#I stare into the question of ‘how worth it is it to you. to have this argument.’ and I say that it’s not

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 ᥫ᭡. c sturniolo

“I just-she left…”

✗ Angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut, cliffhanger

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Love was a tricky thing - Bittersweet.

It could make you feel so whole and warm, like your life has meaning. On the other hand, it could break you down completely, as if you weren't worth anything.

This was something that scared Chris. He told everyone he had commitment issues, but they took it as he couldn't settle for one girl specifically, or he was scared of women. In reality, it was the idea of not knowing how your love with someone could end.

So when he dove head first into a relationship only for it to crumble right in his hands, he was distraught. It was so sudden, he thought everything was fine. He was happy, she was happy.

At least he thought she was.

"You're love is just too much Chris...I can't do this."

Her words hurt, they broke him.

He didn't understand how him showing how much he loved her was too much. Isn't that what girls want, for their partners to be open and loving?

After that night it was like she never existed, and it wasn't Chris's doing. The girl had deleted her socials, moved away from LA, and cut everyone off. He could only feel what was left of her, but he wasn't able to feel her.

He wished he knew where she went, what she was doing. He wished he knew how the hell she managed to make him fall in love with her, only to break him.

Did she ever love him?

He refused to be the type to marinate in his emotions, so he threw himself into his work. He forced Nick and Matt to film videos back to back, the brothers quickly becoming exhausted. He decided it was finally time to get his license and a car, hoping that if he betters himself she would come back to him.

But she didn't.

Everyone could see the change in him. He started going out more without his brothers, partying with Sam and Gnar. He'd come home with a different girl on his arm every night, and a bunch of money being spent from the joint account he shares.

That phase only lasted a month or so before Nick finally put his foot down, yelling at Chris and telling him to "Get the fuck over the breakup, she's not coming back."

"I know Nick I just....She left. She fucking left and said my love was too much! What does that mean? I-I did my best!"

He broke down, crying harder than he ever had in his brothers' arms.

"Why did she have to leave? Why won't she just come back?"

It seemed like after that, his whole personality and life did a 180. He grew quiet, no longer being the loud one. He was more snappy, staying in his room and locking himself away from the world.

When questioned about it, he told Matt and Nick that everything reminds him of her. The couch where they watched movies all night, the coffee shop she would force him to go to, and the overall energy of LA.

After a long talk, the three of them decided to leave LA. It seemed like a drastic change, but none of them were happy.

Matt never wanted to come to LA, Chris couldn't handle the memories, and Nick just wanted his brothers to be happy. So after a month of dealing with their management and trying to find a place back home, they finally were back in Boston.

Matt was happier, Nick was happier, and Chris was slowly doing better. He was eating more, laughing again, and even hanging out with friends. He still had trouble sleeping at night, his dreams filled with the memories he shared with her.

He'd wake up wishing that he spent more time savoring those moments instead of taking them for granted. He knew nothing lasted forever and yet he was naive enough to believe they would.

There was a specific night when he couldn't sleep, his mind silent as he stared at the wall. It irritated him, he was tired but something was keeping him awake. He dragged himself out of bed and went to the kitchen to find tea, hoping it would put him in a tranquil state, but there was no tea to be found.

With a sigh he slipped on his shoes and grabbed the car keys, sending a quick text to Nick and Matt, letting them know that if they woke up and he was still gone, he was just grabbing something from the store.

He planned on going to Walgreens, but on the way there, he saw a 24-hour coffee shop. It was small, the lighting giving up a warm glow that was already lulling him to sleep.

He parked the car and walked inside, the smell of the coffee grounds and lavender infiltrating his nose.

It reminded him of the coffee shop they would go to.

He stepped up to the register, looking at the menu for a second before ordering a large chamomile and lavender tea. It only took a second for the barista to hand him his drink, wishing him a 'good night' and telling him to 'be safe'.

With a brief smile he turns around, immediately locking eyes with her.

He could feel his heart fall to the pits of his stomach, his tea long forgotten and dropped to the ground.

"Hey Chris...."

[webslingingslasher]

ohhhh j new fear unlocked for everyone

yk how being on your period and leaking in someone’s bed isn’t ideal? esp if they aren’t ur bf? screw the bed - it got on HIM and he’s not my bf. he’s a cuddler in his sleep and pulled me in and I just saw🤠🤠🤠 nightmare. I’m building up the courage to wake him up rn lol. it’s not that deep but this is pretty horrific bc it’s only my second time staying over and we are very much Not Dating

*cleaning out my drafts - this is an old one!

there have been several times in your life when you've said 'this is the worst thing to ever happen to me.' today takes the cake and you'll never have the urge to say those words again.

period blood? a nuisance to deal with.

period blood on your partner? humbling.

period blood on your hookup? downright mortifying and coma inducing.

it'll only get worse the longer you wait. counting to ten, you take a deep breath and gently shake peter awake. he whines and swats you away, you feel terrible that you're about to ruin his sleep.

'peter, i got my period and i leaked.'

peter sucks in air, the words are registering and he's blinking awake while looking you over. 'in my bed?' you nod timidly, feeling awful about it.

'and on you.' it's a defeated whisper, you turn to the side so you don't see his reaction. you feel the blankets lift up, a two second pause before peter settles back into bed.

'i don't have anything to plug you up so you gotta figure it out.' you stare down at his face, he's going back to sleep?

'did you hear me? i leaked.'

peter sighs, he's more upset that you woke him up than being doused in your monthly. 'yeah, like a quarter's worth. it's a dot, trouble. wrap it up and come back to bed.'

'but i got it on you.'

peter huffs before picking his head up and opening an eye to look at you. 'what do you want me to say? do you want me to be mad? you're the only girl in my bed so if you wanna stain the sheets that's on you.'

you stop a smile from forming, 'are you suggesting i did this to mark my territory?'

'it wouldn't surprise me. it also explains the leg.' he tugs his comforter up to his chin while letting sleep coat over him. 'are you cauterized yet?'

'yeah, i stashed some stuff here.' peter searches around for your hand under the blanket by little taps. 'good, cuddle with me.' you almost squeak when he drags you into his side, always impressed by his casual strength.

'are you sure -' you're halfway through your question when peter takes initiative and hitches your knee over his hips. 'i refuse to answer stupid questions before eight am.'

'i'm sorry i stained your sheets.'

peter's dimple pops out when he smiles. 'bloody nice reminder you were here.' you poke it, he peeks an eye open and acts like he's about to bite your finger. 'you're proud of that one?'

'o-h i'm positive.' you gag before hiding in his side and groaning. 'you're not allowed to make dad jokes before eight am.'

'oh yeah? well you're not allowed to bleed... just kidding, trouble. you can expel your moon cycle anywhere you want, what's mine is yours.'

'wow. you're so romantic.'

'only for you.'

he says it like a joke but you think peter would be a whole lot less cool if it was with anyone else. 'thank you for not making me feel bad. you're kind of the best.'

'i know.' you narrow your eyes at him, as if he can sense it, peter nudges his hand under your shirt to splay his hand across your lower back. his warm palm eases tension you weren't aware of yet. 'i was about to say don't get a big head, but your hand feels very nice so i'll refrain.'

'want me to rub your tummy?' you lean forward to press your nose against his cheek. 'say tummy again. it's cute.'

'no.' 

you whine at his refusal, 'i'm shedding my uterus, be nice to me.' peter smiles at your pout. 'tummy.' hiding your face in his neck you let out a quiet squeal. 'i like when you're cringy with me, it makes me feel like you like me.'

you can see how fast his mind is working, he's hesitating on what he's about to say. peter decides to throw you a bone, you're still embarrassed from giving him a wake up call.

'my baby is feeling so icky, isn't she? her tummy and back hurts and she is being so brave.' you nod softly, he's spot on.

'so icky.'

'so brave.'

'say tummy again.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'you're on thin ice, trouble.'

'just one more time. please?' you plead with him and follow it up with a yawn, his hold and heat is making you drowsy. 'if you tell anyone that i asked to rub your tummy or that i said tummy this many times, you'll never hear me say tummy again, deal?'

your eyes seal shut, his warmth is going nowhere. 'deal.' 

[soov]

RUMOUR HAS iT。 park sunghoon

princess fem reader & prince sunghoon ᗢ 1OOO words ━━ fluff ꕀ royal!au, arranged marriage, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing.

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?”

The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction. “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “I asked because I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If Sunghoon wasn’t right next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us…” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your title, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon…” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the boy felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i wish prince sunghoon was real

2024 © SOOV

[magical-girl-coral]

How the Meljay reunion should have gone cause I am angry and bitter.

Jayce breathed in deeply as he moved, his hammer dragging behind him as his leg ached in protest, begging to be put down after everything it went through within the last months. But he couldn't. Not now. There were too many unanswered questions. How did he survive the bomb? Why Viktor didn't. What happened here?

Soft footsteps pulled him out of his questioning, their echoes like a familiar melody in Jayce's ears. A cloaked white figure walked towards him, her silhouette as alluring as he remembers. But it couldn't be. Last he heard, she disappeared, probably kidnapped by zaunites. He stalked closer to her, gripping the handle in case it's another hallucination, another trick, another dream-

The cloaked figure revealed their face, spoke his name, and Jayce broke. He ran into the arms of his beloved, dropping his hammer in the process, and held her until it felt as though they were going to merge into one.

Mel held him just as strongly, refusing to allow either of them to breathe. Jayce let her go gently, slowly putting her down on the ground, checking her for injuries or anything that needed a doctor to look after.

Mel cupped his face gently. "I'm fine. Mayne not truly whole, but not hurt." She gave him a look over, worry clouding her face, slowly backing away to view the full picture. It took all of his strength not to take her back into his arms. "Jayce, what on earth happened to you? You look you've been through the hells and back,"

Jayce opened his mouth, wanting to explain anything, everything, but that annoyed voice at the back of his head held him back.

She invested too much in this dream of yours to listen to reason.

This is her life's work too. She won't give up on it so easily. You didn't either at the start.

You've seen how people have been used and thrown away once they've lost their worth. What stops you from being next?

He clenched his head in pain. Mel was now fully concerned. "Jayce, what is happening with you? Should I call for help?"

"No!" Jayce shouted louder than he wanted. He avoided her gaze. "I'm- I'm alright. I just need- I just-" He took a deep breath, and met her eyes. "We need to destroy the Hexgate for good. It's a curse, and I need all the help I can get. Will you be there by my side?"

Mel's gaze didn't weather. Instead, it became even more powerful than before. She held his hand in his where the rune was carved into his skin.

"I've seen the madness great power can inflict on a soul," she said, glancing sideways to the hammer before returning to him. "You have my word, the Hexgate will be destroyed even if it will be the last thing we'll do."

Jayce laid his forehead gently to hers. God, he missed her warmth. "Thank you, for everything. I won't fail."

Just before either of them could truly relax, a presence that made Jayce's skin crawl has decided to make itself known. He reached towards his weapon just as Mel began to glow.

Both of them aimed towards one of the pillars, their combined effort turning it to smithereens without actually hitting their target.

They stared at the other in shock. They obviously had a lot to talk about. But with the silent agreement of later. They had bigger matters at the moment.

Such as the figure they attacked slowly moving towards them. A porcelain puppet with golden edges but no strings. Small crystals shard embedded in its skull. The energy of being something so completely wrong to exist.

Viktor.

"Allow us a moment of civility, Jayce."

[sarahscribbles]

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟔𝐤

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The vial slips from between your fingertips just as you’re about to finally seal the top. Almost in slow motion it falls to the workbench below, shattering with a mockingly musical smash and sending tiny shards of glass scattering in a million different directions. 

For a second, all you can do is stare silently at the pale blue liquid pooling on the surface, but a steady stream of curses is quickly unleashed as you move frantically to save the detailed notes spread out around you. You gather them to your chest like a mother would gather her children, and drop them on the bench behind with an irritated, angry groan. 

An entire days worth of work ruined because you couldn’t do something as simple as hold onto a vial. 

Some scientist you are. 

From the corner of your eye you see James raise his head. When you told him you’d be alone in the lab all day doing research for MONARCH he insisted on joining you, even in spite of your protestations that he’d be bored out of his skull watching you work. 

“It’s not exciting work,” you had told him with a smile. “It’s equations and formulas and mixing chemicals. You’d hate it.”

James had only given you that soft smile that he knew was your weakness. “I barely see you enough as it is, love. I won’t make a sound. Scouts honour.”

It’s impossible to deny him anything, especially when he looks at you like you hung the moon, and so he’s sat quietly at an empty bench reading a two week old newspaper while you work. 

His Scout’s honour lasted roughly thirty minutes. Naturally curious, he had followed you around the lab like a child all morning, asking detailed questions about every step of your process. But, if you’re being very honest, it’s been nice to have him there to alleviate some of the loneliness of your work. 

He’s been banished to the other side of the lab for the last half hour to allow you to concentrate, but you can feel him watching you as you begin to clear the mess from your workbench, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning as to whether he should approach or leave you be. 

Ultimately, it’s the former that wins. 

There’s a quiet rustle as he folds the newspaper up neatly and places it exactly where he found it. It attracts your gaze and you watch him unfold from the bench like an elegant housecat, hesitating for only half a second before he closes the short distance between you both in several large steps. 

James loops his arms easily around your waist and pulls you back against his chest. His closeness brings with it the clean scent of his soap and the subtle pine of his shaving cream - that alone is almost enough to ground you. “You’re tired, love,” he says softly. “And you’ve barely left this lab all week. You’re going to exhaust that brilliant mind unless you take a break.”

His lips then press firmly to your temple. It’s his favoured soothing gesture and it never fails, not even when the inside of your mind feels like a hamster on a wheel. Slowly, the rolling wave of rage swirling inside you begins to quiet until there’s nothing but the feel of James’ arms wrapped around your waist. 

You hate how good he is at that. 

“This brilliant mind can’t take a break,” you reply tiredly, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion of the week settle over you. “I’ve got a deadline biting at my ass that can’t be pushed any further. There’s no time to switch off and have a pina colada.” 

James hums in your ear, immediately awakening a trail of goosebumps along your arms. “You did an excellent job at switching off last night.”

The tip of his nose nudges your jaw. It’s so simple, so small, but you curse the man to hell and back. 

Of course he’s going to bring up the night before when you had spent hours tangled beneath the sheets, bracketing his broad body between your shaking thighs while your name was a prayer on his lips. Of course he’s going to make you think of the way his lips had thoroughly worshipped every inch of your body, and how he’d had to cover your mouth to silence your cries lest you wake the entire building.  

Of course he’s going to make you think of the pleasure he’s capable of ripping from your body, because he knows you well enough to know that it’s a foolproof way to distract you.

You say nothing as he continues to trail lazy, haphazard kisses along the back of your neck and across your shoulder. The notes you saved only a few minutes earlier stare back at you from the workbench, and you know you should get back to the deadline at hand, but how can you be expected to focus when James is twisted around you like a viper?

And surely a few seconds of distraction isn’t going to cost you your career. 

“I should tell you to piss off and let me work,” you say, biting back a sigh when James bites gently at your earlobe, “but some stress relief would be really nice right now.”

James laughs in your ear, soft and low and genuinely amused, but his fingers are already dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to dance across your bare skin. “Is that all I am to you? Stress relief?”

You hope he knows he’s anything but. 

James Conrad is the very reason you’re standing in this lab because he believed in your abilities when you didn’t even believe in them yourself. He’s the person you want to share every miniscule detail of your life with no matter how ridiculous. He’s the first person you look for in a room, and his are the only lips you want to kiss at the end of the day. 

He’s the love of your life, and you pray that he never reduces himself to merely being the person who distracts you from the stress of your job. 

Even though he’s very, very good at it.              

His fingertips trace a familiar path along your abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as your entire body responds instantly to his touch. Those practiced fingers then slip easily inside your bra to twist your nipples, as though emphasising his displeasure, but it only pulls a satisfied smile across your face. 

“You’re the one who said I needed to take a break and then offered yourself up. What would you call it?” you tease him. 

There’s another twist of your nipples, enough to make you gasp, but the pads of his thumbs are quick to soothe. “I’d call you an impudent brat,” he replies, beginning to trail a lazy path of kisses along the column of your throat.           

You grin wider and tilt your head onto your shoulder, offering him as much of you as you can. “We established that a long time ago, Captain. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Brat,” he says again with a smile in his voice. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

James presses a final kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so gentle and so chaste that your heart skips in your chest, and you’re once again left marvelling at the emotions that this man can awaken in you. In the space of five minutes he’s made you feel calm, desired, playful, and infatuated, and, not for the first time, you think about how stupidly lucky you are to call him yours. 

Your jungle man, as you’ve taken to calling him.

Much too soon he untangles his weight from around you, but you feel two firm hands come to rest on your hips. They give you a squeeze and, before you can complain at the sudden coldness his absence brings, James is quickly spinning you around to pin you back against the workbench. His grip tightens only a fraction, as though he’s labouring under some absurd belief that you might bolt, but then one hand rises from your hip to cup your cheek. His touch is so familiar to you that you can’t help but lean into it, even more so with the almost reverential way his thumb strokes your skin. 

“How many cups of coffee have you had today?” he asks, blue eyes boring into you. 

You hesitate for only a heartbeat. “Three,” you reply, but James is quick to cock an eyebrow. “Four.” 

He sighs softly and pulls you close enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “Oblivious girl,” he teases quietly. “I know how important this project is to you, and I know that it requires a great deal of your time and energy, but you have exhausted yourself, love.”

There’s a brief moment of nothing, then James is taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “This brilliant mind is done for today. Understand?”

His voice is still velvet soft, but there’s no mistaking that this is a command he expects you to obey. Even so, the urge to be a brat rises like a storm inside you because you know how much he enjoys the game, but another larger part of you is already folding like a house of cards.

How can you not with the devastating promise that’s glittering in those blue eyes?

You nod quickly in response, eager to experience his unique form of stress relief. “Yes, Captain.”

James tilts his head to the side, fixing you with a gaze that’s full of fond exasperation. “Careful, my sweet girl, or you might bite off more than you can handle.” 

“Maybe tomorrow when you have more time to teach me a lesson,” you reply with a smirk. 

James laughs at your wit, smiling so wide that you can see the soft crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes. “Reckless. Utterly reckless,” he replies softly, and the next thing you know is his lips on yours. 

James kisses you slowly and so deeply that it takes your breath away. You melt into him easily, letting him coax your arms around his shoulders in time with a large hand pressing against the small of your back to clamp you against his chest. A moan flutters from your mouth to his as you grip him like a vice, digging your fingers greedily into the defined muscles of his back while he kisses you like you’re his only source of oxygen.

You feel dizzy, and it’s as good a distraction as any, but you realise it’s nothing more than a precursor when his lips eventually leave yours and he folds to his knees before you. 

Still drunk on the taste of his kiss, you can only watch as he makes himself comfortable on the unforgiving laboratory floor. He looks sinfully perfect kneeling in front of you, and when you see the raw desire that’s swirling in those pretty blue eyes, it almost has you fold. 

“If it’s stress relief you want, love,” James murmurs, sliding his hands underneath the hem of your skirt until it bunches at your hips, “then I’m only too happy to provide.” 

Cool air winds its way around your thighs, but James’ lips are quick to dispel the chill. He teases a slow path along your right thigh while his thumb traces nonsensical patterns on the other, and both combined raise a molten fire of arousal to life in the pit of your stomach. 

Each press of his warm lips to your flushed skin makes your cunt pulse with need, and it doesn’t take long before a desperate whimper floats from your lips. You feel James smirk then suck a particularly rough bruise into the top of your thigh. 

“Jesus Christ,” you moan shamelessly, letting an eager hand fall to twist into his hair.

You wait expectantly for him to climb higher, but, much to your irritation, he pulls back to lift his eyes to yours, though not before curling lazy fingers around the waistband of your underwear. 

“Well, don’t -,” you begin, only to be immediately silenced by James ripping away the flimsy material of your underwear. 

“Would you like to continue?” he asks, already placing two hands on your thighs to coax them apart.

You shake your head. “N-no. Not important.” 

“My good girl,” James praises you with another kiss to your lower stomach. “I expect my contributions to be noted in your final report,” he says with such an air of seriousness that you can’t help but laugh outright. 

“A footnote in my Nobel Prize acceptance speech is the best I can offer,” you reply. 

“Beautiful, brilliant, and remarkably humble. Any wonder I adore you,” he teases back, and finally, finally, you feel his mouth on your cunt. 

He feels better every single time, you can’t help but think. He’s a man who takes pleasure in giving, and nowhere does that shine through more than when he’s between your thighs. His tongue caresses your cunt like a long lost lover, ensuring that no part of you is left neglected. 

“James…fuck.” They’re the only words you’re capable of saying as he pays particular attention to your clit.

He groans low in his throat and the vibrations are enough to have you slamming your hand back on the bench behind to keep yourself steady. You chance a glance down at the devil between your legs, and your eyes immediately lock with his. You watch as he pleasures you, watch as he curls his hands around your hips to pull you closer to his mouth, then closes his eyes at the taste of you.

You know you aren’t going to last long. 

A storm of pleasure is quickly rising in your core, swirling faster and faster with each second James’ tongue remains buried in your cunt. Your hand curls like a vice in his hair to guide him and he obediently follows. Those strong hands squeeze your hips - a silent request - and you quickly flick your eyes back down to his. 

“I know…I know. Just keep going…please, James,” you plead. You’re climbing higher up the ascent and ready to topple, so it’s only too easy to grant him his one request. 

Let him watch you fall. 

His blue eyes are boring into you, not willing to risk even a second of you falling apart, and when you catch a glance of your own arousal coating his upper lip, you know you’re gone. 

Your orgasm rips through you so violently that you lose the ability to breathe, to form thoughts, to do anything but keep your eyes on James. But when you finally do find your voice, James’ name is imprinted into the very foundations of the laboratory. He fucks you through it all, until you’re a quivering, boneless wreck above him shaking through the aftershocks. 

You’re still panting when he finally pulls back, unable to do anything but watch mutely as he pulls your skirt back into place and gets to his feet. Instantly, he’s gathering you in his arms and holding you against his chest, letting one hand run slowly along the length of your back. 

“Better?” he asks, pulling away just enough to catch your chin between his fingers. 

You nod slowly. “Uh huh, but I can’t remember why I needed to feel better.”

James laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “My poor girl. Why don’t I take you home so you can lie down?” 

You let him loop an arm around your waist and pull you against his side. “I feel like there might be a double meaning to that.” 

“There is,” James replies, not missing a beat. 

“Then take me home, Captain.”

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, crying, fluff, kissing 

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

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

The night air was cool as you followed Matt away from the noise of the party. Your heart raced with every step, your mind whirling with questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. The backyard stretched into quiet darkness, string lights flickering above like hesitant stars.

He stopped near the edge of the yard, turning to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging thick between you.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

Matt shifted, his hands finding the pockets of his hoodie as he looked down at the grass. “I just… I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism showing. “You dragged me out here to ask how I’m doing?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just mean—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I didn’t know how else to say it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you pushed the feeling down. “Well, I’m fine. College is good. Busy, but good.”

Matt nodded quickly, like he was clinging to every word. “That’s good. That’s great. I figured you’d be killing it out there. What’s your favorite class so far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this really what we’re doing? Small talk?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I want to know how you’ve been. I missed you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “You missed me? Really? Because it didn’t seem like that when you broke up with me, Matt.”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath. “I know. I know I messed up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “That you didn’t think we were worth the effort? That you thought I’d be better off without you?”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Then what did you think?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you—from me, from the distance, from everything that could go wrong. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was an idiot for leaving you.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Matt—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done since then is regret it. You were the best thing in my life, and I threw it away because I was too scared to believe we could make it work.” He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I’m not scared anymore. I want to make this right. Make us right.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that was still hurt, still hesitant.

“You think it’s that simple?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You say you want me back, and we just forget everything that happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I know it’s not simple. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes—if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. “You really hurt me, Matt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes full of regret. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’m not going to hurt you again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how much you still loved him, how much you wanted to believe he meant every word. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breath hitched, and he stepped even closer, his hand hovering near yours. “You don’t have to move on,” he said. “We can figure this out together. If you still want me—if there’s even a chance—please, Y/N. Let me try.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope. “I never stopped wanting you,” you admitted.

Matt exhaled shakily, and before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he was pouring every unsaid word into that one moment.

- 

The party was a distant memory as you walked into Matt’s house, the one you hadn’t been inside since last summer. The air inside was familiar, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and candles you were sure Nick insisted on burning. Memories tugged at your heart—laughing on the couch with his brothers, late-night talks in the kitchen, falling asleep in his arms on that very couch after a movie marathon.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Matt hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, do you want water or something? I don’t know how long you want to stay, but—”

“Water’s fine,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the space. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Or maybe it was you who had changed.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen, and you wandered into the living room. Your fingers brushed against the back of the couch, your mind flashing to all the times you’d sat there together, tangled in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing.

“Here,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to find him holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You took it, your fingers brushing his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Do you… want to go to my room?” he asked tentatively.

You hesitated. That room held so many memories, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face them. But you nodded anyway, following him down the hall.

When you stepped inside, your chest tightened. Everything was the same—the posters on the walls, the rumpled comforter on the bed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. It was like stepping back in time, except now there was an invisible wall of tension between you.

Matt hovered near the door, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to stand there like it’s some kind of museum.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “It kind of feels like one,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He joined you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you asked finally.

“Because we’re not the same people we were a year ago,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your hands. “Yeah. We’re not.”

Matt shifted closer, his knee brushing yours. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean… we’ve changed, sure. But the way I feel about you hasn’t.”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your voice steady. “Matt, I don’t know if I can just… pretend like everything’s okay again. You broke my heart.”

He winced, his hand running through his hair. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting that. But, Y/N, I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just… tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you. “I don’t know what I need, Matt,” you admitted. “I just know that being here with you—it’s messing with my head.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I don’t want to mess with your head, Y/N. I just want to show you that I’m still the guy who loves you more than anything. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked them away. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s messy, and it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to fight for it—for you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning. He froze for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, and then he kissed you back with a desperation that took your breath away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, every ounce of love, regret, and longing pouring into it. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing hard.

“God, I missed you,” Matt whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smiled faintly, your chest aching in the best way. “I missed you too.”

-

After hours of being tangled in each others embrace, you had decided it was too late to go home and that you would stay the night. 

Matt settled beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, but you couldn’t fully relax.

He noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I need time to adjust to your existence again.”

He hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words settled something in you, and you let yourself relax against him, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

-

One month later, you found yourself back in Matt’s room, perched on the edge of his bed. The atmosphere was warm and familiar, but there was a quiet weight in the air that neither of you could ignore. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—reconnecting in ways that made your heart race, stolen moments of laughter, and soft touches that reminded you of the love you once shared. But there was something still unspoken between you, something that needed to be addressed.

Matt sat across from you, cross-legged on the bed, his fingers idly toying with the hem of his hoodie. He seemed nervous, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away, like he was trying to find the right words but was afraid of what they might mean.

You broke the silence first, unable to take the tension anymore. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation, haven’t we?”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we have.”

You tucked your legs underneath you, the comforter soft beneath your fingers as you fidgeted with it. “We’ve been spending so much time together, Matt, but we haven’t really talked about… what this is.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours. “I know. And I think about it all the time. I just… I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted.”

Your heart ached at his thoughtfulness, but it also made you more anxious. “And what about you? What do you want, Matt?”

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I want this. I want you. But I need to know that you’re ready for that too. I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not sure about.”

The honesty in his voice made you feel like the room had shrunk, like it was just the two of you in this little bubble of vulnerability. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, and he immediately took it, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, Matt. And the thought of going through that again…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It terrifies me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. “It terrifies me too,” he said softly. “But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of letting you slip away again because I was too afraid to fight for what we have.”

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening with emotion. “What if we mess it up again? What if—”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he interrupted gently. “Together. Y/N, I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise you this—I’ll fight for us. Every single day. Because not having you in my life was… it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’m not making it again.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He reached out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness as it fell.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. And I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words sinking into you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never stopped either.”

The relief on his face was immediate, and without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was slow and tender, full of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. “So what does this mean?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his hoodie.

“It means we take it one day at a time,” Matt said, his voice steady. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I can handle that.”

He grinned, his boyish charm making your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go again, Y/N. You’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. In that moment, the fear and uncertainty faded, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a new beginning.

And for the first time in months, you felt like everything might just be okay.

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

heheh ok i'm actually obsessed with this

⭒ margot

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #6

What if… there was a very special day at the Showgrounds?

[more under cut]

For context, the people have spoken and the poll [link] is closed, the winner being 💍 (engagement ring) so I shall reveal what it is, drumroll please...

TWO-IN-ONE DEAL: FERRIS WHEEL WEDDING 🎡 + A SPECIAL SURPRISE AT THE END 💍

SURPRISE! The Wedding Episode Concept, naturally, was the Ferris Wheel emoji, but you all get a bonus for choosing the ring! Sorry that it took so long, but I've wanted to deliver something special to you guys for my birthday! Here's to celebrating my 22nd trip around the sun!

⭐️ 🎉 🎡 🎉 ⭐️

What more could he ask for?

SMG4 has been waiting for this his whole life. He had seen dozens of romcom movies and shows, as it was his guilty pleasure, and he hoped that one day, he would fall in love and perhaps even marry his partner. Of course, it didn’t play out exactly what he had seen.

Could you imagine: him, falling in love with his rival? And a former villain no less?

If you were to tell him years ago that he was going to love, date, and marry SMG3, he wouldn’t believe you. Hell, he would’ve coughed out some water if he had a glass, or stared at you because it must be some practical joke he didn’t get. Right?

But there was no joke nor was it a lie.

Change is a curious thing; the opportunities come so many times, but it takes bravery to say, “I want to change”. It then takes a lot more to say, “I will change”. Naturally, it can be difficult as it is, change having a negative perception. But what is human if not to fear the unknown? Four knew it too well, way before he dared to ask Three out. The ‘perfect’ incident, the Meme Factory. There were a lot of moments that he wasn’t proud of, all fueled by the pursuit of fulfilling an image. To show proof that he is worthy to his friends.

This was what stuck with him for years. He was lost for so long and, although it took him a while to find his self-worth, he knew he wanted to change. It was possible because he had seen it first-hand from Three.

Standing before the tall mirror in his room, he fidgeted with his blue bowtie for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was the same bow he wore in WOTFI 2023, except for the knot coated in a rose gold metallic. This, along with the matching waistcoat, were the only things he asked to be included exclusively in his wedding attire, it felt fitting for the occasion.

Meggy: “SMG4, your wedding’s in half an hour! Don’t mess up your collar.”

Meggy and Luigi were here, helping Four prepare for his big day as well as be his emotional support. Mario was supposed to also be here but apparently, he needed to do something else. He did wish Four luck, though.

Meggy was adjusting his white coat, a fusion of a normal jacket with a tail of what seemed like a wedding dress, all with its layers of ruffles. It matched wonderfully with his white dress pants and shoes. Seeing how Four’s nerves were getting to him, Meggy left the ruffles and helped Four with his bow again. He had to look his absolute best in his suit of white, blue, and rose gold after all.

Meggy stepped back, seeing the whole picture with Luigi. Four posed modestly and a note of hesitation.

SMG4: “Well, um… how do I look?” Luigi, giving a thumbs up: “Spectacular!” Meggy: [*nods*] “Agreed!” [*looks at him with patience*] “Nervous?” SMG4, turns back at the mirror: “Meggy, I’ve been running on expresso and adrenaline for the past couple of hours. Of course, I am.”

Meggy stands behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Meggy: “Do you love him?” SMG4, slips a small smile: “Is that even a question? I do.” Meggy: “And you know he feels the same.” [*Four nods*] “Even if things get tough, you guys can figure it out. I know you can. Honestly, out of the two of you, SMG3’s more of a nervous wreck than you.” SMG4: [*laughs*] “That’s Three for you.”

Four and Three have been dancing around each other for years, one unsure to make the first move. Much less if they felt like the other wouldn’t reciprocate. Pretty sure someone made a scholarly study on their would-they-won’t-they.

When Three dared to make the first move and confess his feelings, it was a lot for Four to take in. Four felt the same way, yes, but he was completely stunned by it that he didn’t know how to respond. That, unfortunately, spiraled into a series of misunderstandings and harsh tension between the two. Slowly, they later were able to clear things up, allowing Four to say “I love you too.”

Eventually, Four asked Three out. Four, being inexperienced in dating, was worried that his date plans weren’t enough. They ended up always being over-the-top. Three, on the other hand, was a complete mess because “No, Eggdog, just because Four invited me to watch a movie together doesn’t mean I can’t look fabulous, and that means I can’t mess up my eyeliner right now”. Over time, they learned to be less extreme and enjoy the simple things. As little as just Three hanging out while Four edits a video, it was worth something.

When they started dating, they decided to keep their relationship a secret. They weren’t exactly sure how the Crew would react, other than pure speculation. But there were certainly hints they’ve unintentionally left behind.

White flowers appearing in the cafe’s empty vases. Three and Eggdog frequently joining Four and Beeg4 for dinner. Three and Four falling sleep from cuddling on the game room sofa.

…Well, maybe they weren't that subtle, now that Four thought about it. He was at least glad that the Crew accepted the relationship when the two eventually told them. He took a breath and smiled at the indigo rose pinned in his lapel. Meggy was right, everything’s going to be okay.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3: “Nothing is okay!”

Meanwhile, in the cafe, SMG3 was pacing around, his purple heels clicking on the wooden floor. Bob and Saiko looked at him, unfazed.

SMG3: “Oh, by all the memes, what if he cancels the wedding? What if he doesn't want to marry me anymore? I mean, look at me! I look ridiculous, of course he wouldn’t.”

He stopped to present his attire to the other two with open desperate arms. He wore a white sleeveless, ballroom-styled gown with some ruffles in shades of purple and indigo. Like a dyed rose. A white pair of long silk gloves to match. His long hair was tied up in a messy bun with pearls and golden leaves sprinkled on his do. For the final touch, he wore a choker with his skull symbol in gold.

Bob and Saiko exchange a glance, an eyebrow raised.

Bob: “Dude, chill. If anything, I bet that idiot is going to short-circuit, forget everything, and propose to you again the minute he sees you.” SMG3: “Bob, I’m being serious! Weddings can go to complete disaster just by one small thing, and that is a fact.” Saiko: “Well, if you’re done with your what-ifs, come and sit down. I have to put the veil on.” [*pats the stool in front of her*]

Three grumbled, reluctantly taking a seat next to Saiko as she got the long white veil.

Saiko: “SMG3, relax. He’s not going to make fun of you. And no, he's not going to leave you at the altar.” SMG3: [*sighs*] “It's just… so many things could go wrong and… I don't want to lose him.” Saiko: [*her face softens*] “Alright, name me one time he's left you behind. Or that he doesn't care about you.” SMG3: “…Touché.” Saiko: “You love him, don't you?”

Three gives her a look as if she grew two heads. Really?

SMG3: “Of course I do.” Saiko: “Does he love you?” SMG3: “…Yes.” Saiko: “Does he want to marry you as much as you want to?”

SMG3 looked back at the past, remembering that day. Four and Three, as always, have been dancing around the idea of marriage. They joke around and say “maybe one day”, despite them already having engagement rings for each other.

Separately, they asked the other’s son for their approval. Eggdog immediately said yes to Four. If his dad is happy, then he is. But when it was Three’s turn, he was shocked when Beeg gave his approval without hesitation. Beeg explained that Beeg was on his dad's side in the ‘perfect’ incident. Even if Four was possessed and Beeg didn't regularly show it, Beeg did care for his dad. Three was the one who saved him. Not only once, but twice. And even more times afterwards. Beeg was forever thankful for that. Besides, it would be cool to have a dad that's just as chaotic as he is.

Four had planned a romantic date in his favorite flower field, just to propose to Three. Little did he know, Three had the same idea in proposing that day. Naturally, there was shock, confusion, then laughter. Indeed, they were the type of couple who would propose at the same time. Three remembered Four’s reaction, a smile filled with excitement and tears of joy in the corners of his eyes.

SMG3: [*smiles fondly*] “We both wanted this, more than anything.” Saiko: [*nods*] “Then, there's nothing to worry about. Just take his hand and you’ll know: everything is going to be okay.” [*finishes up, clips in the indigo rose to his bun*] “I think you're ready.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

When it comes to weddings, any newlyweds surprise themselves that they could never remember the finer details. Nerves, excitement, admiration, they all seem to cloud their minds. But even then, through the gaps of clarity, one can find a few memories. It was true when Four walked down the aisle.

Thanks to the recycled rides and stands from Puzzle Park, the Showgrounds appeared livelier than ever before. The lit Ferris Wheel served as the backdrop to the outdoor venue, the sunset painting the sky.

Walking alongside SMG1 and SMG2, Four could see every friend imaginable, all standing to watch their procession. Smiles, waves. Of pride and of silent congratulations. It seemed like the whole Mushroom Kingdom and beyond were here. Meggy and Luigi really helped get everyone settled in.

He manages to catch sight of Saiko, Kaizo, and Bob on a nearby stage, preparing to perform for the reception. They all waved when they noticed Four, Bob being more focused on the DJ turntable playing a record of soft piano tunes.

Once he reached the altar and turned around to wait for his partner, he could see the rest of the Crew in the front row. A few gave him a thumbs up, some were already starting to tear up. Four took a breath, drowning the last of his nerves. It's time.

And indeed, it was. A new tune settled in and the crowd turned to the front of the aisle. Four followed their eyes and no single thing else mattered anymore.

The long-awaited newcomer, SMG3, was the most beautiful person Four had ever seen. He've been knew, of course, but here, Three looked like an angel. A bouquet of indigo and white in hand, Three walked with their son. In tiny top hats and bowties, Eggdog throwing flower petals behind his dad while Beeg was holding the rings. The audience cooed and awed at Three's appearance. Four's heart skipped a beat, his stomach fluttered with butterflies. A lovestruck smile slipped on his face.

There was a mutter from Bob, followed by Saiko elbowing him to shut up, but he wouldn't notice. There was absolutely nothing that could top this.

Then there was Three, managing to see through the veil over his face, was drawn by his love upon the altar. Four looked amazing in the suit. It fitted him like a glove, colors and all. Breath taking. Oh, how much he wanted to run up and tackle him, pepper Four's face with kisses. With all the love in the world, he was tempted to do it. Once he reached the altar, Four offered his hand, Three swore he could melt right here and now.

SMG3, looking away in bashfulness: "Um...hey." [*Four lifts his veil*] SMG4, keeping his giddy smile: "Hi, dear." [*looking to realize they were the only ones at the altar*] "Ok. First off, you look beautiful and I'm willing to skip the vows just so I could kiss you, but... um... did you get someone to officiate our wedding?" SMG3: [*looks at him blankly*] "I thought you did...?"

As if their question was answered by the universe itself, a green pipe sprouted from the ground. Of course, the man of the hour, jumping out of it...

SMG3 and SMG4: "Mario?!" Mario: "Hello! :D" [*climbing out as the pipe went back down into the ground*] "It's about time you gays tie the knot."

Mario struck a pose, wearing his usual overalls and cap except for an additional black bowtie.

SMG4: "Wait, does that mean...? Mario: "Well, you officiate plenty of weddings, SMG4. It's only fair if Mario does it for you, as your Avatar and best friend. Besides, Toadstool gave me permission."

Four and Three looked at each other and shrugged, sure why not? Seeing that there weren't any problems with it, Mario cleared his throat.

Mario: "Dear guests, we're here today to see two of our beloved friends finally be together. Heroes, partners. Not only have they saved us countless times, they also saved each other. And believe it or not, man, how it was pure torture for Mario to see their yearning." [*everyone chuckles*] "Now, Mario may not be the most intelligent, or intelligent at all, but Mario will say this: the love and care between these two is undeniable. As much as they started as rivals, they have grown to be who they are today because of their partner. A miracle of second chances, of understanding. And as their friend, Mario can say how happy he is for the two of them." SMG4, whispers: "Wow, Mario. Thank you, that was actually very sweet." Mario, whispers back: "Dude, Mario's been captain of the ship from day one. Especially because of the igloo. Anyway..."

SMG3 and SMG4 froze, and glanced at the crowd with nervous smiles. Hopefully, no one else heard that. And no, no one did.

Mario: "If anyone objects to the wedding, speak now or forever hold your peace." [*the crowd stayed silent*] SMG3: "Good, because I was about to fight anyone that did." [*Four snickers*] Mario: "Now, for the vows." [*Beeg comes forth with the rings, offering them to his dads*] SMG4, holding a rose gold ring: "Three..."

But before Four could say anything else, a loud crash interrupted the ceremony. The ground shook violently, Three and Four held to each other protectively. Then, another rumble, this time the Ferris Wheel crashing down. The impact created a giant dust storm, the terror rising within the crowd. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

As the dust settles, a large figure emerges. Unfamiliar for most, the opposite for the Crew.

SMG4, eyes narrowed: "You..." ???: "Ah, was I too late to object? Or you didn't care to invite me?" SMG3: "Please, as if we wanted you here. At all." ???, to SMG4: "Gee, and I wonder how a hero would come to ruin, marrying a villain? Then again, with you and your perfectionism, you might've already had." [*turns to Three*] "And you, did you really believe turning yourself into a "good guy" would make you feel better for what you've done in the past? Or what, did you think villains could have happy endings?"

Three frees himself from Four's embrace to step forward, an arm shielding his partner.

SMG3: "Now, listen here, asshole! Being a villain or not, I don’t give a shit what you all think of me anymore. But don’t think I’m going to let you crash in here and ruin our wedding day!" ???: "Hmph. Well then, I would like to see you try."

With a wave of their hand, a whole army of henchmen starts to emerge from the woods, marching towards them. Somehow, SMG3 pulls out a giant machine gun out of thin air, leaving everyone flabbergasted. Where the hell did that come from?

SMG3, smug: "Bet on it."

Just as everyone else reacted, Four did as well. No, like seriously, where did Three get that gun from? Regardless of what that answer may be, Four simply seeing Three's iconic grin made him blush. Screw what Four said earlier, this was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Oh spaghetti gods, that was kinda hot.

SMG4: “Three…” Please marry me... oh wait, I already proposed. Shit. SMG3, looking back at his partner with reassurance: “I know it’s not how the wedding’s supposed to go, but since when was our world ever normal?” [*offers a hand*] “Whaddaya say, want to kick some ass?”

Four, completely enamored by Three, happily accepted his hand.

SMG4: “I’d say, let’s give the audience what they want.”

He winks at the viewer. Yes, you, the one behind the screen. He then turns to Saiko, Kaizo, and Bob.

SMG4: “Drop us a beat.”

The three nodded and performed a song, unlike one that would normally play at a wedding. The two parties clash, hordes of henchmen fighting against guests in fancy outfits.

Mario and Luigi knocked out a few with a hammer and vacuum respectively while Meggy had their back with her Splattershott.

Tari shot down enemies from the sky and Melony in her god mode struck several in the ground with her sword.

In the heart of it all, there was the newlyweds. Three switched between using his machine gun to throwing bombs. Four meanwhile used his meme power and a handgun, his senses becoming hyper-sensitive. If his new abilities taught him anything, it was that he could maneuver like an actual glitch. One second, he was in front of you, and in the next, he would be right behind you to strike. To them, this was an elaborate dance that only they knew the steps of.

They supposed it was true about weddings, time moves so quickly that you never remember the finer details. But Four, protecting his partner's back, knows that, in a moment of clarity: he was lucky to have Three by his side.

Soon, the army retreated back into the woods, and the villain, tempted to hide their defeat, glared at the duo.

???: "This isn't over."

And with that, they fed in a blink of an eye. The guests cheered, celebrating their victory. Three dropped his gun and was about to ask if Four was okay. Instead, Four jumped into his arms and kissed him. Three was certainly surprised by it but kissing his love back. Their attires were tattered up in tears and stains, their hair looking like bird nests. They didn't care.

The two part, and Three raised his eyebrow.

SMG3: “Doesn’t the kissing part come after we exchange the rings?” SMG4: [*rolls eyes amusingly*] “Oh, now I’m not allowed to kiss my future husband?” SMG3: [*takes a gold ring from his gown pocket*] “Husband.”

The two exchanged the rings as they said their vow:

I, as your partner, acknowledge that we had a rough start, clashing due to jealousy and greedy desires. But despite it all, I always have and will admire you, willing to forgive you for the hurt that was done. I promise to be with you when you need me. I promise to continue to love you, be your partner-in-crime. Let me be with you in every adventure until the very last. It'll be 'you and me against the world', until the stars fall from the sky...

SMG3: “As your husband, I promise to be true.” SMG4: “As your husband, I promise to be your light.

The two shared another kiss, this time the crowd cheering for the couple. Together, always and forever. A life spent with their love is all they could ever wish.

What more could he ask for?

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

⭐️ 🎉 💍 🎉 ⭐️

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this episode (concept), I've been waiting to share this one with you guys for so long and I had the perfect time to do so!

By the way, for SMG4's outfit, I was inspired by this from Pinterest [link] AKA the most enby wedding outfit that I've ever seen. For SMG3, I kinda just made it up on the spot but thought about "pretty princess" the whole time. As for the battle scene, I had the perfect (oh yeah, gonna use that word) song that matches it [link], a remix track from Deadpool & Wolverine. Just imagine all the slowmo, *chef's kiss*.

Anyway, thank you all so much for the birthday wishes and presents, it really meant a lot to me and made my day feel special.

Hang on, I'm getting a call....

Whats this?? ...MERCH?!?!? That's right, introducing:

Ferris Wheel Wedding (Fake) Merch Line

First up we got a special acrylic keychain, where one side we have the lovely couple standing in front of the Ferris Wheel, and on the other side, here they are being totally badass.

It also comes in as a standee, WOW

Next up, we got a poster of the newlyweds off to their honeymoon. Aw, look at them riding Four's forklift! How lovely ❤️

And lastly, for a limited time only, we have the matching wedding rings, exact replicas of Four and Three's!

Share it with a partner if you have one, use it in an actual wedding, or just have it as a souvenir!

GET YOUR MERCH TODAY!

(i'm luke trust me /j)

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 15

Masterpost

Jason didn’t enjoy killing per se. It wasn’t like, a favorite hobby of his or an addiction and he had to get his fix, but every once in a while there would be an asshole so completely deserving of a bullet to the brain that Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit of peace the moment they stopped breathing. Had he been a bit worried that Miguel and Santiago would hate him for killing their dad? Yes. But was ridding Gotham of one more child molester worth it? Yes.

After he’d pried Danny off of the body of someone he’d never seen before, he’d held the man close until his rage died down. He thought- well he thought he and Danny were different. Danny had some kind of explanation for how he’d come back to life and he seemed at peace with the whole kinda-sorta-ghost-thing but when Jason had first found Danny beating the shit out of another person, his eyes had looked… Lazarus green.

Jason knew for a fact that Danny’s eyes were blue (how many times had he gotten lost staring into them while the man raved about space or Gotham or some other special interest of his?). So despite not knowing the situation, Jason had fought Danny away from the man and held him close until what he assumed was pit rage went away.

He knew it was confusing, disorienting, to come out of an episode and instead of getting answers to the questions he so desperately wanted to ask (What happened? Do I need to kill this guy? Are you hurt? Are the boys hurt? Why are your eyes Lazarus green? Was the Pit Rage? Do you know who the league of Assassins are? What is your relation to them? how-), he told Danny to get cleaned up and checked on the boys.

It was both surprising and completely unsurprising that he found Santiago locked in a closet with Miguel crying in front of the door. He got the younger boy out in seconds and immediately had an armful of angry and scared thirteen year old boy. They only spoke for a few minutes before Danny had come back and he decided to give the family some time to talk.

But his eyes were BRIGHT green and he couldn’t shake the feeling that- was it just a dead person thing? That would make sense, right? His eyes glowed green but they’d always thought that was the Pit’s influence. But that guy- Phantom- his eyes had been green too. So three dead guys walk into a daycare with glowing green eyes- it was like the setup of a really bad joke.

No one asked him what happened to the kid’s bio dad which was good because while Jason was glad he’d stopped Danny from fully killing the bastard (Danny didn’t need to have another murder on his conscience, even if both would have been justified in his and most people’s books), he had no intention of letting the bastard get away alive. He’d looked into Miguel and Santiago when he’d first learned of their existence and the only reason he hadn’t killed their sperm donor then was because he was behind bars.

So he’d placed the man’s unconscious body on the fire escape outside the hallway and grabbed it on his way out. Once he was far enough away that the boys and Danny wouldn’t hear the gunshot and connect it to him, he put a bullet in the man’s head. He dropped the body in an alley near a police station and intended to call it a night before remembering he had to debrief with the bats.

Maybe it was his disappearing act or his short responses or something in the way he held himself, but for once B seemed to listen when Jason told him off.

No he wasn’t going to give B the card Phantom had given him- “Did he ask YOU to coffee? Didn’t think so, fuck off.”, no he wasn’t going to explain why he’d been trying to get a moment alone with Danny after the fight- “My personal life is none of your business, fuck off.”, and he definitely wasn’t going to explain why he’d left the daycare and come back to the cave covered in blood- “My personal business is none of yours, fuck off!”.

And after it all B had just let him. He pushed less than usual and not in the ‘afraid you’ll go into a pit rage if I push’ way but in a ‘you’re clearly not going to tell me so why bother’ way. (Maybe even a ‘you’re my son and I trust you to make the right decision’ way? Was that too much to hope for?) 

He’d definitely confused the hell out of Duke with his questions but he just- he needed to get answers and he couldn’t rationalize getting them from Danny at the moment. He’d call Phantom tomorrow, tonight seemed too… forward. Especially since the ghost (King wtf) had essentially asked him on a date (that’s what was implied with the flirting and mention of coffee, right?!). 

So if he had green eyes sometimes, and Danny had green eyes sometimes, and Phantom had green eyes, and they also were all dead at some point, then maybe there was a connection? And Duke understood that kind of thing way better than he did because the kid could see auras and shit so maybe he could tell Jason something useful. And he did. 

Useful and entirely meaningless at the same time because what the fuck did it mean that they all had toxic green auras?!

He’d patrolled for a few more hours, contemplating what it really meant, what he should do, if he should ask Danny, and so on and so forth, until he felt out of his mind with questions. At some point he decided to call it a night and head back to his apartment to sleep. But he had so much energy still- nervous energy too- he hated nervous energy. 

When he was feeling… feeling too much, he baked. Or cooked. Usually he made more than he could ever eat and brought the leftovers to the safe houses he’d let homeless kids live in or down to a shelter or something else like that. Tonight he had one goal in mind with the food he made.

So he baked. He made a pan of brownies, a tray of cookies, three dozen muffins, a pie of all things, and he cooked. He made a pot of stew, a lasagna, two different soups, vindaloo, and a breakfast casserole, and when he was done he packed up as much as he could carry and took it to Danny’s. 

Sneaking into the apartment was easy, he’d done it often enough for the last couple of months and despite warning Danny that he needed to get better security, the man never did. He probably forgot honestly, Jason didn’t think he’d ever met a man quite as busy as Danny. Whether that was because Danny was actually busy or because he didn’t know how to delegate, he wasn’t sure, but he always seemed like- well like Bruce levels of busy. Like he had a job and a secret other job and also he took in random kids and helped everyone he could as much as he could and gave away every part of himself without a second thought.

So. No security system. 

Jason put the food away, some went into the fridge while others went into the freezer, and noticed the apartment felt empty. It would be weird to check if he was in his room but he had a feeling he knew where the man was if not his own home.

Keeping the breakfast casserole and a plate of cookies, Jason swung around the building and landed carefully on the boys’ fire escape. Sure enough, when he peered through the window he found Danny being absolutely drowned in cuddles from Miguel, Santiago, and their cat, Curiosity.

(He’d never admit it but every time he stopped by to drop food off or check in, Jason pet the cats. What? They looked lonely and he wasn’t heartless. He’d been confused and worried out of his mind when he visited for the first time unable to find Curiosity- that cat always came running first so where the ever-loving fuck was he?! But he’d had to leave before finding the orange cat and vowed to find him the next time he visited.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t find Curiosity the next time either. He’d come so close to asking Danny where his fucking cat went ((Curiosity was the one who��d been sick when he first found them what if he’d died?!))- should he leave a post-it note asking about the kitten? But again, he’d gotten pulled away by vigilante stuff and had to leave without an answer.

It was only when he’d come over as Jason the tutor that he figured out Danny had given Curiosity to Miguel and Santiago and the cat was over in their apartment most of the time. He was relieved that the cat hadn’t gone missing or died, but now he’d need to stop by and find that cat in their apartment and how had he not noticed the boys had a cat he literally visited their apartment more than Danny’s at this point!)

He slid the window open easily and slipped into the apartment stealthily. None of the boys stirred as Jason quietly put the casserole in the fridge, with a quickly scribbled note on top, and the plate of cookies on the counter. After he finished he moved back towards the window but paused as he sat on the window sill. 

Miguel mumbled something and pushed his face further into Danny’s shoulder and all three of them shifted slightly until their limbs were more entangled than they’d been a moment before and it was hard to tell where one of them started and the others ended. He didn’t know how they didn’t see it- that they were a family- he really didn’t. Danny corrected anyone who called him their dad, they corrected anyone who called them his sons, and yet here they were, cuddling after a traumatic incident where Danny protected them with everything he had.

(He didn’t think about how he and Bruce fit into the exact category he was placing Danny and the boys, he DIDN’T.)

Curiosity chirped and looked around suddenly, seeing Jason and offering him a yawn. That was his cue to leave. He… he didn’t want to, not really. Something about Danny had made him feel safer than anything else had in- in years. The twink he found standing over the body of his murderer, the guy who’d taken on twenty-five goons without a weapon because they’d dared to hurt Miguel, the man he’d pried away from a child molester only hours prior- this was a man anyone would feel safe with.

But Jason wasn’t used to feeling safe and slipping out of the window and grappling back to his own empty and suddenly very lonely apartment was familiar enough. He didn’t feel as safe here as he had in the run down apartment of a practical stranger, but he should. It was his home. He should.

He didn’t sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know how to tell him!” She shouted, hands gripping her hair tightly.

“Just tell him. It will all work out.” He responded calmly.

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she shouted back. “Easy for you to say! If things are going to turn out so well, why don’t YOU tell him? It was your idea after all!”

“It would not do well if I told him, he’d only be angry at me. He has a difficult time being mad at you.” Again, with a calm response.

“He’s not going to take it well- I wouldn’t and I’m literally him!” Dani reasoned.

Clockwork huffed. “You are not ‘literally him’, you are your own person and you have been for years. Do not diminish all of the hard work the two of you have put into being your own people. Tell him.” 

“He’s gonna kill me! It’s not just him anymore- he’s got the boys to worry about you know this!”

“Tell him.” CW responded idly.

Face palming, Dani groaned. “I’m so dead.”

~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after Miguel’s explanation and panic attack, Danny convinced him to take a nap and spent the next few hours cleaning the apartment and putting things in order. He sent out another message saying the daycare would actually be closed for the rest of the week and he’d update the parents as soon as the building was safe enough to open back up. They were surprisingly understanding for people who were being inconvenienced in a big way.

After that he checked his email and reached out to three people who’d applied to the daycare to set up interviews. If all of them worked out he’d have three more full time employees, one who was old enough and experienced enough that he might be able to leave her in charge sometimes. 

By one thirty he realized he didn’t know where his phone was and should really message Jazz and Dani about what had happened. Searching the couch cushions, he found his phone buried under where he’d slept the night before.

(17) Missed Calls

(38) Messages

(5) Voicemails

Well. Shit. Danny started with the voicemails, the first being from Jazz.

“Danny? I saw the news- are you okay? Are the kids okay? It’s all over the news- apparently some kids were out nearby and recorded what happened through the window? Oh my Ancients- call me back Danny!”

She sounded more worried than mad, that was good, he could work with a worried Jazz- and angry one? Not so much. An angry Jazz would tear him apart molecule by molecule until he was nothing but a puddle of separated atoms.

The next one was from Sam.

“Danny Nightingale what the actual FUCK-”

Tucker cut in. “Holy shit dude! Did you actually fucking TACKLE the Scarecrow?”

“Tucker! More importantly- did your clone tackle Scarecrow? Cause the recording got fuzzy after that but not so fuzzy we didn’t notice the GLOWING FUCKING PHANTOM!”

“Sam’s right dude, the cameras caught more than usual- maybe it was because they were farther away? Or just because your energy was being expended keeping a clone around? Not sure, but the videos show a vaguely humanoid vigilante flying around and kicking ass.”

“Call us back Invisio-Bill.”

Okay, so people being able to see Phantom wasn’t great, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. It wasn’t like he planned on going out as Phantom again- he hadn’t come to Gotham to be a vigilante and team up with the birds and bats. Valerie and Wes left similar voicemails to Jazz.

“Can’t even keep off the news as Danny, eh Nightingale? Let me know if you’re okay.”

At least Valerie’s message was teasing and not angry. Seriously, why were all of the women in his life so terrifying when they were angry?

“Dude! So Phantom’s back, huh? And you got to meet Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood? Seriously man- that’s- that’s wild! You know it’s pretty funny that that guy -Duke Thomas- works for you and was there that night because-” There was a loud honking sound cutting him off. “Oh shit, I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a hot date. Let me know you’re okay! Bye Danny!”

The last voicemail was from a number he didn’t recognize but with a Wisconsin area code. 

He deleted it without listening.

The messages were similar to the voicemails, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Wes, Tim, Damian, Jesse, and a few others just checking in. Jason had messaged to cancel their tutoring last minute citing a family emergency- thank Ancients he’d canceled because Danny had completely forgot they’d had an appointment. 

He deleted the text messages from the Wisconsin number he didn’t recognize.

He didn’t care to read them.

At some point people from Amity Park and his past life were going to find out he’d moved to Gotham and set up shop so to speak, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. Maybe after he’d been here for a full year, with an established ‘business’ and connections and friends and whatnot, but not earlier. Even then, he’d hoped the only people who would really notice were peopel who didn’t care that much.

Flash, Pualina, Kwan, people who would go ‘did you hear Danny’s in Gotham now?’ and then have a laugh and move on without reaching out.

He didn’t want to hear from Vlad.

He didn’t want to think about what it meant that Vlad was reaching out.

If Vlad knew where he was then they knew where he was ant that meant he wasn’t safe. Worse- it meant the boys weren’t safe around him. Danny had grown accustomed to his life being in danger at all times a long time ago. He’d grown used to it when lab equipment malfunctioned throughout his childhood, when he’d died, when his parents' security system started targeting him, he’d always known he was in danger at all times. But he was supposed to be the one stable and safe thing about the boys’ lives and he couldn’t be that if he had the GIW and the Fenton’s breathing down his neck.

So, knowing it was something he should have done a long time ago instead of banning ghosts from coming into Amity, Danny sent a text to the group chat.

Crime-Fighting, Night-Stalking Vigilantes

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne: Get in losers we’re going to take down the GIW

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne changed the group chat name from ‘Crime-Fighting, Night-stalking Vigilantes’ to ‘Operation Take Down the Plastics’

Chaos is typing…

TooFine is typing…

Cassandra is typing…

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue is typing…

The Midwest Princess is typing…

And with that taken care of, Danny shot quick responses to his Gotham friends before turning off his phone. He told Tim, Damian, Jesse, and any parents who’d privately messaged him, that he was all right and would be getting the daycare in order as quickly as possible. He messaged Duke to check in and let him know that therapy was included in all of his employees’ benefits and that the teenager should take full advantage of it. 

Jason had first messaged to cancel their scheduled tutoring session and later (much later he noticed) messaged to ask if he was all right and if there was anything he could do to help him or the boys out. Danny apologized for not getting back to him sooner, thanked him for the offer, and returned it due to his own family emergency.

Setting his phone down he started planning how they’d do it. He’d need to talk to Clockwork and the rest of his council about how to go about getting the Justice League on their side. He could do it without them probably, but Danny had a strong suspicion that if he brought the Anti-Ecto-Acts to the JL’s attention, they’d get them abolished faster than any other route they took.

Except for war, maybe.

But Danny had overruled that suggestion years ago and instead banned Ghosts from Amity Park. He couldn’t stop them from coming through altogether or he’d be preventing many of them from their obsessions which was dangerous. It also wouldn’t really be fair to ban them from a place that might have once been their home.

He’d instead cracked down on their behavior. Any ghost who wanted to come to Earth needed to be approved by someone Danny had selected for that exact purpose. They needed to know enough about human culture to not cause chaos everywhere they went. Of course some of them *cough* Skulker *cough* didn’t listen to these rules and still caused chaos on some scale.

It wasn’t a perfect system but it was the best Danny had been able to do while also recovering from severe injuries and learning to be the King of the Infinite Realms. It had been a lot and he could admit that not all of his decisions had been winners.

“Danny?” A voice cut through his thoughts and he realized he’d been sneaked up on.

Offering Santi a smile, Danny moved his feet and offered the spot to the boy. “What’s up Santi?”

“Miguel’s bein’ weird.” He made a face. “What’d you two talk about after I left?”

Licking his lips, Danny tried to decide how much he should share. He didn’t want to break Miguel’s trust by revealing too much, but Santiao deserved to know that Danny knew certain things about their dad and oh god- was this what it was like to be a parent?! “We talked a bit about… about your dad and his feelings. Is he all right?”

Santi nodded slowly. “He’s… fine. Kinda… clingy. Din’t want me ta leave the room but not-” He considered his next words carefully. “Not for the usual reasons.”

Ah, yes. Danny remembered Miguel admitting to never leaving Santiago alone with Danny intentionally and why he did it. A part of him melted to know that Miguel wasn’t worried about that anymore. “Sometimes people need comfort but don’t know how to ask for it. Miguel seems like he might be one of those people.” Danny whispered conspiratorially. “I was like that when I was his age.”

“Danny?” Santiago started hesitantly.

“What’s up kiddo?” 

The boy shifted uncomfortably. “Did Hood… Is- Is my…” He inhaled sharply. “Is my dad dead?”

There was something about the way he asked it that Danny couldn’t put his finger on. His voice was fearful, afraid, worried, and it was also hopeful, anticipating, relaxed and it seemed like he couldn’t figure out which set of emotions were his true feelings.

“Honestly, Santi?” Danny filled his lungs and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know.” He looked the boy in the eyes when he answered, unwilling to miss even a single microexpression. “Hood said he took care of him and I don’t know exactly what that means.”

The boy looked at his hands. “Red Hood kills.”

“Sure, but he doesn’t always kill.” Danny tagged on. 

Santi squirmed as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking. Deciding to share his thoughts, the boy looked away from Danny. “He kills people who hurt kids,” Before Danny could respond, he whispered, “an’ rapists.”

Closing his eyes tightly, Danny pushed back the red that threatened to overtake his vision like it had the night before. He wouldn’t go there- couldn’t go there- not again. Hopefully they’d never have to see that piece of shit again. Ancients he hoped Hood had killed him.

“Yeah.” Danny felt his throat drying out by the second.

“Good fuckin’ riddance.” Miguel said from the hallway that led to their rooms.

Santi’s head whipped up to see his brother and they studied each other for a moment before Santi nodded once. “Good fuckin’ riddance.” He decided.

Danny wanted to sit in this moment, bask in the fact that these boys who’d been through hell and back were finally rid of their tormentor emotionally and physically and would be able to heal and move on eventually. But it would seem Hood had other plans for him as he felt the tug in his gut of a personal summoning.

“Shit.” He cursed. The boys looked at him, confused. “Sorry, sorry to ruin the moment.” Danny stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I want to tell you boys something but I don’t really have a lot of time so I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back, okay?”

“What?” Miguel frowned.

The tug in his gut was getting stronger and Danny wished he could ignore it but a personal summoning was pretty difficult to refuse. “Listen, I’m- well- I’m not a meta exactly, but that’s the quickest way to explain it right now and I have to transform and go meet someone who’s calling me right now. Don’t do anything crazy, stay in the apartment please, I should be back in a couple of hours tops, okay?”

“Uh…. Okay…?” Miguel shrugged, looking between his brother and his guardian.

With a nod Danny let the summoning pull him away and transformed before arriving in a shabby alley. 

“I thought we were going to get coffee, eh sugar?”

Prev. Next

[eliotquillon]

WAIT ACTUALLY you don't have to do this prompt unless you want to, but in all in cameron is like "your shark story is good but not that good," he has told her the goddamn shark story, he is gonna win her over with his personality--

bless chase’s cotton socks:

The shark story always works.

It does not work on Cameron.

*

He tells it to her in a moment of weakness: they have ditched Foreman to go out for post-case solve drinks, just the two of them, and for once it’s Cameron’s idea to sneak off instead of Chase’s. Logically, he knows that dating Cameron is a bad idea—and he would bet money that she isn’t at all in favour of casual sex. There is no reason to tell her the shark story, especially not while she’s giggly off three vodka sodas and sharing a bag of peanuts with him, but it trips out of his mouth anyway while he’s staring at the strand of hair that has come loose from her tight ponytail. It feels like a metaphor: Cameron, so contained and controlled, loosening up around him. It’s an ego boost. It could be a bit more than an ego boost, if Chase ever bothered to examine it more deeply, but something in him balks whenever he gets too close.

Cameron’s verging on tipsy, but Chase is closer to sober—he’s got a better tolerance, and drinks slower; being the son of an alcoholic teaches restraint to the lucky few. He knows he tells it perfectly. He knows he hits all the right notes. And Cameron smiles along, laughs in all the right places, but it feels…just a touch indulgent. She does not lean closer during the part where he punches the shark square in the nose. She does not bat her lashes when he talks about how cold the water was. It isn’t a bad reaction, but it is—underwhelming. Platonic. Friendly.

Worth a shot, Chase thinks miserably, and then wonders why he was trying to get a shot in with Cameron in the first place. He doesn’t like her that way. They only go out for drinks together because Foreman drives him up the wall and it feels wrong to just drink by himself. That’s why it didn’t work, he decides. There was no real intent behind it. He puts Cameron in a cab home, retries the shark story on a girl at the next bar he gets to, and goes home with her an hour later.

*

“I have a question,” Chase says, three and a bit years later; they’re meant to be going out to a bar later to catch up with Foreman, but from the way Cameron keeps yawning and resting her head pointedly on his shoulder it feels like she’s gunning for a night in. “But you can’t laugh at me.”

“You ruin all my fun,” Cameron complains, shifting her weight closer against him on the couch. “I heard laughter is the best medicine.”

“Allison,” he says pointedly, and she laughs.

“Alright, okay,” she says, “I promise. But only if you call Foreman to cancel.”

Chase, already prepared to do as much, gives her his hand to shake; instead of relinquishing it afterwards, Cameron laces their fingers together and leans back to look at him expectantly. “I’m listening,” she says, and Chase winces.

“Do you remember,” he starts carefully, “when I told you my shark story?”

Cameron opens her mouth, closes it, and blinks innocently up at him. “Of course I do,” she says. She is not smiling, but she has the wide-eyed look that suggests she’s going to explode into a fit of laughter as soon as Chase is out of earshot. “What about it?”

This is the worst part. Chase has to grit his teeth to get the words out. “Why didn’t it…work?”

This time, Cameron’s blink is borne more out of confusion than laughter. “Was it…supposed to?” she asks, echoing his hesitant tone. Chase’s embarrassed silence isn’t a yes, but it sure as hell isn’t a no. Her eyebrows fly up, and she says, mock-chastising, “Robert.”

“I’m just wondering,” he insists, fighting to ignore his burning ears. He is suddenly grateful to his longer hair for covering them. “Pretty much every other woman I told that story to ended up making a move on me afterwards. How come you didn’t?”

Cameron shrugs. She’s smiling now, but not mockingly—it’s fond and soft, a warmer version of the quick grin she shoots him whenever they pass each other in the corridor at work. “Like I told you at the gala two years ago,” she says, “it’s good. But not that good. I think it only works if the recipient already wants to sleep with you. Which I didn’t, back then.” Blunt, but true; Chase accepts the explanation for what it is, and nods.

“But it’s been a while since I heard that story anyway,” Cameron adds. Her smile has turned wicked. “Why don’t you try telling me it again and see where it gets you?”

*

The shark story always works.

[gethsemanegege]

my toxic trait is that I give up on people easily

[jaythelay]

My thoughts on Kamala/Walz and Palestine involve the Absolute Pants Shitting amount of propaganda and ignorant adoration of genocide by so fucking many, and that Biden was weak as shit while Kamala/Walz feels like they're playing the game and aiming for the end while Biden just told Israel "Yeah sure I'll lie about headless israeli babies that you'll eventually make out of palestinian babies."

Straight up feels like they know they can't just come out and say "Genocide Bad No Matter Who" or risk an absolute plummet in every possible sector, that'a not including the media either who'd flip so damn hard on her for daring to say Genocide Bad No Matter Who.

Seriously I wouldn't flub this election up pointing out the moral obvious when half of all dems, and all but 10 politicians (all dem it was bipartisan that Genocide Good) are just so extatic to defend a Genocide. Imo, and it's all we'll have mind you, an opinion, they'll make progress. Biden, most dems and all but 10 dem politicians, and Dump, are on the same level on this issue.

Just saying, she's talking with groups and called for ceasefires. Biden lied every fucking time Israel shot up a hospital or school or church on christmas, without an ounce of scrutiny, simply regurgitated horrific propaganda that instantly backfired literal days to weeks after the lie.

Kamala hasn't. Not as hard at least, since running as pres. Our efforts are being heard and it's why I fucking lost all respect for anyone who chooses not to accept the reality of Genocide Bad No Matter Who just to feel safer in an election with a guy WE ALL TOLD YOU WAS SHIT and lo and behold? He was! Just not as shit as dump, his literal, only legacy and reason to vote for him.

When even Kamala is doing more than you fucks, I don't want to hear aaaanything ya got to say on any issue. Dems being radically republican about EASILY SOURCED INFORMATION will never not be such a Permanent massive fucking turn off to the entire dem party for me.

Imagine pushing away potential dem voters because you refuse to call a Genocide Bad, while Kamala is making progress to stop it, progress that ya'll sabotaged the absolute whole entire god damn way up every step of the way not missing one potential beat.

Fuck off Pro-Genociders, yur shite and almost cost us the election. Thank fuck for Kamala, and Genuinely not any one of you weak genocide enablers.

[lxnarphase]

𓇼 FUCK HER, FLIP HER, BEND HER BACKWARDS !

❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the church always says sex for pleasure is a sin, and nanami kento is a man of the lord. but fuck, if his wife isn't worth sinning for. wc: 4.3k

❤₊‧⁺...cw : n. kento x fem!reader, religious themes, traditionalist views on sex and marriage, loss of virginity, missionary to mating press, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, nanami loses himself in your pussy, slight cum play, dirty talk

❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : am i unintentionally coping with religious trauma? possibly but it is fun :33 anyways based of this! forgive me if my writing is a bit rusty, it's been a while but enjoy !!

the two of you have spoken about eventually having children many times, but knowing the steps it took...it kept you both pushing it back, knowing eventually you'd both be ready.

after speaking with doctors, asking for advice from the church, and having you grumble about the neighbors who welcomed a cute baby girl, the two of you figured it was time.

you did your best to act normal all dayl, trying not to seem to nervous or too excited as you went about your chores for the day.

it may just be an act to procreate, but...it's still your first time with nanami. you want it to at least feel special.

there was nothing in the bible that went against that, right?

well, you have plenty of time to overthink since it seems that your dear husband will be at work late. to pass the time, you wait upstairs in your shared bedroom, the TV on as a distraction.

you're so stuck in your own world that you don't even notice him in the doorway before he clears his throat, leaning in the doorway. "oh! hi, honey, welcome home!" you go to stand up, but he holds up a hand, making you stop before you can get up from the bed.

it's silent, aside from the noise from the TV, and you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

has...has he always looked that handsome?

he continues to stand by the door, still not making eye contact. "you said it...starts today, correct," nanami questions, focused on undoing the straps of his watch. it shouldn't be attractive, it's such a simple task...yet it has your stomach doing flips as you nod.

"mhm, my, uh...ovulation starts today." it's such a weird thing to say, it just makes everything feel so...clinical. but that's how it's supposed to be, right? those who use sex for pleasure instead of procreation are sinners, or whatever the reverend at the church says.

"mm."

slowly pulling it off, he sets the watch on the dresser before shutting the bedroom door

"good."

dear god in heaven, you think to yourself, struggling to swallow the saliva pooling inside your mouth as he starts to undress. please forgive me for such inappropriate thoughts about my husband.

he removes his suit jacket—black today, it seems—placing it carefully on his desk chair, followed by his cufflinks and tie. his shirt is next, each button popping to reveal his strong, well-maintained physique.

you have to stop yourself from pumping your fist in the air for getting so lucky with such an attractive man as your husband. too busy ogling him like a horny teenager, you miss him undoing his belt before tugging them down and stepping out of his boxers.

once you do realize he's fully undress, you blush hard once he approaches the end of the bed—it took everything out of you not to stare at that...monster hanging between his legs, dear lord—and climbs onto it, making his way to hover over you.

his eyes roam up and down your body, taking in the pretty silky night dress you had on. It’s a soft blue with lacy white trim with little intricate flower designs.

modest, yet sensual.

"this is new," he comments, voice low and sultry. you can't help but wonder if he meant to sound so...so...

you don't find the correct word for it, but this new tone lights a fire in your stomach that has your r thighs squeezing together just a little bit.

"well, i figured it was an important night...you know, finally popping our cherries a-and starting a family?"

it's a weak attempt at humor, your voice clearly giving away your nervousness. you just pray that he ignores it.

a soft hum leaves him, his fingers playing with the intricately designed lace trim. the idea that you want to make this whole ordeal special, that you want to give yourself to him wholly, and that you want to swell with his child...

it pleases him greatly, a small smile touching his lips.

"well, aren't you sweet, my dearest?"

such simple words, yet they relieve so much tension from your shoulders. you can't help but smile back before a little gasp falls from your lips when his hands start to lift the dress up. his hands, they're so big, so hot on your skin.

It's a struggle to remember that this is for the purpose of producing offspring and nothing else, but you try, you try so hard.

but when you hear the hitch in his breath at the realization you didn't have anything else underneath the dress after he pulls it over your head, it's hard to remember.

the thought just about completely leaves your mind at the way nanami, your usually put-together husband, looks so hungrily down at you, a look you've never seen before in those pretty hazel eyes.

his gaze lingers on your body for a moment, mouth opening before shutting instantly, preventing himself from saying something he'd likely regret.

calm down, kento, he reminds himself, taking a second to clear his mind. this is for the purpose of family, not sinful and carnal desires.

even so, he's drinking in the sight of you, unable to stop his hands from rubbing up and down your sides, the soft skin of you, his wife, warming his palms. all his.

"gorgeous," he mumbles, unaware he even said it.

the moment you feel his leaking cock brush against your leg, a thought occurs to you.

neither one of you has a single idea of how to do this.

sure, you both know enough about putting it inside and moving, but that was about it. is there something else you should do? things you should say, places you should touch to aid in the process?

they never explained the actual process of sex in church, and lord knows your mother and father would've keeled over and died instantly if you were to ask them.

'it comes naturally when god deems it your time' the reverend stated once during a sermon. you fight back a frown, realizing that man probably had even less of an idea of how to do it.

however, the feeling of his tip nudging against your slit rips a gasp out of you, bringing you back into the present.

"are you alright? you left me for a bit there," nanami asks, his brow furrowed in worry. if you weren't ready, he was willing to back off. he may want to fulfill this important aspect of marriage, but...not if you don't want it.

"n-no, i'm okay! just...wondering how all of this is going to work out," you softly reassure, giving a weak giggle.

he can't blame you, he isn't very sure either. but as the man of the house and as your husband, he didn't plan on letting you worry. he would do all the work, you just needed to lay there looking so pretty, so soft, so...he realizes he's doing it again, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn't.

"just...j-just relax, we will figure it out as we go along."

with your silent nod, nanami starts to push his hips forward, hissing silently when he realizes the wetness that greets him.

you were this aroused just from...talking?

the thought of scolding you for letting your mind wander crossed his own, but...it would be hypocritical when his cockhead is dribbling precum all over your soft mound.

you choke out a noise of pain when his cock finally notches onto you and starts to push inside. sure, your wetness helped get the tip and the few inches after it inside, but just that is already too much for you, and you're expected to take all of it?!

you do your best not to move, not really sure what you should be doing. you'd be a good wife and bear with the pain if you had to, your nails digging into the pillow under your head as you braced yourself for the rest of his cock.

but this is absolutely unbearable, how do other women bear with this and have 6 or more children?!

a flicker of concern flashes through nanami's eyes at the sound you made, and he stops moving forward. he may be a bit mean sometimes, but he wasn't cruel.

if you both are going to go through with this, he is not going to make you suffer and nor is he going to force you to endure a painful experience.

no true man of god would do such a thing.

"breathe, don't hold it in," he instructs, his voice somehow calm and collected. one of his hands laces with yours, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as his lips brush against your forehead. "i've got you, darling, the pain will pass, just...tell me to stop if it gets too bad. don't hold it in."

giving a soft nod, you try to match his breathing, your body relaxing and making it easier for nanami to slip the rest of himself inside, a near silent sigh escaping him. the tightness and initial resistance that greeted him nearly made him moan, his cock twitching violently inside of you.

something about the physical feeling and knowledge that you saved yourself for him like you promised years before you both got married sent a surge of possession and pride, knowing he has such a loving and faithful wife who is so willing to give herself up to him like this...he can only hope you feel the same knowing he saved himself for you and only you.

so, as a 'reward'—and totally not because he fears you'll strangle his cock off with how tight you are—he's so gracious to you, not moving to let you get used to the stretch and feel of him inside, the room silent except for your matching breathing.

a few moments go by, and you should feel embarrassed when you feel slick drip out of you and down your ass. the realization that your dearest husband, one of the most faithful men of the church, is letting his cock soak inside of your hot cunt makes you whine a little, slick walls fluttering around him.

he's so fucked.

"a-ah...i'm going to move now," he warns, taking your sudden noise as a good sign. nanami shifts his legs just a bit before giving an experimental thrust, his brow furrowing as he slowly finds a rhythm.

the feeling of your hot and gummy walls is absolutely intoxicating, divine, nothing he's ever felt before.

this is what it felt like?

this is what he waited for?

fuck, it felt...it felt so good.

too good.

for you, the pain completely melts away, and you silently thank god and the angels above for giving you a merciful husband who is so kind as to wait for you to loosen up around him.

little do you know, he would rather kill himself than start moving when you're still adjusting to the pain and stretch.

his gentle movements make you all but melt under him, your eyes fluttering at the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your veins.

no wonder your parents preached about saving yourself until marriage, and thank the heavens you listened.

the very thought of feeling this way with anyone but your kento puts a bad taste in your mouth.

meanwhile, nanami chants prayers in his head over and over again as he tries his best to focus on the 'true' purpose for this.

the sticky, wet, and gooey sensation of your plump cunt sucking him, practically weeping each time he pulls out is just unfair.

the poor man, he's fighting so hard to maintain his composure, to not succumb to the base instincts that those soft moans of yours are beginning to stir within him.

"s-shush, darling," he grits out, hips still following his slow, deep pace. "don't...don't make such noises," he all but pleads, voice tinged with a huskiness that betrayed his growing need for you.

“i-i’m sorry! just, it...feels good, y-you feel good, feels s-so good,” you whisper, hands coming up to cover your mouth and stifle those sickeningly sweet noises.

but of course, that isn’t enough because each push and pull of his cock stirs your drooling cunt, filling the room with wet, filthy squelching sounds.

nothing about this is holy, nanami thinks as he grits his teeth, hands fisting in the sheets next to your head.

look at her.

those soft, muffled noises are truly music to his ears, his pace morphing from the slow, deep grind into a faster pace as your soft body gives into the pleasure.

so wet, so damn tight around my cock., like she never wants to let me pull out.

"k-kento, y-you're goin' too deep, i-i can't be quiet, s'too much!"

messy little pussy, 's beggin' for cum, needs it, needs to feel my tip kissin' her cervix as i pump load after load into her womb.

he knows what that little voice is, and no matter how much he wants to claim that it’s the sound of demons pouring their sinful words into his mind, he knows that it's his thoughts, fueled by those dirty little noises that she can't hold back.

how pitiful, how sinful, doesn't she know she's going against all the teachings they've heard preached every weekend in their church?

doesn't she know she's giving into lust?

doesn't she know her pretty sounds are making his dick throb, painting her insides with his hot, gooey precum?

"hush, 'm not going to t-tell you again, you...you need to be quiet," he growls, the command lacking its earlier authority.

nanami also knows lying is a sin, and he's doing a damned lot of it right now as he tries to convince himself that you need to stay silent. after all, this—this is just a process of giving you both a child, just like you wanted, and nothing else.

but he's lying to himself.

he needs you to be quiet or else he'll lose it.

the poor man is barely holding onto his restraint, and these sweet noises pouring from your mouth aren't helping at all.

"y-you make this so difficult sometimes, my dear..." his voice is rough with need and desire, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "but, by god, you're...you're. absolutely. exquisite."

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his hips into you in a way that has the coarse hair on his crotch to rub against your clit. the pleasure it gives you is electric, your legs coming up to squeeze his hips as you try to grind with him.

his words, his simple praise only makes you hiccup his name, crying out louder as your watery eyes roll back as your needy cunt squeezed down on his fat cock.

you're such a sweet thing, trying oh-so hard to mute your sounds. each snap of his hips is all but driving you insane.

“i-i can’t, ken, y-you don’t understand, i-it feels so good, i-i’m so full! you’re pressing against all the good spots, kentoo, i-i love you s' much, b-but i can't!”

be a good fucking husband and do what you were made to, nanami kento.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to hard to ignore that temptation purring in the back of his mind.

the voice is so much louder now, echoing throughout his mind and muting any prayers or pleads to be mindful of the sanctity of this whole process.

fuck her. give her what she needs, what she deserves.

but it's too fucking hard, he can't his hips are speeding up, his strong hands moving to grip your thighs, unaware of how they start to anchor behind your knees.

breed your pretty little wife and give her a baby like she deserves.

with a deep groan, nanami finally loses all control, fingers digging into your supple thighs to push them to your chest and practically folding you in half.

this new angle has him openly moaning like a dirty whore, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your tight, gummy walls, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each and every deep thrust.

"k-ken, kenny, k-ken," you sob, tears catching onto your lashes as your entire being is assaulted by the endless pleasure your husband is giving you. he doesn't even look like your kento anymore, his pupils blown so wide that you can barely see the ring of greens and brown of his iris.

"f-fuck. 's all your fault, you know that," he hisses, eyes narrowing as he weakly glares down at you. but you can see the hearts in his eyes as he gives in to the pleasure.

his dark eyes bore down into yours, the wet plap plap plap plap of his hips slamming into yours almost overpowering his voice. "if y-you just stayed quiet like i asked, w-we wouldn't be here."

a little spurt of wet gushes out of you, making his fall forward into the juncture of your neck with a groan at the dirty noise it makes,

"god, i-i can feel it, y'know? can feel this sticky pussy—such a dirty little pussy—makin' such a mess. saved it jus' for me, didn't you, baby? mmhm—fuckin' hell, 's tight—thank you god f' giving me such an angel of a wife." nanami is huffing nonsense against your neck, pounding into you with a force that has the bed creaking loudly.

if you weren't being fucked stupid, you would be worried he was about to break the bed.

"you can keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, b-but you jus' had to have the noisiest little cunt."

he's so mean, but it only serves to make you gush even more, the way juices pour out of you and only make the already filthy noises even nastier.

"she's talkin' to me, baby, y'hear it? i'm...i-i'm gonna breed you," he manages to whine into your ear, pulling away to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

his tongue, so pink and pretty—you want it in your mouth, want to taste it want to feel it against yours—runs over his top lip as he watches drool drip down the corner of your mouth while you nod brainlessly.

nanami's never felt so dirty, so unhinged, but it feels so right, feels so fucking good. he never wants to leave your pussy, never wants to pull out, this is where he belongs, buried deep inside you as his cock pumps load after load right into your tummy, giving you what you need, what you deserve.

"yeah? you want that? i'll give it to you, baby, promise, 'm gonna be a good husband a-and knock you up, gonna make you a mommy."

that has you keening, tears pouring down your cheeks at the pleasure it shoots up your spine. you know you're close, but it's different.

it feels different, feels too much, there's pressure you've never felt before from the few times you'd cave in and play with your puffy, swollen clit in the shower when you waited for nanami to get home from work to kiss you to sleep.

no, you feel like you are about to fucking explode. "ken, i-i can't, 'm gonna—s-something's coming," you try to warn, your hands fisting in his hair as you tug and tug and tug.

the pull of his hair makes him moan like a slut, it sounds so fucking good. his eyes are rolling back before he rushes to comfort you, pressing soft little open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

you don't need to fight it, you just need to give it to him, give him what he needs.

"shh, shh, don' cry, y' look t'pretty, honey. l-let it happen, cum for me, i've got you, angel, cum for me s-so i can fill you up," he coos, his hips growing erratic as he feels your silky walls starting to fluttering around him, feeling you teeter on the edge of release.

he shifts, just barely, just enough to better position himself to fuck deeper into you. but that slight movement has his cock smushing against something soft and spongy that makes you sob, growing softer and more pliant under him, and you know you are done for as all you can do is wail his name.

"please, pretty girl, cum for me, show me how good 'm making you feel, soak my cock, c'mon, you can do it."

with a loud mewl that nearly has nanami soaking your walls in cum, you dig your nails into his biceps as you finally, finally cum. and you're right, it is different, your cute pussy squirting and creaming all over his dick.

the poor man is choking back a whine, eyes wide in shock as your cunt just gushes slick everywhere, clenching around him like a vice as you cum.

your juices are soaking his cock and balls, splattering against his lower abdomen obscenely. the thought of making you do that again crosses his mind for a split moment before the need to fill you up for being so good overpowers any other thought.

not giving you a break, he continues his unforgiving fucking, ignoring your cries and pleads for him to slow down.

"nonono, shh, shh, shush, you can take it," he coos against your lips, no longer caring if this was sinning or not. all he could think about was the constant squeezing and spasming of your poor overstimulated slit that was milking him toward his orgasm.

you try to squirm away, but the way he has you folded in half has you unable to do anything but accept his stupidly deep thrusts that make you swear you can taste his cock in the back of your throat.

"t-tha's it." he's panting, slurring his words, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. it’s so wet, so messy now, but he can't find it in himself to care.

no, all he can think about as he looks down at you is how you'll have that angelic glow as you grow round with his baby, and everyone will know you're his, that he knocked you up, he pumped you full of his cum, that you're his you're his you're all fucking his—

"f-fuck, honey, i-i can't..." his hips stutter as he does his best to maintain his rhythm, but his own release is barreling down on him. his heavy balls are drawing up tight as they slap against your ass, your juices still pouring out and soaking all of him.

"'m gonna fill you up, 'm gonna pump this—this sinful little cunt f-full of m'cum, angel, gonna knock you up, gonna have you drippin' with me, g-gonna give you a fuckin' baby, shit—"

with a deep, guttural groan, nanami hisses your name as he buries himself as deep as possible, his hot tip kissing your cervix as thick, hot ropes of his potent cum pour right into your womb, hips grinding into you and giving little thrusts as you milk his cock weakly despite your overstimulation.

it's—it's so much, he's still cumming, how was all of this inside of him? you can practically feel it sloshing around inside of you, and you whimper when you feel it gush out around his now softening cock, dripping down your ass onto the bed.

a moment or two passes, and he sits up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and looking down at you.

oh.

you sweet thing, you're an absolute mess. you have tear streaks down your cheeks, your lips swollen from him unknowingly biting them between the little kisses he was giving you, a pretty sheen of sweat on you, and...

his eyes trail lower to where his dick is still nestled inside of you, and it takes everything in him to not accidentally thrust his hips a little bit.

it's a creamy, sticky mess, a mixture of his and your cum seeping out your poor, abused pussy.

"o-oh. sorry, my love. i'm...not quiet sure what happened there. i apologize for such...foul language," he mumurs, his hand stroking your hip. "'s okay," you softly coo back to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to catch your breath. "i-i liked it..."

but you quickly learn you've married both a man of god and a curious, insatiable bastard who can't help but drag his cum all over your pussy, quickly finding your clit. and the reaction you give him is one he decides he likes, your hips canting up as your soft, oversensitive walls squeeze around his cock again.

"k-kento, that's nasty!"

all you get in response is a grumbling noise in his chest as it takes you weakly slapping your hands against his chest to get his eyes to snap away from your gooey, creamy pussy.

clearing his throat, he looks down at you, that heated look slowly creeping back onto his face. "perhaps we...we should try once more. just to ensure it takes," he states, doing his best to show some semblance of dominance.

but it's impossible when his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pupils blown as he gazes down at your panting form like he's about to devour you whole.

"after all, a...a big family is what god wants from man and woman, right? so we...shouldn't delay and keep trying." his hand trails up your side before finding its way to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

his thumb experimentally rolled your nipple, and the way your body reacted, a soft gasp of his name...how is he supposed to explain the feeling he's getting in the confessional booth?

"y-yeah," he gulps, leaning his head down. you can feel his hot breath against your tit, and you swear you feel drool drip onto your breast. "w-we'll keep trying. jus' to make sure w-we do what the scripture asks."

may god forgive him for being such a fucking liar and a damned bad one at that.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[hurtspideyparker]

In a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lives in the compound:

Steve, walking into the living room: Don't worry Buck I think you'll really fit in around here. Everyone is super nice

Peter: Oh my god you're living here too?! Can I please look at your arm? Please please please please please-

Bucky: *turns around and leaves*

-

Clint: So... wanna test if your spider-sense defeats my perfect aim?

Peter: Oh my god do I ever

Tony & Steve: NO.

-

Peter: Hi. Big fan. Y'know we're like a spider duo. Crime fighting spiders. Arachnid pals

Natasha, staring blankly:

Peter: Web friends? SPY-ders?

Natasha:

Peter: Spinneret associates?

Natasha: Leave.

Peter: Yes okay sorry ma'am

-

During a meal:

Bucky: *glaring at Sam*

Sam: Ay Rogers come get your dog

Steve: Bucky, leave it

Bucky: *glares down at soup instead*

-

Peter: Mr. Rogers could you help me with my homework?

Tony: What the hell kid, I'm right here

Bruce: I have... so many degrees

Steve: Hey I know a thing or two myself. Sure Queens, what do you got?

Peter: Great! I'm just gonna ask some questions for my essay. What would you say the role of war propaganda was in your decision to enroll in the military? Was being poor a factor? Actually, how was the Great Depression for you?

Steve: Less depressing than this conversation.

-

Steve: Take a jacket, it's chilly

Wanda: Okay thanks dad

Steve:

Wanda:

Peter: Ha! That's so embarrassing, it's like calling your teacher dad

Wanda: Shut up Peter, you call Tony dad all the time

Peter: Yeah but I do it on purpose so it's not embarrassing. I'm very open about my daddy issues

-

Tony: I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth

Steve:

Tony: Looking at me with your angelic blue eyes, like a freak

Steve:

Tony: Stupid Dorito ass build. Making me wanna take a bite

Steve: I feel harassed but I'm not sure what kind

-

Natasha: Hey bird brain!

Clint and Sam both turn:

Natasha: Hm, that's a problem. You have thirty seconds to decide who gets bird brain. The other will be feather head

Clint and Sam: *start arguing*

Tony: I can't believe they're fighting to be called an insult

Steve: She has that effect on people

Peter: Aw man, I wish the Black Widow gave me a nickname :(

-

Peter: Hey old man

Bucky:

Peter: I'M SO SORRY SIR MR. WILSON MADE ME DO IT PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Sam: *cackling in the background*

Bucky: *stands up and turns to Sam*

Sam: Oh shit- kid you're not getting the money if you're gonna snitch!

Peter: That's okay, I'd like to think my life is worth more than twenty bucks

-

Bucky: I need your... help

Tony: Sure, what's up?

Bucky: *glances back at Steve who stands in the doorway and nods approvingly*

Bucky: Arm.

Tony: Ok... this conversation is killing you isn't it?

Bucky:

Tony: Say please

Bucky: Nope can't do it-

Steve: Do I need to get out the get-along shirt?

*Bucky and Tony share a look of alarm*

Bucky: Please fix my arm

Tony: Yep of course no problem buddy

-

Read Part 2 and Part 3

[nanaslutt]

Not so sneaky sex (pt.2)

ʚ synopsis: after Geto catches you and Gojo fucking, you both let him join

ʚ cont: fem reader, eiffel tower position, throat fucking, dacryphilia, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms, rough sex

ʚ note: this can be read as a stand alone, but pt. 1 is here

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

"S-satoru fuck, Satoru let her breathe-" Suguru groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he wrapped his hand around Satoru's wrist, weakly pulling at it to get him to back off a bit for your sake. "She can take it, can't you pretty girl?" All you could do was moan around Suguru's cock in response as Gojo ruthlessly fucked you into his best friend's pelvis, your throat forced to open up for Geto's cock as he pressed your head down on him.

Geto choked at the feeling of you moaning around him, the sound going straight to his balls. Tears were long streaming down your face from Gojo's mean thrusts. Your nails dug into the bed and Geto's waist as you gripped him for dear life, his much larger hand cupped over your own and weakly tangled with yours as he tried his best to comfort you through taking his dick down your throat.

"Tell me how good her throat feels, haven't fucked it in a while." You whined when Gojo gripped your waist with both hands and fucked into you harder, his balls slapping against your now overstimulated clit. You could feel another orgasm creeping up on you already, and you weren't sure how many more you could take before you finally collapsed.

"Fuck-" Geto groaned, his large hand leaving the back of Gojo's on his head to caress your cheek as he looked down at you lovingly, adoring how good your lips looked wrapped around his cock. You did your best to look up at him, but the tears of overstimulation were making your vision blurry, causing you to blink rapidly. Geto groaned at the view of you staring at him with furrowed eyebrows nonetheless.

"Just how long have you two been fucking?" Geto asked, his lips pressing together just as you felt his cock twitch in your throat, making you cough around him. Gojo laughed at his question as he stopped his hips flush against yours, rolling them in circles as he rubbed your sweet spot deep inside you, making you see stars. "Hmm… I don't know." He said, pretending to think by rubbing at his chin and looking at the ceiling as he continued rolling his hips against your ass in excruciating bliss.

You reached up and grabbed Gojo's hand that was pressing your mouth down on Geto's cock, silently asking him to let you go. "Oh? Wanna say something, baby?" He asked, relenting and letting you take a breath, all the while keeping his pace against you. You had nothing to say, you just let your orgasm wash over you as the top half of your body collapsed against the sheets, your nails digging into Geto's throat as you held onto him like an anchor as your orgasm assaulted your body.

Gojo cursed, a strangled laugh leaving his lips when he felt your cunt strangling his cock like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth. He started up a pace again, fucking your orgasm from your body and prolonging your pleasure in the process. "Shit…" Geto cursed, covering his mouth with his hand as he watched you unravel on his beat friend's cock, his other hand leaving your own to wrap around his throbbing cock, stroking it as he watched you.

"She was gonna choke if she came while my cock was down her throat," Geto groaned, "You need to be more careful, Satoru." he chastized, making his best friend swat his hand at him in retaliation. "Nahh, she doesn't like when I'm careful, that's why she fucks me." You almost blacked out when Gojo wrapped his hand under your body and found your clit, rubbing it in circles and effectively turning your brain to mush as your head repeatedly knocked into Geto's thigh from his rough thrusts.

"Is that true, pretty girl?" Geto asked, cupping your face while leaning down a bit, never slowing down his thrusts as he fucked his own hand. You were slow to respond, nodding limply for a while while whines and curses left your lips before you found your words. "He's so- fucking mean," you cried, making Geto pout for you, but you didn't fail to notice the way the corner of his lip curled up a bit at that.

"But you like when I'm mean, don't try to get sympathy." Gojo pouted, rubbing your clit faster while adding more pressure. "Suck him off again pretty, I wanna watch him when he cums down your throat." You looked up at Geto and noticed he was sharing what looked like a heated look at Satoru, one that made you clench harder around his cock.

"I'll be gentle," Suguru whispered, looking back down at you as he helped you regain your balance and sit the front half of your body up. Your mouth was watering as you focused on the way Suguru was jerking off just in front of your lips, a heavy bead of precum pearling in his pretty slit before dripping onto the sheets below you. You leaned forward and took him into your throat easily since you had him in your throat before.

The groan that left Geto's lips sent electricity shocking down your body, threatening to push you over the edge again. You wanted to whine when Gojo pulled out abruptly, heavy pants leaving his lips. You couldn't hear any slick sounds from behind you that were telling you he was jerking off, so you were confused as to why he pulled out like that. You just focused on breathing through Geto's deep thrusts into your throat.

"What's wrong Satoru? Did you almost finish again?" Geto teased, running his nails across your scalp. The action was calming, making your lids flutter before they fell as he relaxed your body. You so badly wanted to bed for Gojo to put his cock back in, but you were enjoying this little break. "Yeah, almost came when you put it back in her throat." He said, making you furrow your eyebrows together. You almost did too when you heard Geto groan. Is that why he almost came?

Geto was stupidly hot and had the voice of a god, you weren't shocked his deep voice almost made him finish too. Your back arched and you held your breath when Gojo started slipping his cock back inside you, the stretch of him feeling so satisfying, like he was meant to be inside you. "Wait for me." Geto said, his cock throbbing inside your mouth, "I'm not gonna last like this anyways."

"You never told me how it feels. C'mon, don't be greedy." Satoru pushed, thrusting into you at a steady pace again, not as hard and fast as before, but it still felt good especially when he started slowly rubbing your clit in circles again, almost soothingly. "It's so tight, and warm." Geto started, looking down at you as you looked up at him, meeting his beautiful slightly purple eyes. "Yeah?" Gojo asked, his thrusts growing almost sloppy and a little faster.

"Yeah, she's sucking me in when I pull back too, it's like she doesn't want me to leave." Gojo wasn't the only one getting off on his words in that slightly raspier voice than normal, from sleepiness and arousal. You squeezed around his cock, your lashes fluttering every time you took him to the back of your throat. "Fuck, keep talking." You would have cracked a smile if you could, Gojo was fucking loving this.

"Every time she moans I can feel it in my fucking stomach, Satoru." He groaned, petting your cheek as he shook his head at you while looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You whined around him, making him shiver, his long eyelashes fluttering before he tipped his head back. "I'm gonna cum." He groaned, his nails against your scalp raking a bit harder as he got closer and closer to his high.

"Me too." Gojo groaned, his hand digging into your hip as he brought you back on his cock, your ass slapping against his pelvis lewdly with each thrust. "Cum with me baby, cum all over my cock, I need to feel it you know I do." Gojo cooed at you, his hand that was grabbing your hip moving to caress down your spine, making goosebumps break over your skin. You whined harder around Geto's cock when he started rubbing your little clit faster, trying to force your orgasm out of your body, not that it needed much coaxing.

Geto's breathing picked up, as did his sloppy thrusts right before he pulled out. He grabbed your chin with his large hand, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. Your moans instantly fell freely from your lips, only making both the men fall faster into their highs. "Open your mouth, baby, I wanna cum on your tongue." You groaned at his words before you let your jaw open, your tongue peeking out between your lips as you looked up at him expectantly, gripping his hip harshly as he stroked himself off at a furious pace.

"Oh shit," Gojo whined, you could feel how bad he was shaking behind you, obviously trying to hold out until you and Geto came so he could watch the show before he was fucked out beyond his mind and unable to comprehend anything as he came. He could tell it was about to be a hard one. Just as you felt yourself tip over the edge, Geto's body went rigid, his breath reaching a halt before he broke.

You flinched when the first spurt of his cum landed on your cheek. He groaned long and loud as he released all over your face and tongue, his head falling back in bliss as he shakily jerked himself through his orgasm, making an absolute mess of you. You cried out when you felt Gojo cum inside you right when you came. The moan that fell from his lips made your stomach do summersaults as your orgasm wracked through your body.

"Fuck- fuck- f-fuck." Gojo repeated the curse over and over as he thrust against your ass each time he came. His body was shaking violently, his abs tensing and unsensing against your lower back as he curled over you, his body weak and spent as his half-hard cock kept twitching while he was buried deep inside you. Suguru sat down on the shitty motel bed, one leg straight, the other curled as you laid your head on his thigh with Gojo's body crushing yours as he caught his breath.

"Holy shit." Geto groaned, wiping his dirty hand on the bed before he ran it through his hair, getting the strays out of his flushed face. "You're telling me," Gojo replied, his voice weak and muffled from his cheek being squished against your back. You were going to let him keep crushing your body until you swear you felt him drool on you. "Close your mouth Satoru, yuck," you complained, weakly lifting your arm to swat him away. He only tangled your fingers together and pressed your conjoined hands against the sheets.

"Shhh…" He replied, sounding like he was seconds away from falling asleep. You were relieved when Geto started running his hand over your scalp, his fingers tickling the back of your neck when he caressed there. "You have to pull out Satoru unless you want her to kick your ass when you give her an STI." He joked, reaching down your back to flick his sweaty forehead.

Gojo groaned, lifting his head slightly to pout at his friend. "I'm giving her aftercare, 5 more minutes." He replied, his heavy head slapping against your back once more. "I don't know how laying on me with your entire weight is aftercare…" You added, rolling your eyes at his antics. You closed your sleepy eyes when you felt Geto place a soft kiss against your forehead as he started to get up from the bed. "I'll run a bath, when I'm done if he's not off of you, I'll take care of him." You smiled at him sweetly, reaching for his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand in thanks before he walked off to the bathroom to run you a much-needed bath.

[gojonanami]

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

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

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

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

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

✧ wc: 7,657

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…maybe he spoke too soon. 

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did this feel so much worse?” 

~~~

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

Or rather he should have. 

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

You got it from here. 

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

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

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

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

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

Until they take his body away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No—” and your hand finds his chest. 

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why?” 

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kento—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

And now, here was the other. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he knew that he was certainly made for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

It was over. 

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

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

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

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

And a beach in Malaysia. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Itadori,” Mahito says. 

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

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

Could he finally stop? 

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

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

But he couldn’t regret it now. 

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

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

It was you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—“ 

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

“It’s not—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

“It’s really not that bad—” 

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

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

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

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

Always. 

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

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

[kalicofox]

Tim Summons the Ghost King

Tim sighed, looking down at the sigils and circles chalked onto the floor in one of the unused bedrooms. Alfred was going to kill them, but if it made Dick believe him, then it'd be worth it.

"Tim, this isn't necess—" "Yes it is." Tim interrupted, glancing up from the book he was referencing to glare at Dick.

The man looked tired, and drawn. Grief had carved lines into his face that weren't there before.

"Dick. If you won't believe me, then maybe you'll believe this."

And he started to read, the unfamiliar words tripping heavily off of his tongue.

At first, nothing happened, and Dick opened his mouth to say something, only for Tim to glare him into silence.

Any hint of wanting to speak vanished when the sigils lit up, one by one, in a bright, eerie green.

Ice-blue fire flared up around the circle itself, and Tim finished the chant with the being's Name. This was it. His last hope.

If the Ghost King couldn't tell him that Bruce wasn't dead, then…

He shook the thought away, glaring stubbornly past flames and into the circle where a dark form was slowly fading into sight.

Black hair. He noticed that first, followed by blue eyes, and he couldn't help his knee jerk snort of amusement. Adoption bait.

But… this ritual was supposed to summon the ghost king. This was some random kid. What the hell'd he done wrong?!

But… maybe it was some kind of trick…? Maybe ghosts were like fae, and it was a trick to get him to let it out of the circle…

Tim's eyes narrowed, and he took one half step forward, staying carefully clear of the lines.

"What the hell?" The kid muttered, looking around a little wildly at the circle and the sigils. "What is this, some kinda seance type thing? I thought Sam said those were bullshit…?"

"Ghost King." Tim said, and bright blue eyes snapped to his, and the kid paled sharply.

"Ah hah hah hah… I don't know what you're talking about?" The reply was weak, and Tim scoffed internally.

"Ghost King, I have summoned you for a question. In return, I will owe you a favor that will not involve the deaths of anyone currently living."

The kid blinked. "Um… cool? I don't know what you're talking about, but I can try to answer a question, I guess…"

Tim nodded sharply as the flames flared a little higher. "Is Bruce Wayne dead?"

The kid's eyes flashed green, and the word seemed to slip out of his mouth before he could think. "No."

Tim's eyes flicked over to Dick, triumph on his face.

Dick was staring, pale faced and wide-eyed at the kid, then at Tim.

"How in the hell did I know that?" the kid muttered to himself, looking confused. "Who the hell is Bruce Wayne?"

"He could be lying." Dick croaked, and the kid's head snapped up, and he scowled.

"I'm not lying! I don't know who the hell you're talking about, but whoever it is, he's not dead! Go on, ask me someone else, someone you know is dead for sure!"

"Fine." Dick snapped. "Is Elvis dead?"

"No."