But those trousers make your bum look so good…" she had said. Which wasn't a lie.

"That dress also makes your boobs look really good" he had smirked, his eyes going down to her chest and making Adele's cheeks turn on fire. Which was what Jourdan was telling her over facetime after she had finally confessed her feelings for Mason and everything that was going on in Italy. That they were playing with fire.

"Addie, you like each other. You are falling in love with each other. And if you don't talk about it, it may come back to bite you in the ass. Yours and his very nice one. Have you seen his new underwear campaign?"

"Daily and in real life" she chuckled.

"Lucky bitch" Jourdan said. "But I'm serious, Adele. Talk to him before your parents arrive and things get out of hand, messy, or both."

"I'll try" she sighed.

"No, you won't try. You will."

"Fine. I will" Adele replied.

But will she? Will she find the courage to do it? Because their families were arriving in just two days, and she was running out of time.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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artofhazbinhotel · 2 days

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heyyy you can do a guitarspear short in the garden of eden (where maybe, if you want, Lute will be a curious angel about the new creation/Adam lol)

Here we go! Hopefully it was worth the wait, I had a lot of fun writing this :)

Alone sat a man, alone for the second time, while his wife had been condemned for her sins he wasn't, she was banished and he wasn't. He wouldn't be alone if his kids were awake but the late night silence was better than their cries about where their mother went. He blamed Lucifer for what happened to Eve, not her, she was just listening to a man and that's what she had been taught, if only Lilith learned that, maybe she wouldn't have chosen Lucifer over him, she was too difficult for him. He likes to think he's the one who wanted that to end, not her. The lake he sat by in the grass reflected the moon and he cupped some of the water to his mouth to drink, drinking away your sorrows hadn't been invented yet but he'd try.

He was interrupted by the sight of an angel slowly flying down to him, he wanted to be annoyed but she was kind of hot in his opinion. Long light silver hair, golden eyes with thick lashes, a flowy dress of black and white patterns and matching black and white wings large enough to support her. She landed in front of him and took a seat next to him in the grass, quiet for a minute, like she was thinking of what to say. "I'm sorry about what happened to Eve" she finally said. He sighed, "Geez does all of heaven know? I must look like some fucking loser." She tilted her head "What does fucking mean?"

Adam snickered running a hand through his hair "Oh right, I made it up, it's like something you add before a word to make it sound cooler, what do you think?" He looked at her for approval, he'd always assumed angels would be bigger until he saw Lucifer and now her, she's tiny. The angel thought about it before offering an awkward snicker in return "I like it, maybe I'll use it" He offered a high-five with an enthusiastic: "Hell yeah!" But she wasn't sure what to do so he took her hand and make it tap his for her then let go, it fell back at her side. "So what's your name?"

"I don't have a name" Adam's eyes widened in offense for her "That's lame, what about I give you one?" She smiled and nodded. Adam took her in again, what words come to mind? The animal names were made up, she should get something that doesn't exist yet. "Lulu.. no that's dumb. Light. Already exist." He tapped his head before snapping his fingers, "Lute!" Her eyes lit up, to have the person she's been watching from afar give her this gift was a warm feeling. "I like it"

"Well, it's nice to meet you Lute" "Nice to meet you too, Adam, I always wanted to but it didn't feel like the right time." He tilts his head, "What do you mean?" Lute sighed "As an angel the only way I can access this world is if a soul needs me, I jumped at the chance" "I guess that makes sense, but does that mean you can't visit unless I'm sad?"

Lute paused before answering, "I can sneak out" The human was kind of impressed, "Risky, I like it" Before their chat can continue a small pair of hands tapped Adam's shoulder lightly but several times. He looked down to see Abel, not very old yet. "Hey buddy, what you doing up?" Abel sat beside his father and pointed to Lute "Who's the pretty lady daddy? Is she our new mommy?" Lute blushed embarrassed and shook her head "No no, I'm just an angel-"

Abel stumbled over and snuggled up to her wing "You're like a birdy" Adam picked up his son "Hey you can't go getting all handsy with the ladies unless they're into it" Abel nodded and Lute stood. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I really should be heading back, I have a lot of responsibility up there" Adam looked at Abel and joked "See? Look what you did" Abel just immediately started crying"Wait fuck- I was joking!" He bounced him panicking, Eve was so much better at this parenting thing than he was.

Lute didn't judge, she'd have no idea what to do with a tiny human either. She waved goodbye and so did Adam. Her wings spread and she went back up, he was looking forward to seeing her again, it was the first time he'd felt happy in a while. Okay back to the crying baby, he just kept shaking up and down like a protein drink "Hush little baby don't say a word-" awkward singing ensues.

The two continued their meetings until eventually Adam's death came, Lute watched from behind the gates to welcome him as he was let him in. She took in his new appearance, golden wings and a considerable height boost. "I can show you around" She suggested but he was just excited to see her and lifted her with ease, crushing her against his chest. "Lute! This is great, now we can hang out all we want!" The other angel blushed being so close and tried to shove away, wings flapping rapidly. "Yeah- great- you can put me down now."

Adam nods and sits her down "Oops sorry" He laughed as she fixed her hair. Their conversation was interrupted again by something mirroring their first, it was Abel. "You look so majestic father! I missed you" Adam ran over and ruffled his brown hair, it matched his own. "Not too bad yourself, look at those wings!" Lute watched them with a small smile, it was sweet to see the reunion Abel always talked about, she never filled the mother role in his life, but she did let him ask about his father, she'd never complain to talk about him.

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spaceorphan18 · 1 day

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Romy Fic: Intrusive Thoughts

Rating: T for suggestiveness and one bare ass ;)

Summary: Taking place during XM #4 post-Basketball game. How exactly does Remy get Rogue to agree to go on a date?

Notes: Next piece in my canon series. Wanted to write about how we got from the charged (literally and figuratively) basketball game to Rogue agreeing to actually go out with him. Thus this scene was born. Also, it was an excuse to write Remy in the shower. ;) Thanks @ludi-ling for the beta!

I decided I'm adding a panel to go along with each entry...

****

Intrusive Thoughts

Remy LeBeau is in the shower, deep in thought. It had been a hot day but that hadn’t stopped them from playing a good game. It had almost felt like being among friends instead of teammates. Who would have guessed Jubilee would be good for his ego? And showing up the Wolverine is always a plus. The physicality had felt good, so much more satisfying than the drills in the Danger Room the professor made them run. Even as the game intensified, it had all been in playful fun. They had been accepting of him more than he realized.

Unintentionally, his mind starts to drift. Starts to dig around in the dark parts that he prefers to keep hidden. They tolerate him now, but if they knew…? There are so many factors that may come into play, so many that may blow over his carefully stacked house of cards. The Thieves’ Guild, would they take him back? (It’s been long enough - surely they would welcome him home?) Sinister might want another favor. (The screams of those poor mutants still keep him up at night). Belladonna… (He doesn’t want to think of Belladonna… How long has it been since they’ve spoken? How long has it been since they’ve touched…).

He closes his eyes, trying to reach out onto something that isn’t connected to his past. She is the first thing that enters his mind. Rogue. She has been on his mind constantly since he had arrived at the mansion. A welcome distraction to the darkening intrusive thoughts that have been haunting him lately.

Stormy had brought him to the X-Men, misguided faith that she had in him. And it’s been nice, for a while, pretending to be the hero. Pretending that there is some actual good in the world he could do. Pretending that this might be a family worth keeping. He knows his track record though, and if he was to be smart about it, he’d take off and not look back. It’d be better for them in the long run. Maybe better for him, too.

For as much as he feels the need to go, he doesn’t. Because she’s there. A beacon of light enticing him. A smirk climbs on his lips as he thinks back to the court, about holding her in his arms, about what it would be like if she were really under him. Or above him. Or anywhere close to him would do. The beautiful apple of Eden; forbidden to touch despite knowing how sinfully delicious the taste would be. He knows better, he does. But she’s not just another pretty girl. There’s something more going on with this one. He just doesn’t know what it is yet.

…Or maybe he does just have a death wish.

He turns the shower to cold, needing to cool off. They are, after all, community showers.

The sound of a muffled jazz song floats through the air. Intrigued, he finishes his shower. He then grabs a towel off the rack, giving himself a quick dry down, before wrapping it loosely on his hips. If he’s hearing it right, the music is coming from the room next door. And he knows whose that is. He steals a quick look in the mirror, grinning at his own form, wondering how she will react when she sees him.

Just his luck, Rogue’s bedroom door is wide open and welcoming. The stereo on her dresser is playing a slow, soulful tune as she sits curled up on her armchair, reading a book. She’s changed out of her uniform, and looking relaxed in a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. God have mercy on his soul. She doesn’t have to do a thing to be breathtaking. Wanting her is a constant state he doesn’t mind having to contend with.

She’s so buried in her book that she doesn’t notice him standing there, casually leaning up against the doorframe. He takes a moment, just to watch her, just to enjoy the wonderful creature that she is before he lets himself be known.

“That a good book, chere?” he asks.

Startled, she looks up, finally noticing he’s there. Her eyes bulge when she sees him, in shock but not with disinterest. It’s enough to make him grin wider.

“Gambit,” she says. There’s a blush on her cheeks as she turns her head away. “You have no clothes on.”

“I was just walking by from my shower,” he says, ignoring her observation. “And heard Glen Miller on the radio. Beautiful sounds that old boy makes, I just had to stop and listen.” He takes a step into the bedroom. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t stop him. “Surprises me, though. Figured you’d be the type who’d like something a little more…country.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but smiles. “I’m allowed to like more than one thing, you know.”

“So, country isn’t off the table?”

She bites her lip, looking towards the ceiling as he walks in a little further. “What do you actually want, Gambit?”

He comes in close and leans over, nearly whispering in her ear. “You already know what I want,” he says. Her entire body tenses as he lingers over her. He makes her nervous. He enjoys that he makes her nervous. He knows when to push and he knows when to stop. The fact that she hasn’t kicked him outright from her bedroom is a score for the day. With Rogue, it’s the long game he’s playing. “What’s this book that has you so engrossed?”

“Oh,” she finally faces him, surprised. “It’s nothing.”

“A Duchess in Need,” he says, intrigued by the title. “A romance book?”

“I doubt you have any real interest in my book.”

“Nothing wrong with a good romance book.” he licks his lips. “I find them inspiring.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind me having a look?” He makes a grab for the book. She tears it away, just out of reach. He goes for it again, this time using both hands. The lunge forward causes the towel drop.

“Gambit!” she cries, dropping the book in order to cover her eyes. She’s scandalized but he doesn’t much care as he scoops down to pick up the towel and grab the book. He loosely holds the towel up to cover himself as he flips open the book. He knows his ass is hanging bare. He knows, as she peeks through her fingers, that she can see it in the reflection of the vanity mirror. He wants her to.

“Oh, this be a dirty book,” he says, very amused as he starts reading. “Her lips tremble and quiver with desire…”

“Gambit, give it back.” She jumps out of her seat, attempting to get the book out of his hands.

“His manhood throbs in her hand...”

“Gambit, I swear, I’ll…”

“She finally submits to her lust.”

“Gimme that.” She finally tears it from his hands, pulling it close to her chest. “I get that this may seem silly to you, but I’m allowed to enjoy my books.”

He may have pushed a little too far this time. She is more closed off than ever, holding herself tightly, her eyes once again looking off in the distance. Only this time there is anger. “Chere, this book - it’s no good for you.”

“Why? Because they should only be reserved for perverts like you?” Her voice is sharp. Cutting.

“Because it isn’t real romance,” he says. It’s the seriousness in his voice that gets her to pay attention. Up until now it’s been all flirty games and teasing words. Most women he’s encountered, that’s all they need. Not Rogue. She’s going to need more. How far is he willing to go? He isn’t sure. But he knows there’s something stirring in his heart. Something he can’t quite figure out.

He wants her. He’s known that much since the day he met her. But he’s learning he may want all of her. And that’s a much more dangerous game to play.

“Like you know what real romance is,” she spits out.

“I do.” He takes a moment to pull the towel fully around his hips, securing it tightly. The gesture is not lost on her. “We get dressed up nice. I take you to a nice dinner. We can find some live jazz and dance in the moonlight. We can talk…”

“And then?”

He gives her a suggestive glance. “And then I take you home like a proper gentleman.”

She scoffs at him. “I doubt that.”

“Your call, chere.” He plays it nonchalant, but his chips are all in.

A long moment passes. Her eyes flicker as the wheels turn in her mind. It’s like he can see them. Whatever she’s thinking…

“Okay,” she says carefully.

“Okay?” He almost can’t believe it.

“But if you try anything, I’ll break you in two.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

He turns to leave, knowing that her eyes are lingering on him, and smiles.

#xmen #x men #rogue #gambit #anna marie lebeau #remy lebeau #romy #rogue and gambit #roguegambit #s.o. writes things #i need to come up with a name for this particular series

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bookwormlover10 · 2 days

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So remember that au/ fanfic idea I had were the Wayne family adventures Bruce Wayne adopted old Dcau Bruce and I mention that I had a similar idea of wfa Damien Wayne adopting thba/Dcau Tim Drake ( a.ka Timmy todd).....

You with me on this.... Yea... Maybe.....so here my idea of how it would go..

It is also worth noting that for Damien characterization I'm going for wfa Damien and from Dcamu ( the two I've seen at least) I also really tiny bit of the super sons comic. so if I get his characterization you can correct me .

So the super sons somehow some way get teleported in to the Dcau ( sometime around tnba and justice league.) The boys are obviously freaking out and confused. They eventually did fine out that there were in an other dimension. They were wondering the street of metropolis until they were found Dcau version on Lois Lane. When seeing a boy that looks like Superman and just so happen to have similar powers as him and a one dress as Robin she logically took the boys with her and fead them. Once the boys explain her what happened, Lois tells the boys that she'll bring them to one of her ex's to help. Turned out that the ex's she was taking about was Bruce Wayne AKA Batman. ( Yes the boys were quite Shell shock at the news. Jon is surprised this version on his mom known batman identity before his dad's.)

While there in the bat cave Damien gets to meet Dcau version dick and Tim. Damien gets to see Dick's glorious mullet. Tim took there being a potential Robin after him why better then Damian had thought. When asked about this Tim said " well I figured I'll change my hero name when I'm older. Like dick said ' you can't be boy wonder forever '." While Damien is there tim teaches Damien some Robin tricks and shows him around Gotham. Even though this version of tim Drake isn't quite like his Tim Drake has, Damien starts to like this Tim...And he reminds Damien of Jason for some reason.....

Speaking of Jason. When Damien asks were the second Robin was Tim gave him a confused smile and said " um I am the second Robin." Damien was like " what..." Then tim then went to explain his backstory and how he became Robin. Which was sounding huntedly similar to Damien...Damien mind then went to panic mode. Damien is now thinking what ever the joker did to Jason is going to do something similar to this.. Jason like Tim Drake

When it is time for the boys to go home. ( Through a portal or something You can figure out how they go home.) Tim gives Damien a hug and smile at him. Damien this thinks ' so joyful..was Jason like this before the joker got him ?' Damien then decides that he doesn't want, Tim to end up like Jason so he then grabs Tim by the arm and dragged him with him. What Damien didn't count on is Dcau dick Grayson to grab his brothers others arm and end up getting Bird-napped. (I mean.. surprise adoption ) With them

( this is the point were I started calling tnba Tim Drake Timmy and tnba dick Grayson...... idk Dcau dick... I'm also calling them Bird brothers when referring to both. To not be confused with the other bats )

When they get to the wfa universe the bird brothers are more than mad, they are royally pissed ! They then proceeded to Chase Damien ( with the help of Jon) around the place, yelling" Why the fuck did you do that ?!" And other stuff. The bird brothers chase Damien for a good hour until wfa batman ask Damien why decide to kidnap a Robin from an other dimension. ( Now let's cut to the image of Timmy todd having Damien in a choke hold.) " he's a Todd !!!" He chokes out leaving everyone in the room confused

After explain stuff like explaining Jason's and Tim's backstorys and vice versa ( except maybe Dick. His backstory is universal consistency.) " how do you know that the joker is gonna get to him. I mean the little guy stole the Robin suit like I did." Tim argues and Jason added " yea and just because he's a punk from crime Ally and the second Robin likes me don't been he's going to get killed by the joker !" " He may not die but he could get a fate worst then death!" Damien yells ( " yea and how do you know that ?" Tim asked " cause kid w.b !" ) so they take a DNA test to see who Timmy is a variant of and the test results are.......

Bruce: well congrats. He's both

Tim and Jason: what !

Bruce: well if were going technical he's both of yours half brother

Tim, and Jason: huh!

Turned out Timmy half of Tim's dads DNA ( or the universe were his name is Steve cause Timmy mentioned that his dads name was Steve instead of jack) and the other half Jason's bio mom's DNA. Making Timmy biology both Tim and Jason half brother. Tim and Jason are distraught by the news that Timmy's from the universe that both their parents fucked. They then made a pact that they'll both make sure that nothing bad is going to happen to their new little brother. ( To translate they both now agree with Damien to the surprise adoption)

Dcau dick couldn't really Care if Timmy had to two new half brothers from an other dimension at the end of the day Timmy was dicks brother not theirs ( it's not like he was jealous or anything) That did bring up that Dcau dick didn't know what happened to Timmy's mother when he asked him this Timmy response " she left pops and me when I was a baby. " He said like it was no big deal ( this bit is my personal headCanon that might make its own post about it. You can just skip this part if you don't like it.)

the bird brothers are surprised when they meet the rest of the wfa Batfamily. For one it's God damn huge. They never thought it was possible that Bruce might have a cousin. (Which is something they need to ask their Bruce if they ever see him again.) let alone having other people to help protect Gotham. This batman has an entire army and the bird brothers are wondering why he hasn't retire. That's what their Bruce would of done. ( Or at least they hoped their stubborn bat does.) they are very disturbed with wfa Bruce Wayne with how much he smiles.

Alfred is a conciict in every universe so they chill with him

As some Time goes by the wfa Batfamily notice that the bird brothers are literally from the 90s or 40s they can't really tell..that is to say that the bird brothers amazed by the technology. Like the TV's is flat and that now a phone can conveniently fit in your pocket and no longer attached to a Cord. Heck Dcau dick can still remember when color TVs weren't widely available, back in his Robin days. Timmy is amazed that not only the Internet in widely available it has also gone better too! They are also amazed with the advancements of video games

When the wfa Batfamily get to know Dcau dick Grayson they notice that he is quite different than their Dick. For one their shocked to learned that he quit being Robin and not only that he punched his Bruce while doing it and that he became Robin when he was around Tommy's age ( around 13) much older then their dick became Robin at 8 ( I also have a fun headCanon about that if you want to hear it) Dcau dick was pissed when he heard about this. His Bruce is a lot of things but at least he wasn't allowing an 8 year old fight crime! ( Except when he snuck out as a kid. But that's neither here or nor there)

he has no problem taking about his Robin days in quite detail. That or he mentioned something about doesn't e elaborate At ALL.

Dcau dick: this is worse than the time the poison ivy was going to feed me and and Bruce to carnivorous plants

The rest of the wfa Batfamily: huh !

Timmy on the other hand is not getting use to having more then one eleder brother... expechly ones that like to fight over him ... hes also geting really sick with every one tretting him like glass..... They even got his brother worried that something is going to happen to him. The worst part every time he makes a quip or dumb joke or even when he says or do something that any person who grew up in crime Ally would do. Wfa Bruce,dick and Alfred would give him a sad smile like their look at a memory from the past.

One night he sneaks out in his Robin costume ( yes the bird brothers are still fighting crimes. I just think that it would be really funny if everyone in Gotham just think that Robin and Nightwing are just constantly switching costumes... Or that their androids. ) anyways Timmy is just chilling on a roof thinking about home and stuff then out of nowhere Jason finds him. They started talking. Then Jason bring up how he was killed by the joker ( and other Jason angst stuff. ) worning the little dude about his potential future. then Timmy( who is starting to get tired of this joker bull shit. To be honest) gives Jason a very serious look and asked him "if you could would you do it all over again?" " What?" A confuse Jason response " I'm asking if you could go back in time would you die a hero or live." Timmy gradually raise his voice" it's not a hard question ! Would you do it all over again?!" Timmy gets so frustrated and leave. Leaving a very puzzled Jason.

..........

.......

That is all I can think up at this time or more likely putting my ideas into words. That makes sense cause there's much. Heck I might add more on and make it into an au if enough people like it or people are free to use it as a fanfic prompt I don't mind. I just really wanted to get this idea out into the world.

Also let me know if I mischaracterize someone cause my experience with Batfamily characters are mostly from animation and the webtoon ( duh) and have read little of Batman comics.( To be honest I read more flash comics then batman) Thought I have read some Dcau tie in comics

*Here so drawing that I did*

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mikedfaist · 17 hours

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can we get more pregnant!reader??? like when she’s actually going into labor and he takes her to the hospital? supportive sweetie mike is my favorite

Mike took the classes. He read the books. He sought insight from his friends who have already ventured down this path before. The hospital bag was ready. The nursery was complete – alongside a crib he did indeed decide to build. He was ready for fatherhood. Frankly, he welcomed it with open arms. He already loved his little girl so much that he couldn’t imagine that love growing anymore than it already is. How is that even possible?

When those first real contractions hit in the middle of the night – much different than the “practice” ones from before – your first instinct isn’t to wake up Mike. No, you let him sleep. You scamper into the kitchen, lay down on the couch and turn on Modern Family. They weren’t far enough apart yet. No point in going to the hospital. No point in waking up your boyfriend. Until your water breaks, you are going to relax as much as you can until the pain permeates to the point of surrender.

You don’t have to wake him up though, because that boy senses your absent presence, and goes looking for you. It wasn’t unusual to find you in the kitchen in the middle of the night; when a craving calls, it calls. This time though, he caught you in the middle of a contraction. Not unbearable – you were even able to talk through it, but he saw it in your eyes. Less than a minute, and it was over.

When you told him you’ve been having contractions for the last hour, you might as well have told him you joined a cult.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He was aghast.

“There’s no point right now! Can’t even go to the hospital. This could last for hours, Michael. Hours. Maybe in the morning something worth telling you about will happen.” You didn’t mean it in a bad way. Obviously, anything that happens in this pregnancy he wants to know about. To you, this was nothing. If the contractions weren’t five minutes apart, then why bother? “Go back to sleep, okay? Get your rest while you can.”

“You really think I can just go back to sleep when you’re in labor?”

“Early labor, it barely counts.”

“It does count.”

“When my water breaks, then I’ll bother you with my problems. But for now, I’m chillin’.”

By morning, seven hours later, things had progressed enough for you to roll over onto your side and shake your boyfriend awake.

“It fucking hurts.”

“It’s just early labor, babe, it barely counts.”

“I will break up with you—do not test me right now.”

It wasn’t until the afternoon when your water broke in the middle of the kitchen as he was making you grilled cheese. (You made him finish the grilled cheese before leaving). Once at the hospital, he fed you ice chips, massaged your back, kissed your forehead, and let you fracture each of his fingers. He did nearly pass out when you got your epidural, and again when you did eventually give birth. His excuse was he had forgotten to eat because he was so focused on you, but you remember how white he got watching a real birth video in preparation for this moment.

Once you begin pushing, he’s beside you, brushing the hair out of your face, letting you squeeze his hand until it’s purple. He’s so gentle with his encouragements, whispering it in your ear and kissing your temple. He can’t put into words how amazed he is with you in this moment. He thought he loved you before, but that love has grown exponentially. You not only grew and protected their child, but you were putting yourself through hell to bring her into this world. It’s something he’ll never know firsthand, and he knows he’ll never be able to look at you the same way from now on. You really were the most incredible woman he has ever had the pleasure of knowing.

When they hear that first cry, he nearly breaks into sobs. All those months of waiting, and being very impatient about it, have finally come to an end, and his baby girl is right there. She’s so tiny—how is she so tiny? How is she so tiny but expelling a cry so loud and raucous?

“She has a set of lungs on her, for sure.”

When they set her on your chest, she instantly quietens. She knows that’s her momma. Mike has to cover his mouth to control his cries. None of the books taught him how to handle the moment he meets his baby girl for the first time. He leans over and caresses his finger over her hand—holy fuck it’s so tiny! Instinctively, she grabs his finger, and refuses to let go. There’s nothing quite as strong as a baby’s grip.

He loses count of how many times he tells you he loves you. A million times wouldn’t even be enough.

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist talk

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hamofjustice · 3 days

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Nemona the Unrivaled

Chapter 1: A Closed Door

Finally, Nemona was getting back out of this darn villa. That was the most painfully long time away from school she could remember, even if the numbers on the calendar said she was imagining things. She just had to stick around a bit longer while Director Clavell talked to Mother and Father, and she’d finally be on her way back to home sweet dorm for a while.

... It was nice of those two to actually show up for something.

But the thought that they were having some kind of grown-up talk in there that she wasn’t privy to -- one that was almost definitely about her -- was digging one last pit in her stomach. What had she done wrong without noticing now, that was apparently worth worrying about but no one had the guts to just bring up to her directly? She gazed down at the intricate stone work under her red shoes, but took in none of what she was seeing.

But then, she heard a bit of commotion in the distance. Who was that coming up the road? With no less than three Pokemon all running up to her!? Was this that kid next door coming to visit, finally? Were they--

Alright, alright, cool it, look away for a sec, act natural, pretend you don’t see ‘em, don’t just stare and creep ‘em out. Wait for the right moment when they get close to turn around and give ‘em the ol’ razzle-dazzle... okay... and... go!

"Oh? Are you these three's Trainer?" Nemona greeted her visitor, coolly turning toward them with her gloved hand on her waist, a swirl of her ponytail and a nod of her head. Nailed it. “Buenas! We haven't met, have we?”

Nemona looked at the newcomer properly now. Looked to be a boy, though it was best not to assume those things in Paldea. Kinda on the younger side, or maybe just hadn’t the kind of growth spurt she had yet. Slightly spiky short brown hair and a paler complexion than her own, in the standard Uva Academy uniform. Not much to speak of in the style department. Yep, just the way they usually rolled out of the boy factory. Not that Nemona knew much about fashion either -- she mostly just let her family doll her up for events as they saw fit -- but she at least picked herself out some matching non-Academy-branded red-and-black accessories for school and adventures, even if it didn’t really go with the indigo-and-white uniform or the green bits in the front of her hair. Nobody seemed to get that she wanted it to look like leaves on a fruit! She wasn’t gonna cut it off no matter how dumb anyone thought it looked, though. It was a small act of rebellion, the only serving size of rebellion she could usually get away with, between the --

Anyway. The new kid seemed to be closely observing the Sprigatito, Fuecoco, and Quaxly that had run ahead of him. In fact, it looked like he didn’t notice there was another human there too until the three little critters ran past her legs to play in the villa’s garden and fountain like they owned the place. He seemed a little surprised to be spoken to.

“H-huh? Oh. Uh, they’re not mine... yet. Um... the Academy Director left me to choose one of them.” The visitor eventually explained, avoiding eye contact instead of giving her a name. Was she making him nervous already?

Nemona heard the door open behind her seconds later to save them both from the awkward silence, and she turned to look as Director Clavell stepped out of the villa to greet their visitor. The old man cleared his throat to further announce his presence and pushed up his glasses. Nemona often wondered why he didn’t just get a new pair that stayed on better, but at this point touching his glasses all the time seemed to be as deep-set a habit of his as folding his hands behind his back, so it probably wouldn’t make much difference.

"Director... Is this who I think it is?" Nemona just had to ask, balling her fists excitedly against her chest like she was watching a battle.

“Indeed, this is our academy's newest student, Master Adam. He will be attending as of today.”

Nemona’s head whipped around to face Adam again upon having that confirmed. "So you ARE that kid who moved up in the road! I've been dying to find out more about you!"

He winced slightly at her enthusiasm. “Y-yeah, that’s me. Uh... I’ve been looking forward to getting my Trainer’s License for a while. Been studying on my own and everything.” Adam offered as some kind of information as he crouched down to watch Fuecoco in particular. He didn’t ask for Nemona’s name.

“Oh reaaaally?! Well, you’re talking to the right girl, then!” she enthused regardless. That eagerness of his was so exciting to her!

... Adam was mostly paying attention to the little fire croc having just roasted an orange that had fallen from one of the family’s trees, and nodded to it approvingly. Nemona, meanwhile, was getting lost in her head with excitement that this boy might be the friend she needed. She just needed to make sure to sink her teeth in early, before anyone else could tell him she was an annoying weirdo, or stuck-up nepo baby, or the chosen one, or--

“Uh... oh yeah?” Adam eventually responded. He didn’t really seem to be on Nemona’s wavelength, but his curiosity seemed a bit more piqued by the "right girl" line.

“Quite. Miss Nemona here is not only president of our fine Academy’s student council, but already a Champion-Rank Trainer in her own right." Clavell clarified before Nemona could.

Adam glanced up and down at Nemona, as if newly re-appraising her now. “Nemona, huh... Well, uh... good for you, Champion.” he said flatly as he stood back up, no longer looking quite so interested.

Nemona felt a bit of sweat on her brow. “U-um, hey, don’t let that intimidate‘cha, though! I was just like you, not too long ago! Honest!”

Adam, however, was looking at her family’s little seaside mansion with half-lidded eyes. “Sure.”

“Miss Nemona speaks the truth. Our school is quite proud to have a student so brilliantly passionate among us.”

At that, Adam and Nemona both snorted automatically and covered their mouths.

“Hm? Did I say something amusing...?”

“Nothing.” Adam and Nemona blurted out almost simultaneously. Nemona shot Adam a knowing glance, but he only returned it for a brief moment.

Clavell sighed. “I must say, I do still feel so out of the loop with the youth at times, despite my best efforts.” the Director admitted, pushing up his glasses. “Regardless... Master Adam, I wasn’t expecting to see you follow me here so soon. Shall I take that to mean you have already decided which of these Pokemon you would like to be your first partner?”

“Um, yeah. I think Fuecoco would be the smartest choice, given the types of the first two Gyms, and the potential of its Torch Song when it someday learns that.”

“... I see. You certainly have been doing your homework already, so to speak. Well, er... Fuecoco seems to have taken quite a liking to you as well. This is your first Pokemon, yes? Please do raise it with love and care, even when it is not the correct tactical choice. And of course, be sure to keep it tucked safely within this Poke Ball when it’s time for it to rest. Or if you’re unsure it will behave properly indoors just yet, hoho.”

Adam took the Ball and nodded, before recalling Fuecoco into it and attaching the Ball to his belt. It was officially his now. “Thank you, sir.”

Nemona had her hands clasped together in front of her and stars in her eyes as she watched. A brand new Trainer born before her eyes, like watching an egg hatch! “Adam... I can't believe you actually chose Fuecoco...”

“What do you --”

“I mean, like, way to make the perfect choice for you! You two make such a good combo!"

“... Oh. Uh, based on what? Like... vibes, or...?” Adam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Um... yeah!”

Adam scratched his head awkwardly and shut his eyes, looking irritated. “... Okay.”

Even Nemona could tell this didn’t seem to be going well, but she stuck with it and turned to Clavell to let him know about her plan regardless. “H-hey, um, Director... can I choose one of these Pokemon, too?”

"Oh, but...did you not receive a Pokémon when you enrolled at the academy, Miss Nemona?"

Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as the conversation went on without him.

"Not back then, no! I had other Pokémon I was focused on raising at the time. But now I want to raise a new Pokémon alongside Adam while he raises his own new partner!"

“... Huh? What, like... just pretending you’re a new trainer?” Adam asked flatly.

“Yeah! I’ve been meaning to relive my first Gym Challenge anyway, and I’d love to have a rival along the way!”

Adam huffed, shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. Nemona seemed to have struck a nerve she was unaware of. “... I get a say in this too, don’t I?”

“Um, well, yeah... I just thought it’d be nice to final-- t-to make a new friend today, though.”

“I’m sure someone like you has plenty already.”

Nemona’s gut twisted a bit. “Uh, well, um, I just wanna help out, too!” she continued desperately.

The irritated boy took a deep, weary breath. “I don’t know how much fun I’m going to have with someone who’s already done all this stuff breathing down my neck and talking my ear off.”

“Aw, c’mon, pleeeaaase? It’s not like that...”

“Go pick on somebody your own size.”

“What do you mean, ‘pick on’...?”

“Master Adam --” Clavell began, attempting to intervene.

“What reason would somebody like you have to give up what you’ve got and pretend we’re equals? You just want to lord over me, puff yourself up about how much better than me you are, try to tell me what to do... Something. I just know you’re up to something. Can’t you go buy yourself some friends?”

Nemona’s eyes widened and blood ran colder with every word. Her stomach felt like it had dropped right on through the ground into the cave system below. Where did all that even come from? If even a complete stranger could be like this to her now... what hope did she have left? “No, no, it’s not like that--” she said again shakily, stepping forward and reaching a hand toward Adam, who just took a step backward in response. Was she really that bad? Was he afraid of her now? No, no, no...

Director Clavell blocked Nemona with his arm before she could get any further, but his eyes were laser focused on the boy in front of him.

“Ahem! Master Adam! While you are as free as any of us to do as you see fit on your personal journey, and your boundaries are you own... I must ask you to please be more respectful of your fellow student, especially one merely trying to be your friend. Her idea would be quite a charming one, if I were a student in your position. Would you not appreciate having a peer take you under her wing as you get used to your new life here, making some memories together right from your very first day of school? It is quite presumptuous to believe she would do any of the things you have accused her of. Show a smidge of good faith, would you?”

Adam stood his ground for a moment, glaring at the two of them like they were about to jump him, but he sighed in resignation and unclenched his fists. Whatever awoke in him seemed to have quieted down, maybe out of fear of the Director. Adam shut his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “... I... I see your point. I uh, apologize for my remarks, Director. And... Miss President. It’s, uh... nothing personal. I would rather go it alone, though.”

“... Okay. That’s... perfectly fine.” Nemona responded weakly, each word squeakier than the last, and gulped.

“Hmph. Very well... I’ll check in to be sure you had a safe trip to school on your own then, Master Adam. And I’ll be having a quick word with your mother about these ‘remarks’ once I’m done with my business here.” Clavell said sternly.

“Yes sir...” Adam grumbled as he set off alone toward Poco Path. “Teacher’s pet...” he muttered, too low for an old man’s ears to pick up.

Nemona still stood dumbfounded next to the Director. The excitement she had a few minutes ago had drained away into the hint of tears in her eyes. Why had it turned out this way? “I... I’m sorry...”

“What? Miss Nemona, you’ve done nothing wrong...?”

“Then why... why does this --” she tried to say, then gave up and wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to save face. “Okay... I just... ugh.”

Clavell looked a bit unsure of what to do in this situation -- Nemona had never let him see her this upset before. The old man hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. “It seems he was... a bit intimidated and anxious because of the way I’d spoken of you. If anything, that was a mistake on my part, even if... it was certainly not an expected reaction. It is I who should be deeply sorry to you, if it cost you a friend.”

Nemona sniffled again and shook her head. “No, no... I can’t ask you to pretend I’m someone else, Director. I don’t think Adam was ever going to like me anyway.”

Clavell gazed down at the confused Sprigatito and Quaxly looking back up at the two of them, as he sighed and gave Nemona’s shoulder a couple small pats.

“... Perhaps not. But I will not stand to hear it as any fault of your own. His solitude is his loss. But people can change... especially if they find themselves haunted by regrets.”

Nemona lost track of how long he kept holding her shoulder as she kept gazing emptily at nothing in particular.

“... Er, before we forget, Miss Nemona... would it cheer you up if I still offered you one of these Pokemon?” he offered with a sympathetic smile.

Nemona was suddenly jolted back to reality by the reminder that the two remaining little buddies were still there, and joined the Director in looking down at them. She sighed as well and knelt down, letting the old man’s hand fall slack against his side. She was so tempted to say she wasn’t in the mood for her new adventure anymore and just leave, but... she couldn’t say no to that little Sprigatito’s face. This wasn’t its fault either, after all. She petted the little grass cat with a bittersweet smile as the Quaxly clung to familiar Clavell’s ankle. Nemona was planning on picking a Grass-type to make things easier for that boy’s Fire-type, but maybe he would have just found it patronizing. Or maybe he would have thought she was bullying him if she picked the Water-type. It seemed like maybe there was no right answer. Maybe this was just always going to happen to her and there was no point obsessing on it. She’d just have to find bits of joy wherever she could.

“... Yeah, I’ll take this one. Thanks, Director...” Nemona said without any of the usual life in her voice.

Clavell solemnly reached down to hand Nemona the Poke Ball for Sprigatito, unsure if she would be getting back up anytime soon, and she accepted it. After a moment, she did in fact stand up and recall her new Pokemon quietly. Clavell similarly returned his Quaxly to its Ball and tucked it into his coat for another day.

“... May I ask a delicate question, Miss Nemona?”

“... Go ahead, sir.”

“Does this... sort of thing happen to you often?” the Director asked in a low voice. “This brand of... open hostility towards your, er, social standing and achievements?”

Her eyes widened and and she glanced away. “Huh? Um... not... really...” she lied.

“... I assure you that your answer will be quite confidential when I resume speaking with your parents.” he clarified, pushing his glasses to his brow. “However, I cannot escape the feeling that much of the events that transpire at our school occur hidden from my watch.”

Nemona took a deep breath. “It’s fine, I’ll find somebody. I just need to be... different. Or something.”

Clavell blinked. “You... do have friends your own age, do you not? I recall seeing you quite often with Master Arven or Master Aliquis in the schoolyard...”

Nemona staggered for a moment at that question. It was a wonder she kept standing. “... They... they both got tired of me. I don’t know if they were really ever my friends. They just... thought it was really important to beat me in a battle, and got really angry when they couldn’t. And when I started taking it easier on them or trying to help and encourage them, they... they told me I was being patronizing and rude, and got even angrier. They stopped returning my calls, too...”

“Ah... and here I’d assumed it was typically you who initiated those battles, given your passion for them.”

Nemona stood up straight, closed her eyes to take another deep breath, and pulled her glove on tighter. “At least my Pokemon like me! Don’t know what I’d do without ‘em!” She said in her usual bright and happy tone.

The young Champion put away her new Sprigatito’s Poke Ball and pulled out a different one, releasing her Cyclizar in front of the villa. Rather than get onto its back just yet, however, she just knelt down with her arms outstretched. “Right, buddy?”

The lizard Pokemon stepped up and gave her a hug without hesitation, despite the awkward tire-like sac on its chest. A smile slowly crept back onto her face as she closed her eyes and soaked in the moment. “Yeah... love you too, li’l guy.”

Clavell looked away sadly. “So... this does indeed happen often.”

Nemona didn’t respond, other than a deep breath through her nose. She continued to cling to Cyclizar.

“... I can make some time to discuss this with you privately this evening, if you’d like. Right now, I’m afraid I’m falling behind schedule for everyone else. In the meantime... please do not be afraid to reach out to the other adults in your life, Miss Nemona. Take care.”

“If they have time for me.” She muttered under her breath.

Clavell lingered and looked back at her for a moment, before sighing and heading for the door back into the villa. He probably heard that one.

“... You take care too, Director.” Nemona finally added at the last second before he went back inside. He was right, Mother and Father were probably tired of waiting for him by now. She’d been holding him up. Stupid, needy, pathetic girl, never happy with what she had...

Nemona picked up the riding gear she’d been keeping in front of the villa until it was time to go and strapped it onto Cyclizar’s back. She still wasn’t in the mood to start a new Pokemon team with Sprigatito, at least not today. It’d remind her too much of how much fun she could be having if she just had a friend. Nope, with how she felt right now, she was just gonna skip the exercise potential and zoom straight to her dorm room at Uva, dump her bags and pockets wherever, and crash in bed until she didn’t feel quite as awful. Normally when she was in a mood like this, she’d train one of her Pokemon against a whole outbreak of powerful wild ones, like in a martial arts movie or something, to clear her head. But today, a nap sounded better. Or at least easier.

She’d been rolling the Director’s advice around in her head for a minute too, though... and took out her solid black Rotom Phone to consider dialing La Primera. No, no, Geeta was probably just as busy as Clavell was, especially today. She sighed and let it float back into her pocket before getting on Cyclizar and riding off down Poco Path.

She pretended she didn’t see Adam poking around in the bushes by the road with Fuecoco as they passed him.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvio #nemona pokemon #nemona #pokemon fanfiction #nemonaposting #hamfiction #nemona the unrivaled #it gets better for her soon i swear

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prismatica-the-strange · 13 days

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Nope, I'm still crying

#i wish literally anybody from school remembered me #literally only 2 people i was friends with hace talked to me in the past four years #i had the realization tonight that i was never given the choice to nurture most of my friendships #everytime i tried outside of school hours including trying to join clubs my mom would make me leave halfway through then lecture me #that she didn't have time to drive to town and get me #but as soon as my brother wanted to join junior air force she suddenly had all the time and energy in the world to devote to that #so what I'm getting here is that my friendships and interests weren't important enough or worth her time #i wasn't interested in Junior air force 1 cause it wasn't offered to me and 2 I'm not a boit licker #no #i was interested in the video game and board game clubs cause my friends were in them and they WANTED me to join #but after not getting to stay for more than one full session after a month i left the board game club cause it wasn't fair to the others #and i only went to the video game clu once and i don't remember much of it cause i was too anxious that she was gonna flip on me #i kept waiting for her text but instead she showed up at the classroom and made me leave #so when the same teacher that ran the board game club asked if i wanted to join the chess club cause he knew i liked chess #i told him i couldn't cause i was too busy because i didn't want to deal with begging my mom to let me join #she would have said yes but would have continued not letting me stay and being super passive aggressive #I'm not even in the year book for the year my friends graduated #the one thing she did let me do was drama and i hated every second of it. it was genuinely a bad experience for me #yeah i had friends in drama but it's not the same as hanging with my nerdy guy friends playing a star wars ttrpg #the worst part is she gets so defensive when i bring it up and won't give me a reason outside of 'I guess I'm just the worst parent'#it's in those moments i really remember she's the youngest in her family #OH!! it gets worse! she told me when i was younger that she had to be an honorary cheer leader cause HER MOM absolutely refused to #let her join cheer and she's alsways been bitter about it but then she turns around and did basically the same thing to me ffs #at least she was allowed to hang out with people after-school i wasn't allowed to do that either #no. instead i spent the hours after shcool alone most days and my weekends home alone in my room. and she wonders why my social skills are #maybe if I'd been allowed to work on my relationships outside of a classroom i wouldn't have felt so abandoned when everyone i knew #graduated without me. maybe if i didn't have to start back at square one socially again and had people to text and hang with after class #i wouldn't have dropped out. and i think only atlas knows i dropped out. idk how to text these people without spunding like I'm looking for #sympathy when they ask what I'm up to. like yeah I'm stuck at home with an anxiety disorder and unemployed trying to get on disability #prisma vents

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osaemu · 8 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ CAN I PUT YOU ON HOLD? ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. cunniligus, lil' bit of dirty talk and more... i'm too tired to type it all out </3

author's note: idk personally i wouldn't take that.. but i guess i would if it was satoru. anywaysss enjoy

satoru's a busy man — balancing his responsibilities as a teacher and as a sorcerer is no easy task, but he finds a way to make it work.

anyone who's known him for longer than a minute can easily tell that satoru's committed to his line of work. as much as he complains about it, the truth is that it's one of his top priorities. maybe even the first one.

and you get a taste of just how devoted satoru is when he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

"hello?" satoru cooes, eyes focused on your indignant expression as he holds a finger to his lips. "yeah, i'm free to talk. what is it?"

"free to talk?" you mouth at him incredulously. satoru replies with a wink and grins, enjoying the show. you're still pinned underneath him, bedsheets haphazardly strewn across your body, and satoru savors the sight of you all needy and pouty.

"yeah, take your time," satoru says amusedly to whoever's on the other side of the phone after a moment. when you reach up and swat satoru's chest indignantly, he uses his free hand to pin your wrists above your head, a clear warning in his eyes.

after a couple of mhm's and of course's, the conversation still isn't over. your patience is waning — who is satoru to just stop in the middle of fucking you to pick up a phone call and say that he's free to talk?

you try to distract yourself by thinking about the mindblowing sex you were having just minutes ago. the longing, glassy stares; the red scratch marks down satoru's back; and of course you couldn't leave out the words.

"fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetheart." "atta girl, you're a natural slut, aren't ya?" "your pussy was made to be fucked by me, wasn't it?"

how did that turn into "yeah, make sure the higher-ups know about this, otherwise they'll give me hell for it. mhm"?

after another bland minute, satoru rolls off of you and sits up with his back against the headboard, sheets falling to expose everything from his waist up.

you whine in impatience, glaring at him like a sullen child. satoru basically just edged you — one second you're about to get to best orgasm of your life, the next you're forced to watch your boyfriend chat on the phone nonchalantly as if he wasn't just moaning your name like a slut three minutes earlier.

satoru shoots a glare at you and pats his lap, pressing a finger to his lips as a reminder to stay quiet.

well then, he shouldn't have picked up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

you scoot yourself into his lap, purposefully positioning yourself so that your pussy just barely rubs against the head of satoru's still-dripping cock.

it's so worth it when you hear satoru inhale a sharp breath and start to squirm under you, somehow both trying to push himself inside but also trying to inch himself away. it's like he can't decide, but the way his face flushes red speaks volumes.

his voice is breathier than normal as he squeezes his watery eyes shut. "yeah yeah, that's perfect. you mind if i put y'on hold for a sec? alright, thanks."

you glance over at satoru as he retracts the phone from his ear and puts it on mute. not even a second later, he's back on you, manhandling you into a position where he can comfortably eat your pussy, a cheeky smile on his lips.

"you think you're so fucking funny, don't ya?" satoru cooes, looking up at you as he eats you out sloppily. a mixture of his saliva and your essence drips down his chin, and the lewd sounds slipping from his lips are pornworthy. the wail that slips out of your lips when satoru bites down on your thigh hard enough to leave a mark is anything but appropriate, especially when he presses his lips back to your pussy and laughs in the middle of tonguefucking you.

"fuck, you're so lucky my phone's on mute right now," satoru groans, still buried in between your thighs. "god, if my old man could hear you now—"

"your dad's on the other end of the phone?!" you gasp, swatting satoru's head and frantically reaching over him to check if the phone was actually on mute — knowing satoru, it could've just slipped his mind. intentionally.

satoru scowls, muttering a reminder for you to stay still while he eats his dessert before rolling his eyes and grumbling "what does it matter?"

"uh, that's embarrassing!" you whine. when satoru nudges his nose against you again, you reluctantly spread your thighs for him so he can continue his meal. satoru mumbles a thanks, but he doesn't respond beyond that.

"satoru!"

"what??"

"don't you have to finish your call?"

satoru sticks out his bottom lip, fixing his cerulean eyes on you and pouting. "you were just complaining about the call and now you want me to go back??"

"it's your dad, satoru," you groan, pushing his shoulders away from your legs and ignoring his protests. "you don't get any more pussy until you finish that damn call."

"i hate you."

"love you lots, baby."

satoru sighs dramatically and unmutes the call, not bothering to respond to his dad's questions with answers longer than a word or two. after another minute of this, his dad finally hangs up and satoru lets out an elated cheer.

he turns to you with a mischievous smirk.

"now, where were we?"

#osaemu #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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dc-bitchin · 7 months

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the last post I just reblogged had a tiny moment of a very knowing Lois catching on to Tim's feelings for kon and I just. they should get to bond over having shitty dads in canon they SHOULD GET TO

#lois: listen... i know it sucks. i know you want better from him. i know you want him to be better FOR you.#and he should be! he should be better if he loves you. but the thing is... you gotta try too.#shutting him out immediately... being all snappy and pissy right from the get-go... i get it. you're keeping your defenses up.#you're expecting the worst from him because that's all you've been *made* to expect #but if you want better from him... you have to reach out too. you have to *try.*#and... listen. if he doesn't change even *after* you try? if he doesn't get better?#and you've put in too much effort for any apology to be worth it?#then you're fully in your rights to just. pack up and leave once you hit 18. you don't *have* to give any attention that he doesn't.#but if you *want* it to change. you gotta try. otherwise? you're gonna be looking back at it and wishing you had #tim: ...... *starts fucking bawling*#LISTEN i think the way jake drake is written as a tragedy is so. so. gawd #he only started trying to be better for tim after they had gone through so much pain #and then #and THEN #RIGHT AS THINGS WERE STARTING TO GET BETTER #HE DIED #DO I THINK HE EVER WOULD HAVE FULLY APPLOGIZED FOR HOW ABSENT AND DISTANT AND UNCARING HE WAS???#NO! BUT!!!! HE WAS FUCKING TRYING!!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PARENTS DO NOT DO THAT!!!!#is this me projecting my own fatherly issues? maybe. mind your business #lois lane #tim drake #those are the only tags i'm using i don't feel like brainstorming for tags rn aldjsjs #anyways. they should get to bond over kind of shitty dads

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gojonanami · 2 months

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❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌) ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS YOU TAKE CARE OF NANAMI ALL YOUR LIFE -- AND HE DOES THE SAME FOR YOU ? ❞

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, hurt / comfort w/ a happy ending, domesticity, jjk canon compliant au (because nanami is alive) reader is the same age as nanami, set during through the events of star plasma vessel to end of jjk, nanami getting hurt and reader taking care of him, reader gets a cold and nanami takes care of her, jealous! nanami, kitchen counter sex, soft dom! nanami, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing

✧ wc: 7,657

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 3 has been sold to two anons!

“Show me,” Nanami furrows his brow in reply, jaw set as he glares, but he knew no amount of staring would get you to let this go. You stood in the doorway of his dorm room — your room was clear across on the other side where the girls resided, so he wondered for a split second how you knew he returned when it had barely been an hour, but answered his own question without having to utter a word (Haibara).

“It’s not bad. It’ll heal by itself—“ and you’re shaking your head, and his lips purse, “it really isn’t worth speaking to Ieiri about — it’s not a wound, just a bruise—“

But still you stood, as immovable as ever — and he finally relented, unbuttoning his jacket, as he shrugged it off, unable to hide his wince as he revealed the large bruise that colored his skin in red, his skin peeling and angry, and surely would turn into a lovely mish-mash of purple and blue.

You brush past him into the dorm room, as you brought a first aid kit in, setting it on the bed, turning your head before tilting it as if to say, “well?”

He repents, as he always did with you — he knew a battle of wills with you was as unwinnable as a battle of jujutsu with Gojo — not to mention needlessly frustrating. He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed to the floor, as you grabbed a washcloth from the kit, heading for his bathroom. He hears the sounds of water running, and the squeak of the faucet closing.

You return as you lift his arm slightly, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to his shoulder.

Your touch is gentle — Nanami was always surprised at how gentle you always were. With the line of work you all did, it was easy to be rough, to find smooth edges corroded and jagged, but no, you remained as smooth and soft as you always were.

He flinches when you bring the wet washcloth to raw skin, and you’re careful even as you seemingly pick out pieces of gravel and dirt stuck in his flesh. And you frown at the sight of it, doing your best to clean every bit.

“So what happened?” you ask, and he gives a terse chuckle.

“Didn’t Haibara tell you?” And you shrug, “I know he told you we’re back,” and your lips curl ever so slightly as your eyes meet him, a small amount of mirth returning.

“Maybe I’m just a stalker,” and he can’t bite back the small smile on his lips, “Haibara told me you didn’t go to Ieiri, and that you got hurt protecting him on your mission,”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, “Ieiri was busy dealing with Haibara, he got it worse than I did—“

“Even if your injury is less serious, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself,” and he sighs, as his eyes slide to you, “you need to learn to care about yourself, Nanami,”

And he knew you were right on some level — he didn’t have a delusion of invincibility and he also didn’t have a strong enough desire to strive to be stronger, but — his fingers grasp at his sheets —that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends die. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, and you don’t meet his gaze when he looks over at you, your brow set in concentration, “it’s not important—“

“Nanami, you don’t ever seem to value yourself properly,” you finish cleaning his arm, before grabbing bandages and tape from the kit, “you are important — even if you don’t think you are,”

And he opens and shuts his mouth — before a smile pulls at his lips — you were far too kind, especially for a jujutsu sorcerer.

And then you add, “and if you don’t get your wounds tended to, I’m going to tell Gojo you want to take a sweets tour of Tokyo,”

…maybe he spoke too soon.

~~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly during training?” You offer Nanami a makeshift ice pack, a small cloth wrapped up with ice from his freezer, and his lips pursed in disgust as his reply, “ah, Gojo,” the mattress shifted under his weight as he sat,

“That arrogant idiot,” Nanami grumbled, as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his head, “his excuse was that he didn’t know his own strength — he’s lucky that he had infinity or I would have—“

You chuckle, “You know he’s just messing with you, it’s just because you react,” and he scowls at his floor of his room, as if his carpet was the six eyes sorcerer itself, “he’s not so bad—“

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth parted in disbelief, “Are you defending him right now?” And you chuckle, as you lean back against the side of his bed, your head leaning back against the soft comforter that you had bought him and guaranteed would help him sleep better (it only guaranteed that you would be asleep underneath it half the time they spent in his dorm relaxing).

You wave him off, “Lower your blood pressure. I’m not defending him, I’m just saying, it can’t be easy being the strongest — all those eyes on you, the way people treat you, the—”

“The weight of your overinflated ego that you have to carry around—” and you roll your eyes, and the action bites at his last nerve, because he thought if anyone would have his back, it would be you — the next words spit like venom out of his mouth, “I thought you were better than those girls that moon over Gojo,”

And he regrets the words as they leave his lips, as you stare at him wordlessly — not with anger, but frustration — which hurts all the more, “If I was so in love with Gojo, then why am I with you instead of him?” He doesn’t have a reply as you rise to your feet and make your way out the door, the click of the door far too deafening, leaving him with a throbbing in his head — but not just from being hurt.

His fingers curled tighter around the ice pack. Because why—why did the thought of you liking Gojo make his chest ache—the idea of your care and time spent on someone else, not even Gojo, but anyone else, made his stomach churn at the idea.

He had told himself when he decided to become a sorcerer, he would do anything to avoid relationships — even friendships if he could do so. When you work a job like this, it can only end in disaster. but— his eyes slide to the closed door you had just left through.

Why did this feel so much worse?”

~~~

“You can’t stay here all night,” your voice cuts through the silence of the morgue — the only life left in the room. Because he too had died along with Haibara.

Or rather he should have.

He kept the towel over his eyes, unmoving from his chair, head resting back against the cold metal — as if it would protect him — from seeing Haibara sliced half over and over, last words dying on his lips said in pure chaos but somehow Nanami could still hear them ring in his ears— just as the sick crumple of his torso hitting the ground after being ripped from his body. The words leaving his lips as the last vestiges of life left his body, fingers twitching as his lips moved—

You got it from here.

The hopeful optimism from a person seconds before death did little to comfort him. Not when that person should have been the one who lived. He had the one thing that was so rare in his shit world of jujutsu — kindness—

The very thing that left half his body lying against a metal slab.

“I can’t leave until…” he trails off, he didn’t wish to leave until his body was inspected and then taken to be…disposed of. He knew it was for the best that his body is turned to ash, but it made it no easier to consider the person that he knew to be his best friend would be nothing but ash in a few hours time, “I won’t leave him alone,”

You nod, and the silence makes him wonder if you’re leaving, but instead he hears footsteps and the slight scraping of a metal chair against the floor. And he feels the slight brush of you beside him as you sit.

And you don’t say a thing. The only thing is that your fingers brush his tentatively and when he doesn’t pull away you intertwine them. And that’s enough—for now.

Until they take his body away.

A sorcerer glances at the two of you, “Do either of you have contact with next of kin? We need to notify—“

“I’ll handle it,” Nanami says, the towel pulled away from his gaze, hoping his dark bags and red tinged eyes aren’t noticeable to you, but he sees the purse of your lips and knows they are.

The sorcerer shifts, “Have you considered asking his family for—“

“That’s not an option,” Nanami cuts him off with a stare, and the sorcerer parts his mouth before shutting it again with a nod, “okay, please allow us to take his body,”

And they do, pulling the sheet down ever so slightly that Nanami sees a flash of his face — no hint of that smile he always unfailingly had on his lips — it too was gone, just like he was. And they carefully wheel his body away — assumedly to be burned. And the door swings shut behind them — leaving only him and you. Silence hangs over the room, the finality of the moment leaves nothing in its wake but regret.

And regret only felt hollow — just as his heart did.

You choose to break the silence, a shaky sigh leaving your throat, as you quickly scrub tears away from your face, clearing your throat, “Come on, let’s go—”

“You can go ahead, I’m going to stay here for a while,” and your eyes try to find his own, but he still stares at the spot where Haibara’s body had laid for hours. The essence of cursed energy was almost too easy to understand compared to the concept of death — a person can be living, breathing, and talking one day to be nothing but a husk the next. And now, he knew it would be a lifetime of feeling as if something is missing — as if something was wrong — and moments where it felt fine would be overcome by only guilt and anger.

What was the point of all of this? His fingers formed into fists, nails digging into his palms — were they nothing but pawns to be used in an unending game that forced sorcerers to not only to put their lives on the line, but their colleagues as well. A twisted game that only ended in a pile of corpses.

“Nanami, you can’t stay here all night—”

“I’m fine,” he rubs at his temples — and how long would it be until he’s staring at your body on that slab? Or maybe you’d be staring at his own—crying over his body just as he had done for Haibara, “you can go—”

“I’m not leaving you, and you shouldn’t stay here — you need sleep—”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he snaps, his gaze meets yours, “I’m not injured, I didn’t even get hurt— ”

“Yes you did,” you say quietly, as you step closer to him, but his eyes refuse to meet your own.

“No—” and your hand finds his chest.

“This pain is worse than any physical pain you could put in — and I wouldn't leave you to deal with a bruise by yourself, so what makes you think I’d leave you now?” you say softly, and tears burn at his eyes, as your hands gently pull him into your arms, his head buried against your chest, “I’m not leaving you, Nanami,” you murmur quietly, as your fingers slowly run through his hair.

And you didn’t — he was the one who left you.

~~~~

You never get sick. That’s what you loved to brag about — especially yesterday when you got home from spending an entire two days in the rain soaking wet and ice cold without a hint of cold symptoms.

You supposed your bragging was a curse in and of itself because now you were buried under your comforter. You barely manage to text Shoko that you’re sick and you won’t be able to make it to class today. And now you had to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed to take your medication or to simply sleep it off.

But your body made the choice for you as your eyes fluttered shut and you slipped into a fitful sleep, body burning from the inside out.

Consciousness faded in and out, as you felt something brush against your forehead, your eyes heavy as they open ever so slightly, a flash of blue and blond, before you fall back into sleep.

Your head aches, muscles heavy, and the smell of spices wafted through the apartment, “Are you finally awake?” a voice said, as your eyes flutter open, still burning at the corners as your head turns.

“Nanami?” You croak out, throat raw and dry, as if your flesh was raked across coals, “what are you—“

He turns his head from your kitchenette — a ladle in hand, before he sets it down, wiping his hand with a dishcloth. And he steps over to your bed, pulling the washcloth from your forehead, before placing a cold washcloth, “your fever went down a little,” he said, “but I brought cold medicine and I made some soup for you,”

“You didn’t—“

“Have to?” his lips quirked up, “I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to,”

“How did you know I was—“ and his eyes find yours, “Shoko,” and he nods, you relax back into your bed, “how long have you been here?”

He turns back around to finish cooking the soup for you, stirring, the metal of the ladle slightly clinking against the sides of the pot, his eyes flicker to your clock, “About an hour and half, hasn’t been too long,”

“Why are you taking care of me?” you mumble, glancing at his back, as he lifted the ladle to pour into a small bowl to taste the seasoning of the soup, “you don’t owe me anything—“

“I owe you a lot,” he cuts you off, the clatter of the bowl against the counter as he sets it down, the click of the stovetop as he shut it off, “but that’s not the reason I did it,” and your brow is furrowing under the washcloth, as he walks over to you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Then why?”

And he raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think?” And his fingers brush your cheek, “you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have, otherwise I would have left, a long time ago,” and you don’t know how it’s possible for your face to grow warmer but it does from his words and his touch that lingers against your cheek.

And he’s gone as quickly as he came, going over to the stove to take out a bowl of soup for you to drink, “can you stay after I finish eating? Until I fall asleep?” You ask, as he brings the bowl over, as you sit up slowly, head spinning as you do still.

“Of course,” and he does, staying by your side after you eat and take your medicine, hearing your quiet murmur, “thank you, Kento,”

And he realizes, as his lips curl into a smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, just how much he liked hearing his name on your lips.

~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself on our last mission together as students?” you sigh, the worry in your voice making his lips curl — as the two of you had just found yourselves in his dorm room, as you rifle through his bathroom to pull out the first aid kit you had given him (after you had learned he didn’t own one).

You return to him sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand up in such a way that he didn’t drip blood all over his sheets. Your fingers brush his own, and he’s still surprised at how soft your hands are. His hands had grown rough from the years of jujutsu, calloused from the grip of his fingers around his blade handle, but somehow, yours were always as soft as he remembered them.

Your fingers found his, warmth blooming as your brow wrinkled as you scruntized the cut on his hand, “Maybe we should ask Shoko to look at it—”

“There wasn’t any cursed energy that cut me — it was just—”

“Debris, I know,” and this seemingly did little to soothe your worries, had gotten when pushing you out of the way of the curse, “I had it handled — you shouldn’t have dove in—”

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad—” but your glare cuts off his sentence, as you begin to clean the wound.

You shake your head, “What am I going to do with you? Every time you go on a mission, I’m going to be worrying about what trouble you’re going to get yourself into,”

He’s silent, his eyes unable to meet yours — he can’t keep hiding this from you. He had made the decision months ago — and it was only a matter of time before someone else slipped up and told you (most likely Gojo).

“I’m leaving after graduation,” he says the words like ripping off the bandage, but it hurts him all the more when your fingers are still for a moment, your eyes finding his own, as you stare at him.

“You’re—” you cut off, and you don’t protest, you don’t argue — you only ask one question — “Why?”

And that one question was more difficult to answer than any other you could have asked, a sigh stuck in his throat, as he shook his head.

“I can’t do this anymore — I haven’t wanted to since—” he cuts off, mouth impossibly dry — it was easy to tell Yaga he wasn’t going to continue, even easier to take care of half a dozen grade 2 curses at once — but this was— “I can’t stand by and watch my colleagues die one by one beside me — I don’t want to live like this. I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Kento,” his heart squeezes at the sound of your voice wrapped around his name — what you had taken to calling him recently — “as long it’s what you want. I know it’s been difficult—I was surprised you hadn’t left when—” and your voice falters, neither of you could bear to bring up his name, refusing to even utter it around the other — as if it would summon every horrible memory from that time—and your voice is soft, “I just want you to be happy,”

And there’s nothing more than he wanted to be the one to make you happy — nothing more than he wanted to ask you to be by his side, let him be the one to take care of you, and nothing more he wanted than to ask you to leave with him—

But that was the one thing he could never ask you to do.

Just as you would never ask him to stay for you.

“I want you to be happy too,” he murmurs, as you continue to clean his cut, before your fingers are moving to grab the bandages, slowly beginning to wrap them around his palm, “more than even myself,”

“What’s new?” he wrinkled his brow, and you chuckle, “I mean, you never put yourself first, and I’m glad you are now. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not….here,” and you finish bandaging his hand, but his fingers curl around yours, “Ken—“

He squeezes your hand softly and his words are just as soft, “You would be the only one who could ever make me happy,” and he hears your breath catch, and it only makes him want to steal it from your lips with his own, “because I know that being by your side would be only thing that could satisfy me,”

Your fingers brush against his cheek, “Too bad I’m apparently in love with Gojo—“ you tease, all too pretty smile as you do, and his lips draw even closer, “Kento—“

“And if you’re so in love with Gojo, why are you here with me?” And he waits, waits for you to pull away, to stop him, to show any indication you didn’t want this—

But you close the gap instead, lips barely brushing his, so chaste, and yet it’s a spark to kindling — a fire neither of you should have lit. And yet, his lips find yours, insistent, his fingers cup your cheek, featherlight touch drawing a shiver down your body that he relishes in.

“Kento—“

“Why is it my name on your lips?” And he kisses you again and again, your noses brushing each other’s, he’s murmuring your name like a prayer, and if it was, he would worship at your altar each day, “Why it is that you’re kissing me?”

And your lips curl against his, as they find his again, “You kissed me first,” and he can taste the sweetness of the melon bread you had shared with him that morning, but something even sweeter that only be you, “so why did you do that?”

But you knew why — especially from the smile gracing your features, one that he wished he could have etched in the inside of his mind, “Isn’t it obvious?” and your lips part to answer, but he cuts you off with another brush of your lips, “I love you,”

And your eyes widen only slightly, but you’re kissing him again, arms curling around his neck, fingers sliding behind his neck — “Figured that out when you got jealous of Gojo, but I’m glad you admitted it,” and your forehead finds his, “and that I love you too,”

You loved him — you loved him — he had to tell himself again and again, but he still couldn’t fathom it. Was it a dream? You were always a dream to him — something he could nearly grasp with his fingers, but always remained just out of reach.

And now he held you in his hands and he never wanted to let go. But he had to — he knew he had to.

So he would — even if it would hurt — hurt that no bandage would fix.

He kissed you again, unless you were the one to place it.

“Why is it that I always find you like this?” Nanami’s eyes slowly met yours — he sat in Ieiri’s office, waiting to be seen, only find you there in the doorway instead, “it’s as if you’re asking to be patched up by me, Kento,”

How long had it been? And somehow he knows the answer before even thinking about it — it had been nearly a decade. A decade since the two of you had graduated — you moving to Kyoto to help run the campus there, while he had moved onto a regular college and then a corporate job — one that had nearly sucked his soul dry of any life he had to begin with. And it was only when he had received gratitude for the first time in a long time — that he remembered the reason he had stayed a jujutsu sorcerer after Haibara…

And now, here was the other.

He murmurs your name, nearly sounding foreign on his lips, “How did you—”

“I ran into your student, Nanamin,” and he furrows his brow at the nickname — Itadori’s little name for him after he had refused to be his sensei. Because he wasn’t one — Gojo may have taken up the mantle of teacher for his own personal ego trip — but he wasn’t ready to form relationships like that. And yet…his lips curl, there you were, “didn’t think you wanted to be a teacher,”

“I don’t, but how can I refuse that white haired idiot?” he half grumbled with a sigh, eyes still slowly grazing over you, “but I don’t want to talk about him right now,”

You draw a step closer, shutting the door behind you, a lilt in your voice as lovely as your grin, “Then what do you want to talk about?” and you stop right in front of him, as your fingers reach out, and he’s nearly leaning into your touch, but he’s wincing, as your fingers press against his bruised body, “because I want to talk about how you ended up in such rough shape,”

A sigh stuck in his throat, his next words nearly along with it, “It could have been much, much worse,” he murmurs, “if Itadori wasn’t there, I—” he breaks off, “that special grade — he could touch my soul and it had caught me in its domain—”

And your arms are pulling you into a tight hug, your fingers running through his hair, “But you’re here, you’re okay,” you murmur softly, your palm pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pump under your fingers, “you made it,”

“But—”

“But nothing, Kento, you’ll make it back every time,” your fingers cup his cheek, pressing your forehead against his, “right?”

Your touch was the only thing that could truly make him feel whole again — as if every crack in his soul had been mended with gold, “how do you know?”

And your lips curl into a soft smile, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Because you love me, right?”

The chuckle on his lips is nearly enough to bite back his nerves as the words leave his lips, “I’ve loved you for years, sweetheart, that’s nothing new,”

You’re shaking your head, “And all these years, we always found our way back to the other, right?” your hand finds purchase on his shoulder now, the other against his cheek, “so we just have to keep doing that,”

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmurs, and your lips find his — and it makes him wonder how he had spent so much time without your touch, because right now it was the only thing keeping him whole — stealing the doubts from his head and the aches from his body — leaving only heat filling the empty gaps left behind.

“It is simple,” your hand interlaces with his, “if we let be.”

~~~

“I’m starting to think you hurt yourself on purpose around me more now that we’ve moved in together,” you examine the small cut on his finger, a nick from the knife that the ratio sorcerer had been using to slice his freshly baked loaf of bread. Scarlet slipped from the small cut, and his soft murmur of ‘ouch’ unfortunately had not gone unheard by you. He swore you must have selective hearing — you wouldn’t listen when he told you to go to bed, but you’d hear him hiss in pain under his breath even when half asleep on

“It’s not too deep, I think just a bandage should be fine,“ Your brow knit together as you purse your lips, and he bit back his smile, knowing it would only serve for him to get scolded for not being more careful.

“It’s nothing, love, I can take care of it—“ and his breath catches when your lips find their way around his finger, sucking slightly to ease the bleeding, your tongue flicking over the cut, “sweetheart—“ he swears under his breath, a distinct flush burning at the crown of his cheeks, “what—“

“They say saliva can help a cut heal faster,” you smile, before pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit you had pulled out, and your lips press a sweet kiss to his cut again, a smirk as you meet his gaze, “Ken—”

And he’s kissing you, your body tenses a moment only to melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck — he can taste his blood on your lips, raking your fingers through his hair. He can only think about getting closer, closer, closer — he needs you. His hands slide down your back, until they find your hips, squeezing, as he presses himself to you.

“Baby,” you murmur breathlessly, as your lips part his, a gasp that turns to a soft moan when his lips press heated kisses down your jaw. His nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, as he presses you against the counter of his apartment, his hands slide down, large palms grasping your ass, “I need—”

“What do you need?” his fingers sneaking up and down the sides of your body. His teeth graze your pulse, your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, as his tongue soothes the mark he left behind, “because you know I’ll give you anything you ask for, sweetheart,”

And his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter, calloused palms pressing your legs apart — but he barely has to, your thighs already spreading for him. And he finds your shorts nearly soaked through — your drenched cunt visible even through the two layers of fabric stuck together from your arousal.

But you don’t need to ask for him to know what you want — it’s second nature, it’s instinct for his fingers to dip inside the waistband of your shorts and underwear alike, tugging them both down, until you were kicking them off.

“Is all this for me?” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, as two fingers graze down your slit, gathering your pre on his fingertips, before he meets your gaze only to lick his fingers clean, “I was never one for sweets — except when it came to you. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,”

Your head lolls back, as his thick fingers circle your clit with practiced ease, pulling back only to drag his tongue up the length of your needy cunt. And your eyes find his again, heady gaze heavy with need and his pretty lips and chin already glossy with your juices.

“Kento—fuck,” your fingers thread through his blonde locks. First, one finger sinks in and then another —

his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue stretches your walls in tandem with your fingers, grinding against his face, “s’good, I can’t—“

But he’s relentless, the wet squelch of your messy walls and your choked out moans ring in his ears and are nearly enough to make him cum right in his pants — already far too tight, blood rushing downwards far too quick.

Another

“Such a good girl,” Kento murmurs, and you are, so perfect — “just let me take care of you,”

“Kento, please, more, need—“ and his lips find your clit, tongue flicking against the hardened bud, before sucking long and hard, while a third finger joins the other two. Your back arches, the coil in your stomach grows tighter and hotter — your slick dripping from your messy hole onto the counter.

His fingers squeeze at your flesh, and he could live between your legs forever — it could be his meal morning, noon, and night — he could spend hours lapping at you until you fell apart over and over. His fingers stretch you out far too deliciously, and your walls are giving that telltale flutter.

“Kento—g’nna cum—I—“ and his fingers are fucking you harder and his lips close around your clit, sucking hard, until you’re moaning his name, muscles growing tight as you fall apart. You’re a mess, your fingers trying to press his head impossibly closer as you grind against him, riding out your orgasm, as your juices gush over his face — and he’s lapping up every drop, as you fall limp against the counter, his arm slipping around your back to support you.

Your eyes flutter open to watch him pulling away with a pop, strings spit and cum connecting you to your cunt. His gaze drags over you, watching your juices drip against the counter, as he murmurs quiet praises, licking his lips clean of your release.

And your fingers find his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips, the filthiness of it all enough for his cock to grow even harder against your thigh. And it’s a matter of moments, before your fingers are tugging at his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his erection, his pretty cock all but ready for you — lovely ruddy head dripping with pearly white beads of precum.

“Look at what you do to me, love,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his, gaze blown out in lust.

“Kento, please,” and his lips curl, his fingers raking through your hair, as he pulls you even closer, his erection bumping against your sopping pussy, “I want—“

He drags his cock over your slit, watching his pre mix with your release, the two of you groaning when his tip catches on your clit, “what do you want sweetheart? Tell me, tell me what you need,” his arms are hooked around your knees, pressing them to your chest.

You keen when his tip teases your sopping hole, “I need you to fuck me—“ and you’re whining as his cock pressed into you, splitting you open on his length — and god you could never get used to how big he was — you could feel very pretty vein and delicious curve—

Fuck, he could bust just looking down at you, at the way your lips parted for him as he had sunk into you, the way he could see how your pussy stretched around his dick — like you were made for him. Pleasure ripped up his spine at the sight — his fingernails digging crescents into your hips.

And he knew that he was certainly made for you.

“S’good, s’full — please,” you’re nearly mewling, begging for him to move, “Kento—“ and he obliges, unable to hold back any longer, as he begins to slowly rock his hips against you, each stroke getting longer and deeper. His balls slap against your hips, as he picks up the pace — your walls squeezing around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t think you could get any tighter,” he grunts, his cock stuffed inside your walls, and he’s gritting his teeth, your soft moans and the noises of your pretty pussy becoming too much for him. White ring of release formed around his base — his balls growing tight as he inches closer and closer to blow his load, “you always can f’me, can’t you?”

And he gives a particularly hard thrust, right as his lips find yours in a messy, sloppy kiss — all tongue and teeth, your head falls back when his tip finds your g-spot again and again. You squirt all over his length, soaking him and the counter with your release, as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. Your toes curl when he finally comes, his release painting your walls with his thick, hot release — fucking it deeper and deeper, and he’s notching himself inside.

You’re slumping against him, your eyes shut, as he pulls you closer into his arms, pressing sweet kisses all over your face until he finds your lips again.

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open as he cups your chin, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love you more,” and he’s slowly lifting you, carrying you over to your shared bed, and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“But what about your cut?” You mumble, and a chuckle on his lips, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he sets you down on the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth to clean you up.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty,” he murmurs, as he finishes cleaning you up, only to slip into bed beside you — “let me take care of you.”

~~~

It was over.

That’s what Nanami had thought when Mahito had stopped him in his tracks, his hand pressed against his chest, but more importantly, against his soul.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami said, his eyes unable to tear away from the curse’s.

He could barely feel anything anymore — the stinging had dulled somewhere between his trek down the winding tunnels of Shibuya station. Instead, he could only hear the echo of his footsteps, as he had forced himself to take one step forward over and over and over — and that’s when he had seen them.

The congregation of curses or mutated humans — he didn’t know which they were, but did it really matter at this point? It didn’t. He dispatched them all the same — all while his thoughts were only filled of you — you, you, you and you.

And a beach in Malaysia.

“Yeah, Kuantan would have been nice,” and it would have been — it was only a few months away. The vacation the two of you had meticulously planned out. The days spent out walking the beach, lounging by the water with the books neither of you had never read, and nights falling asleep by each other’s side to the metronome of the waves crashing.

And now, he had found himself, staring death in the face — an echo of his near death from only a few months ago. How had it come to this already? He had always felt he was running out of time — constantly watching the clock, trying to run it out for his retirement, only for it to run out before he could make it to those sandy shores he had dreamed of.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips in an easy smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes fall to the floor, the dirtied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to a curse.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees Haibara, appearing in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — horror painted on his face, already so helpless — what else had he seen and now he had to see this too? He shouldn’t have had to see this. He should have been a normal kid — worrying about normal things — not fighting monsters in some damned subway tunnel.

But what could he do about what now? What could he do but stop?

Could he finally stop?

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from—“

And then there’s a crash — screaming, the sound of blood splattering. It takes him a minute to realize it wasn’t him.

It was you.

You had crashed between the two of them, sending the curse flying with your cursed energy, the impact drawing blood from you and Mahito alike. Your arm was around his body — and Nanami is whispering your name.

“I told you, Kento, we’re always going to come home — even if I have to drag you there,” you say, your eyes still flickering between Itadori and Mahito, “Itadori, tske Nanami—“

“No, this is my fight,” he shakes his head, his fingers clenched into fists, “I almost let Nanamin die — I have to do this—“

“Yuji—“ you say, but he’s already barreling towards Mahito, and you’re whispering fuck, as you take Nanami in the opposite direction.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” and his eyes are barely able to stay open, as you help carry his weight alone the deserted subway, “I’m sorry—“

“Why are you sorry—“ but he’s barely awake along enough to hear your question, until it’s all black.

It takes him several months to recover. Cursed energy healing could only do so much, especially since Ieiri was spread thin enough with everything between Shibuya, the Culling Games, and everything else that came after.

Most of the brunt of his care had fallen on you — you changed his bandages, tended to his wounds, dealt with any signs of infection with help from Ieiri, and handled everything else around the house.

“Why do you do all of this for me?” He asks quietly, one day while he sits, your back turned while you washed the dishes from lunch — the clinking of plates and the sound of water running that squeaks shut when he asks.

You turn, lips in a frown, “what do you mean, Kento?”

His fingernails dig into his knee, biting back a sigh, as you walk over after wiping your hands off, “it’s been months of you just…taking care of me. I don’t get it — I didn’t understand when we were students when you insisted on caring for me, and now…” he swallows, his throat still impossibly dry—even after all treatment, nothing still tasted the same, “I’ve just become a burden—“

You cup his cheeks, “Kento, you are never a burden to me—“

“But—“

“But nothing — wouldn’t you do the same for me if I was in your position?” But he’s shaking his head.

“It’s not—“

“Kento, do you remember our first mission together?” he blinks, his brow furrowing, but you only smooth it with your fingers, “it was my first mission — I had barely gotten the hang of using cursed energy — I hadn’t even exorcised a curse before, but as always, jujutsu society had left children to bear the burden of survival amongst themselves,” and your fingers find his, “but you never left me alone. I froze in front of the curse. I didn’t know what to do with myself — even while you dealt with two others on your own — you still managed to save me, even though you managed to hurt yourself in the process,” your voice was soft, your hand finding his, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing his hand — but he’s not sure whether it’s to remind him you’re here or to remind yourself that he’s still here, “and you don’t remember it do you?” his lips purse, as his eyes can’t find yours, gaze cast downwards, but he hears you give a soft chuckle.

“I look at you and I see all the ways a soul can bruise — because you’ve taken hits that weren’t yours to take — you’ve taken challenges that shouldn’t have been yours to bear,” your fingers skim over his cheeks, “even in what you thought were your last moments,” your voice breaks, swallowing back tears, “your thoughts were of others — of helping your students, of Itadori, of me—” you shake your head, “and you think I’m doing too much for you? I think you deserve so much more than me—“

“All I need is you,” his voice is breaking, swallowing thickly, “that’s all I ever wanted,”

“Then just stay here with me — that would be enough for me,” you lean close and press your lips to his — and even still, the taste of your kiss was never any less sweet, “all I want is to come home to you, you think you can handle that?”

His lips find yours again, as they always would, “I’ll show you.”

~~~

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” and Nanami chuckles, his hands hooked around your knees and thighs, as your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting on one of his shoulders, “Kentoooo, you don’t have to—“

“I want to, and I’m not going to risk it getting any worse by letting you walk on the sand — the sunset was painting the water in hues of gold, pinks, and purples — and the beauty of this beach was only made better by your presence, “just let me do this for you, love,” and you sigh, relenting, as you bury your face in the side of his neck.

“My husband is so doting, just a small cut on sea glass makes you this crazy?” and he shivers slightly, but it’s not from the slight sea breeze tickling his nose, but from your nose brushing against your neck, “are we headed back already?”

“How else will we treat your foot?” your hands slide over his bare skin — the skin still scarred as it always would be, an eye tucked away under an eyepatch — unable to be saved — but your husband was saved all the same, “unless Ieiri taught you how to used reversed cursed technique before our vacation,”

“It’s really not that bad—”

“Is this your first time being a patient?” and you pout, as he chuckles, vibration of his sweet laugh against your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, especially when you see the looks of others as the two of you walk by.

“It’s embarrassing to be carried like this,” you murmur, “come on baby, I can walk the rest of the way,” but he only hums, casting a small glance over his shoulder.

“I like carrying you like this,” his lips curled in a smirk, “everyone knows you’re mine this way,” and your cheeks burn, and you kiss his cheek, pouting as you do, “we’ll be back on the beach soon enough — we have all the time in the world sweetheart,”

And you did — you bury your face in the side of his neck again — with him—

Always.

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i feel like with every one of these fics i'm never happy with them, but then they end up being better than i remember. apparently i just don't like my writing very much haha. i hope you guys enjoy <3 it's been so long since i wrote nanamin, so i hope it came out good <3

✧ taglist: @1angel-digits1, @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone, @freaky-show, @strangehuman101, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy, @chosobeee, @luneriaa, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @forest-fruits-jam, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @kenmei, @somrou, @spider-fan72, @missukiyo

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