#▴▴another time; another person ██▵canon verse

[fckinglion-archive]

@tartt9 — pre-established dynamic meme.

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other 

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based off of circumstance  /  based off of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other 

[abysmal-black]

@videcoeur

It starts with a single bundle of black hair. Sanji knows he's too young to start graying, even if their captain drags them head long into danger. It was charming, these black hairs weren't. They're easy to ignore at first, a sharp yank or brush and out of sight out of mind. It could easily just be a side effect from the stress on his body— even if he refuses to allow the thoughts to surface, knows he's prone to spiraling.

Then comes the ache in his legs and the prickle on his skin. Sanji bought the same detergent if he could help it and always used the same products to moisturize but something was under there. His skin didn't itch, didn't burn , instead it was raised in constant goosebumps, the fine hairs on his arms and legs snagging to fabrics or strangely clinging to the gloves he uses to do the dishes. It's odd enough he decides to visit Chopper just to touch base. The chief could have contracted something and at worst it could be transmuted to the crew.

Sanji watches the little reindeer prepare a tray of instruments, they had agreed on a full physical since his symptoms were innocuous.

"I'm going to take your vitals then some blood to compare to your last check up." Chopper's short snout pulls into a cheerful smile. "After that I'll have a look at your legs. Do they still hurt?" Dark eyes level him with a concerned look.

"Sounds good." Mouth parts to exhale. It's probably nothing. "I wouldn't say hurt but something doesn't feel normal." He recalls butchering a sea beast on the lawn deck and suddenly found the grass beneath his feet scorched. That has never happened before, ever. Nothing was damaged but since then the same feeling has persisted.

Chopper listens to the story eagerly, eyes on the blood pressure cuff he's secured around his friend's bicep. "So you have to actively keep your leg turned off?" Sanji was always odder than the others, not as odd as Luffy or Franky but it wasn't concerning. "Your temperature, heart rate and blood pressure are all normal."

"Something like that." He mumbles watching the reindeer remove the cuff, set it aside and grasp the blood kit with human fingers. Delicate work, he thinks. "I've been finding a lot of black hairs too…"

Chopper scribbles down a note. "And this started after we left Wano? You seemed ok after your fight with Queen."

The memory lights up his spine, muscles tensing at the ready. He'd only worn the suit three times before destroying it but still something in him had changed, he could feel it back then. "Yeah." A quiet, distant affirmative, his mind a million miles away.  Those changes were … no, no he was fine, he reverted back to the old him. He was ok, this was ok.

Eyes blink open to the frantic taping of fingers on his shoulder. Chopper has turned blue and it takes him far too long to realize it's his hand around the reindeer's throat. 

___

"Oi, Marimo." The nickname doesn't have its usual bite, his words fighting not to be a whisper. Doesn't want to alert the rest of the crew where they've gathered on the lawn deck.  Chopper is ok thankfully, even smiling where he sits with a cotton candy apology cake. 

It just happened. Sanji can't begin to explain the kneejerk violence or his lack of awareness as the perpetrator. One moment small hands were tying a band around his arm and prepping a needle and the next thing he knew Chopper was stumbling away nearly brought to tears.  I did that. Sanji swallows, feels his eyes grow a little too wet and he has to turn away from the swordsman to clear his throat. "Need to talk to you about something."  He nods towards the stern of the ship, far from prying eyes before heading that way. Each of his steps are slow, heavy with the burden of his crimes. Would he hurt Nami-swan next? Would he wake up one morning with bloody hands, frantic he killed someone?

[angelsdean]

plagued with too many fic ideas i'll never write (bc it takes me like 2.5 yrs to write a long fic RIP)

[lurxof--thxmaw]

The thing about the Lady is that... when she says that she believes to be above everyone else, she means it.

It is not a statement motivated by insecurities with the intent to overcompensate, but rather one of her rare moments of sheer honesty: she genuinely believes she's far beyond the common folk. Though she, if so asked, would elaborate on it by listing her unmatched abilities in "every field that matters" (she uses the terms broadly, without the need to specify) what she is truly referring to is a purely human perspective.

She's not one to be guided by instincts. The Lady believes herself to be an intelligent being － one more capable than any of the Guests who reach the Maw, anyway. They are but beasts in her eyes, and so is everyone from the outside world. It is not a kind of world she can bear to live in. Not even the people closest to her are safe from this harsh judgement: while she has some amounts of respect for her underlings (mainly due to their diligence and their unquestioning acceptance of her methods), they would be but misguided fools without her guidance.

They could not possibly understand her inner workings, she who is so wise and erudite. No living being could.

... Greatness is a lonely burden at times.

[prancingintheshadows]

I’m really into the meta-narrative of Across the Spider-Verse. They could’ve come up with a different name for canon events, like Stable Dimension Events or some other made up nonsense, but the term canon events really paints it this as a conversation about adaptations on Spider-Man and his various off shoots. Hell, it could apply to comics and adaptations as a whole. Is it still Spider-Man if he doesn’t get Uncle Ben or some equivalent killed? Is it really Batman if he doesn’t vow to never kill? Even if it looks like Ultron, is it still Ultron if it’s origin and personality are different?

And it’s kinda the perfect subject matter to be tackled by Miles, the Spider-Man who gets to be his own Spider-Man. Look at the vast majority of the named spider people in this movie. They’re either based on existing people in Spider-Man’s story or they’re some permutation of Peter Parker. Miles isn’t another Peter nor is he a ‘what if this character was bit instead of Peter’. Miles exists purely to be the next Spider-Man after his Spider-Man died. There aren’t any expectations to play out the same story as Peter, because Peter’s story was already played out in his world. He has every right to make his own story, play by his own rules, go through adventures no other Spider has gone through. Every Peter has Uncle Ben die, but Miles’ call to action is never consistent. Ultimate comics had his mom die, Into the Spider-Verse had his uncle, and PS4 Spider-Man had his dad. Miles’ story is fluid in a way no other Spider’s is because he’s ironically not running in Peter’s shadow and established story. He’s an anomaly because every universe has runs on one Spider logic except his.

Which is also why Miguel’s such a fascinating choice as the antagonist. Because, a lot of what I can say about Miles could be said about Miguel. Traditionally, the Spider-Man of the year 2099 isn’t an alternate dimension Spider, he’s just a Spider-Man from a time after the original’s run. He is, just like Miles, the second Spider-Man who exists after Peter’s demise. And just like Miles, he doesn’t have to play by Peter’s rules, having a vastly different tone and manifestation of powers. So it’s also perfect that Miguel’s positioned against Miles specifically because he’s tried going against the flow, going against ‘canon’ and has suffered for it.

So the narrative is about two Spider-Men who can write their own story, fighting over whether or not they can deviate from the template set by the original story and if their story could survive it. Into the Spider-Verse said anyone can be Spider-Man. Across the Spider-Verse asks if Spider-Man is allowed to be anyone other than the Spider-Man.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)

Word count: 1.6k

A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.

A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison. 

After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings. 

Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.

Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration. 

Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard. 

━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out. 

He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart. 

Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day. 

At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline. 

But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself. 

The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not. 

O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly. 

You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you? 

Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company. 

Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago. 

For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit. 

He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor? 

That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat. 

━ What’s wrong, cariño?

━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.

Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger. 

━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.

You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back. 

━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!

He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better. 

He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out. 

Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it. 

His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you. 

━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose. 

The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips. 

Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft. 

Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better. 

The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers. 

━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid. 

━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more…. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!

━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release. 

Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night. 

Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth. 

He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple. 

━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]

Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?

━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.

[catopoliscat]

next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.

who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever. wc: 7.7k. a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this

also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest

mdni.

You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you. 

Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times. 

There were more bottles than glasses, lately. 

It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you. 

Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.

You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short. 

You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.  

In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice. 

You know?

To which Nanami had replied, “No.” 

Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?” 

It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked. 

Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance. 

In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next. 

“I’ve never had sex at all.” 

Kento Nanami. A virgin.

The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years. 

You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.

It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.

Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends. 

But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t. 

“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.” 

Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity. 

You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite. 

The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker. 

A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least. 

And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either. 

You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud. 

“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously. 

“I’m not deprived of anything.” 

You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?” 

In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not. 

He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”

You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.” 

“Or even know their name?” 

You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.

With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.

“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head. 

“I’m only human.” 

You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”  

With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected. 

“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head. 

Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.  

It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would. 

Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask. 

“What about me?” 

Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?” 

“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.” 

Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.

His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on. 

You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response. 

“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.” 

Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?

Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.

His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.

Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five. 

You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could. 

Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.

When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes. 

“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick. 

“And we always will be,” you reply.

He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch. 

You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his. 

“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.” 

Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself. 

You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space. 

Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly. 

Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it. 

“But I’d like to kiss you.” 

Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.

You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.

“Nanam-“

As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away. 

“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“

Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows. 

Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air. 

You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further. 

Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together. 

The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose. 

The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it. 

Enamoured with him.

You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours. 

Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting. 

Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble. 

After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow. 

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat. 

“Kento-“

“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.

His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same. 

He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck. 

“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…

“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly. 

But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part. 

And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.

It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.

It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh. 

“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”

You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet. 

He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation. 

“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.” 

You frown. “And th-“

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.” 

Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.

You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time. 

Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma. 

But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet. 

And neither can he.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush. 

His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when. 

The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it. 

Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed. 

But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips. 

You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was. 

Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there. 

His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.

“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place. 

The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear. 

Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you? 

The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his. 

The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.” 

“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you. 

“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment. 

You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.” 

His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more. 

He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate. 

With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you. 

“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal. 

You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead. 

You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily. 

“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.” 

Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect. 

“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought. 

He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.” 

Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers. 

You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so. 

Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.

A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you. 

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees. 

With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.

It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue. 

Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.

You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed. 

It’s endearing. 

Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit. 

“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that. 

“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased. 

You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation. 

It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed. 

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?” 

He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move. 

You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to. 

“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.

 You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure? 

“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up. 

As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps. 

You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly. 

You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment. 

He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response. 

Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.

“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.” 

The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all. 

You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this. 

Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily. 

Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you. 

Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same. 

But you two had waited long enough. 

Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips. 

Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need. 

His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless. 

So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had. 

Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper. 

You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.

When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.

You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.  

“Do you want me to stop or-“

“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.” 

The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax. 

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping. 

“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe. 

He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now. 

A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek. 

You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.” 

He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now. 

You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face. 

Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders. 

You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together. 

“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.” 

The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze. 

He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains. 

“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“ 

He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever. 

You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast. 

But it’s not quite enough. 

“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…” 

“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-

-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether. 

With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life. 

He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises. 

His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart. 

Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you. 

After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“ 

“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure. 

He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated. 

You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.” 

Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably. 

“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.” 

A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly. 

He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away. 

For now, of course. 

masterlist.

[iomoru]

Good day, I, too have my own Kinich angst request for ya. Could you do one where after Reader dies protecting Kinich, he finds out they'd secretly forged a contract of their own with Ajaw that if they were to lose their life in the process of actively saving Kinich's (and thereby delaying Ajaw from getting his vessel; he'd probably treat the new deal as Reader's "punishment" for doing so and thus agree to it), he takes over THEIR body instead?

The Price of Devotion

A/n: I genuinely love this idea Saturn anon! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Genre: Canon Verse, Angst w/ no happy ending, Reader Dies, Gn! Reader, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: After sacrificing your life to protect Kinich, your secret deal with Ajaw comes to light—a contract that, upon your death, would grant Ajaw control over your body instead of Kinich's. As Kinich holds your lifeless form, the cruel reality sets in when Ajaw rises in your place, leaving Kinich devastated by the cost of your devotion.

The weight of your body fell against Kinich's, your breath shallow as you struggled to stay conscious. Blood seeped through your hands where you pressed against your wound, but the pain paled in comparison to the agony in Kinich’s eyes as he held you close. He had been too late—too slow to stop the blade meant for him from finding its way to you instead.

"Why did you do that?" Kinich’s voice trembled, his golden eyes wide with disbelief. "You didn’t have to…I could have—"

"No," you whispered, your voice weak but resolute. "I…couldn’t lose you."

His arms tightened around you, his grip desperate as if holding you closer could stop the inevitable. But the warmth in your body was fading, and you could feel the darkness creeping in. There was no time left.

"I’m not worth this…" Kinich's voice cracked. He had spent so long trying to protect you, to shield you from the weight of the burden he carried as Ajaw’s chosen vessel. And now, you had given up everything for him.

You could barely focus, your senses slipping away, but you could still see the pain written all over his face. You reached up with trembling fingers to brush the side of his cheek, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. He deserved the truth, though you had sworn to keep it secret until this very moment.

"I made…a deal," you murmured, your breath growing fainter with each word.

Kinich's gaze darkened with confusion. "A deal?"

You nodded, your strength waning. "With Ajaw…if I died…protecting you… he’d take my body instead. Not yours."

His eyes widened, horror and disbelief colliding in his expression. "You what? You can't—"

"It was the only way Kinich," you breathed, your voice faltering. "I couldn’t let him take you."

Kinich shook his head furiously, panic overtaking him. "No, no…this can’t happen. I should be the one to pay the price. Not you."

Your heart ached at the desperation in his voice, but it was too late. The terms had already been set. You had given yourself over, knowing the consequences. You had accepted that Ajaw would use you as his vessel, that your body would no longer be your own. But it was a price you had been willing to pay…for Kinich’s sake.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. "I just…I couldn’t bear to lose you."

Kinich's grip tightened, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "There has to be another way. There must be something we can do—"

But even as he spoke, you felt it—Ajaw’s presence creeping into the edges of your awareness. The god had been waiting for this moment, for you to fall. You had defied him, delayed him from claiming his vessel, but now he would have you instead.

Kinich’s gaze flickered in panic as he felt the shift too, sensing the change in your energy. He clutched you closer, shaking his head as if trying to deny the inevitable. "Please, don’t leave me…"

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you whispered, "I’ll always…love you."

And with those words, the light in your eyes dimmed, and you slipped away into the void.

Kinich’s scream shattered the silence of the battlefield.

But the horror wasn’t over. Your body, once lifeless in his arms, began to stir. Slowly, unnaturally, your fingers twitched, your chest rising and falling with a breath that wasn’t your own.

Kinich’s blood ran cold as he pulled back, watching in dread as your eyes snapped open—no longer filled with the warmth and love he had known, but with the cold, malevolent gaze of Ajaw.

A slow, wicked smile spread across your—no, Ajaw’s—lips.

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” Ajaw’s voice echoed from your mouth, mocking and cruel. “I must say, I couldn’t have asked for a better vessel.”

Kinich’s heart shattered as he stared at the hollow shell of the person he loved.

This wasn’t you anymore. This was the price of your devotion—the cost of saving him. And now, as Ajaw gazed at him with your eyes, Kinich realized the bitter truth:

You were gone. Forever.

A/n: I seriously love angst with no happy ending

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[yorshie]

Hello, fellow raccoon here 🦝 If it’s not too much trouble, could you write about sharing a bed for the first time with the Bay!verse turtles?

Ah! Another raccoon! Thank you for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this one! I went with head canon style.

Bayverse x reader, SFW other than bedshare, set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Tags: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou

MICHELANGELO

This sweet turtle got his nest all ready when he heard you were finally spending the night. Brought in your favorite snacks, hunted down all his extra pillows from around the Lair, and restocked his mini fridge in case you got thirsty.

So when the time finally came and you go drop your bag off in his room, there is not a free spot to be found. His bed is a mountain of pillows and blankets, the small coffee table shoved in front of his tv has everything from pizza, microwavable food, and what looks like three different flavors of cookies piled on top of it.

Not gonna lie, its a bit intimidating. You might even have faltered, if sunshine boi wasn't right behind you with your toiletry bags, happy go lucky energy rubbing off until it felt like the spotlight wasn't directly on you.

the rest of the night is spent in typical Mikey fashion, a.k.a. a game and movie marathon. His brothers occasionally wander past his open door to say hello and to see what the two of you are up to. They might have a bet running on how much Mikey smothers you and how long you'll allow it. Even Splinter is in on it, thought the old rat refrains from making an appearance so his youngest doesn't feel like he's doing something wrong. He wants to marry his sons off eventually, after all.

When you eventually get tired and it's time to delve into the towering abyss of pillows that have taken over his bed, Mikey's territorial side makes an appearance. The door gets shut and locked to avoid anyone that might think it's a good idea to pull a prank (none of his brothers would but Mikey is paranoid because he is the prankster), and he wastes no time diving in after you for some cuddles.

oh. ok, maybe there's too many pillows, because now he can't find you! He's lost his significant other! Cue a mini chase where most of his bounty ends up in the floor in his search. You are not getting out of cuddles. No amount of wiggling or hiding will save you.

the actual cuddling is quite nice. Mikey's warm and his bicep makes for an excellent pillow. He likes to lay face to face, with your head tucked under his chin, limbs entangled and churring up a storm that you knew would have his brothers wincing in second hand embarrassment if they ever heard all the turtley noises he made when it was just the two of you.

He definitely snores, though. And farts in his sleep. Fact of life, don't get mad, because we all do it sometimes, most of us just aren't a mutated turtle man with a noxious gut fueled by pizza and sour patch kids. Dutch oven him with his own farts as payback.

in the morning you'll definitely wake up first, though as soon as you start to move Mikey will be alert. Call it sixth sense, but all the turtles are hyper aware of their own personal spaces and who's in them. I hope you weren't planning on getting an early start that morning, because now that Mikey's awake he's ready to continue the movie that you getting sleepy paused the night before. While getting more cuddles and eating breakfast in bed, of course.

LEONARDO

he internally started creating lists as soon as you accepted his sleepover proposal. Panics a little and moved the date once to make sure his sheets are washed the day before. Everything in his space has to be perfectly so. If someone interupts his cleaning and prepping, they better expect to have their head bitten off. Will have a literal panic attack if you arrived early.

You, of course, notice nothing out of place when he presents his room for your inspection. Yes, you read that right. This turtle will practically sweat as he waits for your verdict on whether the nest is good enough. No, he doesn't realize what he's doing. If you pick up on it don't tell him or else he might start panicking again.

The two of you will actually not spend too much time besides sleeping in his room, most of your time will be hanging out in the main living area. This serves two purposes: as the eldest Leo wants you to get along with all his brothers, and two, the thought of his bothers coming by his room to say hi to you absolutely drives is reptile brain crazy. So you'll eat and hangout with everyone else, and try not to laugh at the subtle teasing you know your turtle is going through with the whispered jokes and laughter that seem to stop every time you turn around.

When it gets late enough and everyone starts peeling off to do their own thing, you'll have to let Leo know you are ready to go lay down. Hilarious if you think He's going to suggest it's time to head to bed to you, he's trying his hardest not to think of the words "you" and "nest - BED! he meant bed!" in the same sentence.

when you finish your nighttime routine and make your way back to Leo's room, don't be surprised to find him on a makeshift pallet on the floor. There is no way you couldn't have seen this coming, but don't worry, there's an easy fix. Simply get in his bed, close to the wall, and start shivering. Loudly. Ham it up. In no time flat you'll have a turtle sneaking up next to you to keep you warm, though at first he will be hesitant. Cuddling you in the privacy of his own room with the expectation of sleep is very different from just chilling with you.

despite Leo trying to be a gentleman during the beginning, leaving you a bit of space and trying his hardest not to crowd you, by an hour in he will be wrapped around you. As he slowly gets tipped closer and closer to the edge of sleep, the more loose he will become. And once he gives in and gets used to the cuddles, he will never want to stop.

He clicks and chirps in his sleep sometimes. You woke up thinking there was a baby bird or something in the room, only to discover the high pitched noises were coming from him, before he transitions into deeper churrs from his chest right in front of your eyes. If you keep very still and quiet he might not wake up, but he will be traumatized if he does and discovers he makes these noises

There is very little chance of you waking in the morning before Leo. This turtle gets up early, but maybe just for today he can slip back next to you, after morning training, just to feel close to you for a bit longer. When you wake up you could just spend the morning talking, he won't mind being lazy as long as it's with you

You'll most likely be the one making breakfast if the other brothers aren't up yet, as Leo is banned from making anything other than tea or using the strict guidelines Mikey placed next to the microwave. But, he is an excellent sous chef, and after you're both fed he will be quick to suggest an activity so the two of you can hang out longer. Just know he's already weighing his chances of getting you to spend the next night as well.

DONATELLO

Dee had about 50 reminders set in the days leading up to your first sleepover, and a mental list he was practically grappling with in between projects. Anytime he'd focus on what was coming up too much, the butterflies would start going haywire in his stomach and he was likely to drop whatever it is he's holding at the time

Needless to say, he was in a bit of a panic by the time you showed up. Technically speaking, logically speaking, he knew his bed and room where both clean. And he knew you liked spending time with him, so why the anxiety? Why the nerves? He's so nervous, he doesn't even realize you've arrived, moved around his habitual pacing to set your bag on his bed, and now you're simply watching him with fond curiosity.

He shrieks when he finally notices you. Practically has a heart attack and knocks over at least four stacks of meticulously arranged cds and various technological components. Eventually joins in your laughter after he's calmed down enough to see the humor in the situation.

Just this once, Donnie has cleared his timetable of various projects to focus soley on you. That isn't to say that before he's blown you off or ignored you, but by now you are well aware how hard he has to work to contain his wandering mind, al lthe little tips and tricks he uses to keep his focus on the here and now and not bouncing from idea to idea.

The two of you will not be spending too much time out in the main area. The time it takes the two of you to procure dinner is more than enough brotherly interaction for the tall turtle. Not to mention, it turns almost awkward as the other's try desperately to not make prolonged eye contact with anyone else. They learned a long time ago not to tease the brother that controls all their devices and the access to the wifi.

Once Donnie and you are comfortable back in his room, the true hang out will begin. You'll play rock-paper-scissors to pick a movie, Donnie always lets you win, but he gets to pick the music that plays in the background. If you want, he'll access his computer and set up the program to make the lights in his room dance to the beat. Curled up in his arms, it is the easiest place to fall asleep, surrounded by fluttering lights that mimic being underwater.

Donnie may not actually sleep, but he stays with you the entire night. If you wake at all it might be to the idle scratching of pen on paper as he writes, his hand moving in your hair or along your back, or to his soft breaths caught in a light doze, a soft churr rumbling in his chest. If you're also the type to burn the midnight oil, you both might stay up talking long enough that the morning slowly creeps up on you before you both pass out.

Splinter often stops by the Lab in the morning on his way to meditate, if only to wrap a blanket over his son's shoulders and move his glasses to a safe spot. It's an ingrained habit, so much so that it doesn't even register that you spent the night until he quietly opens the door. He takes on look at the two of you holding each other close, and turns away with a smile.

Dee can cook, but most likely he'll order from the diner one block above their preferred manhole cover, and the two of you will sneak out for eggs, bacon and pancakes before secreting it away in his room so you don't have to share.

RAPHAEL

If the two of you are close enough for a sleepover, Raph is going to be the calmest of his brothers about you being in his personal space. Sure, he'll clean up, make sure all his dirty clothes are in his hamper and all the drawers actually shut on his dresser, but don't expect much in the way of fanfare.

He doesn't care where you wanna hang out in the evening, as long as you're comfortable. If you're out in the Lair proper however, get ready for some brotherly jockeying. Mikey almost can't help teasing Raph about having a guest over for the night, but the bigger brother will take it in stride as long as its only Mikey. Donnie tends to stay out of the limelight when it comes to teasing, but you better hope Leo doesn't so much as raise an eye ridge in Raph's direction. To be fair, the blue turtle is likely only drawing attention to how soft for you Raph is, but the two of them earning a trip to the Ha'shi might put a bit of a damper on the sleepover.

Leo's right though, Raph is completely soft for you. You want something to eat? He'll go get it for you without even a huff. You want popcorn for the movie? He'll bring back soda as well. You ask how much he can bench? He'll toe the line between showing off and making sure he can actually handle the weight. You neck hurts from having to crane around him to watch the movie? He'll lay on the ground and let you splay across his shell. You blink at him and sleepily ask to be carried? You're already up in his arms before you can even finish the sentence.

When it comes time to sleep, Raph will insist you take the inside of the bed, close to the wall, but he's thought ahead and gotten you your own pillow so you don't have to share with him. Yes, technically its from Mikey's room, but don't worry he disinfected it with a shit-ton of Lysol and Frebreze and washed the cover. This doesn't mean he doesn't want to cuddle, but of all the things Raph understands in his life, the very first few are the difference in size between the two of you, just how much he weighs, and how strong he is. So he'll tuck you against the wall and lay out on his stomach in one of the few positions that makes it hard for him to tip over. There's just enough room between the lip of his shell and the mattress for you to slot yourself against him, and he'll take the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist and bury his snout in your hair.

He'll hold you there throughout the night, breath slow and even. If you wake, be prepared that any movement will rouse him. He can't exactly help it, and he tries not to make you feel guilty over it, but you can always make out the green shine of his eyes peering down to make sure you are ok before he drifts back off again.

This turtle churrs sometimes in his sleep, but it's not the cute or soothing churr of contentment. No, someone parked a diesel engine in his man and is revving it like he's driving up an inclined gravel mountain road. The only way to get him to stop is to poke the thin strip of skin along his side, repeatedly, until he snorts and shifts. 50/50 chance the shifting will stop the churring. If not, you'll have to repeat the process.

In the morning, he'll dip before you wake, and come back to the room with warm pastries and whatever he's seen you drink in the morning. If you want your breakfast right away however, you might have to bribe him with turtle smooches as he tries to steal back his spot and catch up on the cuddles he's missed being a good boyfriend. Yes, he's holding you hostage, unless you want to try climbing over him. You might succeed if you make him laugh.

At some point in the day, after breakfast and whatever morning routine you keep, Raph will ask you what you want to do. If you want to go home, decompress, he'll take you home, but if you want to stay again and hang out some more you'll get to see the sweetest, softest smile break across his face.

[weaselandfriends]

Post-postmodernism in Pop Culture: Homestuck’s Revenge

I recently saw an excellent video essay titled Why Do Movies Feel So Different Now? by Thomas Flight. Though the title is opaque clickbait, the video is actually about major artistic zeitgeists, or movements, in film history. Flight describes three major movements:

Modernism, encompassing much of classic cinema, in which an earnest belief in universal truths led to straightforward narratives that unironically supported certain values (rationalism, civic duty, democracy, etc.)

Postmodernism, in which disillusionment with the values of modernism led to films that played with cinematic structure, metafiction, and the core language of film, often with more unclear narratives that lacked straightforward resolutions, and that were skeptical or even suspicious of the idea of universal truth 

Metamodernism, the current artistic zeitgeist, which takes the structural and metafictional innovations of postmodernism but uses them not to reject meaning, but point to some new kind of meaning or sincerity.

Flight associates metamodernism with the “multiverse” narratives that are popular in contemporary film, both in blockbuster superhero films and Oscar darlings like Everything Everywhere All at Once. He argues that the multiverse conceptually represents a fragmented, metafictional lack of universal truth, but that lack of truth is then subverted with a narrative that ultimately reaffirms universal truth. In short, rather than rejecting postmodernism entirely, metamodernism takes the fragmented rubble of its technique and themes and builds something new out of that fragmentation.

Longtime readers of this blog may find some of these concepts familiar. Indeed, I was talking about them many years ago in my Hymnstoke posts, even using the terms “modernism” and “postmodernism,” though what Flight calls metamodernism I tended to call “post-postmodernism” (another term used for it is New Sincerity). Years before EEAAO, years before Spider-verse, years before the current zeitgeist in pop cultural film and television, there was an avant garde work pioneering all the techniques and themes of metamodernism. A work that took the structural techniques of postmodernism--the ironic detachment, the temporal desynchronization, the metafiction--and used them not to posit a fundamental lack of universal truth but rather imbue a chaotic, maximalist world of cultural detritus with new meaning, new truth, new sincerity. That work was:

Homestuck.

That’s right! Everyone’s favorite web comic. Of course, I’m not the first person to realize the thematic and structural similarities between Homestuck and the current popular trend in film. Just take a look at this tweet someone made yesterday:

This tweet did some numbers.

As you might expect if you’re at all aware of the current cultural feeling toward Homestuck, many of the replies and quotes are incredibly vitriolic over this comparison. Here’s one of my favorites:

It’s actually quite striking how many elements of the new Spider-verse are similar to Homestuck; aspects of doomed timelines, a multiversal network that seems to demand certain structure, and even “mandatory death of parental figure as an impetus for mandated personal growth” are repeated across both works. The recycling and revitalization of ancient, seemingly useless cultural artifacts (in Homestuck’s case, films like Con Air; in Spider-verse, irrelevant gimmick Spider-men from spinoffs past) are also common thematic threads.

As this new post-postmodern or metamodern trend becomes increasingly mainstream, and as time heals all and allows people to look back at Homestuck with more objectivity, I believe there will one day be a rehabilitation of Homestuck’s image. It’ll be seen as an important and influential work, with a place inside the cultural canon. Perhaps, like Infinite Jest, it’ll continue to have some subset of commentators who cannot get past their perception of the people who read the work rather than the work itself even thirty years after its publication, but eventually it’ll be recognized for innovations that precipitated a change in the way people think about stories and their meaning.

Until that day, enjoy eating raw sewage directly from a sewer pipe.

(Side note: I think Umineko no naku koro ni, which was published around the same time as Homestuck and which deals with many similar themes and then-novel ideas, will also one day receive recognition as a masterpiece. Check it out if you haven’t already!)

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Summary: Seeing a familiar face but different person. A person you once loved.

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

P.s: I don't know how to feel about this chapter,im sorry that the update is slow but i believe in quality over quantity <3 enjoy spiders!

Today have been moving so fast,first you found out how Gwen got here as you follow Miles after he left the party to catch up on Gwen. The only reason you follow him was because you promised mama Rio.

(Flashback)

You watch as Miles walk away from the party down to the fire escape stairs standing beside mama Rio. You can sense her restless and worry feeling for her own son as you remembered how much Miles wanted to leave from here,to see somewhere new,spread his wings.

“It’s okay mama Rio,you know how Miles is, he'll be alright”You hold her hand try to reassure her. mama Rio sigh turning her head looking at you with a worry expression.

“I know he is but…I’m scared of him wanting to grow up so fast, you both are just teens my dear”She held both of your shoulder turning you to face her,firm grasp on your shoulders she says “Promise me dear…when me and Jeff are not around…promise me you keep him safe,look out for him”

You put your hand on one of her palm and nod your head “Promise,mama”

(End flashback)

How much are you willing to protect him? Your best friend? Currently you held a strong grip on his arm as you watch this Spider-man…with a name Miguel O'Hara is threatening to keep Miles him here in this spider club house thing. Because he is an anomaly…and Miguel also want to keep you here because you’re supposed…to die.

“Because of you Miles,she was supposed to die!”You were destined to die at the collider…when you’re trying to help your mentor,Peter Parker. At the hand of the Prowler,uncle Aaron.  The canon event for your mentor is to lose his uncle Ben…to lose you,his pupil.  

To know you’re supposed to die is like a punch in the guts… you feel sick in the stomach to know you’re not supposed to survive or even breath another day.

Currently you held Miles behind you shielding him from Miguel as he try to destroy the barrier that have been made from the big spider machine that transport any anomaly back to their original dimension. You stare wide eyes at Miguel who is trying his best to stop you both,to see this man trying to tear apart the barrier. Fear grips around you. Suddenly the machine finish its job making both of you float and transported back to your home…or so you though.  

“Aaahhh!!” you  screamed as you are transported into the portal moving so fast it spit out both spiders out on top of a rooftop,the rain pouring down makes everything slippery as you and Miles rolled and slide through the concrete. You and Miles are slightly injured after getting kicked,slammed and thrown around like a rag doll by other spiders. You prop yourself up on your elbow shaking your head slightly, your ears ringing your visions are double as you try to locate where Miles is. “M-miles…?”your visions focus to see him his mask off breathing heavily trying to slow down his heart as he lean back to the wall,hundreds of thoughts running through his head before he stands up “I need to get back home!”He runs and jump from the rooftop swing himself away.

“Miles! Wait!”You stand up try to catch up to him but the pain on your left leg makes you limping before swing your web following him. Miles keep on swinging as fast as he can to his house,to find his dad,his mom. You follow behind him trying to get his attention from doing anything irrational.

Miles stick outside of the wall of his room opening the window and went inside, his heart racing as he take in deep breaths. You swing towards the window and you yelped as you landed on your injured leg holding yourself up on the wall, just as you climb in you heard the knob to the door turn you reach for anything nearby to cover your suit,a sweater. You grip the sweater together tightly trying your best to cover your suit.

The door to the room open slightly follow by a voice, “Miles?”

 You and Miles look at the door, to see his mom holding a laundry basket in her other hand,she look at her son.Rio look confuse to see her son but Miles desperate voice make her even worried.

“Mom..there is something coming for us,somethin terrible”Miles says

“Miles you’re talking crazy whats going on?”Rio walk closer to her son her eyes keep darting towards you.

Miles continue “His name is Spot…he is our nemesis, and we gonna stop him. I know you know…we been lying to you,it’s because that I knew…you won’t love me the same. You won’t look at (N/N) the same way too. Then I went out there and..now im not afraid of anything”

“What do you wanna tell me?”Rio ask her son.

“You gotta promise nothing’s gonna change mom”

“Papa I will always love you”

“You gotta promise”Miles desperately says

“Always,I don’t care what you said,Tu me tiendes?”Rio walks closer to him and hold one of his hand trying to reasure her son.

Miles pull away from her before he turn to the side readying himself to do this, he sigh “Mom” and pull the zip down turning to his mom. “I'm spider-man”he pull his jacket apart showing his mom his spider suit. “A-and (Y/N) is also the spider-man/spider-woman”

Rio just look at her son in confusion before she ask “W-Who’s Spider-man?”

You frown slightly as you are witnessing everything unfold,surely everyone in Brooklyn knows who you guys are. Every news and thousands of video on YouTube telling the world about the spider duo shoving the information to every.single.person.

“And who is (Y/N)?”she ask again tilting her head slightly looking at her son.

The moment she ask that you are stun,your eyes widened again looking through the window,are you hearing this right?. You blink a few times before, keeping your eyes at the familiar woman in front of you yet something in your gut is telling you she is not the same woman who would give you hug and kiss your forehead.

she let out a chuckle before giving his son a small smile “Miles you been keeping a secret of having a partner from me hm?”she turns to walk out of the room with the laundry basket in her hand.

Your spider sense goes off as you watch this woman who look exactly like your mama Rio,your brows knitted together watching Miles run out of his room following his ‘mom’ to the living room trying his best to explain.

You stuck at your spot,with your thoughts run haywire at what is happening,why she doesn’t remember you?, why she acts like you never met?, why does her aura feel different?

You shake your head,you need to focus. You keep watching as Miles is talking to his ‘mom’ before both of your attention drawn to the sound of a door knob unlocking at the main entrance of the house.

You press yourself closer peeking through the window still confuse while Miles seems to figure out what is happening looking scared at the door.

The door open to reveal, Aaron Davis. Miles supposedly dead uncle “U-uncle Aaron?” Miles mumble looking at the familiar figure walking through the door. Your eyes widen seeing the familiar figure walk infront of the open door, Uncle Aaron?. Your eyes darted to Miles,he look like he is seeing a ghost from the past then it all click in your head. You are in a different place, a place with no Spider-man to protect, a completely different dimension…you’re in a dimension of where the spider that bit Miles originally came from. Earth-42.

“Oh my god…”you mumble to yourself pressing yourself to the wall looking up at the sky mumbling “Shit…shit,shit”

You gulp as the anxious feeling and fear grip your throat like a choke hold. How in the hell you and Miles are going to get out of this? You see Uncle Aaron push Miles away slightly making a comment about him taking out his braids?

Miles turning his head making eye contact,you can see It in his eyes. He is scared. He turn his head to his uncle following him out of the house climbing up the stairs.

You crawl up the wall following them as in your head is screaming something is wrong,everything is. Both of you are in danger. You pull yourself up hiding behind the many scraps and metal on top of the rooftop keeping an eyes on Miles. As you walk further to the front your eyes looking around the place before you discover something even more heart breaking…on the wall Is a graffiti Of Jefferson Davis with a writing of ‘Rest in Power’.

Your heart starting to beat faster fear grips you fully, your head snap towards Miles just to see him got knocked out falling straight to the floor.

“Miles!”you jumped out from where you hide swinging your web to his body to pull him to you, to run. But your web got cut by a flashing purple,whatever it is that thing is fast. You ready yourself shooting out both of your web at it but the thing catches it pulling you to it before your head is punch with something metal. Your body flew back but you got yourself on your knee shaking your head to get rid of the ringing in your ears. You push forward charging at where its standing over Miles but suddenly something stinging comes from the back of your neck you hiss reaching your hand to pull whatever it is. It’s a fucking sleeping dart, shit you though to yourself but you try to walk to Miles body but you starting to see double and everything is swaying from side to side. You fall to your hand and knees fighting the urge to pass out.

The figure came closer to you kneeling down to your level lifting your head by gripping your chin to look at the purple Mask before a distorted voice says “duerme, arañita”your head slips from his hand landing on the floor pass out.

Uncle Aaron walk towards the two limp body before saying “A fierce one ay?”picking up Miles body and moves to the other one.

“No,I’ll take this one”the figure says before move to pick the limp body slinging it over his shoulder and walk towards the hideout. Aaron shrug and follows them inside.

(Timeskip a few hours later)

You blink as you slowly gaining conscious, you try to move your hands but it stop by a chain that is hanging you up on the ceiling making your feet hover a few inches off the ground. You struggle in your bind hopping it to lose or break but of course,it didn’t. You try to press on to your web shooter but to find nothing is on your wrist, shit they take your web shooter.  

“Dont even try, little spider”You snap your head to the figure who is wearing a neon mask that illuminates in the darkness. The figure walks closer to you,he walks slowly around you taking in the details of what you are. You are the same as the other one,a spider.

“What did you do to Miles”you hiss out through your teeth trying to look intimidating at the figure,the figure let out a whistle as he stands infront of you. “Calm down,heh it’s not that you can do anything without your web no?”He reply with a clear smug.

“I can take you down just fine with or without the web”you glare at the mask,the stupid neon mask that is mocking you. “Maybe you open that stupid mask of yours so I can fuck your face up like a pulp”

The guy chuckle before saying “You first little spider”he reaches his hand on top of your head gripping your mask. You try to move away your head but its useless as the figure rip your mask off revealing your face glaring at him.

Him on the other hand,didn’t expect to see such face staring back at him. The fire in your eyes staring right into his soul, it sparks something in him. He take a good look of how your lips are shaped,how your hair framing your face. He is stunned,shame that you,re with ‘him’.

“Open yours,what you’re scared now?”you taunting him when you see him just staring at you. The guy chuckle before he open his mask looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Miles…?”

(To be continued…)

yall can come and start a riot on me

Tag list:

@valovesyou @thymom696969 @k-koichi-i @stuckinaoaktree @lovefks @cookieswithay @gayschlatt69 @collaps3r @marrymezombie @ruruisasimp @madz-rulez @mikeikax @libra207 @sakura-onesan @jasontoddsfavoritechair @shyflover-9 @heylosers06 @pturnersblog @randomhumans-blog @keylozinzazane @ok-boke @corpsebridenightamare @kurheahea @ivorycrow19 @anitatvd @hana-yuri @syuriaf @weasleybuns @bluebear142077 @agustdeeyaa @horandog1993 @friendly-reject @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dodoshona @notahappystan @aspenreadsfanfic @bluevenus19

[u3pxx]

PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

[abysmal-black]

(@pxison - reg. Snooj suffering begins now 😈) There was a current of giddiness running through Niji as he sought after the blonde runt. So much time had been lost between his disappearance and reunion with the rest of the family that Niji was all too eager to make up for. In his clutches was an all too familiar helmet. This time resized to fit the cooks head should it be reapplied for old times sake. No matter where Sanji hid himself, he could never truly get away from any of his brother's torment. The sickening grin Niji was wearing only grew when he finally found the little scumbag and the helmet within his possession was presented in full view as though he took pride in all the memories it held. “Remember this Sanji? Those pretty little bracelets you're wearing are nice and all, but I thought you'd look even better in this. Doesn't it take you back? Why don't we both go down memory lane, I'm sure the other two would like to join in as well for old times sake.”

Contentment is long gone, all Sanji can hope for is silence. Being left alone with his own thoughts is preferable to his twin's company and for the most part they've left him alone. No longer is he the small boy that can't defend himself, begging for his sires help to call off the dogs he called brothers. It would be empowering if the mental scars didn't ache. Everything is the same, almost untouched by time in the years he's been absent. There is some sliver of solace that his mother's grave is kept tidy, her ghost not wandering these dreary halls.

It's in the cathedrals that the chef spends most of his time, beauty and color rare on Germa. Inside hallowed walls it almost seems like another place, foot traffic kept low and thick walls drowning out the drone of combat drills and weapons testing. It's as serene of a hideaway he can hope for and passes most of his time with a book of napping in the pulpit for privacy.

Today however, he's been found out.

Niji is loud as usual, any attention good attention. Sanji makes a point to not even glance up at the man as he nears, neatly rolled joint maneuvered to the other corner of his mouth and page turned. Whatever he wants isn't good but the cook feigns an air of nonchalant hoping he'll leave.

Curiosity sets him on edge; there are very few things his twin could be referring to and single viable eye opens fully. Why would they still have that thing? Throat clenches suddenly dry, anxiety crawling up his neck like a cold towel. He knows what it is without looking, can still feel the weight of heavy steel closed around his skull and panic grips his heart. Can hear the painful thumping in his burning ears of racing heart. Knows if he doesn't act know Niji will push the matter and after all these years Sanji can't go back. He can't survive the cell, the mask, this place. Are his hands worth his sanity? If they are gone would his kidnappers find him useless again?

“Fuck off.” It's meek where he wants to growl. “I'm not in the mood.” He's never in the mood and fingers turn another page. “Get lost or I'll fillet you.” This time his voice doesn't crack, the treat very real even if it's carried by bravado.

[yandereunsolved]

Hi 👋 I have a few technical questions for the self aware au for HOTD, if you wouldn’t mind me asking.

Does the world just… stop if we pause the tv? If I rewind a scene bc of whatever reason would that give then motion sickness? Back on pausing the show, does the world stop but the character don’t? Like if I paused the tv and started talking to someone about whatever, is Aemond crossing his arms and tapping his shoes while pouting? WOULD MUTING THEM ACTUALLY MAKE THEM MUTE??

Are the dragons jealous if we talk about dragons from other forms of media? I have loyalty to Paarthurnax for best dragon 😅 ooo what If we had a Skyrim tattoo? Imagine comparing lore?

And lastly, how would they react if we had started watching game of thrones? I like to try to rewatch stuff in chronological order if prequels or branching media gets made, I like to see the chain of events you know? Would the self awareness spread to more of that verse bc of that? Can we pull John Snow?

Sorry for the wall of text and rambling, I love LOVE self aware aus and love learning more about them

Let me retrieve my sacred lore scroll.

retrieves it.

For every rule I lay down here—they can be broken under one circumstance: if the character is completely self-aware. None of the characters I have written so far have gotten to that point. Complete self-awareness may drive any of them to insanity.

(1) Does the world stop if we pause the tv?

That version of the world stops. So that canon timeline is still there, but other things are happening off screen. They are subconsciously led back to the plot when the television is unpaused again.

(2) If I rewind a scene because of whatever reason—would that give then motion sickness?

It erases their memory and gives them a sense of deja vu. They prod inside of their mind but it's like a wall has been put up inside of their minds.

If the character is already predisposed to motion borne illnesses then they would get motion sickness.

Example. If Aegon II was incredibly drunk and you rewinded a part he was in it'd make him feel like he was going to throw up. However, he wouldn't actually throw up because he wasn't as drunk/or drunk at all (depending on how much your rewound) at that time.

(3) Would muting them actually make them mute?

Yes, it would. They would be talking in their world and wouldn't be able to understand how you aren't listening.

If they found out how to work the volume then you'd be screwed. Some may be able to do this unintentionally, while others would have to be more self-aware to unlock the ability.

Dreamers are more likely to be self-aware due to their inante abilities. So Helaena would it without even realizing it.

(4) Are the dragons jealous if we talk about dragons from other forms of media? —Imagine comparing lore.

Yes and no. It depends on the dragon's personality. If you were head over heels for another dragon in another form of media then any one of them would be jealous. If you just enjoy the dragons in that verse then some of them are okay with it.

Example(s). Vhagar would be okay with you liking other dragons as long as you liked her the most. Vermithor goes into a rage anytime you so much as mention another dragon in a positive context.

(5) How would they react if we had started watching game of thrones?

Confused at first. Since hotd is the prequel to got they'd be very puzzled. Then they'd be curious. If it took up all of your time then they'd be angry. There would already be an undercurrent of jealousy, but there's also a superiority complex there.

"We were here before them."

"Without us they wouldn't exist."

Them meaning got characters.

(6) Would the self awareness spread to more of that verse because of that?

When consuming any form of their media it is like a portal is being opened up into their world. That's the crux of what helps them become self aware. There's usually a moment in their lives that spurs that on.

With the hotd characters already being insanely jealous that interference between the two media's would cause the self awareness to spread.

(7) The most important question—Can we pull Jon Snow?

Yes.

The shit that dude has been through? He has plenty of opportunities to become self aware. Having someone there for him, even passively, would cause him to become obsessive. Possibly a bit bitter because you aren't helping him until he realizes that you are physically unable to.

Don't 👏 be 👏 sorry. 👏 I love giving lore.

[agaypanic]

can you do a rodrick one shot where you're best friends and you're in love with him but he's too obsessed over Heather to notice? and you finally tell him after he's upset about how her birthday party ended up . a little smutty

Wish I Was Heather (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

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Summary: Rodrick’s obsession with Heather Hills makes him blind to the fact that you, his best friend, have been in love with him for a long time. When Heather’s birthday party turns into a fiasco and Rodrick thinks no one will ever love him, you finally decide to tell him the truth.

A/N: kinda based on heather by conan gray, and a small reference to the og second verse of the song. not too canon compliant with dog days bc i dont really remember the plot of it. alludes to smut a bit but isn’t explicit

***

It was a miserable sight. As sad music played, you were lying in bed, curled up in Rodrick’s checkered hoodie. Your best friend was playing with his band at Heather Hills’ birthday party. It seemed that he was absolutely in love with her, and you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, she wasn’t the nicest person, but she was popular and beautiful. It never surprised you when you were talking to Rodrick about something, and all of a sudden, he would tune you out just because she was walking past him.

Sometimes, you wished you could be her so Rodrick would look at you that way. Even kiss her just to see what your best friend really saw in her.

If you had to guess, he’s probably confessing to her right now. He said he would, that tonight was the night. Although she had never done anything to you, and you didn’t want Rodrick to hurt, you slightly hoped that she’d stomp on his heart just so you wouldn’t lose him to her.

It wasn’t fair. Him being so mesmerized by Heather Hills when you were right there.

You groaned as you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You didn’t want to be bothered, yet you still reached into your pocket and pulled out the device, squinting at your suddenly bright screen.

Roddy

can i come over?

You knit your brows in confusion as you read the message. Of all people, you weren’t expecting Rodrick to text you. And of all messages, you didn’t expect him to ask to come over. To be honest, you were pretty sure that he was busy trying to shove his tongue down Heather Hills’ throat.

Before you could respond, he sent another text.

Roddy

pls :(( 

You

what’s up?

Roddy

party sux

You sighed. Part of you liked the fact that Rodrick was turning to you to cure his boredom, but you wished he saw you as more than entertainment. You wished even more that you didn’t give in to him so easily.

You

window’s unlocked

Less than a minute after you sent your message, you jumped at the sound of something, or rather someone, at the aforementioned window. You turned your head just enough to see Rodrick hanging onto your drain pipe as he opened the window.

“Hey.” He said quietly, falling through the opening and onto your floor. You turned to lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling while Rodrick flopped onto the bed next to you.

“Hi.” You looked over at Rodrick, finding his face a mess. His messy eyeliner was messier than usual, and he looked exhausted and miserable. “What happened to you?”

“Heather Hills.” The name was said with a pout and whine instead of the usual captivated tone.

“What about her?” You didn’t mean to ask, not wanting to hear about his obsession with the girl any more than you’ve already had. But curiosity got the best of you.

“I pretty much ruined her birthday party. Now there’s no way she’ll ever go out with me.” You snorted, wondering what he must have done. Rodrick looked offended at your reaction, but continued. “It was a complete disaster. I had Ben play the drums so I could sing, and we did that one Justin Beiber song. I tried to hold her hand, but… I ended up knocking over an ice sculpture.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It was strange how the misfortune of the person you loved regarding the girl he was obsessed with was bringing you out of your own miserable mood. “Then she tried hitting me with a microphone stand, but she hit the chocolate fountain. After that, I thought I should make a run for it.”

You were full-on belly laughing at the visuals Rodrick was giving you, no matter how much you tried to contain yourself. Rodrick frowned at you, so you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle yourself.

“Only something like that could happen to you, Roddy.” You giggled, but it died down when his lip started to tremble. This scared you; you rarely ever saw Rodrick like this. “What? What’s wrong?”

“What if that was my one chance?” He asked, his voice small. He turned onto his side, facing you and curling up. You mirrored his position. “Like, what if that was the only shot I’d ever get with a girl, and I just blew it? What if no girl ever wants to be with me?”

“Oh, that’s not true, Roddy.” You cooed, patting his arm. “Don’t be dramatic, girls like you.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Prove it.” He took your silence as confirmation that you couldn’t, and he clicked his tongue. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Rodrick.” You sighed, shifting closer to him. “Girls do like you.” You figured now would be as good a time as any to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, even if it was just to make him feel better. “I know one girl likes you, at least.”

“Who?” He gave a short laugh of disbelief, looking down at you. 

You were too scared to say it. So, instead, you reached for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers as you looked at him. Rodrick didn’t say anything, either trying to come up with a response or not getting your little hint at all.

“I know I can never be Heather.” You start, the both of you cringing a bit at the name. It seemed that the girl brought a sour taste to both of your mouths now. “But I love you for you, Rodrick.” Feeling brave, your free hand went to cup his jaw, and he seemed to relax under your touch. Something came over you, and you bit your lip to try to contain yourself. “I can show you…”

For someone who didn’t usually get clues, Rodrick seemed to know what you were alluding to, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. He seemed like he was about to agree, but he stopped himself. 

“You don’t have to do that… You know, just to make me feel better.”

“I want to.” You responded quickly. “I mean, if you want to, obviously. But if you don’t, then we can just pretend I never-”

Rodrick cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, and they soon moved in tandem. Hands turned greedy with their grips, and soon Rodrick was rolling to lay on top of you.

You’d probably regret this later. But for now, you didn’t care. Even if you weren’t Heather or whoever Rodrick probably wished you were, you were the one that was in your bed with him. You could worry about the aftermath and consequences later because all that mattered now was you and Rodrick and what was about to happen as you took off your clothes, starting with Rodrick’s hoodie that he gently pulled off of you.

And as he kissed you and grasped at your hips, Rodrick realized that the girl of his dreams was never Heather. She was right beneath him, shuddering at his touches and whispering sweet nothings that would be everything to him.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[sipho-pearl]

jeremy's rhyme patterns in bmc

Ok so this is gonna be another really long analysis post so buckle in!!!

As I was rewatching the musical, I noticed that the rhyme schemes used in the music across the entirety of Be More Chill is inherently linked to each of the character’s personalities and their songs.

Jeremy’s rhyme schemes, starting in More Than Survive, feel out of place and are very irregular, with the rhyme scheme constantly changing from verse to verse. This reflects how he feels out of place and is constantly trying to change himself in order to fit in. The rhyme scheme follows no discernable pattern, going from ACAB schemes to ABAB and AAAB schemes. It also changes from one song to another. While it does become balanced out in some areas, when he is on his own, it falls back into the same irregular rhythm for the majority of the 1st act of the musical. This is especially prominent in More Than Survive.

Michael’s rhyme schemes in his songs are much more balanced out. For the majority of his part in More Than Survive, he follows the same rhyme scheme, even balancing Jeremy’s out. In Jeremy’s next verse, his rhyme scheme goes back to being regular, symbolising how he and Michael work better together, even balancing out each other’s songs. Michael’s rhyme scheme represents how he is much more comfortable with being in school and just surviving, while Jeremy’s represents the opposite.

Christine’s rhyme scheme seems to lack any flow on purpose. She constantly subverts her own rhymes, however, she seems to stick to one rhyme scheme for most of the time. In “A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into”, she constantly changes her style of singing and her tempo, which can be related back to her canon ADHD Inattentive type (formerly ADD).

The Squip, in vast contrast to Michael and Jeremy, usually does not rhyme at all, and when it does, it sticks to a very rigid rhyme structure and never subverts this rhythm. When it sings alongside Jeremy, it fixes Jeremy’s rhyme pattern much like Michael does, but this is probably because the SQUIP is speaking through Jeremy, rather than helping him through his problems like it should-

i yap too much lmao