#also the question about whether or not i would be happy with my life if i was a boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 3 days ago

Note

Thank you for answering the question!

So, the idea I have for the request with the Trio + Greta is this:

You know how when Edouard was killed and his body was used to be turned into a night creature, and even though he was a night creature, still saved Annette?

How would the Trio + Greta react to going through that scenario like what happened between Annette and Edouard? As in, them taking the place of Annette while their friend taking the place of Edouard.

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to answer this, it's been months. Oh my god, time flies! Can someone please make it stop?! But back to the topic at hand, I have to say I went into Nocturne all hyped for Maria (and while I still love her so much, she’s best girl!), I also fell in love with Edouard’s character. He’s so sweet and sensitive, and I appreciate how he encouraged the others to be open and vulnerable to acknowledge/process their grief. I recall a tumblr post that was like these Nocturne characters’ are facing the same problems as their predecessors, but at least this time, their emotional IQs have gone way up! So *fingers crossed*, here’s hoping the main cast won’t get as traumatized this time around. (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s Castlevania. Of course, they’re all gonna end up traumatized.)

Oh, and I wrote this in the third person as opposed to a first-person Reader-Insert, I hope that’s okay!

TW: Brief Mentions of Violence; Death; Heavy Angst (Reader Beware!)

The Trio + Greta React to Their GN! Friend Getting Turned Into a Night Creature:

Trevor:

In the heat of battle, he barely has time to register, much less process, his friend’s death.

By the time the fight is over and he’s realized what’s happened, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of his chest, and he’s already begun to blame himself, regardless of whether or not it was his fault.

He’s a Belmont, he should've known better. Simply by associating with them, he was practically digging his friends’ grave. He shouldn’t have let them come along, he should've scared them away. Fuck! Why didn’t he push them away like he did everyone else? Out of all of the people to stay and get put in danger, why did it have to be the one person he cared so much about?

So in his guilt and grief, Trevor does what he does best: drink. He drinks to excess the first night without his friend at his side. And as well as the second. And then the third.

If he’s with Sypha and Alucard (and/or Greta in Village Belmont at the time of his friend’s death, this is the point where they'd step in and cut off his booze.) If Trevor’s alone, however, you can bet he spends a good week or so drunk as a skunk, and completely out of his mind.

When the alcohol doesn’t numb the pain anymore, he tries to jump ahead to acceptance, telling himself that it was unavoidable, that his curse will always rob him of his happiness, of his friends and family in the end. Of course, like some sick twisted turn of fate, just as he accepts it was out of his hands, a familiar face re-enters his life.

When Trevor first encounters his friend as a night creature, he doesn’t recognize that it’s them straight away. He’s a monster hunter and he attacks on autopilot— monsters’ appearances be damned. And when he does finally recognize that this night creature has been forged from the body of his deceased friend, he assumes, like all the other forged creatures he’s fought before, that it’s merely his friend’s corpse being used as a vessel for a damned soul.

Then Trevor loses his footing as well as his weapon. But when his former friend turned night creature has a chance to deal Trevor a scathing blow, they hesitate, and instead choose to stare Trevor down rather than attack him. It’s at this moment, that Trevor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, that this isn’t a night creature in the body of his friend, but that this night creature is his friend.

He thinks he’s going to be sick, but before that happens a separate night creature aims to attack. Trevor quickly crawls to retrieve his whip only to turn around to see that he doesn’t need it: his night creature friend turns on its fellow beasts and rips them apart limb by limb.

The two of them sit in the deafening silence that follows, each one eyeing the other up, waiting for someone to finally break the spell of concentration and make their move.

Trevor’s friend moves first, speaking in a rough, deep voice: “Tre..v..or,” it manages to get out.

As much as it pains him, as much as he knows his next move will haunt him for the rest of his natural life, Trevor blinks away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and charges ever so quickly towards the creature. His former friend turned monster has no time to react to what’s happening by the time Trevor’s knife is piercing through their chest.

“I’m sorry…” Trevor rasps out, guilt beginning to consume him once again. “‘S all my fault.”

Trevor is the last Belmont alive. Belmonts were trained to find and kill monsters. At least, that’s what Trevor keeps telling himself as he looks down at the corpse of his friend for the second time.

Belmonts hunt monsters, and they protect people.

And yet, standing there, Trevor feels that’s never been more of a lie.

Sypha:

Sypha tries like hell to save her friend, she really does. She creates defensive ice shields, rings of fire, hell even an ice cube around her friend all in an attempt to keep them safe from harm during battle.

But no matter what she tries, no matter how incredible she is at multitasking: it’s not enough. Something happens, something else gets her attention, someone else’s immediate safety takes precedence. Just for one moment, she turns her back on her friend, assuming they’d be alright for that long.

When Sypha returns to find her friend dying or dead, she lets out the most guttural scream, as icicles and fireballs rain down from the sky above her effectively squashing any remaining enemies. In her grief, her power surges through her, unstoppable like a nuclear reaction. She doesn’t just strike her enemies dead, she obliterates what remains of their corpses until they are nothing but ash and smoke.

Sypha, being from a large nomadic family, takes it upon herself to track down her friends' surviving relatives (if they have any) and bring their remains back to them. Being the kind of curious person Sypha is, she’s likely to know a fair amount about her friends' culture and religion. If there are specific burial rites she knows her friend would have liked observed, she wants them adhered to and she refuses to leave her friend's corpse until they’ve been officially put to rest.

But on her journey back (either to her friend’s family or the cemetery outside of Village Belmont), she’s attacked on the road by rogue vampires. Luckily, she and her companions make it out unscathed. Unfortunately, however, it seems those monsters have taken her friends' corpses with them.

Sypha mourns for a second time, not only the loss of her friend’s life but the loss of any closure she might have been hoping to create. Despite them no longer living, she feels as if she’s somehow managed to let them down a second time.

The next time she’s defending a crowd of folks against hordes of night creatures, Sypha is extra cautious, her friend’s death still fresh on her mind. And as the cruel mistress fate would have it, the image of her friend becomes real in front of her. Only this time, they’ve changed. They’ve mutated into something beastly with scales, claws, and horns, leaving only their face— eyes, nose, and mouth— and voice unchanged.

Initially, Sypha refuses to listen to this fraudulent night creature’s words, deeming their entire resemblance nothing more than a devilish trick. But when their former friend-turned-night-creature suddenly turns on its fellow beasts, tearing them apart before they can attack Sypha or her friends, Sypha is forced to confront the possibility that this creature still has her friend's soul trapped inside.

Sypha keeps up her defensive magic and ushers everyone else away. She makes it so it’s just her and her former friend left standing out on the battlefield.

Keeping a flame in one hand, Sypha raises the other in greeting, her large eyes widening as the creature mirrors her movements.

Sypha’s torn. On one hand, if her friend’s soul is still in there, they could be trapped and suffering, waiting for the release of either death or salvation to set them free, much like how her soul was trapped when she lost to the Cyclops. On the other hand, if her friend is still in there somewhere, maybe it’s only their form that’s changed, and their personality has not. Is it possible for a night creature to exist and not be violent?

It’s one hell of a risk to take, however. And Sypha knows she can’t risk the fate of Village Belmont, of all those orphan children, hell, of her children, because of a guilty conscience.

“Leave,” she says, advancing towards her former friend. “Do not return!” She sends a blast of fire in their general direction, herding them away.

“Go!” She screams, sending even greater flames.

The night creature frowns, backing up, confused. They cock their head to the side as if to ask why Sypha’s doing this. The confusion lasts only a moment before a hardened expression comes over them. They slowly nod before dragging their monstrous body far beyond the tree line, far away from Village Belmont.

Through her teary blurred vision, Sypha watches her former friend-turned-monster leave, a look of sorrow on both their faces.

Sypha makes a mental note to research ways of freeing her friend from their curse, should she come across them again. In the meantime, she hopes for their safety and asks that God (as much as he hates her) take mercy on her companion.

Sypha feels their current existence is punishment enough.

Alucard:

Alucard is not there when his friend is killed, a fact that haunts him long after their demise. He was not present for his Mother’s death either, and due to the manner of her murder, he was left without a body to mourn. Alucard knows fate is a cruel mistress, but to repeat such a grief with his dear friend, it’s almost too much to bear.

Still, Alucard’s not one to actively wallow, so he sulks for a short period before returning to his many duties as protector and curator of his father’s castle and the Belmont hold. He plays with the children, he and Greta teach the willing adults how to fight, and he even takes to cleaning up his old nursery to welcome Trevor’s and Sypha's incoming child.

On all outside fronts, Alucard appears the same as he was, but on the inside, his chest aches, and his stomach weighs heavily in his gut. Internally, he’s full of ‘what-ifs’:

Perhaps, if he taught his friend more defensive techniques before the battle. Or if he had only encouraged them to run rather than fight, they might still be here within these cold castle walls. Sure, he and the others may have ended up teasing his friend for being cowardly, and Alucard’s certain that would embarrass them, but my god— what’d Alucard give for his friend to be alive and embarrassed rather than dead.

After some time, Alucard finds his mind less and less occupied by his sorrow over his friend’s demise, and instead, begins to fill the space with fond memories. He recalls their first meeting, their first fight together, and their first night wandering the ruins of the Belmont hold.

Their ill-fated reunion starts with an alert from one of the watchtowers, then a second yell from a guard, before Alucard finds himself running, magical blade drawn, into a horde of beastly night creatures.

Aluccard’s on them before they can set upon the other guards. He makes quick work of two with his longsword and wounds a third with his claws. None of the night creatures' attacks are surprising, with every move they make, either Alucard or another fighter such as Greta can slice them down where they stand.

All appears to be well in hand when a rough voice calls for help just beyond the tree line. Wasting no time, Alucard proceeds alone, instructing the others to hang back in the instance it’s a trap.

To Alucard’s credit, it is a trap. Just not the one he was expecting.

A night creature, more on the smaller side, emerges from the shadows on all fours. On its side a large wound gushes red, the mark appearing to be from another creature as opposed to a human blade.

But that is not what catches Alucard’s attention. Rather, it is the voice of the night creature that sounds so similar.

With rising horror, frozen in place Alucard watches as the twisted, tortured body of his former friend pulls itself closer and closer. The creature pleads with Alucard by name, begging for their friend to make the pain stop.

It is not the first time Alucard has seen such magic. When the rebis reanimated in his childhood bedroom, he could see the souls of his parents struggling to house themselves within the rebis’ one body. It was such a horrifying sight, Alucard had to close his eyes and look away, but here, with his former friend’s clawed hand gripping his shin, no such possibility exists.

Alucard knows what he must do, he knows it’s only fair to end his friend’s life, to prevent them from suffering any further torment. Then why can’t he do it?

Alucard raises his blade using magic, preparing to slice his friend’s head off cleanly, when the creature lets out a final gurgle before falling still.

The blade continues to hover in the air as Alucard falls to his knees weeping. Somehow every time he believes to be past this pain, even more befalls him.

Alucard allows himself to grieve, hoping this time is the last.

Greta:

Greta’s no stranger to loss. She’s lost several men and villagers to the night creature attacks long before Alucard came into the picture. Being the Village Head, she’s found she’s left with little time to grieve, but perhaps, that is for the better.

Once Village Belmont is established, and Alucard is reunited with his friends, Greta allows herself to mourn the loss of her villagers, showing their remains respect by burying them in the Village Belmont cemetery. Of course, not every one of her lost friends has a body to bury.

In one of the night creature’s original attacks, they had taken the corpses of their victims as well as some folks still alive, presumably to eat or devour later.

One of Greta’s dear friends was among them, and while she wishes more than anything she could have held their hand and comforted them as they bled out, as she did a handful of others, there’s no going back to change the past— what’s done is done.

Greta takes a vote, and the villagers agree to put up a Gravemarker anyway, just as a way of honoring their memory.

It happens just as she exits the castle to give the good news of the arrival of Sypha and Trevor’s new baby. The many houses around Castlevania are lit up with merriment when a handful of stray monsters decide to attack.

Greta takes the lead on the defense, holding her own until she finds herself accidentally backed into a corner one night by a creature that almost looks like an overgrown dog. She’s surprised she let herself be so foolish but she’s even more surprised by the beast’s refusal to strike.

Confused, Greta analyzes the creature further, gasping in shock when she recognizes the pair of eyes that stare back at her. It couldn’t be. Could it? And if it is, what does this mean?

Greta thinks back to when she first met Alucard. Granted, she and her people knew he was not human, but his reputation as a savior preceded him. Perhaps, she considers, it is possible then, for a night creature to also go against its primal nature and choose the same.

She manages to push the creature back, calling for other armed members to surround it until Alucard can come and get a better look. Greta asks the dhampir what he thinks, if it’s possible this is her friend transformed, or if she’s letting sentiment get the better of her.

Alucard admits that he’s read of certain necromancers and forge masters possessing the ability to maintain pre-existing souls when forging newly twisted monsters, however, this particular experience would be a first. It could very well be Greta’s friend, their soul in this body, but it could also just be their corpse.

They decide to consult Trevor.

The three of them discuss back and forth as to what to do with this miniature night creature so long Sypha herself comes out, demanding to know why the hell she just left her newborn with a midwife to come get Trevor’s disappearing ass who said he’d be right back before walking out after the birth of their firstborn son?!

Everyone ends up at a loss.

Unphased by all the arguing, the night creature has since started to playfully catch sticks and stones, which some braver children have thrown at them.

Sypha agrees to leash the night creature within a magic circle until they can figure out what to do with it. At this point, the night creature curls up into a ball of scales and fur and promptly falls asleep.

“Well,” Greta says, “I suppose we didn’t need that Gravemarker after all.”

A/N: Sorry for the sort of cop-out ending with Greta’s, I just couldn't bring myself to end hers on a sad note as well, so instead, she gets a night creature guard dog bff to accompany her around Village Belmont! Also, if I had to pick a Castlevania character to be surprisingly chill about their friend becoming a reanimated creature, it’d be her. (Well, Hector first and then Greta but you see my point.)

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#trevor belmont x reader #sypha belnades x reader #alucard x reader #alucard castevania #greta castlevania #greta x reader #castlevania #hc #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard tepes #greta danesti

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theluckiestrose · 1 year ago

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The autistic urge to identify and comment every song that isnt properly credited in a tiktok just in case someone wats to listen to the whole thing instead of like 15 seconds of it

#stifled only by not knowing whether said song is niche enough to warrant this behavior #like. ill assume people know about mockingbird by eminem but who is she by i monster? do people know i monster?#one of their songs played over the credits on an episode of severance as well as an h&m commercial just recently but #do people Know i monster?#how well do people generally know Gorillaz? the broader public is definitely aware of some of their music but O Green World?#i know it was a trend but is it Known as a Song or known as Sounds?#also Cudi. a clip from Day N Nite was a trend for a while there. did people listen to the song after finding it? is the info available?#i think people are generally familiar with Pursuit of Happiness and Soundtrack 2 My Life but do they know Ashin Kusher?#would they like to?#these are the questions that bug me as a deeper fan of semi-obscure artists.#like. obviously people know (some of) the artists but would they be able to connect the snippets of music with those artists?#the whole structure of tiktok audio culture messes with my head in a way im having trouble describing #even here in the tags where my thought faculties live #i think its something i get from my dad. the need to share music and Know what song is playing #sprinkle in a little musical trivia and we got ourselves an autism or two

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bunathebunny · 1 year ago

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my crack theory is that yanqing is jingliu after transgenderism and amnesia

#source: ...#well technically back then i used to have ''what if i woke up a boy and past memories erased so i can live a different life?''#also the question about whether or not i would be happy with my life if i was a boy #i can't answer that but maybe i would be or maybe i wouldn't #maybe things that happened wouldn't have happened if i was born a boy or maybe those things would still happen #idk the what-ifs are fascinating tbh but thinking about them too much meaning i'd be lost #oopsie that's too heavy #but anyway yanqing and jingliu are both of ice element and yanqing's background is quite mysterious as well #what are the odds of picking up a child who is the same element and has the same talent in the same field your teacher had huh

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daydreamerdrew · 2 years ago

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Iron Man (1968) #13

#the way that Tony always ends up questioning whether or not it’s immoral for him to be happy and have relationships with other people #and ends up just sabotaging his own personal life #we’ve gotten stuff before with him being conflicted over having to divide his time between being Iron Man and being Tony Stark #and whether or not one of them does more good so it’s selfish of him to spend time as the other #and we’ve gotten stuff with his weak heart and how he thinks it’s wrong for him to have close relationships when he could die at anytime #and hurt the other person #(which is a situation he makes worse by straining his heart as Iron Man)#now it’s about whether having feelings for other people would impede his duties as Iron Man #this all just comes across as Tony specifically having issues with just being a person #rather than anything inherent to being a superhero #and it’s great I’m finding him really interesting #also I appreciate Janice’s line that ‘if your bodyguard were here I’d kiss him… armor plate or not!’#I think just because I’m only reading through Tony’s solo comics right now and not his Avengers appearances #I’m not really seeing people be friendly with Iron Man so much #marvel #tony stark #janice cord #my posts #comic panels

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gojonanami · 7 months ago

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

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

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

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

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

✧ wc: 7,657

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…maybe he spoke too soon.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did this feel so much worse?”

~~~

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

Or rather he should have.

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

You got it from here.

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

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

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

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

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

Until they take his body away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No—” and your hand finds his chest.

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why?”

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kento—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, here was the other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he knew that he was certainly made for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

It was over.

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

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

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

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

And a beach in Malaysia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Itadori,” Mahito says.

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

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

Could he finally stop?

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

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

But he couldn’t regret it now.

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

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

It was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—“

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

“It’s not—“

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

“It’s really not that bad—”

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

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

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

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

Always.

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

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

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami x you #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader

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auggieblogs · 6 months ago

Text

freckle kisses ֶָ֢ | MV1

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

Author's note: Hello, lovelies!!! I hope everyone is doing good. This fic has been in my drafts for a while now and I finally had the motivation to edit it today. The Max brainrot is very real, I cannot stop thinking about his little freckle. He is so beautiful🥹. Anyways, I hope you all like this piece. Happy reading<3

ALSO fun fact, I have a freckle that's right below my lower lip jshshdjdhs I don't know I think it's a sign!!! (im delusional)

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

Max was used to the routine. Before the haze of sleep fully left him every morning, he would feel the soft, warm press of her lips against the tiny freckle on his upper lip. It was her unique ritual, a habit she had never skipped, and he had come to adore.

As the sun streamed through the blinds of their bedroom, she stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. Without missing a beat, she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his freckle. Max smiled, his heart swelling with love.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning, Maxie," she replied, her voice light and cheerful.

Every day followed this pattern. Whether Max was leaving for a race, taking a break between practice sessions, or they were about to make love, her lips always found that freckle. It was her little act of love, and Max never questioned it. He cherished it

One lazy Sunday afternoon, they were lounging in their living room, a movie playing in the background. She lay on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. Max absentmindedly played with her hair, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, snuggling closer.

Max felt her shift slightly, and there it was again. Her lips met his freckle in a gentle kiss before trailing a line of kisses up to his lips. "I love you," she mumbled softly against his skin.

"I love you too," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He paused momentarily, a curious look crossing his face, "Why do you always kiss my freckle?"

She looked up at him with a shy smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It's silly," she said.

Max tilted her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. "It’s not stupid if it’s something you do," he said softly. "Tell me, please."

She took a deep breath before explaining, "Well, my mom used to tell me that freckles or moles are spots where lovers used to kiss you in past lives. She said they’re like beauty marks, little reminders of love."

Max's expression softened, a tender smile spreading across his face. "That's beautiful," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion.

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I told you it was silly."

"It's not silly," Max replied, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. And I love you for it."

Her heart swelled with love as she looked at him, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone like Max in her life. "I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the movie long forgotten.

Max chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, every time you kiss that freckle, it’s like you’re saying hello to my past lovers?" he teased.

She laughed, playfully swatting his chest. "Or maybe it’s just my way of marking my territory," she quipped back.

Max laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Well, consider it marked," he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 1 month ago

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I can't recall if you take requests but.. The boys with a vampire lover? If you haven't already.. Been thinking about this for awhile, I just had to ask. And if you don't, Then I apologize for asking.

Vampire Lover!

Tags: mostly fluff, monsterxhuman, mention of blood (you’re a vampire duhhhh)

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, Choso, Nanami

An: Hi! My requests are open :) No need to apologize! Thank you for the idea <3 I hope this is what you meant btw this is the best I could come up with.. 😭

SATORU

Satoru would definitely be the type to beg you to bite him. You would always deny him and tell him that it’d be wrong for you to feed on him since he’s your boyfriend, but he gets all giddy at the idea of you biting him and drinking from him.

He always makes excuses for why you can’t attend events or different clan meetings if they’re during the day. You’re constantly known for having some sort of sickness that Satoru randomly came up with.

He’s very inquisitive: constantly asking you if people smell different based off their blood types, which blood type is the sweetest etc.

He also has the money to fund all consensual giving of blood to feed you for years on out. You never have to worry about going hungry or having to hunt for food. Another reason why you refuse to drink from him.

Satoru would at first be happy with his humanity. He doesn’t want immortality or to never age. He doesn’t want any more power than he already had. Though, when you randomly bring up to him that you’ll outlive him, he’s suddenly questioning whether being a human is for him or not.

The thought of you going on to live without him for as many years as this earth stands drives him wild. He starts doing a lot of research, and he begins to ask you if you’ve thought about turning him. He’s definitely willing to give up his humanity if it means being by your side.

SUGURU

Suguru insists you drink from him to prevent harm from anyone else. At least, that’s what he tells you. In reality, he loves how much you rely on him. He adores each time you crawl up into his lap and gingerly kiss on his neck, obviously hoping to feed on him.

He’ll always tell you, “Go ahead, baby. Take what you need,” as he brushes his hair back from his neck. His hands would gently caress your back and bottom as you drank from his neck.

He’d never stop you either, even if you took a bit too much from him because that’s when you’re extra doting on him. You’re super apologetic and tend to him like he’s some frail being. It’s the only time in his life that he’s looked at as weak, and he doesn’t mind it, especially not when your apologizing with kisses and bringing him anything he could possibly ask for.

Suguru lies to his found-family that you have a rare skin condition, and you can’t be in the sun at all. He makes sure everyone accepts you into their little group, and he even introduces you to his followers. You expressed fear about being around that many humans, but he loves to watch as you nervously make your way across the room, introducing yourself to everyone. He knows you’ll be itching to feed as soon as everyone’s gone.

Suguru wants to be by your side for forever, but he knows that if you turn him, then you can’t feed on him anymore. He’s stuck in a dilemma of choosing which is more important to him. His humanity isn’t even part of the equation as he gave that up a long time ago.

SUKUNA

Sukuna would be the type to laugh at you for needing blood as substance to keep you alive. He would mock and bully you saying things like, “Look at the worthless creature who’s really no better than a mere mortal.”

He’d tempt you by various means, sometimes even “accidentally” slicing his finger open so you could smell the blood that still somehow pulsed through his veins. Once you finally pled enough for his liking, he’d finally allow you to have a taste.

For the King of Curses, he has some of the sweetest tasting blood that you’ve ever had the pleasure of indulging. Though, he won’t let you drink from him often, instead he gifts you human sacrifices. He thinks of it as a courting present.

When he’s not being a little asshole towards you, he does enjoy lying in bed with you while you theorize about what the future holds for you two. He’d gently pet your hair and tell you not to worry your head about such foolish things.

Everyone in his inner circle already knows about what you are. If they’re fine with being associated with the literal incarnation of evil, then they should be completely okay with a vampire at his side.

He doesn’t have to give up his humanity to be with you for all eternity because he doesn’t have any humanity to begin with. You’re not even sure what would happen if you tried to turn him, but you’re not too keen on finding out.

CHOSO

Choso would be like Satoru in the sense that he’s constantly making sure that you’re fed. Given his blood manipulation cursed technique, he can feed you quite easily through various different means. Though he rather prefers when you bite him.

He relates to you on a deeper level, understanding what it’s like to be not quite human. He sympathizes with your struggles and tries to reassure that some humans will accept you for who you are.

Knowing that you can’t go out in the sunlight, Choso finds so many date ideas and things to do at night. You never feel like you’re missing out on anything because this man will make it happen, no matter what it is.

Only Choso and Yuji know you’re a vampire. He knows he said that humans will accept you, but he also knows some will try to hunt you down, and he’s not willing to take the risk.

Choso doesn’t have to give up his humanity to live forever with you, but he does wonder what would happen to him if he was half-curse and half-vampire. He’d become fixed on the idea, but you’d have to politely remind him that if he turned, his cursed technique would basically become useless.

NANAMI

Nanami would be such a cautious lover to a vampire, not because he’s scared of you. He loves you. He’s just worried about everyone else being around you.

He’d let you feed on him, but he brings around small blood bags for you to enjoy at all times! He even gets jazzy with it and makes you fun little drinks with the blood (while trying not to throw up because it probably repulses him). Nevertheless, the drinks always turn out good.

He holds an umbrella for you constantly if you insist on going out during the day time. If anyone asks why you need an umbrella, he snaps at them to mind their own business.

Nanami would tell no one that you’re a vampire. He doesn’t want anyone potentially leaking that information and bringing you into harm’s way. He prefers that he’s the only one who knows.

Unfortunately, I don’t see Nanami giving up his humanity to be with you forever, and you agree with him. He grows old beside you while you remain the same, and you give him the most fulfilling life possible.

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vernoniekiss · 2 months ago

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hi! love ur writing sm :(( got me kicking my feet and smiling at my phone like a dumb idiot lol hahahshsa, could you write how ot13 would react to their s/o kissing them or be very pda live on a variety show/live broadcast? (their relationship is public and adored) thank you!!

svt s/o being publicly affectionate with them on a live show | [ ot13 ]

[🫧] seungcheol

- he would be flustered for a quick second but kisses you back a hundred percent. keeps you close to him for the rest of the variety show. voicing his support to you throughout the show even if you’re on opposing teams.

[🫧] jeonghan

- he would be shocked. gives you a quick kiss back before acting that nothing happened. you can see the light pink blush on his cheeks if you were close to him. teases you throughout the show, if you were all playing a game. you bet he’s gonna try and cheat.

[🫧] joshua

- his eyes goes wide like when he’s angry but he’s not angry. he just wasn’t expecting the kiss. he holds your hands throughout the show, beaming at you whenever you get a question correct.

[🫧] junhui

- would let you do anything you want to him. whether it was a small kiss or a hug. he’s really happy to be with you at that moment on the show or a live broadcast.

[🫧] hoshi

- would be the one to cuddle up to you. he’s makes it known that you’re his beautiful s/o. a clingy man, whines when you move away from him. gets really excited when they ask him a question about you. “what’s their favorite food?” “oh my god. I KNOW THIS”.

[🫧] wonwoo

- not big on pda for the public but you are but you’re mindful. asking if it’s okay to hold his hands, give him a hug and he assured you that it’s okay because it’s you and he trusts you with his life.

[🫧] woozi

- man goes RED. all the blood goes to his cheeks immediately when you turn affectionate to him. would also let you do what you want, he likes seeing you happy. holds your hands after the live ended and all the way home :)

[🫧] dokyeom

- also a very affectionate man whether it was on camera or off camera. accepts all you’re affectionate gestures, kisses, hugs, holding hands. he thanks his fans everyday for supporting his relationship. really likes it when you first initiate affections.

[🫧] mingyu

- happy puppy, reciprocate all your affection back. really happy when you hug him. he makes sure to cover the camera when you kiss. you can see a faint blush on him, the members tease him.

[🫧] minghao

- subtle blush on his cheeks. would return the gestures of course. wouldn’t do anything more but hugs, kisses are meant to be shared in private with you and him. no viewers.

[🫧] seungkwan

- sides eye you but he warms up later to show pda. holds your hands throughout the live show. hugs you whiling jumping around when you win a game. “YOU WON!!”. just lets you continuously pinching his cheeks :D

[🫧] vernon

- wide eyes and looked at you as if you committed a sin right infront of him. his cheeks goes pink IMMEDIATELY, awkwardly patting your back while bringing you in for a small hug instead. he prefers to be more affectionate towards you in private rather than public.

[🫧] chan

- doesn’t mind showing pda in public and doesn’t mind you being more affectionate in public, esp in the eyes of his fans. kisses you back when the cameras are turned another to another area (to his members). he’s happy to return all your affection gestures!!!

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chaotic-birds · 1 year ago

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be with you || j.pt

Jason wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not there.

🌙 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (gn)

🌙 Genres/AUs: Fluff, (emotional) hurt/comfort, established relationship

🌙 Warning(s): mention of kidnapping

🌙 Word Count: 1.1k

🌙 Author's Note: I have so many Jason Todd fic ideas 😵‍💫 For now, I decided to just write this. I normally don't post such short fics, but I want to get used to doing so. Sometimes I just wanna write without thinking of intensive plots 😪 That being said, please enjoy this little fluff piece! Sometimes, we just need some fluff in our lives. Also, this is my first Jason fic after a few years so… 😬 (im a lil nervous)

masterlist

When Jason turns to his other side to pull you against him, his eyes fly open.

Your side of the bed is empty.

And cold.

Which means it’s been a while since you left.

You left.

Did you leave or did someone take you?

Jason’s distressed eyes scan the bedroom. There’s no sign of a struggle. Plus, he would at least hope he’d wake up to the commotion if something like that happened.

But if you didn’t get kidnapped, where did you go?

Worry fills his chest and his heart pumps faster at the influx of questions in his head.

All the doubt about whether he’s making you happy clouds his mind. Had he said something yesterday that had upset you? Are you not happy with him anymore? Did someone better come into your life?

Jason groans and rakes his hands through his hair, tugging roughly at the ends to feel something other than uneasiness.

His hands fall to his sides when he sees your belongings at your vanity.

That’s a good sign, right? Maybe you didn’t leave him after all.

Jason slides off the bed and heads out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” he calls.

There’s no answer.

He wanders to the bathroom. Empty.

He goes to the living room. Empty.

Finally, he goes to your home office.

You’re sat in your chair with your headset on, fingers clacking against the keyboard.

The heavyweight he had put on his shoulders instantly lifted. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He takes three large steps before he encloses his arms around you from behind.

You yelp, jumping and hitting your head against his jaw.

He grunts at having bit the inside of his cheek in the process.

Although your arms are glued to your sides, you tilt your head and lift a hand as high as it can go to remove your headset.

“Jay?” you question. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face against your neck more.

You lax in his arms, rubbing along his forearms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you awake then?” you wonder after a while.

“You weren’t in bed,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I forgot I had to finish something for work.”

“But it’s half past three. Can’t it wait?”

“Sadly, no,” you sigh.

Carefully, you try to pull apart his arms to free yourself. Jason refuses to let you do so.

“Baby,” you laugh softly when he holds you tighter. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No,” he grumbles.

Knowing he won’t give up, at least not easily, you nod. “Alright then. Should I bring in another chair for you?”

Jason shakes his head and finally lets go. He slides your chair back slightly and sinks to the floor in front of you.

Your legs part when he makes a home between them, wrapping his arms around your hips and resting his head on top of your thigh.

“Comfy?” you ask with a small smile, slightly amused.

He simply hums and closes his eyes.

Your gaze lingers on him before you focus on your work once more. You hurry more now, wanting to get back to bed with Jason.

A few minutes have passed when Jason speaks again.

“I-I thought you left me,” he whispers.

Your hands pause in their movement.

“Oh Jace,” you begin gently and place a hand against his cheek.

His eyes flutter open at your touch. His blue eyes are filled with worry and fear.

“I would never leave you.”

His eyes move between yours, trying to find a reason not to believe you. There’s that rotten side of him that tells him he doesn’t deserve to have company. That it’s inevitable for him to be alone.

“Unless you want me to,” you add.

He shakes his head aggressively. “Don’t say that.”

You smile softly at him. “Then it’s a done deal. You’re mine until the end of time.”

Jason cracks a small smile at your words, lifting his head.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

Your grin grows. “I do too.”

Jason leans up, and you meet him halfway for a tender kiss.

“I’ve still got more to do. You want to go to bed now?” you ask once you pull away.

“Nope, I’m staying,” he replies, resting his head back on your leg.

His tone sounds lighter now, making your heart warm. Although you love all sides of Jason, this may be your favorite one.

Happy. Soft. Vulnerable.

After forty more minutes, you finally finish.

Jason has fallen asleep and has filled the room with his light snores. Some of his hair lays on his face, some of it slightly ruffled from sleeping in the bed earlier.

Cute.

You bring a hand to his hair, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You scratch at his scalp gently to wake him.

His eyes open, drooping and groggily.

“I’m done, let’s go to bed now,” you say.

He nods and slowly stands up from the floor. He sways a little on tired legs.

“Come on, sleepy head,” you tease lightly and grab his hand.

He lets you guide him back to the bedroom. You sit him down on the edge then gesture in the direction of the bathroom.

“I need to pee; you gonna come with me or will you stay here?” you question.

Jason frowns but nods. “If you take longer than five minutes, I’m coming in.”

You laugh and kiss the crown of his head. “If you say so.”

You know he’s being honest so you rush. Luckily, you make it in time for him not to come get you.

Jason hasn’t moved from when you left. He’s staring at the doorway, feet thumping rhythmically against the floor.

“You’re so needy tonight,” you observe and climb into bed. Jason scoots back until he’s beside you.

“I just miss you,” he sighs, pulling you against him like he originally wanted to do.

You lean back against his chest to feel him more.

“I’ve missed you too, Jay,” you reply.

There's been a rise in crime lately, which resulted in Jason being out in the field more than usual. However, it feels as if there’s a break and you and Jason are making the most of it. You’re sure he will be summoned again soon.

Jason snuggles your body more—if possible—and kisses the back of your head.

“We’re so sleeping in today,” he mumbles, a slight groan accompanying his words.

You giggle. “I can’t protest that.”

“Hm, good,” he says. “Goodnight, baby.”

Smiling, you echo, “Goodnight, Jay.”

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd fluff #jason todd hurt/comfort #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you

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i2ycat · 2 months ago

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two wrongs don’t make one right

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis mistakes always happen, whether you mean to make them or not. but it’s not a question of ‘do you like heeseung?’ anymore, it’s more so: ‘why do you like heeseung?’. or in which, two wrongs just don’t make one right genre college!au, slight fluff, angst, established relationship word count 3k+ warnings cursing, crying, toxic relationship between heeseung and reader, implications of a professor x student relationship, heeseung is implied to have possibly cheated, reader cheats w sunghoon, everyone is of age, bitchy & manipulative characters, reader is insecure, small mention of smoking weed, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking it’s been 2 months since i last posted anything oh my…. erm! here’s a little fic before i disappear again lol <//3 i don’t condone anything that happens in this fic or any of their decisions!!!! main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

The weekend had rolled by faster than you could blink. One second, you’re rotting away in your room and the next, you’re hopping on one foot in front of your mirror, hastily getting ready for the day because you’re running 30 minutes late to your 10am coding class. You’re usually the type to wake up earlier than your alarm, but you were staying up way later than you usually would’ve the night before— staying up late to talk to your boyfriend of 7 months, Lee Heeseung.

Known to be the academy’s most influential guy, Lee Heeseung was, and still is, quite the character. Simply calling him influential would be a grave understatement though, because he descended from a family of powerful politicians and businessmen, even having the biggest corporation in all of South Korea— Lee Tech— as part of his familial pedigree.

It’s no secret that he has the entire world at his fingertips, and at any given moment, he could burn it if he wanted to.

But like how everything else in this world is unfair, Lee Heeseung wasn’t just disgustingly rich, he also inherited his mother’s celebrity looks— evident in his sharp features and overly charming personality. He has girls constantly eyeing him left and right, up and down, even when you’re around.

You went into this relationship knowing full well the certain costs it had to your own happiness and well-being. In the 7 months you’ve been seeing each other, you’ve never felt so insecure in your entire life. And despite his constant reassurances, you know that he couldn’t even begin to imagine half of the battlefield you were facing.

No matter how much you try to deny it, you were subconsciously fighting for his attention against people who were born to be at the same status as he is— in terms of wealth, power, and looks. You always hated being born into a grassroots-level family, but you knew that being salty about your birth-given circumstances would change absolutely nothing. So you worked hard as fuck to be able to get into such a prestigious university. You threw the entirety of your youth away to be able to be the first in your family to go to college, and here you are, barely hanging onto your scholarship because of some boy you met at a party almost half a year earlier.

They’re only admirers, he said. It was just you and him, he said. You just needed to trust him, he said, but that’s something easier said than done, especially for you.

“Running late again?” The security guard monotonously inquires. He’s seen this exact scene about a thousand times and more with other students before you, so he’s chopping the late slip and handing it back to you like clockwork, but this time with a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he had a good day but not good enough to warrant the toiling of doing such a challenging task.

Not that it mattered to you anyways.

You ducked your head in an informal ‘thank you’ before hurriedly leaving the stale office and into the hallways.

The hallways always seemed unending whenever you were running late, the rows of windows you ran past would multiply tenfold and the clock’s hands would run faster than it usually would— it felt as if time was warping everything within its reach.

Finally, the running reached its stop. You bent on your knees to catch your breath, the late slip crumpling in between your fingers in the process.

One.

Two.

You counted.

There was no reason to panic. Just walk in, hand the slip and sit your ass down. The visual in your head was clear and it somewhat helped to calm down your nerves. So with one last deep breath, you turn the brass handle and walk in.

You’re so damn dramatic.

The doors creaking reverberates in the small auditorium, easily catching everyone’s attention. You gulp down the lump in your throat as you watch your professor pass you a look of disapproval. It made your heart drop, because you were his best student and you hate disappointing people who expect great things from you. Your let your gaze angle towards the carpeted floors, making your way to the seat closest to the door.

When you feel as if you’ve disappeared into your seat, it was as if you could breathe again. You were finally away from the spotlight and people’s unnervingly curious eyes ceased trailing your every move. You should really start sleeping earlier or you’d have to get used to this.

“Hey,” Erin, your seatmate, whispers. Her voice tried to be as discreet as it could in a whisper… it didn’t really work. The professor gave her a stern stare as a form of warning, though you could tell it had an entirely different undertone, even from a mile away. It left a bad taste in your mouth, having to bear witness to such unprofessional exchanges of looks in an academic setting of all places. Erin, who bites her lip, scribbles whatever she was going to say to you on a torn piece of paper.

“Wanna know a secret?” It read with two boxes just right underneath it: yes or no. You look at her with a dumbfounded look plastered all over your face. You knew she was childish to a certain extent, but was she really that childish? Nevertheless, you tick the box on the left and send it back to her.

Cause you know, curiosity killed the cat.

You should’ve seen the conniving smirk plastered on her lips but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice anything else around you. She scribbles once more then folds it, dropping it into your hands with the hastily written warning facing you: “read it when you get home. preferably alone lol ;)”.

Then, class is dismissed.

You watch her get up from her seat and blend in with everybody else rushing out of the room, not missing the heavy glance she passes at the professor. You didn’t even want to stay any longer to see what happened next, so you started haphazardly shoving things into your bag instead, remembering to pocket the small note into the depths of your jacket.

When you leave the room, Lee Heeseung is already standing there, in all his lazy-fitted glory— messy bed hair hiding under a hood, donning the black hoodie you both bought as a couple’s set for valentines last week and the black sweatpants you bought for him to match.

“Hello, beautiful.” He coos, engulfing you in a tight one-armed hug. It gave you the opportunity to take in his woody yet elegant-smelling perfume, the same Jo Malone one he wore everyday.

Your heart swelled in its place, appreciating how, without fail, Heeseung would wait for you outside your classes whenever he could, even if they ended really late— late enough that he should be at home resting, but instead, he would spend that time waiting for you like the good boyfriend he is.

“Hey,” you smile into his chest. “Ugh, I woke up late again today thanks to a certain someone.”

“Wonder who that is? Maybe I should give them a word or two about keeping my princess up so late.” He pulls you from his chest to cup your face, coaxing you to fall deeper with that sweet smile of his. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world, like he’s got your back no matter what.

It was dangerous for such a smile to have the ability to make you forget about all your problems, even ones pertaining to him.

“You’re such a dork,” you roll your eyes at him as you push him away.

“At least I’m your dork, so naturally… it cancels out.” A boyish grin spreads across his face so innocently that you can’t help but press a kiss on his nose, immediately prompting him to blush a crimson red at your sudden display of affection. “What was that for?”

“You looked cute,” you shrug.

At this, Heeseung turns an impossibly darker shade of red. “You can’t just say things like that so casually and expect me to be okay.” The way he attempts to cover the blush in his face behind his hands makes you laugh, completely and utterly endeared by him.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up, yeah?”

“You’re so mean.” He pouts.

When you got yourself entangled with the Lee Heeseung all those months ago, you didn’t think that he would have such a boyish and cute side to him. His public persona had always been this untouchable, charismatic guy who could get anything he wanted with a snap of his finger, so you could imagine the whiplash you experienced when the first time you ever kissed him, he blushed so deeply you thought he was drunk.

It made you feel special, being the only one to have ever brought out this side of him, like you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Yeah, but you can’t ever bring yourself to hate me.”

“That… is very true, I’m afraid.” Heeseung sighs, catching your hand in his. “I’m kinda hungry, right now. Sushi?”

“Sure.”

—

Over the course of your entire life, there’ve only been a handful of times where you’ve been betrayed by people you trusted: first when you were twelve, being wrongly accused of having cheated on a test by your then best friend; second when you were the only one to have been thrown under the bus by people you thought were your close group of friends for smoking weed in your highschool’s bathroom cubicle; and third when you found out that Heeseung had been with Erin during the one-week break in your relationship.

The note passed to you by Erin from earlier in the month stays ripped into pieces in the palm of your hand. You’d forgotten all about it until a few hours ago, and you wished it had stayed that way. But you know by now that things never go your way.

You and Heeseung were on break for about a week, citing that you were not in the mental headspace to be dealing with a relationship at that moment in time because of your slipping grades, and he understandably obliged, even kissing your forehead goodbye as you left his apartment.

Erin’s written confession, if you could even call it that, echoes in your mind like a blaring alarm.

from girlie to girlie, your boyfriend came onto me while you guys were on your little break. must say, your boyfriend is talented at making people cry ;).

All you needed was a week to heal and sort your shit out before you went back into his arms, and he couldn’t even wait that long?

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to scream your aching heart away, to be left with nothing more than a void. At least then, you would no longer feel the hurt and betrayal Heeseung inflicted upon you with his actions, and the months of torment you’d endured just to seem worthy to stay by his side.

Did he even ever truly love you like he said he did?

The more you dwell on these thoughts, the more you could feel yourself physically slipping into a state of mental numbness as you stayed motionless on your spot on the carpeted floor.

It wouldn’t be until a few more hours later that Heeseung would enter your dorm, tired as ever from his basketball practice. It was routine for him to crash at your dorm on Tuesdays and Fridays—whenever he had basketball practices— because it was more convenient for him to get to his 9am class the next day from your in-campus dorm, compared to his condo that was 20 minutes away. Adding that you gave him the energy he needed for the days ahead, but now you’re contemplating whether that part was even true or not.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you from the entrance. “I’ve got to tell you about what happened to Jay at practice today-” he cuts himself short as he spots your leaning figure, head tucked into your knees, surrounded by torn pieces of paper.

“Y/n?” He quickly runs to your side.

“Seungie,” you meekly whisper as you lift your head, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes finally coming into clear view.

“Did something happen? What happened?” His hands make quick work to caress your face, tucking stray pieces of hair behind your ears and wiping tears away with his thumb.

Even after knowing what he had allegedly done behind your back, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding. This was the sweet, caring Heeseung you knew and loved. And so the thought that Erin could’ve been lying to you, flitters across your mind and nestles itself there.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” Your voice sounds hoarse and quiet, yet the silent pleading rings deafeningly in your ears. You felt so pathetic crying in your living room about a boy who might’ve technically cheated on you, then finding yourself putty in his hands the moment he shows you the version of truth you’re familiar with.

Why are making up excuses for his behaviour?

Gosh, your roommate would kill you if she knew how much of a loser you’ve become in Heeseung’s presence.

“Of course not, baby,” he pulls you into an embrace. “There’s nothing I could ever lie to you about.” Did this ease your trust issues in any way? No. But it did assure you that Erin was still nothing but a serial liar, wanting nothing more than to see other people’s relationships fall apart for her own selfish entertainment… you think.

You hum into Heeseung’s tweed pullover.

It was always like this. You don’t know how many times you’ve gone through the same thing, and you don’t know how many more times you can go through without fully losing your sanity. But you can’t seem to find it in yourself to pull away, no matter how exhausted your heart and soul becomes.

—

“Can’t believe you stayed with him, even after knowing what he did behind your back.” Erin sneers from beside you, clearly amused by your course of actions these past few weeks.

“Whatever I do is none of your business,” you bite back through your teeth. You’ve never liked Erin, but even more so after the stunt she did that almost cost you your entire relationship with Heeseung. You should’ve known that she never had good intentions to begin with, constantly lying through her teeth. “I know you lied about it.”

She raises an eyebrow at this, “You think I’m lying? Oh baby, you’re really so fucking gullible.” Erin could practically see the cogs turning in your brain, if the furrowing of your brows were anything to go by. “I’m saying that Heeseung has you completely under his thumb, and you’re dumb enough to believe anything and everything he says,” she plays with her pen, swirling it around her finger as she eyes you. “It’s whatever though, Heeseung likes good girls anyways.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think we both know very well.” She smirks, tapping the pen on her temple once then twice, before shifting in her seat back towards the front of the lecture hall.

Just what was her fucking deal?

It leaves you with more questions than answers, as you watch her diligently jot down notes from beside you. After today, you were for sure going to switch seats because there was just no fucking way you could survive the rest of the year this way.

—

You don’t know how you ended up here. The first minute you were being dumped by Heeseung, and the next you’re waking up with a raging hangover in his best friend's bed.

Heeseung technically didn’t dump you, telling you that he wanted a break the same you did all those months before. And you technically didn't end up in his best friend’s bed by complete choice. You were drunk out of your mind at a party last night, one that your roommate had dragged you to after seeing you in your depressed state for the past week. But no matter the excuse you try to conjure, it still doesn’t excuse the fact that you cheated on your boyfriend.

Your heart beats sporadically at the sight of Sunghoon’s bare back facing you, not because you’re flustered but because you’re instantly hit with the gravity of your own drunken choices.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With heavy feet, you stumble out of his bed and start navigating through the mess of discarded clothes, and soon after, Sunghoon eventually stirs awake from the ruckus you were unintentionally causing in his shared dorm room. “Y/n?” He groggily calls out to you.

Fuck.

It didn’t take Sunghoon very long to figure out why the fuck you were in his room half-naked, piecing together the clues that lay around the expanse of his dorm. He clearly didn’t need to be a genius like Einstein to figure out that you and him had a drunken one-night stand. You—Heeseung’s girlfriend—and him—Heeseung’s best friend—had spent the night together. Intimately.

Right around the three-second mark, the same level of anxiety sank into his stomach.

Fuck, indeed.

“I made a mistake.” Your voice trembled, tears starting to blur your vision as hot panic courses through you.

“Hey, we were both drunk,” Sunghoon says, sitting up at the sight of you still half-dressed and starting to break down at the foot of his bed. “Heeseung doesn’t have to know about this. We both made a mistake, and don’t blame yourself because you weren’t the only one, okay?”

“But, fuck, it doesn’t change the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend. What the fuck was I thinking?” Your fingers fly to tousle with your hair, pulling at the roots to try and ease the pounding in your head.

You weren’t any better than all the people you were disgusted by, seeing as you’ve stopped as low. Memories from last night flash through your mind, as if to haunt you; the party, the flashing lights, the drinks, the kissing, the skin against skin. You felt so fucking sick to your stomach.

“We didn’t mean to sleep with each other. We were just drunk.” Sunghoon reasons, but no amount of gaslighting could change what’s already been done.

You were either going to live with this aching thorn by your side forever, or own up to your mistakes like a normal human being with a moral compass. With how deep you’ve fallen for Heeseung, you couldn’t bear losing him, yet both options entailed losing him one way or another.

It’s best not knowing what could potentially hurt, right?

Right.

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deadhands69 · 19 days ago

Text

Something More [than an extra]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: sex (multiple positions mentioned, slightly intoxicated sex), drinking, swearing, angst if you squint. This is the smuttiest one of the series :)

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - this is part 6 - part 7 - part 8

You and Mina sit at the window watching Kirishima and Sato spend over an hour clearing the snow from around the building before Todoroki rolled out of bed at 11am and finished the job in 10 seconds flat. You haven't told her what happened last night, but the way she keeps looking at you tells you she somehow already knows.

“Soo are you going to tell me about your night??”

“My night?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“Yeah, I was in Kiri’s room,” she states simply, before making it more clear: “they're neighbors.”

“I- Oh,” there’s no use denying it. You make a mental note to ask her about her own night being in a boys room that late, but you know she won’t let you dodge the question.

“I'm still not sure how I feel about it,” you rub where he bit the back of your shoulder while staring out the window. “It was fun and I guess it's good to let off some steam. But it's weird. Last week I hated him,” you laugh.

“Things change!” Mina smiles, “no one said you had to hate him forever. And if he makes you happy, I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

“It was fun but knowing him, it's not happening again. I don't think he does that sort of thing. Besides, I thought you called him a red flag? When did that change?”

“For most people, he is. Don’t tell Jiro I said this, but I think you guys would be really cute together!” her cheerfulness giving you unwanted twinges of hope.

“It’s really not like that,” you assure her, mostly reminding yourself.

A one time thing.

32 Days Later

A one time thing? Yeah, right. you laugh thinking back on the last month.

It’s mid-February and you find yourself in that same corner of the common room on a late Saturday morning. Your friends are both absent - you’d helped them pick outfits for their dates last night so you know they’re both in their rooms getting ready. Mina and Kirishima had been dating for a month (or longer? None of you were quite sure when that started and they wouldn't explicitly say.) Kaminari had only worked up the courage to ask Jiro on a date two days ago. You’re excited for them both and also happy for the morning to quietly reflect on life: something you haven’t had time for recently.

Taking a sip of coffee, you think of when you told Mina about Katsuki Bakugo the first time. It feels strange now, knowing you’ve spent more nights with him than not since then. At this point, it's almost a routine.

It always starts the same.

Sometime between 8 and 10pm, he texts you. “Hey.” “You up?” Once he just texted “🍆?”, he’s lucky that one made you laugh.

Rain or shine, any time of the month - it didn’t matter. Like clockwork, you’d almost come to expect it. At this point, you’ve stopped changing into your pajamas, knowing there’s no point when you will most likely be changing back into clothes to walk across the building in anyways.

Usually, you go to his room. Occasionally, he’ll come to yours.

Sometimes the two of you will pretend to watch a movie or other things friends do together, but you always know where it’ll lead.

Within twenty minutes, he’s grabbing your hair with his tongue buried in your mouth. Shortly after that, whether you're standing or on the bed, he's pressing into you from behind - one hand wrapped around you, the other still tangled in your hair.

Your phone vibrates in front of you, some social media notification. Pulling it up, your whole feed is pink and full of hearts.

Only now did you realize it’s Valentine’s day. How had that not come up at all while helping your friends pick outfits?

Maybe it did, you've always blocked this stupid holiday out.

Doesn't matter, you think to yourself. Not like you're spending it with anyone. It'll be just another day, with any luck a quiet one.

And it is.

You spend the next six hours in your usual spot, working your way through a book. At some point, you realize you'd been trying to read the same paragraph for twenty minutes but your mind keeps drifting off.

Back to him.

Always back to him.

Privately, he's not as explosive as you'd known him before. That's not to say he's particularly gentle either.

The way his hands grip your hips, pulling you into him while he pounds you from behind. You're almost always covered in slight bruises but you notice he's careful to avoid grasping the darker ones.

How his teeth find your lips in every kiss. At first you found this weird, now you've come to expect it. Feeling a rush seeing him grin in public, knowing exactly what those teeth do to you.

How hard (and often) he makes you cum. You've spent hours in his room where he'd fuck you until you could barely stand - your body convulsing under his touch, pressed tightly against him. His hands holding you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

All that, then you'd leave. Not that you always wanted to. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep with him, his strong arms wrapped around you as he breathes gently into the back of your neck.

Of course, he’d never explicitly asked you to leave, but you understand the situation well enough to know when it’s time to go. So does he.

Maybe it's the lingering cold weather making you want for more coziness or maybe this stupid holiday got to you. Today, you find yourself wanting more than what it is.

Eventually, you go back to your dorm room. Still thinking about him.

You know Bakugo isn’t busy on a date, he doesn’t do stuff like that (plus, you spent most of the day in the common space watching everyone come and go so you’re almost certain he didn’t leave his room today.) Your expectations for hearing from him are low though - you also understand that he probably doesn’t want to text his fuck buddy to come over on a romantic holiday and give the wrong impression. The clock strikes ten and you change into sweatpants to get ready for bed.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Rushing to the door, you hope it’s not one of your friends after a bad date. To your surprise it’s-

“Bakugo, hi?” your voice is tentative and a bit confused. To be honest, you don't mind seeing him at your door on Valentine's day you just didn't expect to.

“Hey Backfire, I figured you’d be awake. You always stay up way too late,” he grumbles before glancing down at the open bottles of champagne in his hands. They're two different brands. “Uh, my friends opened these with their dates before they left and dropped off the leftovers outside my door.” He presses the more full bottle into your hands before taking a swig off the other, “drink it, I’m not finishing these on my own.”

You laugh, gesturing him in.

He isn't quite drunk but his cheeks are more flushed than usual, making the scar under his eye stand out. It's cute, in a rough way. Like him.

Taking a sip, you check out the label. It’s fancy, pink, and tastes sweet. You would guess Kirishima bought this one to impress Mina.

Bakugo is working through a bottle of Cooks; that has Kaminari written all over it.

Curiously, you tell him your guesses.

“That is correct,” he lays on your bed, one foot folded over his knee with the hand holding the bottle resting over the edge. “Soy Sauce Face left some too but I finished that one before I walked over.”

“Wait, Sero is on a date?” you can’t help but laugh a bit, he’s nice but you can't really picture it.

“Yeah, all those dumbasses were really excited for this stupid holiday,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“That’s fine - free champagne for us,” you say, trying to steer the conversation out of the awkward direction you could see it heading. Sitting on the bed beside him, you bring the bottle back to your lips.

There's a momentary pause, but that's okay with him. He's just quiet sometimes. It's funny, you weren't really sure when you even became friends but now you know all of his little conversational habits.

“Yeah, idiots.” he says finally.

The conversation flowed easier from there. Both of you agreeing it's a bad excuse for a holiday (although, you are excited for day-after candy sales.) You talk about school and the classes you're each taking. He tells you about his hero work. Before you know it, you're sharing childhood stories. The two of you end up talking about life for what feels like twenty minutes, but the clock on your desk indicates it's well past midnight.

Bakugo is quiet again. There's nothing but the sound of people giggling outside in the distance and your favorite band playing at a low volume. It's comfortable. He's scrunched up on your bed, head resting on on his arm while he gazes out the window. The dim light from your small lamp illuminates his face perfectly. His resting face looks angelic, a fact that used to make you cringe but now it gives you other ideas.

Leaning over, you tip his jaw towards you to press your lips onto his. He tastes sweet. Kissing him gently, you wish you could stay like this all night but you aren't sure if that would be okay in your arrangement. So, you push for more. You climb over his lap to straddle him. Normally, he's the one in charge but he doesn't seem to mind this. His big ruby eyes peering up at you, slightly glazed over from the champagne.

This time feels different. The way he kisses you is less frantic. Still passionate, but not as rushed as usual.

Rolling your hips into him, his hands slide down your back to press you down harder. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, grinding into him with all of your weight. He arches his hips into you, still gripping your lower back.

God, his eyes are so fucking beautiful when he looks up at you like that.

His hands glide up your back, taking your shirt with them. You do the same, pulling off his hoodie and tank top like you've wanted to most of the night. The skin to skin contact feels warm as he drags you back down to keep making out with him.

Eventually, he rolls you onto your bed and sits back on his legs. Your fingers trace his now apparent bulge, his cock painfully straining to be released from the sweatpants and boxer briefs confining it. He removes both. You follow suit, throwing your own clothes over the edge of the bed.

Normally, he'd prep you with his fingers but you've been grinding against him for half an hour now and you're desperate for release.

Crawling over your bed, you reach into your bedside table for a condom. Bakugo is already behind you, continuing the friction you'd built up all night.

His hand reaches to take it from you but you're feeling bold. There's something you've always wanted to try.

Ripping the wrapper off, you put the latex to your mouth - sucking the tip in. It doesn't taste great but is so worth the mild aversion to see the look on his face when you wrap your lips around his dick and slide the condom over his length. Jaw still slack, he stares down at you in amazement before letting out a half laugh. The subtle light glints on the tips of his teeth.

Regaining composure, he shoves you back onto your bed. The sheets feel cool in contrast to his warm body climbing over you.

“You sure you're ready,” he murmurs into your ear, “I can-”

“Need you in me now,” you whisper back, lining him up with you.

He nods.

With a grunt, he shifts closer and presses into you. You feel yourself expand, clenching around him while he begins to move.

He stays close. Arms wrapping around yours, caging you to the bed while the skin of his stomach softly grazes yours. Your hands find his back, scratching lines over his scars to pull him closer. You want to last longer but the build up is too much.

Pleasure surges through your body; you feel it rush all the way down to your toes. You're riding it out, gasping into his chest while you feel yourself fluttering around him. He follows quickly, throwing his face into your shoulder.

His voice is breathy as he presses his lips into your neck.

“[y/n]”

part 7

m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove

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