#if it was just that once i would have been more suspicious

[truelovepolinator]

State of the Ship Address: Where we stand after the Hard Launch

Well, this has certainly been an interesting week, hasn’t it?

Last Saturday, I was the happiest of shippers, sharing why I’m so sure it’s Luke. By Wednesday, I was sharing my thoughts on why Nicola’s “just a friend” comment was nothing to worry about. Yes, truly, Nicola’s comment was a hit to the ship. A very palpable hit. Yet, we sailed on. Then on Thursday, well, the ship very nearly sunk with Luke’s Hugo Boss “hard launch” of Antonia. Nearly.

There’s one thing I’ll say I know for sure. Nicola knew she was getting that question about fans wanting her to marry Luke and she had her answer prepared. I have no doubt about that. In all likelihood, her people asked him to ask that question. Otherwise, it’s out of the box for that kind of industry/awards promotion interview. It’s not an interview for the fans, it’s for the voters. She WANTED to dispel the idea that she and Luke might have fallen in love on set because that perception would hurt her chances at the SAG Awards.

There’s no question that Nic and Luke decided together that the time had come to send an armed nuclear torpedo into the ship for once and for all. And so, they did. Indeed, it’s only thanks to our wits, grit, and some very skillful maneuvering that we managed to keep the ship from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. We may be taking on water, but we’re bailing it faster, and we’re still afloat, if only just.

This does not, however, mean that I’m ignoring what they’ve said this week. On the contrary, I’m paying very, very close attention. I’m paying attention not only to their words (or in Luke’s case, the story he’s telling with that hard launch), but also to the subtext, the backstory, the character histories, and the outtakes. I’m paying close attention both to what they’ve told us and to what they haven’t.

I’m thinking about every bit of it. I am, by nature, very analytical. In the Lukola intelligence community, I’d say I’m more of an analyst than a detective. I don’t go out there gathering information (tracking every tag, monitoring friends, family, adjacents, finding old, hidden content, etc.). I don’t even know how to get metadata from Instagram. I’d be grateful if someone could tell me.

But when the detectives bring me evidence, I analyze the hell out of it. There are great detectives out there, but that’s not my skillset. I’m great at sitting at my desk and studying the evidence presented to identify patterns, interpret clues, and assemble those clues into a watertight case.

I thought that’s what I had, a watertight case. And you need your case to be watertight when you’re sailing these rough seas, right?

Then this week, Nicola and Luke decided to tell me my case had fallen apart, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel. I’m not as devastated as I thought I might be. I think that’s because I’m still not sure I believe them. They’ve both told us the same thing this week, that they are absolutely, positively not together. They’ve told us in no uncertain terms. And I always thought I would believe them if that time came. And yet, there’s something just a little too suspicious and convenient about the timing for me to trust it entirely. It doesn’t quite pass the smell test.

To be clear, I’m not saying I definitely don’t believe them. I think it’s very possible they’ve told us the truth this week and we simply have to live with it. We have to shift our ship back to “endgame” mode, and out of “happening now” mode.

In some ways, this would be a relief. If I actually accepted that they are not together at all at this point, I could begin to let them go. If I don’t see their launch coming, why hang around? The wait for endgame could be eons. I love them together, but I could do a hell of a lot of other things with my time in the meantime. Why do I need to follow and discuss their every move if it’s not headed to the only result I care about? I could check out completely and let them do their thing.

I’ll watch Bridgerton, and their other work when it looks interesting, and otherwise peace out. I don’t have to be “a fan” to enjoy their work. I have loads of favorite actors whose work I love, and I follow very few of them on socials. I could simply shift NicLuke into that category and move on.

I don’t actually have to care so much about them. All this parasocial bs takes a lot of time and energy, and while that investment of time and energy is good for them because we keep them in the public discourse, it’s not necessarily the highest, best use of our time for ourselves, is it? I could just let it go. We could all just let it go. Wouldn’t that be a relief?

The problem is that I do care about them. They got us hooked during that World Tour and now we’re invested. I’m invested. I’ve put a lot into them and I’d like a return on my investment, thanks. I want to see them happy. Together. I want to see them happy together. Many of us do. So, what if we don’t get that?

Well, I’ll come back to that question. But right now, I’m more interested in the question of WHY. Why did they decide now was the time to torpedo the ship? After all these months of weird, yet skillful combination of utter silence and semi-explicit hints and breadcrumbs. Why now, after a year of active shipping, seven full months after the WT ended, long after Bridgerton 3-month ratings were locked, why spontaneously this week? And why did they do it in such a coordinated way? The SAG nomination, yes, but is there more to it?

I have more theories and variations on theories than I can count. But here are the four key interpretations I want to explore.

It’s exactly what I said this week with Nicola’s interview and my quick post on Thursday. They are still together, with major life changes ahead, and Nicola is up for a SAG. They need more privacy than ever AND Nicola needs to distance herself from the “they fell in love on-set” narrative so that she can be taken seriously as the terrific actor she is, who acted her ass off in Season 3. She doesn’t want to be seen as someone who was only that good because she was “really falling in love.”

They’re genuinely not together, Luke is actually with Antonia (whether on-and-off or all along) and they decided to shut down the shipping now purely because it was impacting Nic’s SAG nomination (see 1 for details). Or maybe L also decided it was time to launch to take the invasive scrutiny off his family.

They’re not together, L is with A, and Nic knew he was going to take her to the HB event, so she prepared fans and pre-empted any “poor, rejected Nicola” perception by saying what she did during her interview.

They were together, and now it’s over (not mutually exclusive with 2 or 3).

You’ll notice none of these theories turn on Nicola’s hypothetical romantic relationship with Jake. This is largely because I have always said that simply isn’t a romantic relationship. And regardless, it’s not relevant to this week’s developments as the state of her relationship with Jake is unchanged from the past few months. That’s not a new factor in this week’s decision.

Obviously, number 1 above is my preferred explanation. It still continues to be the only explanation that makes sense of absolutely everything we’ve seen. INCLUDING Nicola’s words in that interview, and even Luke taking A to that event if you follow the logic of protecting themselves at a critical time both personally and professionally. It’s easy to forget all the extensive evidence pointing to this, but a review of my recent posts will refresh you. There is much to this saga that literally only makes sense if Lukola is real and the other apparent relationships are PR fakery/fuckery to keep our eyes off the truth.

However, this week, they have actively told us that is not the case. So, we owe it to ourselves to be emotionally and intellectually honest and to be open to the other possibilities as well.

Okay, so let’s talk about options 2 and 3. Both posit that Luke and Antonia are really together. Or at least casually dating. It is certainly possible that Luke simply wanted or needed a date to this event and Antonia is a casual date. Certainly, their body language is not particularly close or affectionate in most of the photos or videos. And A clearly does not calm Luke’s anxiety and event nerves like Nic always could and did. And they didn’t seem to hold hands naturally, nor did their arms around each other seem particularly close or natural in most of the photos and videos we saw. And yet, they did walk and pose arm-in-arm as a couple. No arguments there.

It has been widely noted that the Daily Mail story featuring Luke attending this event with his “girlfriend Antonia” was published mere minutes after the first event photos were published. And the story talked way more about A and her vague resume/background than about Luke. For all the world, it sure looks like this appearance was designed to give Ant a PR boost with a story pre-planted and ready to roll. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t together.

There is one video recorded inside that shows them in a different light. They seem to be enjoying themselves together, laughing, smiling, and talking close. However, there was loud music, it seems, so all talking needed to be close. We saw this when Luke talked to David Beckham as well. David was leaning in and Luke was talking directly in his ear, so clearly, volume was an issue. But he did have his hand on her back and she even copped a feel of his celebrated lukey newts butt. Yes, that video looked very couply indeed. Again, no arguments.

Did I like it? Of course not. Obviously, I hated it. I loathed it even. Do I wish the whole evening would crawl away and sink itself into the bottom of the ocean in lieu of our very leaky ship? Yes. But that video still exists, as does the other photographic and videographic evidence.  So, it’s irrefutable, right?

Almost. There is one thing that rankles a bit in that video. And indeed, about all the Luke & A stuff that came out so quickly. Literally, it all dropped faster than even the Beckham stuff, and Beckham was the host of this event. Why did it all hit so fast? Okay, sure, we already established it was at least partly planned PR for A. But why was that video so exclusively focused on the two of them specifically? What was the videographer doing shooting them from behind, ostensibly “in secret and candid,” for so long? Why so much footage (edited from pieces, therefore taken over time) of the two of them specifically, including that saucy, little butt grab?

If indeed this evening were intended to launch A with the explicit intentions of 1) blowing up the ship and 2) promoting A as the official girlfriend, then it’s not hard to imagine Luke’s PR handler/escort for the evening whispering a little encouragement in his ear. Something like, “It’s not really playing yet, you need to give it more. You two need to get cozy, amp it up, and we’ll get it on video.” Of course, it’s also entirely possible that this “canoodling inside” video was always planned as the final blow to seal the deal after the red carpet content hit.

And, to be fair, it’s also possible that they simply relaxed once they got inside and started having fun. If theirs is a real relationship, whether long-term, serious or a casual dating one, then that would make sense. But why were they so tense on the red carpet to begin with if they’re so close? Why did they look so uncomfortable? Either way, it seems someone had a very clear intention to capture “proof” of the relationship.

Now let’s shift gears and talk about Nicola briefly. Let’s start with this. Nicola is a terrific, gifted, hard-working actor. She deserves all the accolades. She’s worked hard to achieve the success she’s now enjoying and she sure as hell deserves her SAG Award nomination for her beautiful, delicate performance that was by turns moving, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and hilarious. She’s the real deal. And she’s unbelievably, ridiculously beautiful. To my eyes, many times more beautiful and sexier than the other woman who appears in this saga, for what it’s worth. That’s perhaps beside the point, but I wanted to throw it in anyway because what can I say? I’m feeling a little petty and in the mood to spit truths.

She’s also a woman with a right to privacy. And a woman with a career to maintain and grow. And an award nominee who’s campaigning for a win, knowing even if she doesn’t win, the nomination will open doors for her as long as she is taken seriously. And maybe, just maybe, a woman with big life changes coming up fast. I fully support her in doing what she needs to take care of herself and those she loves. And knowing what I know, having seen what I’ve seen, believing what I believe about her, I still believe she would absolutely do what she needs to do in this critical moment.

So, I’m just going to be honest and say I simply don’t know what to think at this point. I still believe number 1 above makes the most sense, both logically and emotionally. But… but… sigh.

There’s also another very real possibility, which is that Lukola has indeed been just as real as we all believe – and now, sadly, it’s over. I actually believe this could be a very real possibility, though this possibility breaks my heart most of all. But I think it’s distinctly possible that they tried and it just didn’t work out for any of the millions of reasons couples don’t make it all the time. Plus, as I’ve written about before, all the reasons they have extra challenges because of their lives and jobs. So maybe the shipping was sweet to them while the relationship lasted, but is painful now that it’s over.

I wish this didn’t feel so valid as a possibility, but it does. And this, too, would make sense of just about everything, unlike the alternate versions where the adjacents (or at least one of them) have been real partners all along. But who knows? As ever, none of us (and none of the Jakolas) knows them, so none of us will ever know anything for sure. Unless they one day decide to come clean.

I’m a big fan of the show Castle. Castle and Beckett, or “Caskett,” is one of a small handful of fictional couples that I have shipped with devotion. I LOVED Caskett and could not wait until they finally got together. The delicious tension, the longing, the near misses, the banter, the micro expressions that broke your heart. They were perfect together. Unfortunately, in reality, they grew to hate each other by the end, but onscreen, they were fire. I will never not love Caskett.

Lukola is my one and only real-world ship, and I will never not love them. Unless they really blow it with too much BTS fuckery. I feel as if they are continually jerking me around and playing games, and I’ve been A-OK with that as long as I knew where it was headed. I was willing to ride the waves of the choppy seas because I knew where the ship was sailing and I loved the destination. I didn’t begrudge them hiding behind PR fakery (or fuckery) because I had faith it was in the best interest of their careers, privacy, and more recently (once I settled into my personal opinion regarding the delicate matter), their family.

That may yet be the case. And if it is, I am 100% there for it.

But if it’s not, if Antonia ends up being a real relationship, that’s going to be very, very hard for me to accept. I’ll do my best to stay the course for Luke as an actor, but the side I see of him as someone dating her is not the same good guy he sold us on the tour. Not the same sweet Colin-alike that the cast has told us he is. Not the same perfect man Nic has told us he is. Because the choice to be with her – based on what I know of her (as well as her youth) — reflects poorly on him, in my opinion. I’m not sure about his “treatment” of her because there’s so much we don’t see and a lot of assumptions are made on that front. But simply based on who she has shown herself to be through her posts and the jobs she’s taken, I can’t respect the choice. I would accept him with many people who aren’t Nicola, but not her.

And my feelings about Nicola would also be dented because she’s posted so many of the crumbs that have (intentionally) kept me hanging on. And if, by some strange twist, she is dating Jake, well… I have a higher opinion of Jake than Antonia. I have no real issue with Jake. From what little I’ve seen of him speaking, he seems like a good kid, earnest about his work, maybe even sweet. But like Antonia, he’s so young. Setting aside aside all the other reasons I don’t believe they’re dating, he’s still 13-14 years younger than her, and just starting out while she’s sailing the heights. I have to be honest and say that the age difference and the power differential do make me uncomfortable.

Her relationships are still not my business. Nor are Luke’s. But as a consumer of media, I do get to have feelings about the people I stan and where I choose to devote my energies. As I said, Lukola has been my one and only ship. I’ve loved them individually as well, but if I’ve been played for a prolonged time, if they’ve been stringing me along with a fake ship, how can that not sour me on them as individuals?

So, yes, if these particular, adjacent relationships are real, my respect for each of them will take a hit. But they can date other people. I’ll get over it. I’ll be disappointed. I’ll think they’ve missed out because they clearly have something truly unique and special, maybe more unique than either of them realizes yet. I still believe they’ve gotten together at some point, but if they’ve now moved on, I’ll sigh and move on as well. And hope that one day, they find their way back to each other where they belong. That’s what endgame means, after all.

However, I will say again that I am not yet entirely convinced that the adjacents are anything more than I’ve long thought they were, decoys and distractions. Or that these latest hits to the ship (the mom comment, Nicola’s interview, and the “hard launch”) are anything more than ramped up efforts to camouflage the truth at a crucial time.

But the one thing that is crystal clear is that they want us to back the fuck off. Whether it’s out of a time-sensitive need for greater professional separation for career reasons (awards consideration chief among them) and greater privacy for family reasons… or because it’s actually true that they are not together at this time… either way, they’ve clearly decided to shut down the shipping this past week.

And this brings me back to Castle. If you know Castle, then you know there was a long-running throughline story about who murdered Kate’s (aka Beckett’s) mother. For years, Kate was obsessed with finding who was responsible and what happened, and more than once, that fierce dedication led her to go too far on the job. She’d stay on cases when she had a clear conflict, she’d hide things from her superiors, she’d go rushing into danger in a ruthless pursuit of the truth. Needless to say, this behavior eventually led to a suspension even though she was the best detective in the precinct. But instead of accepting the suspension, Kate tossed down her badge and quit, because OBVIOUSLY, she was going to go right on investigating privately.

So, am I going to pull a Kate Beckett and charge forward, despite every warning, to investigate every lead until I get the truth? No matter what it costs to me or those I love (namely, Lukola)? Or will I sadly accept my suspension, hang my head, and take some time at home to catch up on my Netflix until the clock runs out? Hmm… Maybe, a little of both?

Here’s what I’m going to do. Keep watching. Keep collecting information, analyzing, and seeing how I think the picture most clearly takes shape. And I will keep sharing my thoughts with all of you.

But since they want us to back off, I will slow roll those observations. For my part (NPC that I am), I will politely take a step back and give them the time that I believe they need for certain very specific reasons. If they need folks like me to back off, then I will. At least for now. And I’ll see what the next couple of months bring.

At some point down the line, depending on how things shake out, I may feel comfortable going full force again with my thoughts and opinions. But right now, it’s my belief that there are things important enough that I’m willing to take a step back to support them, because my intention has only ever been to share my thoughts and bolster the spirits of my fellow shippers. Never to harm Lukola.

In the meantime, I won’t disappear entirely. I may blog a little less, and maybe shift a bit to lovely Polin. Or maybe I’ll end up blogging more with short, fun stuff in lieu of the analysis. Who knows? Got to keep busy somehow, at least unless or until I decide to step off the ship entirely.

Actually, now that I think about it, it may be time to rewatch Castle. At least I know Caskett will never let me down.

[mmaybanks]

doing bsf!jj’s skincare routine | wc: ≈ 1.7k

“jj.” your voice cut through the comfortable quiet surrounding you. you were currently laid in bed, a warm jj practically laying on your lap, watching a cheesy romance film. “hm?”

as if you hadn’t had to beg him earlier to put that movie on instead of an action movie, he was fully invested in it. “can i do your skincare?”

at that he gave you (almost) his full attention, tilting his head to rest perpendicular on your stomach so he could still glance back and forth between you and the movie. “uh, like, what part?”

“all of it. wash your face firstly, because i know it’s been too long—and don’t even disagree with me, y’know i’m right. all the topical stuff, pluck your eyebrows—”

“woah! my eyebrows? that’s like, taking my manhood from me.” you snorted at his reaction, a reflexive hand raising to cover your mouth. “your manhood?”

“okay, bad wording, whatever!” he reached up to pull your hands away from your face, not saying a word about it. “fine, but on one condition.”

you stared at him blankly, waiting for clarification, which you didn’t seem to be recieving. “what’s the condition?” he cleared his throat and looked away suspiciously. “what?”

“i uh, i dunno yet, let’s just say you owe me one, ’kay?” you rolled your eyes but nodded, wriggling off the bed with jj in tow. as soon as you reached the door handle, jj shot back in your room and paused the movie. “y’don’t wanna miss anything, right?”

“i think you don’t wanna miss anything.” he scoffed, pushing you out of your room and in the dirction of the bathroom gently. poguelandia 2.0 was mostly empty, sarah and kie were finishing up in the shop and cleo was cooking dinner with pope in the kitchen, so the only person upstairs was john b. his shared room with sarah was right across from the upstairs bathroom, so when he heard shuffling in the hallway, he looked out through the open door.

he watched you open the door and walk in with a gentle push from jj, who looked back at him with a wink and a boyish grin. “what the hell?” john b murmured to himself before going back to his phone.

“okay, first things first, sit on the toilet!” you ordered playfully, a horribly hidden excited smile on your face that jj swore he would do anything to keep there. “yes ma’am.” he saluted, a flustered giggle escaping your throat. “okay.” you mindlessly mumbled to yourself, a wave of nerves hitting you.

you tried your hardest to ignore the way jj’s annoyingly beautiful blue eyes weren’t leaving your face, tracking every move. his eyes were softened, wide and full of something fluffy and affectionate, something people didn’t see from him often. “i’ll be right back, one sec.” you sped out of the bathroom, on a quick misson to not only grab your headband, but also to have a break from the intimate bathroom air.

when you came back to the bathroom, he was still sitting there silently, waiting for you to come back with a content smile on his face. that was until he saw the baby pink headband with a big bow on it in your hand, his smile dropped into a dramatic scrunch of his nose. “no. why?” he whined.

“jj you literally need it more than i do! your hair is all in your face.” you defended as you ran your fingers through the front messily. he pouted but allowed you to step closer, not pulling away. “fine, i guess i’ll let you, just this once.”

“can i take a picture too? this is like, groundbreaking history. it needs to be recorded.” you teasingly inched your shirt hem up to reach your shorts pocket, fiddling with the corner of your phone. “you’re pushing it now.”

“okay fine.” you sighed, a fake pout forming on your face. “are you seriously—okay, jesus, fine.”

you smiled and squealed, standing closer than before for better reach. you stood between his spread legs, his hands ghosting over the backs of your thighs, unsure of if he should or not. you put the band on him, adjusting it until it was right. you reached to the right to grab your soap, rubbing it in your hands, then on his face.

the silence was comfortable, as it usually was, but jj’s mind was racing. he was trying his hardest not to focus on you, so he turned to simply shutting his eyes and letting you do your thing, but it didn’t help much. his thoughts turned to how domestic this was, how intimate it was. not friendly.

he subconsiously relaxed his hands, bringing them down to rest on your bare legs. the contact of his freezing fingers to your warm skin sent a cold shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to his warm face beneath your fingers.

without fully stepping away, you wetted a face towel with steaming hot water and gently wiped the soap from his face. you couldn’t help but go slow, taking all the time possible for you to admire his relaxed face. his closed eyes, slightly parted lips, and rosy cheeks from the warm water.

“done, back to my room.” your voice was so soft it came out as almost a whisper. his eyes opened slowly, his eyelids staying low and sleepy. his slow eyes tracked your movements, washing the soap off the towel, putting it in the laundry basket all in a mindless routine. “c’mon.” you murmured, grabbing and pulling at his hand.

he willingly followed you without a complaint, heading straight to lay down again while you gathered everything you needed. the whole pampering was making him sleepy, his mind a little fuzzy. “what’s first?” he asked as he felt the bed dipping next to him. “gonna pluck your eyebrows, then toner, a serum or two, and moisturizer. then lip balm, ’cause your lips are dry as fuck.”

“how are you so gentle and so mean at the same time?” he lazily smiled in amusement, watching you with hooded eyes. “sorry, sorry.”

“all good, c’mere.” he wrapped his hands around your waist to motion you over his lap. noticing your hesitation, he panicked. “not like—i mean—you don’t have to. just—easier reach, y'know? more uh, precise, um—”

your giggle cut him off, but your compliance ended his attempts at salvaging. he knew you knew his intentions, but he still worried. he didn’t want to push your comfortability around him, that was the last thing he wanted.

he decided to just do, for the rest of the night. if it was wrong, you would tell him. and he knew he wouldn’t do anything outrageous, but physical touch? that was his forte.

you tried to act like none of his actions affected you, because why would they? this is your best friend. best friend’s rest on each others bare skin all the time, right? jj does, he’s always on you or touching you somehow.

right now, his hands are rested on your thighs, again. maybe he likes holding things, something for his hands to hold and fingers to tap. though, you couldn’t complain about the warmth radiating from his hands to your legs, his oddly gentle and rough fingertips dragging across your skin slowly.

you brushed past it, grabbing your tweezers to start your process. and to no surprise, jj was overdramatic about his eyebrows. “jus’ be gentle, please?” with the way he asked in a quiet and gruff whisper, you almost folded right there and busted in your pants. but you kept your composer, instead just mumbling an ’mhm’, and trying to pluck more carefully (spoiler alert: it didn’t work).

the rest of the routine went by without worsening your flusteredness, until his lip balm. your mind had slipped into muscle memory, not necessarily focusing on the actual actions. jj’s eyes were shut, completely oblivious to what step you were on. you quickly wiped at his lip, rubbing off the spit from him licking his lips, and applied the lip balm.

jj’s initial reaction to your fingers rubbing his lips was obviously shock, it only took half a second for him to realize it was lip balm, but it didn’t calm any of his thoughts. it all felt too tender and too loving. it wasn’t just the lips, though that triggered it, the closeness just hitting him then.

of course, jj wasn’t used to soft touches, he wasn’t used to people showing him affection at all that wasn’t in a sexual manner or in a ’bro’ way. he was used to ’tough love’ or no love. all the more reason for him to melt like puddy in your hands. he didn’t want you to get off of him, he wanted to soak in your warmth as long as possible.

“sorry.” you giggled lightly, wiping the excess off the skin surrounding his lips. “’s all good. gotta get my lips hydrated.”

you let out a short snort, humming in agreement before speaking. “all done.” unknowing of jj’s very requited feelings, you didn’t want to get off yet. the straddling position was semi-awkward at first, but it got comfortable after a few minutes of sitting, and now you just wanted to cuddle up and sleep on him. jj nodded, shutting his eyes again and resting his head on your pillow.

you slid off, to both of your disappointments, and laid next to him on your claimed side of your bed. he repositioned to how you laid before, turning the movie back on. your fingers slowly found their way to thread between his hair strands, gently scratching his head and neck.

jj let out an unwilling whine of satisfaction when you scratched a specific spot on his head, immediately getting flustered and feeling warmth creep up his neck and ears. “what the hell was that?” he asked as if it wasn’t him.

“dunno, must’ve been the wind? or, something?” you went along with it, not trying to embarrass him, knowing damn well that sound would haunt your wet dreams. “y/n.”

“hm?”

“you didn’t take a picture.” he giggled at your loudly exaggerated gasp, the smile on his face felt through your stomach, where his head laid.

“i’ll get it next time.”

MADDY’S NOTE .ᐟ a little blurb while i work on the big stuff🫡 i have EIGHT ideas for a fic/series....... i love them all but omg i lack motivation for them the second i start writing:( anyway!! this is actually so long for a blurb bc why is it longer than my last one shot?? yeah oops sorry

[thebearme]

This fic i wrote was made when my nose was in pain and is unfinished cause i hate writing i guess... anyway enjoy

Sensory Nose-aload

Dogman's noes has been by his side through thick and thin. Since the very beginning it will have help him sniff out where is Mother has gone if he couldn't see her, It would help find clues for a crime that takes more than Knight's fists and what Petey is cooking for dinner as of yesterday. But yet sometimes his nose would be the one needing help and Dogman would drop everything to make sure that his buddy is good, lending him to have sick days where his stuck in bed steaming his nose and putting vicks to get rid of that dastardly cold that assaults his nose and senses.

But scary enough it's not one of those days. It's something much worse, something that Dogman can't fight but has to sit and take the beating from.

When his nose is overloaded.

A feeling that's hard for Dogman to describe to anyone cause they just look at him weirdly. But I guess that's what happens when most of your friends are humans with human noses.

The day started out like anyother day, In bed between the covers. Dogman lays there for a moment to assist his surroundings, the gentle light shining through the curtains with the sound of a bird rustling in the tree, the soft distance beep of a fire detector on standby ...

Dogman never understood the point of the fire alarm eventho Petey INSISTED that it's for safety precaution and that "It will warn everyone in the house that there's a fire." Dogman guarantee that if it does detect a fire it would be LONG after he and frankly everyone already knew. After Dogman thinks of that ridiculous thought he started getting out of bed but not before having some weird spontaneous sneezes.

After the final sneeze, Dogman's nose started feeling suspicious painfully cold. Like If the inside of his nose took a bath and before drying took the biggest breath of the Arctic winds, making every noes hair and in extension every nerve ending feel like it's been pulled.

In response of these sudden pain of course Dogman grabbed his nose, hoping it was just him sneezing weirdly or something but as quickly as the excuse popped in, the truth came to knock it down.

His hands smelled

Not bad but just smells. He can smell the sweat glands on his palm, something he could always smell but only if he really focused too. But he didn't need to focus to smell here, it just came naturally... too naturally. Eventually recycling the same hot air was getting to his nose as well, It seemed to not be satisfied with hot or cool air. Dogman removed his hands from his nose and the cool air PUNCH him straight to the nose. Another assault to his nervous system, and he feels a headache coming on... Great.

In a attempt to preserve any chance of having his nose go back to normal he quickly looked around to the nearby nightstand and grabbed two tissues, sticking them up his nostrils.

That should stop that mean air from hurting my nose right?

Wrong.

Very very wrong.

After thinking that tissues would protect his nose they actually turned out to be the worst type of Trojan horse, causing more pain to his sensitive nerves but somehow the usual very dull smell of the soft tissue now is 1000 times the more potent with it once delightful smell now just smells like factory... Which is where it came from but HELL, it wasn't this strong.

In a pitiable operation towards some peace and stability Dogman went to hide under the covers till the pain is gone. He didn't need to go to work today anyway, so he could frankly hide here as long as he wanted! He a trys to restrain from that way of thinking because one off day can quickly become multiple. But this is definitely different, his nose and sanity is at stake!

Now hidden from the world is now miserable because It truly did nothing to stop the issue. He still smells the factory smell of the tissues, the smell of the dust floating around in the sun rays, the smell of bed sheets GOODNESS THE BED SHEETS! Let it be drool from nights and nights of butt tiredness, sweat from those tussles and beatdowns he would have to save the city and wouldn't take a shower afterwards or the musty smell of wet dog for went he would take a shower but not blowdry.

The smell is horrendous.

Why, why today his nose decisively turned on him? Did he not treat it well? Dogman takes his time to smell the flowers, smells the lovey food Petey would cook and even take bite of senseless candles... he didn't need to eat but that doesn't matter! All those wonderful times with his schnoz, so why must you kill him like this?

And with that moan of frustration and pain the headache stepped in saying 'hello honey, missed me?' and making itself homed in his doggy head. All because of that no good nose of his, Dogman can't even cope breathing through his mouth because EVERYTHING STILL MANAGES TO GET HIS NOSE!

His nose is so cold but also burning hot at the same time and at this rate Dogman is planning to cry out in some hope that someone puts him out of his misery but then Dogman smelled something that's not ENTIRELY dog water.

Bacon.

The smell of the gas stove releasing its hot air and the grease fatty seasoned, smoked, and sliced pork belly strips hitting the chipped over the years cast iron pan.

It must be Petey making breakfast.

The smell is getting stronger and stronger to the point he can almost ignore that other smells that pain him.

Almost.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

have you heard of cute aggression i imagine mc having a case of this with sebastian and he's like well at least it's cus she loves me

At Least She Loves Me | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Omg ofc I know what cute aggression is and I LOVED WRITING THIS. ID CHOMP SEBASTIAN TOO IF I COILD.

Words: ~700

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Fluff

Sebastian Sallow had no idea what he had done to deserve this.

It wasn’t that he was complaining, necessarily. He liked when you paid attention to him—sought it out, even. But the way you were staring at him now, like a kneazle about to pounce, was putting him on edge.

He tried to ignore it at first. He really did.

But he could feel your gaze burning into the side of his face, your fingers twitching like you were physically holding yourself back from doing something rash. He did his best to focus on the essay in front of him, quill scratching steadily against the parchment, but when you huffed—a dramatic little exhale that was so very you—he finally snapped.

“You’re staring.”

“Mm.”

Sebastian lifted his head slowly, as if moving too fast would provoke you into an attack. “What now?”

“You’re being too cute again.”

Sebastian blinked. Once. Twice. Then, just to be sure, “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

He set his quill down, eyeing you suspiciously. “I really don’t think I did.”

“You do cute things, Sebastian.” You gestured vaguely at him, your hands moving like you were trying to physically pluck the words from the air. “And it’s making me lose my mind.”

Sebastian leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms along the top of it as he smirked. “Go on.”

“See?! This! This is what I mean! You’re all smug about it, which makes it worse!”

He chuckled, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “So let me get this straight—you think I’m cute and that’s a problem?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Because it makes me want to shake you.”

Sebastian raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Shake me.”

“Yes.”

His smirk widened. “Like, out of frustration or—?”

“Sort of!” you blurted, hands twitching as you tried to explain the feral energy currently buzzing in your veins. “You’re just—you! And sometimes you look so stupidly handsome and do little things like chew on your quill and sit there all Sebastian-y, and it makes me want to—”

“What?” He was grinning now, utterly charmed despite himself.

You struggled for the right words before blurting, “Bite you!”

Sebastian’s expression instantly shattered into disbelief. “I’m sorry—what?!”

“Not hard!” you added quickly, waving your hands as if that somehow made it less unhinged. “Just—like, a little chomp! Affectionate!”

Sebastian gawked at you, floundering for a response. “You—you want to bite me because you love me?”

You swallowed, fighting the heat creeping up your neck, and doubled down. “Yes!"

Sebastian just ran a hand down his face, as if trying to process how this was his life.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.”

“Both.”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, slouching dramatically against the couch, as if this was the greatest burden he had ever borne. You, however, were still buzzing with too much feeling, and now that the topic had been breached, your hands were itching to do something about it.

So you lunged.

Sebastian barely had time to react before your hands were on his face, squishing his cheeks together.

“You’re so cute and it infuriates me,” you growled, mushing his cheeks even more.

Sebastian made a muffled sound of protest, eyes widening in mock betrayal. “Hey!”

“This is your fault,” you declared, now aggressively ruffling his curls.

Sebastian finally wrestled your hands away and pinned them to the couch, breathless as he glared at you with flushed cheeks. “You menace!"

“You deserve this.” You were grinning, utterly delighted by his suffering.

Sebastian laughed, dropping his forehead dramatically against your shoulder. “Why am I in love with someone so insane?”

You beamed. “I don’t know but it’s too late now.”

Sebastian groaned, flopping back onto the couch with the resignation of a man who had lost every battle but still somehow won the war.

He sighed, eyes slipping closed as he let himself relax. You, now thoroughly satisfied, settled beside him, head resting on his shoulder.

And as he absentmindedly reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, Sebastian thought, at least she loves me.

Even if you did want to bite him.

[thatnonameuser]

Ooh, do you feel like any of the yans would try to keep their darling ill by giving them minor poisons, so they can't go outside or try to escape? Like, they put it in their darling's water or food to make them feverish or lethargic.

(I can particularly picture this with Trey, Vil, or Jamil maybe Epel's family if they help him keep his darling captive at Harveston)

Absolutely!

There has to be some kind of mystique about you being sick and vulnerable. Being so helpless against whatever they could do to you, dependent on them for aid and, should you try to resist, they can make your sickness worse so that they can have more aforementioned.

To add, Munchausen by proxy might be a common occurrence in the yandereverse, though the disorder is warped to have the attention of the people they make ill, their darlings. It's surprisingly common, with such a wide variety of potions and over-the counter medications there are for weakening a darling, it’s very easy for some yanderes to attain the medicine and magic necessary to do so, like from pharmacies or being taught how to make them in schools.

With that being said, Trey is definitely one of them. (he’s kind of already done it before) Going on the current canon I’ve written, he’s already been using magic to cause you to have constant fainting spells and fatigue requires you to get help if it continues as much as it does, (It’ll get worse), Once you’re in his grasp, you won’t have a choice but to accept whatever he’s giving you and all it takes to start it is you trusting him enough to not think twice of him putting something into whatever you eat.

Vil is definitely another, with his UM and potion prowess, he’s able to make you debilitatingly ill without you even having to consume whatever he gives you. It also gives him the ability to help you become more ‘perfect’ under the guise of making you better, (There's also something beautiful about you being ‘pallid’ from sickness) I think he might not just do it for the reason of simply being obsessed with you. You being ill keeps you from interacting with his crazy fanbase, so the longer you’re ‘ill’ the safer you are from the public eye.

If Book 4 taught me anything, it’s that Jamil is very good at manipulating and sickness makes that easier. He’ll use his own knowledge on poison tasting to hide milder poisons into what you might eat or drink, and after that he can enjoy the effects of you being dependent. Best of all, in his case at least, should you attempt to fight/rebel against him (probably saying you can take care of yourself) he’ll give you what you ask for while making your ailment more debilitating. What better way to make you dependent and helpless than by tricking you into needing his aid, and turning you against yourself by tricking you into thinking that you are the one ‘in the wrong’.

Regarding Epel’s family, or families in general poisoning you, (originally a throw away line, but I can make it work) while the guys will probably need to earn your trust, you’re more comfortable around their families. Bad move, stupid even. But watching the sons deal with you being difficult is hard to watch.

For Epel’s meemaw, Marja probably used the old ‘spiked’ apple cider trick to marry his Peepaw, so of course she’s gonna help out where she can. And a warm cup of cider after being out in the freezing cold is usually a welcome and very innocuous way to trick someone into consuming something that will make them suddenly too sick to travel. Plus, her age and demeanour helps, making her seem like a caring old lady just worried for a cold houseguest (that just happens to be her grandson’s one true love) nothing for you to be suspicious about.

[365emotionlessfaces]

@schemmentits

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 8 WC:~1.9k

When lunchtime came, Melissa was glad to see she had made it to the break room before you. She took the opportunity to warm up your food for you, knowing she’d get to see your smile again. After the morning she had with her little eagles, she would be considering retiring to the Bahamas, except you were here.

She had just sat down with her own plate of food when you came through the door. Melissa could tell the exact moment you smelled the food on the table, as you broke out into a huge grin and made a beeline for the table. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach. That happened all the time with you, so she was getting good at ignoring them. Melissa let you take a few bites before she asked about your plans for the Franklin Institute. She dug into her ziti, as both you and Barb took your turns excitedly chatting about your plans for the night. Of course, Melissa took her turn, telling her friends the parts she was looking forward to most.

Just as Melissa finished, Jacob came running in the door, clinging to a piece of paper like it had just saved him from drowning in the Delaware. Janine piped up from the couch. Melissa hadn’t even seen her come in.

“What’s that?”

When he revealed that he was holding an invitation to the Aspiring Teachers Program, Melissa felt her entire body tense up. It had been years since she had attended, but Barb was the only other teacher Melissa had heard talk about the Program throughout that entire time. Apparently, Barb hadn’t heard about it much either because she seemed surprised that the Program was still running.

“I did that once. Worst week of my life,” Melissa thought back to her week in the Program. She thought about that week more than she liked to. Was this a sign she shouldn’t let go of Parent Trap? As Melissa was replaying that night in her mind, the night she broke two hearts, she heard you say that you had been in the Program, and that it had actually done what it was supposed to and inspired her to teach. ‘Lucky for her,’ Melissa thought, genuinely happy that you had a good experience.

Jacob mentioned that it was in Boston this year, and then revealed that he hadn’t read the entire paper by exclaiming confidently, “I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.” Melissa smirked as you corrected him about what time of year it took place in. When he had actually read the paper, he said something about a great opportunity for diversity, and Melissa just rolled her eyes.

Janine piped up again, looking directly at you, “Wait, isn’t that where you met that-”

Poor girl didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you interrupted. “Wonderful teacher who inspired me to follow my dream of inspiring children to learn? Yep, that’s the place!”

Yeah, because that wasn’t suspicious. Melissa gave you an inquisitive look, and she noticed that Barb was giving you a similar one. She also noticed that you didn’t notice either of them because you were too busy having a conversation with Janine through your eyes.

She and Barb decided not to press the issue, so the room turned to discussions of the rest of the day, field trip included. The rest of lunch flew by, and before Melissa knew it, it was time to teach once again.

“This was the best tasting ziti I’ve had in my entire life! You just keep getting better!” Melissa loved when you complimented her food. It made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was still sitting down.

“You say that every time. I think you lying,” Melissa turned to see Mr. Johnson, who had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Nope, Mr. J, she just keeps outdoing herself,” you replied to the janitor. Melissa found it extremely difficult to ignore the butterflies anymore, and she couldn’t help the blush rising to her face.

Melissa fought the urge to just tell you how she felt right then and there. Instead, she just smiled and managed to say, “Thanks, hon.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t lie about something so important.” Melissa’s smile broke into an all out cheesy grin. Whether or not you were joking, the idea that anything Melissa did was important to you made her feel all bubbly inside, and she just couldn’t help the big ol’ grin on her face. She watched as you finished cleaning up your spot at the table, and said goodbye to everyone. The redhead’s smile lasted long after she had returned to her classroom for the day.

Melissa didn’t see you again until everyone was boarding the buses. She was so busy getting a headcount that she had forgotten to try and get the seat next to you. By the time she was sure she had all of her little eagles accounted for, you were already sitting with a student. Melissa thought she might be able to sit at least in your vicinity, but one glance showed no available seats except the very front row.

Melissa watched as you talked animatedly with Janine and the students beside you, and took her seat. She attempted to read some of the book she had stashed in her purse, but it proved to be a fruitless labor. The children surrounding her interrupted every other sentence. After a whole three minutes of that, Melissa put the book away and decided to just entertain the children.

The Institute was as fun as Melissa remembered. She’s always down to learn something new about her hometown, okay, just not from some clown who’s not even from Philly. The girl was from New York, for Christ’s sake! Melissa was so frustrated by the fact that this girl from New York was the volunteer guide-‘they’re gettin’ what they paid for, if ya ask me’- that she was focusing like a hawk, paying attention to every word that came out of the girl’s mouth, waiting for her to slip up so she could prove she’s a big phony.

Despite Melissa being so zeroed in with the guide all day, she made sure she was never far enough away from you that she couldn’t see you. She looked over to where you had already laid down your blankets and saw a few children trying to lay practically right on top of you. They were surrounding you, each one trying to get closer than the last it seemed. Sleeping bag in hand, Melissa made her way to you, and when she got close enough, she heard a child whine, “But I wanna sleep next to her!”

She took her opportunity. “Jokes on youse guys. I get that spot,” she said, shooing the children so they would make room. She tossed her sleeping bag on the floor and glanced at you. You had turned to hug a kid who was crying because he couldn’t sleep right beside you. Melissa couldn’t help smiling at how sweet you always were with the kids.

She laid down, laying on her side to face you, and propped her head up in her hand. After you had mirrored her, facing her and propping your own head up, Melissa had to tell you all about the New York girl trying to teach her something about Philly, to which you just smiled at her, before sharing your own excitement from the day. She loved how your eyes shined when you talked about things that excited you, and she couldn’t help but give you a big smile of her own as she listened to you talk.

She was ready to kill the alien that tore her away from you.

A kid had screamed loudly, claiming an alien was here, and the rest of the kids went berserk. Melissa had never seen a group of children disperse so quickly, especially not a group of this size, so she shot up and immediately began trying to reign some of the little humans in. It took almost a half hour, but with all of the teachers from Abbott working together, they got the kids resettled. Melissa thought things were returning to normal, when Gregory came rushing up to you, admitting that he couldn’t find one of his students.

This wasn’t Melissa or Barb’s first rodeo- although it was the first time Barb had been compared to an alien- so they took charge of the situation. They split everyone into pairs, except for Ava who went off to get her eleven hours of sleep, and sent them to different floors to cover the entire Institute. Barb and Melissa went downstairs to search, leaving the younger teachers to search the upper floors.

Barb seemed to think it was the proper time to bug Melissa with more questions about her love life. “You know you can’t have them both, right?” The woman had started.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Melissa already knew what Barb meant, but she’d be damned if she gave in to Barb so easily.

“You know exactly what I am talking about. That girl upstairs and the girl from Chicago,” Barb pushed.

“She's not from- Look, I know,” Melissa sighed. “I thought I was ready to- I thought I could move on, but then Jacob this mornin’ with the paper from the Program. What if it was a sign that I shouldn’t let her go?”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you are my dearest friend, and because of that I cannot lie to you. Let. Her. Go. You didn’t even tell the young girl your name, and I’ve only ever heard you refer to her as Parent Trap. Do you even remember her name? How would you know if you found her? You think she carries around your stuffed toy everywhere she goes, on the off chance that she’ll see you, recognize you after all these years, and leap into your arms to ride off into the sunset together?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Melissa couldn’t look the other woman in the eye. She knew that holding out hope that the young girl would waltz right back into her life one day was fruitless. Some fever dream, but God did she want it so bad.

Then there was you. The woman who took Melissa’s life and flipped it on its head. The woman who had been right by her side for the last two years. The woman who made Melissa smile so much that she might start losing her rough and tough reputation.

Melissa knew what she had to do. She and Barb finished checking all the rooms, and once they confirmed Jamir wasn’t on the first floor, they made their way back to their fellow teachers. As they walked down the hall towards the group, Melissa quietly admitted to Barb some of the thoughts going on in her head, and the plan to tell you how she felt about you.

As they approached, Melissa’s eyes were glued to you until she felt Barb’s hand suddenly grab her wrist. She looked up to see Barb more shocked than Melissa had ever seen the woman. It was like Jesus had appeared in the hall of the Franklin Institute. When Melissa followed her friend’s line of sight, her uninhibited hand flew to clutch Barb’s upper arm.

“Is that-” Barb asked as quietly as she could.

“Ronny,” Melissa whispered, not necessarily in response, more so in shock, but she had answered Barb’s question, nonetheless.

Part Nine

[qoldenskies]

All that said I cannot wait to have badass protective Mikey… and also cannot wait for Raph to reach a more peaceful equilibrium of having multiple little brothers to care for (wwww bnb content in particular I will wait many many chapters for you 🙏)

DUDE DUDE DUDE .... raph has the CUTEST dynamic with the twins once they actually bond. he worries about them both SO much,,, like with mikey he had to learn the hard way (the very, very hard way) that he can protect himself and doesn't need to be sheltered, but donnie and leo have been through something pretty traumatic and do actually need gentler, more understanding treatment. especially considering that draxum was a stern, strict parent and they were used to really strict schedules they hated, and they didnt really have much outside life from their work. still child soldiers, technically, and splinter is the opposite of everything draxum was as a parent-- and raph is too now (because he is considered a parent/figure of authority here)! he's very openly approving and easy to read. it makes them suspicious at first, relieved after.

its harder to discover what leo's landmines are (and leo is very unstable and will contradict himself, he's very unpredictable sometimes), but raph finds donnie a lot more inscrutable. he's careful, less out of worry of accidentally setting him off like with leo and ,,, more of the opposite. he's calm about horrifying, heartbreaking shit and intense and emotional about things that are seemingly small and inconsequential. raph struggles to understand, sometimes, if donnie even knows some of the things he talks about are wrong, and it really activates all of his protective instincts. he doesn't know what the exact amount of space he's supposed to give him is.

i really think they'll start to bond when donnie warms up to raph and will just start to go to him, mostly out of desire for affection. he's not the most talkative but he would do the cat thing with repeatedly headbutting him in request for scritches. a complete lack of understanding of space is very common with both of the twins actually, and once they get more used to him raph is just a jungle gym for them its VERY funny.

[mental69er]

I have a Victoria Neuman request where Victoria is only using the reader at first due to the reader's father being a really influential figure especially in politics so dating the reader would give her access to more connections but overtime Victoria realizes that she's in love with the reader and fully comes to the realization while they're having sex.

content: victoria using reader for personal gain, nb reader, a touch of angst, victoria accidentally falling in love and not knowing how to deal with it

As your body writhed under hers, hot skin pressed into her center, Victoria was struck by a sudden realization that paused her.

She stared down at you, puzzeling over your face as it contorted with rising pleeasure. Frozen under the weight of her thoughts, she sat straddeling your lap, taking you in.

Seeing you for the first time.

When had it changed? When had she come to see this more than just free sex? When had she come to care about you?

It started out simply, as most things did. Victoria needed more political influence, and who better to gain that influence with than by dating you? She had done as much work as she could on her end, but she was missing a crucial key to gaining more power.

But she didn't want to be on her knees for some elderly old man. No, if she had to be on her knees for anyone she rathered it be someone young, and attractive.

The fact that you were naive was only an added bonus.

Seducing you into experimenting with the fairer sex was all too easy. A few carefully crafted situations, with some choice words, and you were wrapped around her finger.

Dating you was a bit harder, if only because she had to keep up the charade: pretending to care for you while subtly using you to get your father to chance his perspective on bills in congress that she needed passed.

And it had worked like a charm.

Victoria had got what she wanted. She was going to break up with you. It was the sensible thing to do since she no longer needed your father's influence, able to do what she wanted now.

She told herself she would wait a few weeks to not make it suspicious, then make up some excuse that she could no longer date you because of a conflict of interest.

You surely wouldn't be happy but she wouldn't care, is what she told herself. And now here she was, in bed with you once more.

"Are you okay?" you asked her, voice husky with lust. You sat up, running a hand down her face.

Victoria jerked herself to, not realizing that she had been frozen for a while now. "I'm fine," she answered, though she did not feel fine. There was a tenderness in her heart, that hadn't been before. And she hated how she had noticed it.

"You don't look fine. Did I do something?" you asked and she chuckled, trying to shake off the realization she had come to. While you'd been spread out under her, your skin soft and flushed, your mouth breathing out her name, she'd known she'd fallen in love with you.

She didn't know when it had happened. In between all the dates at expensive restaurants, between glasses of wine, laughing at incompetent politics, or in the soft quiet moments as you lay by each others side?

She had been focused on her career, and on using you to further it. How could she have fallen for you?

This wasn't supposed to be the plan. This wasn't supposed to happen. This changed everything.

You wiped at her eyes. "You're crying."

"Am I?" she asked, in disbelief. She was torn between laughing and lamenting her fate. How cruel for her to be ensnared like this. When had you enchanted her? Was it with your smile? With your unflinching kindness?

"Was it work?" you asked, pure concern in your eyes.

She shook her head.

"I'm tired, I think." Victoria knew it was the easy way out, but she didn't feel like speaking about this with you.

"I'll make you something warm to drink," you told her and slipped out of the bed, grabbing a robe as you went. She watched you going, biting down on her bottom lip.

She was screwed, wasn't she?

She had too many enemies to make it a smart idea to fall for you. But she had fallen in love regardless and now she would have to account for that. In the meantime, she should enjoy her time with you and unpack her feelings in the morning. She rose up and grabbed her robe before joining you in the kitchen.

[dreaminonao3]

“I’m so incredibly proud of you.” - Charlastor

Bargaining (AO3)

He’d kept it together long enough to see the rebuilt hotel and show the others that he did survive, but the moment Alastor noticed that they had included his radio tower in the design, he collapsed.

*

He awoke in a bedroom that was both familiar and not. I see they did their best to recreate my room. It’s adequate, I suppose. The only thing missing was the bayou but that was to be expected – none of the others had the magical ability required. Alastor tried to rise to his elbows to get a better at the room but realized two things – he didn’t have the strength to do even that much and his chest wound was wrapped in bandages under a red pinstripe pajama top he knew he didn’t buy himself. A quick glance under the bedclothes confirmed he was also wearing the matching bottoms.

A chair pulled up beside the bed was the only other sign that someone else had been in the room. It was currently empty but the throw blanket tossed onto it was evidence of someone keeping vigil at his bedside. Rolling his eyes at the sentimentality, he tried once more to rise to his elbows only to collapse again.

“Are you always this stubborn?” Charlie asked from the doorway, her tone somewhere between fond and exasperated but closer to the latter.

Alastor eyed her with just as much exasperation and, he was reluctant to admit, even more fondness. “You’ve known me longer than two minutes and you still feel the need to ask that?”

She chuckled as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I convinced my dad to get the best doctor in the Sloth Ring to take care of your wound. She’s never seen anything like it.”

“Yes, well, I pride myself on being one of a kind,” he muttered.

“Al … you were dying,” Charlie said gently. “The wound was infected. The doctor tried everything but even she couldn’t help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then how am I still alive?”

“I ... um…”

Alastor covered his eyes with one hand. “Charlie, please tell me you didn’t make a deal.”

“It wasn’t for my soul, just a promise, I swear!”

He moved his hand to uncover one eye. “With whom?”

“My dad.”

That confused him enough to remove his hand fully and try to sit up again. Charlie, apparently sensing a losing battle, helped him rise then arranged the pillows behind him. Once Alastor was settled again, he glared at her. “What, exactly, did you do?”

“I asked my dad to heal you.”

He winced at the thought of Lucifer holding this over him for the rest of eternity then he eyed her suspiciously. “In exchange for what?”

“Does it matter?” she asked evasively.

“OF COURSE IT MATTERS!” Alastor roared. It was only when she shrunk away that he calmed down. “Charlie, forgive me. Whatever you promised him, take it back – my life isn’t worth it.”

“Of course it is!” Charlie said vehemently. “You did exactly what I asked of you – you went toe-to-toe with Adam, a fucking angel, and you made a shield to protect the rest of us. I’m so incredibly proud of you, Al.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I failed.”

“You held out much longer than anyone else would have, and you did it for all of us.”

He looked away, saying quietly, “No, I did it for you.” After a moment, he looked back at her, sudden fear tying his stomach in knots but he did his best to hide it by being stern. “What did you promise, Charlie?” It was more of a command than a question.

She rolled her eyes. “My dad is being ridiculous.”

“Charlie…”

“He made me promise to never marry you, okay?”

There was an audible crack as his jaw dropped then he sputtered, “Wha- Why would he- That’s ridiculous! We’re not even-“

“I know! I tried to tell him but he’s convinced we’re in love.” Charlie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, Al, you and I both know we’re not, so it’s no big deal, right?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin spreading to something wicked. “Your father didn’t hold up his end of the bargain.”

She eyed him. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t heal me.”

Charlie frowned in confusion. “He took away the infection.”

“Yes, but I’m obviously not healed,” Alastor said, gesturing to his bandaged chest.

“He said you’ll have to heal on your own.”

“But that wasn’t part of your deal, now, was it?”

She stared at him. “You’re right. Oh, that two-timing-”

He smirked. “As much as I hate your father, I suggest you not say anything about him that you’ll regret later. Simply point out to him that he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain so there’s no need for you to hold up yours.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Charlie said as she got up and headed for the door. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hall that he heard her say, “Wait, what?”

Alastor merely chuckled to himself. Lucifer saw something that simply wasn’t there but perhaps…

[chunkypossum]

Awww thanks for listing me alongside all these amazing fics!!

I'm going to add so I hope anon is looking at reblogs!

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows by @jules-writes-stories

It just completed and it's so important to me

Eris Vanserra has been plotting to overthrow his father for centuries. But when the High Lord’s removal becomes a matter of life and death, Eris allies with the Day Court. In his desperate quest, he unearths secrets that will change the course of Autumn Court history, and all of Prythian's, even as his mating bond pulls him towards a male who will only ever see him as a cruel prince. Rhysand becomes suspicious, ordering his spymaster to keep watch of the Autumn prince. But the more time Azriel spends with him, the more he is drawn to Eris’s cause. When desire and duty collide, the Shadowsinger is faced with an impossible choice. Will Azriel take Eris at his word, or fulfill his role as Night’s brutal enforcer? And what will become of Autumn’s heir?

A Court of Covert Desire by @fieldofdaisiies

The way she writes them is so soft it makes me want to die

In order to finally bring about change and rule over the Autumn Court instead of his father, Eris has to go to great lengths: Beron must die. Adding to the complexity is his love for someone tied by a bond they desperately want to break. Azriel, the Night Court's shadowsinger and spymaster, disrupts Eris's life unexpectedly. Will Eris succeed in his mission while navigating the turmoil within, or will destiny choose another path for him? .

Decode This Case by @witch-and-her-witcher

couldn't stop reading this one once I started. It was that good!

There couldn't be worse timing for the new allegations against Night Co's coder as Azriel struggles with his emotional state of isolation and loneliness as his family and friends seem to move on without him. Enter Eris Vanserra to make Azriel's life even more complicated, smug and regrettably handsome as ever. Eris has impeccable timing - or is it all just careful calculations? Whatever has aligned their reunion, he knows nothing will be accomplished until he can pull Azriel from his fog.

Betting Like You Know the Odds by @fourteentrout

Masterful yearning and so emotional and delicious

"But, if you so choose to believe my display of weakness was entirely genuine, then perhaps a rematch is in order." Eris suggested to Nesta, his mouth twisting into a smile a bit different from his others of the night. Something less soft around the edges, less weighed down by inebriation. "Well, then, one could argue that it would be just as unfair. You're a High Lord now, after all." Rhys pointed out. Eris' smile melted away naturally, and he reclined back in his spot, throwing a hand around the back of the sofa. "Why don't we ask him what he thinks? Shadowsinger," Eris called, jutting his chin right towards where Azriel stood, wreathed in shadows. "What are the odds that you could hold up in a fight now that I'm a High Lord?" Azriel stood rooted to the spot, as if he were in a nightmare. He stared directly at Eris' smoldering eyes. Eris stared back.

Autumn's Shadow by @the-darkestminds

Not completed yet but so worth following along with it. Go on, get your heart ripped out, you know you want to

A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

A Song of Bonds and Legacies by @mistandmemories

Also not completed but dammit I am HOOKED. Can you say holy edging, Batman?

Azriel and Eris have engaged in a dance of animosity for centuries, but when they’re forced to team up and find a hidden treasure, they discover more about each other than either of them could have ever expected. The story picks up around 10 months after the events of ACOSF. It contains spoilers for the Crescent City-series.

The Beginning and End of Friendship by @unanswered-stars

I had a real life breakdown in the comments of this one. It's seriously so special

Letters exchanged between Eris and Azriel post ACOSF that show the beginning of friendship, and maybe something more.

Tried to pick a few from creators that haven't been mentioned yet. Every Azris creator is my favorite Azris creator! There are so many I hven't had a chance to get to yet either! Hopefully there are so many more recs coming your way.

hi! I am very new to the Azris fandom (the ship has consumed me) do you have any fic recs?

Hey! Welcome to the fandom <3

There are more fics than I can possibly name, so I pinged some of my Azris buddies to get some recommendations to share with you. Here are fics they've written or recommended. And be sure to check out @azrisweek for past azris fics (and future fics coming to you this June!)

In no particular order:

what hath night to do with sleep by @iftheshoef1tz

In 1968, Eris Vanserra is leading a double life. In West Berlin, he is a promising new doctor who frequents queer clubs, fucking his way through his friend circle. In his parents’ village, though, he walks the thin line between success and failure under his father’s brutal repression. Eventually, he realizes there can be no way forward unless he takes matters into his own hands. He summons a demon.

All Things End by @acourtofladydeath

Eris struggles with losing his memory due to complications from traumatic brain injuries caused by Beron's abuse. He forgets parts of his life and steps down from the mantle of High Lord. Azriel and their children take care of him the best they can, until he eventually passes away. After losing his mate, Azriel tries to move forward, but eventually dies from a broken heart. This is a very sad fic, but they love each other very much. Based off a tumblr post and written with permission from the creator of the original idea.

Red Ferrari by @ysmtttty

Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car.

Collateral Damage by @g00seg1rl

Eris is having a bad day. His twerp of a little brother, Lucien, crashed his car into a motorcyclist. Eris expects chaos and insurance nightmares. Instead, he gets a hot date.

I Need You by @neciebee

Azriel had always wanted a mate. Both of his brothers were so happy with theirs. It used to be the three of them together, but now his brothers had their own lives and wives and Azriel could not contain his envy. All he had was this. Dirty, secret, meaningless. Perhaps he could pretend it was something, if he’d just take one bite.

Once More to See You by @buffy-vanserra

Days after Feyre and Lucien are rescued from the Winter Court border, Eris finds Azriel snooping in his father’s woods. They fall into old habits and discuss a path forward. Or: The story of how Eris entered his alliance with the Night Court

Fall by @gravitysthrall

Eris knew cruelty and kindness could grow in the same soil. The existence of his parents fruitful centuries under the same roof was proof enough. Fall in love. Fall from grace. Fall through worlds. Azris series continuation of ACOSF / HOFAS. 3rd person multi-POV

What We Deserve by @chunkypossum

Once upon a time, Eris thought that he and Azriel could be mates whose bond just hadn’t settled yet. It didn’t make sense for him to be so drawn to the male when they were at odds in every other way. It had to be the Mother, had to be fate. Now he knew for sure, it had been none of those things, only simple, stupid want. What happens when Azriel finally finds his mate but it isn't the male he is already in love with?

What Lies Inside by @ofduskanddreams

Like a cloak of heat and flame, the power of the Autumn Court settled on his shoulders. The air crackled and sparked as the very foundations of the Forest House trembled beneath the blood-spattered boots of its new High Lord. Eris Vanserra opened his eyes, expecting the world to be shrouded in flame. Instead, he saw the shadowsinger standing near the foot of the dais, wreathed in wisps of darkness. The Illyrian's green-bronze eyes glinted with curiosity and caution and flecks of burnished gold. There was only gold. A golden thread spooled out of his chest towards the winged male. The one who'd been his sworn enemy for over five-hundred years. Rhysand's spymaster. The feared shadowsinger. Azriel. His... mate.

Caged in Gold by @aurorasleeps-27

Adorned in Eris’ gold, shadows streaming down his face, Azriel is the most beautiful thing Eris has ever owned.

If you want some VERY dark stuff, and don't mind Nesta being thrown into the mix, read And The Hounds Bayed 🐶🐶🐶

[chaosinplural]

Charlie using Alastor's mic staff thingy

[thatonebipotato]

Bernard definitely "knows a guy"

idk what situation he would need a guy for, but i feel like it wouldn't really matter. His life is just such a collection of weird situations, and he always just happens to know a guy because of it

Did he meet them through some weird online conspiracy boards? Did he meet them through the cult? Did he just extrovert really close to the sun and get away with it? Has this exact situation just happened so many times that he just knows the person he needs at this point? Honestly, he doesn't even know anymore

You know what he DOES know? A guy

[river-of-wine]

A bonus Molly sketch from my gilded cage things! Given the circumstances for Molly in particular during chapter 4 and the fact that Dutch being the way he is would likely just use her as an accessory for the evening I can’t imagine her having a good time, but at least the dress is pretty

[jackass-jones]

Posts about bpd need to stop being so damn relatable to me 🤨

[tonycries]

Your (Super)Man - N.K.

Synopsis. He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, Clark Kent! Nanami, SUPERMAN AU, aphrodísiacs, coworkers-to-Iovers, he is a GENTLEMAN, slight víoIence, Itadori cameo, saving people, píning, manhandIing, he is BIG, cervíx kíssing, making it fit, pússydrúnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), BRÉEDING, creampíes, cúmplay, spítting, Nanami’s POWERS, matíng presses, face-sítting, buIges, BREAKING THE BED, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CLARK KENT(O) NANAMI SAVE MEEEE

“There’s just something about him, Shoko.”

“Right…”

You’re flicking a quick roll of your eyes as your coworker continues stealing drowsy sips of her early morning coffee. Well, her fifth of the morning. Grumbling out, “I swear- There’s just something about him that feels so…” Eyes drifting - as they much seemed to do these days - to the man in question. “-different.”

And, listen, Shoko would whole-heartedly prefer the tittering office gossip with you over working on her weeks-late article any day of the week. 

But times like this, she really had no idea whether the two of you were staring - undoubtedly creepily - at the same Nanami Kento. 

That stoic, mild-mannered hire who’d just been freshly accepted into your journalism sector. Tall, seemingly powerful - yet, he acted anything but. A gentle giant with the suspicious patience of a saint even against the worst of editors - honestly, she’s musing, just who was this guy?

“Hm…” Fingers digging into her achy temples as if trying to will away the memory of her upcoming deadlines. And this. “Maybe you just need to get laid. A proper, genuine good f-”

“Shoko.”

And she’s cracking her first laugh of the day, ducking underneath her computer screen with a sigh as Yaga passes by dangerously close. “Well, you were thinking about it. Harlot.”

You’re sighing, too - though for a much different reason, she imagines. 

Gaze narrowing as you finally rip them away from the blond-haired man dwarfing the corporate cubicle opposite the two of you. Bumbling and fixing the glasses on his face for the nth time this hour. “W-well it doesn’t help that he’s hot.”

Shoko’s mere milliseconds away from opening her sharp mouth once more - and you’re mere milliseconds away from wincing at what was surely to fall from them. Before- 

A call of your name.

Ah, saved by the bell - or, your managing editor, more like. Though, you weren’t sure if you’d consider it “saving” when Yaga’s holding out a crisp stack of documents your way. Brows furrowed underneath his sunglasses, he gruffs out, “They finally cleared the pitch for your article on that flower. You’re good to go.”

“O-oh, that’s great. Thank you.” Plastering on a simpering smile on your face, you’re hastily clasping those papers. “I’ll get started on the interviews right away.”

Articles on flower shops weren’t quite the adrenaline-thumping journalism you’d expected to work on when you first joined this company. Initially concocting fantasies about interviewing your city’s nefarious villains or perhaps even…Superman .

But ah, those were just dreams. And it seems that someone here had to report on things like mysterious flower shipments to local florists - which just-so-happened to be you.

You’re pulled out of your pitiful little reverie by another echo of your name. Turning back to Yaga, brows raised. “Yes?”

“And take Nanami with you.”

Oh.

Oh. 

“Ah, sorry you’re paired up with me, Nanami.” You’d be chuckling much, much later when you’d gathered your files and your wits to be stuffed inside an elevator with your coworker. “I’d imagine something like this probably wouldn’t have been your ideal first taste of real journalism.”

Eyes straying anywhere but where you could spy the way the suit buttons over his chest looked like they were about to pop! Nanami was unfairly attractive, even when he was slouched and nervously struggling to meet your eyes with his honeypool ones.

Always known around the rest of the company to be so timid - but you get the feeling that he was being extra jumpy around you.

He’s shaking his head - golden strands of hair curtaining his handsome face. “Please don’t worry. I’m only grateful that you’re taking me with you, I-I promise to try my best not to be a burden, ma’am.”

“Aw, no need to call me that. We’re the same age, after all.” Subtly, you’re mashing the button for the ground floor a few more times. Suddenly reminded of how dizzyingly tiny this space was. How much of it he was occupying. “And I can’t promise that I won’t be a burden, either.”

You’d meant it as a joke - you really did. But after seeing the way that Nanami’s forehead crinkles with a furrow, you almost wish you could take back those words. 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you as a partner.” He’s mumbling - such earnestness dripping from his rich baritone that you can feel your eyes widening a fraction. And Nanami sees it, too. 

“Oh?”

“I mean-” Fingers fumbling to push up his thick-rimmed glasses, he’s tightening his yellow speckled tie almost as if he wished to choke away that burning flush creeping up from the back of his drooped neck and blossoming at the tips of his ears. “Just- just that you’re one of the most c-competent journalists in our company and I’m only honored to be learning from the best and- o-oh, it seems we’re here.” 

It’s a wonder that Nanami noticed - it’s a wonder that you noticed once those metallic doors parted like a curtain to reveal the bustling lobby. Finally here.

He’s holding out the curved end of one big, strong arm, bent at the elbow to show off the straining stretch of his flexing biceps. And you can’t help but ogle. “M-may I?”

It takes you copious seconds of staring at the thoroughly outlined bulge of his sculpted arm for you to finally snap to your senses. And a few more to finally realize what he was asking. 

Something warm and mushy pools in your stomach. Fuck.

Tentatively wrapping your hands around the rock-hard mounds of flesh so that Nanami - ever-the-gentleman - could tenderly escort you out, as if this was a ballroom and not your workplace. 

And you can’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t mind tedious interviews if it went anything like this. 

.

.

.

“So, there’s no sender address?”

“Nope.”

“No date?” 

“Nada.”

“And no postage?” 

“Tch, I wish!”

You’re tapping your trusty pen against the parchment of the notepad, gears wracking in your thoroughly overworked brain. “Mr. Itadori, is there a possibility that this might be a prank?”

Wasuke Itadori shakes his head with a grunt, weathered fingers brushing over the aggressively violet petals of a flower you think looked too bizarre to even be pulled out of your very dreams. He’s tapping the stiff flower once. Twice. 

And you’re gasping when a tiny puff of shimmering pink billows out like a heady cloud. Perfumed. Hypnotizing. A musky vanilla that makes you draw in further, and reminds you of- Eyes peeking over at an aloof Nanami…him. 

“See? Smells jus’ like my wife’s cheap citrus perfume. N’ unless she’s haunting me from beyond the grave as she said she would, it seems too elaborate of a prank ta me. It’s obviously livin’, but I can’t find any information on this flower for the life of me.” The older man crosses his arms, scowling, “Ya have no idea how many times I’ve had ta stop my stupid grandson from trying to eat this thing.”

Humming, you’re jotting down a few notes - fingers tremoring ever-so-slightly at Nanami’s burning gaze right beside you. “Have there been any strange effects on the other flora since you’ve acquired this special flower?”

“Nah, nothing at all- that’s the thing, s’like it’s alien or something. Just showed up at my door one day n’ I dunno what it is.” He’s grouching - and you have to agree. That is strange. 

You’d never heard of any other florist’s receiving this type of strange…gift? 

But you can’t voice anything more before a voice sounds from outside the see-through door, and the man before you clicks his tongue. “Ah! Dammit, that reminds me- my flower vendor’s here already. Excuse me while I step outside, you can throw the lil’ gremlin in with the marigolds if he bothers ya too much.”

You’re holding back a chuckle - honestly, this was nothing like you expected, you think you would have enjoyed this interview regardless. 

Wasuke was a doting grandpa - as much as he may deny it. And his tiny, pink-haired menace of a grandson was positively bouncing off the walls at having official journalists enter the cozy flower shop. Dangling midair off of a closely-observing Nanami’s shoulders with two chubby arms wrapped around the other’s neck.

Though, you certainly weren’t complaining at the sight.

“Hey- pretty lady- mister Nananamin-” Yuji’s squeaking into his ear. “Are you two married?” 

You’re sure that if Wasuke was within earshot he’d have grabbed the child by the scruff of his neck. But, alas, Nanami was beared with none of that mercy. 

Teasing, “Hmm, would you like to answer this, Nanami?”

“No- I mean yes! N-no, this lovely lady and I are not married.” He’s huffing out a low bout of laughter, massive palms barely even having to try to pick up Yuji’s wiggling body. And you can’t stop the way your heart lurches when he’s softly cradling the younger boy in one arm - fuck, you really need to get yourself together.

“Why not?”

And perhaps for the first time since you’ve known him, Nanami Kento looked truly and utterly stunned. Hazel eyes pleading your way, mouth opening and closing a few desperate times. “Well���”

But Yuji only plows on with the oblivious confidence that only comes with being freshly five. “Then, since you’re erm- what was that word Megumi said? Uh- d-divowced, can I marry her?”

Ah.

Giggling behind your palm, you’re almost on the verge of saving your poor coworker. Almost. 

That is, before it happens. 

CRASH!

You can’t hear anything, you can’t feel anything, you can’t see anything - other than a bright, blood red. Fuck- 

“N-Nanami? Yuji?” Your voice is shrill - cracking, and you’re unsure if the way you grimace is because of how utterly pathetic you sound or because of the complete devastation in front of you. “Wh-what…”

Shit. 

Heaps upon heaps of concrete and wrecked pieces of building pile upon what was once the Itadori family flower shop. Flowerpots knocked over, the ceiling crumbling, bright morning sunlight filtering from above to illuminate a thick blanket of swirling dust. 

As if a whirlwind had wrecked it through and caught up you right in the middle of it - purposefully. 

Shit shit shit-

Gasping, heaving to try and scramble your thoughts into one big coherent one - but then instantly regretting it when your entire body wracks with painful coughs. You’re so confused - head churning with exactly what’s happening right now - that you barely even register the large hand soothing over your back.

Your ears ring with a sharp keen, eyes bleary and tinging with black - it hurts. And you’re pressing a hand to your forehead with a hiss. Unbalanced voice on the edges of shattering into a zillion pieces, “What happened- wh-where-”

“Shhh shh shh, you’re going to be alright, darling.”

What? 

Your head snaps up - it’s then that you notice it.

Finally. 

Body tucked safely behind the overarching counter of the flower shop, far from where the sudden impact of something would have hit you. You’re crouched against all the wood and debris that dug uncomfortably into your legs. Your hands tremble - but not just with fear, no, with the tearful cries of a curled-up Yuji snuggling thankfully safely into your body.

All in the arms of…Nanami?

But, wait, no- it was as if it wasn’t him at all. 

Because gone were those heavy glasses framing his pretty face, and you’re blinking your lethargic lids urgently to drink in the stern, serious features they’d left behind. Brows furrowed, plump lips pulled tightly when he’s clenching his jaw, muscles flexing as he’s holding you two tighter - as if subconsciously. 

There was something different about him, something…magnetic, like a flip had just switched on. And you’re definitely blaming the way your head was swimming - but you can’t help but think he looked so hot.

Fuck - now’s not the time.

Soft locks of blond were windswept to slick back, that snug coat of his tattered onto the floor to display an emblazoned logo that you wouldn’t be able to mistake even if you tried. 

“You’re…” you breathe, and it’s a wonder that the syllables come out coherent at all. Jaw falling slack at the glimpses of that familiar skin-tight red and blue suit you’ve seen smeared across every magazine, every news column, and every show these days. “...Superman.”

And it takes a second. Two. 

Until Nanami’s long lashes flutter with a little pant of laughter, a singular thick finger straightening into a shush-ing gesture when he’s smiling down warmly at a sniffling Yuji, “This’ll be our little secret, right?”

“Y-yes!” The little boy hiccups, plump palms scrambling to cover his mouth. And you think you could spy a tiny smile rising through his short fingers. Though it wavers, “Mister Nananamin- I mean- Mister Superman, my grandpa is still outside…”

He’s nodding, “I’ll keep you all safe-” Before turning to you with eyes so scorching that you can feel yourself inch in closer against the stiff fabric of his supersuit. “-all of you.” 

“Ahhh~ touching touching. Didn’t think I’d run into dear ol’ Superman here.” A high, eerie voice rings over the thundering blood pumping to your head, and you’re burying even deeper into Nanami’s sculpted side. “But ah, not to worry, Man of Steel, m’jus’ here to pick up a little lost package of my friend’s so…”

Nanami’s stiffening underneath your touch, and with a slow nod he’s getting up from your little hiding place. 

And if looks could kill - which you knew Superman could do - then the greyish, patched man in front of you wouldn’t have been waltzing in through the utterly destroyed door already. As if he owned the place. Owned all of you. 

“Mahito, we’ve spoken before.” Nanami’s voice was hardened with a growl in a way you’ve never heard. Fuming. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”

There’s a metallic click! resonating across what was left of the four walls of this shop, as if he was loading some type of gun. But not as you’ve ever known one. 

And Nanami’s eyes narrow with a thick coating of tension when Mahito’s fingers curl around that flower - the exact one you’d come here to interview about in the first place. Plucking it neatly from the vase before crushing the waxy petals between his fingers. 

“You sure ya wanna talk to me like that when you’ve got civilians here, Superman?” Voice airy, delighted. As if he wasn’t currently loading an opening in that specialized gun with the gooey insides of that flower. Before pointing it - right at the bullseye where you were scoured away. “Especially with sweetcheeks here? Don’t think I don’t know how soft ya are for-”

Nanami stretches into an attack-ready position. “So you’re after the innocents again.”

“Ah- no, actually.” Mahito snickers. Snickers. “I’m after you.”

BANG!

It all happens so fast that you’re not even sure if everything’s part of your imagination - whether this is all still a dream. 

Because in the bat of an eye, Mahito has the slightly-glowing barrel of the gun pointed your way. Bursting the counter into nothing but a few shockwaves and shards of plastic. 

And in the bat of much less, Nanami’s shielding you with his entire body, sculptured front glissading against your back, beefy arms curled snugly around your waist. Head tucked over yours to make sure every inch of you is protected, Yuji placed gently at his side. 

Your bleary vision clouds with a familiar fog of pink - dazzling and addictive with that same musky perfume. Was- wasn’t this what Wasuke had shown you earlier?

“Shit! Wh-what the fuck is this?!” You’re hearing off in the distance - or perhaps it was right beside you, you didn’t even know at this point. “That damn Hanami- this isn’t the poison-”

He’s letting off a shiver, before gritting out. One arm holding out to you just as it had in the elevator, the memory hits you with pang. “Y-you two need to get to safety. Now. May I?”

If it weren’t for the hours of droning meetings faced with Nanami, the weeks of trying to get him to speak with you - months of memorizing every syllable that dripped from his pretty lips, then you wouldn’t even have noticed. But you did. 

“W-wait-.” Your throat scratches and struggles to get the words out, matching the shakes in his own tone. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

But the only answer you get is a soft, mysterious smile. And the repeated hum - as if you weren’t wrangling yourself around to peek at where he was undoubtedly hit. “No need to worry about me, my love- ah. My first and foremost priority is you two-”

“But you’re hurt.” you’re crying out, gasping when Mahito’s eyes lock with yours. And he leers, knobbly fingers fussing to reset that weapon once more. 

“I know.” Stray tresses of golden flaxen stick to Nanami’s sweat-glimmered forehead like an impromptu crown, and you don’t know how he has it in himself to smile down at you. Cradling Yuji in one arm, and you in the other as if the two of you were easily weightless - you can only gape at the adorable dimple digging into the left corner of his mouth. “Now, hold on tight.”

You do - and you can only blink before your savior is flying. 

Now, you’d always marvelled at the sheer heights that Superman reached on those live newscasts. Wondering just how euphoric it must be to soar through the air, free from every care in the world - well, as much as you could be when the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, at least.

But this? This was heaven.

Wind whipping your face like an icy mask, Yuji’s high peels of laughter tinkling in your ears. You can’t do anything but watch and watch as the demolished flower shop grows smaller. A speck. 

“Oh- oh my god.” You’re whispering thorough scrunched eyes, nails clawing deeply into the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoid.

And if it hurt, then Nanami didn’t give a single sign. Instead, he’s laughing - quiet, and as delicate at the cottony clouds passing you by. “S’alright, s’alright. Super- Ken’s here. N’ m’not gonna drop you.” You’re cutting through the air so fast - staggeringly - but right now, when Nanami’s boring his eyes into yours, it felt like time itself had stumbled to a stop. He’s pulling you even closer to his powerful body, “I’d never let ya go, darling.”

Yet, when the view of your cozy Metropolis apartment comes into view - you almost whine at the fact that he has to. 

“Don’t you worry about a thing now.” Nanami’s ruffling Yuji’s windblown mop of pink hair - even more tousled with the wind. “I’ll be going, and I’ll keep both you and your grandpa safe.”

And looking at him right now - velvety crimson cape flowing at the wind seeping in through your open window, one arm bulging with muscles as he leans readily against the frame - you wonder how you could’ve ever thought that anyone other than him could be Superman.

“Come back safe.” You’re choking out, hands clasped. “W-we’re still not done with our article…”

“Mhm, you better hold me to that, ma’am.” 

And with that, Superman - Nanami - was zipping through the air at a mach speed that made you realize he was intentionally slowing it down for both you and Yuji on your way here. 

Fingers quivering, it takes you what feels like practically forever to turn your television on - precisely onto a live newstream of how Superman had entered the site of a villain attack. Ready to save. To be a hero. 

Eyes locked mindlessly on the tiny blimp of red and blue onscreen, you cuddle a fidgety Yuji on the bouncy cushions of your sofa. For your jittery nerves just as much as his. “Your husband is so cool, lady- he’s Superman! Oh- whoops, shhhh! Tha’s a secret though…”

“Yeah…” you’re breathing out. “Yeah, he is cool, isn’t he?”

.

.

.

Forty-five saved, three buildings wrecked, and one injured. 

One injured - him.

Though, Nanami wouldn’t quite count himself with any civilians injured or…worse. He never quite does. 

But, oh, it was so hard not to when the first thing he’s peeling back that hazy layer of fatigue in his eyes is you - you, you, you. In all your glorious self, big, pearlescent tears spilling down your pretty cheeks and splattering in tiny puddles onto his bare chest. 

His bare, bandaged chest. 

And for a second, powers set aside, Nanami thinks he might just have died and reached heaven. How fitting that the angels looked like you. 

Voice hoarse as he’s muttering his first few words, “Are- are you alright?”

“-stupid. Asking about m-me when you’re the one hurt. Didn’t even-” Your sobs garble out into words, and you’re half-heartedly hitting your fist against the unbandaged part of Nanami’s skin. “Don’t you ever do that again- you had me- so worried.”

Ah, he’d won the fight - and he finally felt like it.

Silently, he makes quick work abandoning those delicate bandages of yours - a strange part of him almost hurt to unravel your work like this. To unravel nothing but silken, unblemished skin after hours of healing abilities.

Though, Nanami gives all the credit to your care, anyway.

Warm fingers cup your head to nuzzle your clammy face against the crook of his neck. Practically draped over your bed and onto his body now, and you could feel his burning skin, smell those musky pheromones of his. “Got it got it, I won’t be scaring you like that again.”

“Th-the neighbors were so worried when you just showed up all injured n’ half-fainting at my window, y’know? I had to bribe them to be quiet with a few of the flowers that Yuji’s grandpa left.” You’re muttering, more to fill the strangely thickening silence than anything. 

“Ah, tell- tell Mr. Itadori that I will have his shop reconstructed by the end of this week.” He’s whispering, voice so strained that you had to crane your head to hear him - close. “Was Yuji doing alright?”

“Mhm, never been better, apparently. He just left with his grandpa, and they invited us over for dinner before…” Brows furrowing, words withering away on your tongue at the agonized knit in his brow. There was something…different. “Are- are you really okay, Kento?”

Nanami doesn’t comment about that use of his first name - nor does he embarrassingly babble out how it might just be his new favorite song now. 

He can’t.

Because Nanami was panting - groaning. Pearly whites clenched so hard that you think you could hear them creak. 

There was a strange simmering flush creeping up his body, staining it such a delicious strawberry pink that made your mouth water- or maybe that was just the emanating clouds of vanilla musk saturating your lungs. Clinging onto Nanami’s body like a dripping second skin-

“I…” he’s gulping, half-lidded eyes shifting away from yours like he couldn’t even bear to look at you right now. Didn’t know what he would do. “-my apologies. But what that fucker- ah- excuse my language. What Mahito hit me with seems to not have been a poison, as I had thought. Rather, now that it’s finally spread through my body, I feel it’s something else entirely… ” 

“What is it- does it hurt?”

“It seems to be…” Gesturing wildly with his hands, careful not to jostle you. “-an aphrodisiac…of sorts.”

You’re letting your lips part, “Oh. Wait- ‘of sorts?’”

And ah, there was the timid Kento you knew. He could never lie to you. “It- itseemstoonlyaffectthoseinlove- B-but my healing abilities are working and-” Nanami’s sitting up faster than you could blink. Words running a mile-a-minute, “-and I shall leave in case you feel uncomfortable with me here-”

“Why would you leave?” It’s slipping between your lips before you can register. Still mulling over those previous words - they explained. A lot. 

Nanami stills, hands clasped around those creamy blankets he was flinging off, sure to disappear into the starry night. “P-pardon?”

Well, fuck. 

You’re steeling your gaze - you’ve waited this long. And if there was anything about Nanami’s afflicted aphrodisiac, it was that it was contagious.

Making you breathe in a heavy gulp of candied air, “Aphrodisiac, huh? I’ve read about those, and don’t you think that since you saved me-” Slowly - ever-so-slowly dragging your hands to rest on his smooth shoulders, faces inches away. “-it’s only fair that I help? Besides…I can smell it too.”

Oh, he gasps. A confession if any.

Fingers tangling through those damp locks. “But if- if you get tangled up with me- who knows what other villains will come after you. I might’ve taken down Mahito today, but Kenjaku is still out there. And I have to keep ya safe.”

“Well who’s going to keep you safe?” You scoff, refusing - rejecting - to relent.

“I don’t need to be safe if it means that I can keep that beautiful smile on your face everyday.” And maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was how close you were to him in this dimly heady lightning, but Nanami didn’t seem like he meant to say that out loud. Not at all. 

Basking in your spellbound silence. “My love…feel this?” He’s clasping one hand around your own, letting you rover a greedy grope of his plush pecs - his heartbeat. Thundering. Frighteningly so. “Th-this isn’t any old aphrodisiac, especially considering me.”

“And?”

“And that means, darling-” But he was, too, just as much. “That m’gonna want ya…need ya. So badly and fuck! M’gonna make ya forget what it feels like without me…” One rounded index trailing up, up, up to about halfway up your tummy. “-here.”

You’re shuddering, taking in deep gulps of that electric air. “...A-and?”

He’s jerking you forwards with a mere fraction of that superhuman strength to splay your body over his towering one. Face lolling into the cushiony valley of his pecs, legs straddling that slutty waist of his in a way that made you shy. Right on top of his drenched boxers. That needy spot between your legs heating up just as much as his condensing breath did on your skin. “I can’t promise that when I fuck you, I won’t break you.”

Fuck. Was this really the same, adorably feeble Nanami Kento from work? You weren’t sure, but you knew one way to find out…

“I’ll…hold you to that.”

But before he was Superman, he was Nanami Kento from the journalism department. And who was Nanami Kento against you?

“Such a stubborn girl.” You’re being surprised with a sudden implanting of his thick set of fingers leaving a sudden swat on your ass, voice teetering on what almost sounded like a growl. “But you’re mine, aren’tcha?”

Your fingers dapple along the sweat-dampened little curls of blond at the sexy edge of his undercut. And it seemed like the more the aphrodisiac boiled into his veins, the more and more he burned feverishly. 

Senses superhuman but already heightening with the coarse need glossing his brain - he could practically taste your arousal. 

Panting. Charming maw falling parted to mist you own with such rousing puffs of his scent, “Kiss me. Please- kiss me.”

And- fuck, Nanami kisses like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Was absolutely drunk with just a simple slide of his pursed mouth against your own, from a tender little peck until he only got greedier and greedier-

“Mmmm-” Rasping grunts curdle at the back of his throat, slurring into a low whine when he’s wrenching a splayed-out hand onto your scalp and dragging you away. Manhandling. Sultry sucks being left on the tenderest spots of your throat, sure to make the office talk tomorrow. “Can feel how fuckin’ wet ya are f’me already, darlin’. S’this the aphrodisiac or you?”

God, it was so embarrassing. 

That silky little puddle of your reflective slick was flooding from between your flimsy panties to press gluey little smooches against his manspread front. 

You’re mumbling, words stumbling over one another when your hips peek in to seat just above that swollen crown of his cock. Already rock-hard. “Y-you don’t have to say it out loud.”

You barely even realize how you’re slipping and sliding in needy little gyrations of your hips before Nanami’s putting a shuddering halt to it. One rude hand curling around that perfect curvature of your waist, he’s snickering at how you’re letting off a thoroughly disappointed whine. “My apologies, but s’hard f’me to act like a hah- gentleman when ya have such gorgeous lips…” He’s chuckling out - humorless, parking one big thumb against the corner of your mouth. “These ones, too.” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence - couldn’t even finish his thought.

Not before bruising your lips with some of the filthiest little sucks on your lower lip - like he’d simply gone way too long without kissing you. Once. Twice. Again and again and-

“O-oh!”  Your hands scramble to find purchase up on his broad shoulders when he’s darting down one fat thumb to paint with all your silvery pussy slick. Drawing slow meshes of circles on your soppy slit up and down up and down up and- “N-Nanami-”

“Kento.” He’s cutting you off with a fracturing furrow of his brows, “We’re way past last names, don’tcha think, my love?”

Oh, that sweetly rugged tone stirred up something inside you that made you want Nanami now now now.

“Oh? S’that so?” Ravenous edges of his fingers pulling aside your sticky panties to the side to sidle in with one thick drag of his digits, they’re being lacquered with such a heavy layer of your sweet, sweet juices that Nanami can’t help but drag his fingerpads upwards to sniff. To suck one by one. Sweet. “You’re heh- babblin’ cute nonsense, but fuuuuck this cute cunt is talkin’ ta me even filthier.”

In such sappy awe at the way your puffy pussy flaps were sugarcoating him all the way down till Nanami was dripping at the wrist. Metallic wristwatch from work all shiny and ruined-

“Need you t-to touch me inside, Ken–” you’re huffing, circling lazy grinds across his roughened hands. “Please?”

“Anythin’ for my girl.”

And Nanami’s giving your ass another good thwack! of his palm, feeling the vibrato of delicious jiggles before hauling your entire body higher and higher. Letting his back hit the silken sheets of your bed within a fluid motion, before you even know it you’re hovering your clothed cunt over his swelteringly fevered mouth. 

Just one sudden move and you’d be riding his face - exactly what Nanami wanted right now. Yearned. 

“Oh- wait-” You’re startling, fingers fumbling with that tight pencil skirt you’d worn to work specifically for him to see. “Didn’t take this-”

“Not a problem.” He’s grunting, only looking up with droopy eyes at where you’re straddling his handsome face, decorated with tawny strands of hair when he’s grinning. Thick fingers clasping onto the hem at your waist, “Hold on tight n’ show me that pretty pussy.”

RIIIIIP–!

Your skirt is on the floor, torn through like butter - your blouse and bra soon to follow. Impatient. And it’s only once Nanami’s done savoring that sweet embarrassment wafting off of you, the way your drenched pussymound smells so sugary sweet - does he even consider freeing you of them.

He’s scrunching up the sodden wet fabric into a little treasure hidden underneath your pillow - something for him later…

And you’re even wetter than usual, that contagious spell of aphrodisiac making your eyes glaze with sheer need. 

“Aw, look at thaaaat.” Nanami’s breathing - enchanting. The curves of his lips lifting into a smirk at the way your dripping slit treacles a fresh coating of slick all down his tongue, letting it sliiiide a lazy trailway to hit the back of his scratchy tastebuds. “Atta girl, b-better be taking all of me if yer that eager, hm?”

And Nanami is so needy - he’s so desperate to have your clingy pussy make a mess all over his face as soon as possible. 

Breathing in like some pervert to take in your perfumed scent. Reaching up to smear a wet glissade of his lips down your own, and you think that it might just be the filthiest French snog that anyone has ever placed on you. The buttoned edge of his nose mushes against your peeked clit so harshly. 

He’s blazing, cock thumping for more- With a low, heated whistle, he’s nuzzling his sweat-glossed forehead up against your moistened inner thigh. Layers upon layers of your slick coveting his features and stinging delicate little ropes that connect his maw to your cunt.

“Mmm- fuckin’ sweet- fuckin’ hot–” Nanami keens out, pillowy palms spreading your legs so comfortably apart until you felt like he was cracking you open. “C’mon now, sit your f-full weight on me, my love.”

You’re sputtering, thighs all achy with fatigue. “B-but-”

“Darling…” Nanami’s smiling, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. “Not to be conceited - forgive my tone - but I’m Superman. N’ if there was any way m’to die, then it would be right between these pretty legs of yours.”

And you didn’t know whether it was the fumes of vanilla aphrodisiac taking over his melty brain completely because Nanami was ruthless. 

Your dear, sweet coworker was kissing the very edges of your bloated cunt with one of his oversized fingers. Sifting through to draw numerous innocent hearts on your sensitive clit, before plunging down,down, down-

“Ah!” You’re yelping at the stinging stretch of his souring fingerpads, swirling in mushy little gyrations around and around your elastic entrance. Extra sensitive right now- damn that flower. “H-how is your finger already feeling so…”

“Good? Does my heh- good girl like this?” He’s cooing up at you, feeling your gloopy cunt with such copious inches of his long hands. 

And with such staggering fingers you could only imagine how big he’d be down there…

SWAT!

“Aww, don’t space out already. Wanna hear those p-pretty moans even longer-” The jutting pout of Nanami’s oh-so-cute lower lip smudges against your saturated clit. Tingling and hot when he tilts his head to bite. “‘Sides, how are ya gonna f-fit my cock if this is too big, hm?”

You’re holding back a wrecked whimper when he’s chancing another rummaging finger to part your pursed pussy lips. Ramming up and down to drag a sultry stripe across every nook and gummy ridge, to feel for- 

“F-fuck-” Head throwing back, your spine arches into a tight little bow that slops the entirety of your cunt down onto Nanami’s eagerly awaiting mouth. “There- there there there- don’ stop, Kentooo.”

He’s been waiting for this forever. And he was going to get his fill. 

And you could feel the way his mouth curled into a flirty smile, the back of his sharp chin slathered against the very back of where you needed him the most. 

“Mhm– Not gonna let ya go-” As if to prove his point, one free hand is all it takes for him to latch onto your waist and pin you to ride his face with reckless abandon. Exactly how he wanted it. “Wanna marry ya- be mine- please-” Because Nanami Kento didn’t want to move an inch - couldn’t bear parting with the exact sweet treat that’s haunted his most lecherous dreams since the day he fucking met you. “-never- ah- never after th-this.”

Such pretty, pretty melodies resonate out every time Nanami’s slobbering honeyed flurries of sucks and kisses onto your cunt - and not just from between your lips.

No, your teary pussymound was so loud with wiry sploshes of sap. And he simply can’t help himself from nodding his head with every waterlogged swash - as if he was having a full fucking conversation.

“S’right- m’wife’s always so right aren’tcha-” Nanami’s rawly drenched fingers pump outside - just for a split-second - to pap! pap! pap! his calloused pads on that syrupy little stud of your clit before curling his fingers into his mouth and sucking. Cleaning himself off. “Sh-should hear what yer gorgeous pussy’s been hah- sayin’- such a talkative girl, isn’t she?”

And those drunken chestnut eyes of his were just pleading - begging - for you to babble out, “Wh-what is she saying, Ken?”

“She’s sayin’- boasting, actually…” he’s drawling off, and with just how utterly fucked that Nanami looked right now, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost his train of thought. Giggling - giggling out, “-that she can take three.”

He was determined to prove it to you.

To swell your adhesive walls open with three of his pulpy fingers until you felt like you were going to burst. Those thickset globular ends of his digits reaching for that precious little bullseye of your cunt - he’s caressing you lovingly from the inside.

Over and over back and forth in maddening crawls until you were halfway through sobbing. And a primal itch inside him purrs at the sight of those prettily glistening tears in your eyes.

Ah, you looked so gorgeous riding his face like this - and, really, it wasn’t Nanami’s fault that his mouth felt a little left out…was it?

“B-both?” You’re dawdling your limp arms precariously onto the mahogany headboard - something that lasts for a generous two seconds before he’s unlatching your hands to dig harshly into his prespired tug. Firm arm around your first nudging you to pull- “You’re seriously gonna t-try n’ fit both?”

Both being the way that Nanami’s overfilling your snug channel with the dual penetration of his long, extra-sensitive tongue. 

Hissing with a slightly feral snarl marring those features when your tight hole won’t give way, Nanami’s bumping his nose against your sensitive nub with shy pecks once. Twice. Thrice to bully his feverish muscle inside.

“H-hngh—” he’s groaning at the tugging squeeze of your rubbery cunt. Stray fingers scissoring open your gluey walls, “Need ya to m-milk my tongue- know you can- ah! Gonna take it like my good girl, aren’tcha?” 

And it happens all at once.

You don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the way that he’s somehow managing to wedge in that sugarcoated drive of his tongue, or the way that you’re cumming.

Your own high taking you by surprise - taking all but Nanami by surprise. 

And you’ve never felt anything like this before, eyes flashing with white-hot stars. 

They’re burning into your brain and rendering you absolutely stupid with every bludgeon of his fingers into your gooey depths. So fast and hard that you can feel the recoil from your bulging g-spot sprinting in cratering vibrations down your spine.

“Nana- Ken-ohhh fuck!” Your mouth drivels away mindlessly, the euphoria so good that you can feel pools of dribble spilling from the corners of your lips with every grind. Thighs quaking, somehow wanting more- shit, seems the aphrodisiac won’t be done after just one…“M’cumming- ngh- m’cumming m’c-cumming.”

“Mhmmm- already know.” Words sinking down into what almost sounds like whines, and Nanami almost feels like he could cum in his pants. “Come now- pull on m’hair n’ r-ride me through that pretty high.” Filthy. Depraved. He’s curling the deliciously gravely tastebuds on his tongue to lap up every one of your knotted waves of slick, letting viscous wad after wad hit the back of his throat with a lewd splat!. “H-hehhh. Chatty pussy- y’know what else she’s sayin’?”

Shit- the idea makes your fingers nimbly pull at Nanami’s soft strands until he’s wafting out a low atta giiirl. Mumbling through croaking moans that just won’t stop dropping from your lips, “Wh-ngh! what?”

“She’s hngh- saying…” Yeah, it wasn’t the aphrodisiac - it definitely wasn’t the aphrodisiac that had him losing his fucking mind like this. It was you. “-that yer gonna g-give me another biiiig one very soon.”

Oh.

That wasn’t a promise - Nanami didn’t have to promise that.��

Because he was so intoxicated by that caramel scent sticking to you. Increasing twofold when with a sodden swat! down your bawling slit, you’re being stretched out with three of his digits until you were wide agape. Embarrassingly, so.

But not for Nanami - with a tantalized loll of his head into the silk-covered pillows, he’s gifting your sloppy entrance with a thick wad of saliva. 

As if the need was infectious - that orbed mass of spit flooding the inside of your cozy pussy just before his tongue is. 

“Ngh- s-so hot- ya like that new lipstain, my love?” He’s gulping down the excess slushes of your slick with every thrust past your glutinous walls, hard. Sloppy. Making such a mess on purpose, because for all how straightlaced Nanami was - all that shattered when it came to you. “-s-so sweet. Ah- h-hold my hand if s’too much, darling.”

“Feels so s-sensitive but…” Your jaw drops into a soft oh! when his rugged tongue drags over the globed bruises of his fingertips inside. Fingers scrambling for his free ones in midair, “-but I want more, Kentooo-”

With the leverage on your hand, he’s helping your burning thighs manage out a few more soppy strokes up and down. 

Your head is so dizzy by now, and you can barely see straight. Barely stumble to match every sopping smooch being punished upon your overwhelmed pussy. “Look so pretty like this- So tight- so cute. Probably c-couldn’t even ngh- fit my tip this way.”

“S-so mean.”

“I’d be nice if ya- hngh- spit in my mouth.”

Gasping, “Like this?”  But you didn’t even have to ask - you knew the answer in Nanami’s eyes, in the way he was smearing your pussy lips thoroughly ajar. In the way his dilated pupils run all the way to the back of his lips when you do. 

Your greedy gaze dazes back down to take in that heavenly sight of him - and you almost wish that you still had your camera for the article today with you. Because this was a sight you wanted to remember forever and ever. 

He’s so pretty with his golden locks splayed out like an angelic halo on the pillowcase below, clammy skin flushed rose red, swollen lips coral pink and gumming over your gluey ones like it was his favorite candy. Sucking. Even harder at the sloshes of translucent sap that laminated his face down to his chin, his neck, and all the way up to his cheekbones. 

Thighs stuttering and sticking with every grind on top of his face, it’s all you can do to manage out a pitchy, “Think I might just- K-Ken–”

He’s swirling up a lazy few fingertips to your needy clit and pinching. “-cum all over m’face again, my girl.”

You do. You do like you can’t stop.

And he’s supping up every draining burble of your flooding slick like it was an antidote to this little ah…indisposition. 

He says so, too - gurgling out wet little scientific explanations into your cunt that make your high peak with orgasms upon orgasms. Your second, third, and forth meshing into one to make you practically convulse. Nanami’s forced to dig his fingers into the plush of your thighs to stop you from escaping. 

And the question about whether this was part of his powers is halfway out of your mouth before Nanami’s leaving off a final swat! again your drooling pussy.

Chuckling - crazed - at the wispy sprays of juices that makes you gush out. 

“C’mon now, do those legs s-still work?” Nanami can’t hide the way that his deep voice wobbles into what almost sounds like a laugh. High. 

You’re being ragdolled with a squelching pop! off of his heated mouth and easily lifted to take his third favorite seat of yours - his lap. The second being his mouth, and the first- well, it was sure to be his thoroughly achy, angry cock right about now. 

“Ken-”

Nanami couldn’t bear to hear his name in your sweet, whimpering tone - he just couldn’t. Shutting you up with a slow slide of a kiss, “Yeahhh, darlin’...kiss me- more. Lick it allll up.”

“D-didn’t think you’d be so dirty…” you’re gasping, when his tongue pries your slagging maw open to once more spit. Sweet. Caramelized. 

“Oh, my pretty girl…” Two of his soppingly wet fingers smush your cheeks into a pathetic pout, “You haven’t seen dirty just yet. Now- spit back in m-my mouth, why don’tcha?”

You do - splattering a messy mark right at that adorable dimple of his with your messy aim. But he loves it - it was so sweet. Darting out a tongue to extract back all those sugary remnants before giving you one, final French kiss. 

Begging in that growling way of his, “Whaddya- whaddya want from me- I’ll give ya anything- anything-” Both arms looping your waist to plaster your sweaty front into his Herculean one, you have to hold back a keen at how your hardened nipples massage against his pecs. 

But, most of all, what you could feel - what you so badly wanted to feel - was that long, thick outline that jerked once you glide away sweaty strands of Nanami’s hair. Desperate. 

“Wan’ your cock, Kento.” You were way past feeling any sort of embarrassment now. Winding your arms around his sculpted shoulders, “N-need you ngh- inside me. Now.”

Of course, whatever you wanted - Nanami Kento would give.

He’s tugging down on the elastic waistband of those too-tight boxers, and your ears burn with the saturated schwf! of soaked fabric on skin. And that superhero suit…did not do him justice. 

Nanami’s slouching back on one arm when you’re oh-so-impatiently helping him kick off that useless piece of fabric. Head tilting with an uncharacteristically cocky smirk, “Like what you ah- see, hm?”

Shit, did you ever. 

Because it’s always the quiet ones - always. 

And with your seat position right at the thick, globular mushroom tip of Nanami’s cock, you knew that he’d be packing a staggering few inches. The mere outline of it puckering up against your pussyflaps enough to get you to gulp with nervousness.

But this? This had your jaw dropping. 

Fingers trailing down that lightly fleeced copper happy trail of his in utter disbelief. Because not only was Nanami Kento big - he was big. 

Swollen, glistening near-nine inches that jerked at the vulgar size difference of your digits struggling to wrap around his ridiculous girth. Nestled against bulky breeder balls rounded and weighing heavily underneath his strawberry pink length. He seemed even harder than usual - and it was all for you.

Fuck, that aphrodisiac. This was all for his gorgeous (future) wife.

Lazily drooling out a thick few wads of pearly pre that butters over your fingerpads, and just a simple touch - just one drag of his sweltering hot length makes Nanami whimper-

“O-oh- yeahhh- brace yerself, my girl.” He’s letting his head tumble back with a groan, heavy-handed arms guiding to the fleshy mound of your waist. “Gonna be ah- ruinin’ this pretty cunt-”

Nanami’s making you mewl with a welcoming little thwack! of his plumply bloated cockhead against your puffed-up pussy lips. Making your creaky bedframe sing out a few protests. Stirring out a staccato of one - two - three before finally - finally - slipping right between that pursed pout. 

CRASH!

An overwhelmed hand of his grips your headboard the moment he’s pushing and pushing - only to have the strong mahogany break underneath his superstrength. Damn, these powers.

“Awww, look how much yer drooling-” Nanami’s hiccuping with every tiny clench of your gummy walls around that cylindrical intrusion. A mean few fingertips so ferally smearing over the rings upon rings of saturated sap your cunt was slobbering all over his hefty base. Drawing a foggy line with them over your tummy, “G-gonna be riiiight here…h-heh.”

And maybe it was best that your dear Nanami was talking to, well, her. Because just the simple stretch that came with his fattened tip was enough to render you spellbound. 

“Nana-”

Smack! “Mhm? M’here, m’here, your dear hngh! Kento is here.”

“Kento- oh my goood-” Nonsensical syllables drooling from your lips and readily available for Nanami to kiss away. Your head slags drunkenly into the crook of his neck with each sinking inch, “S-s’so big, dunno if it’ll even ah- fit.”

“Shhh, s’gonna fit. Deep breaths…deep breaths.” 

You’re echoing, trying to time your stumbling gasps to match his. Backfiring when you only obtain lungfuls of his masculine scent, ‘D-deep breaths?“

“Mhmm- deep-” Oh, but even he wasn’t immune to the cloggy clamp of your pussy that had Nanami rutting. “Whoops.” One of his powerful forearms showcase in front of your narrowed vision, ogling all the pumped veins and rippling muscles. “C’mon- bite.”

You’re listening without a second thought, teeth sinking into the smooth skin - gurgling back tiny sobs at the sheer stretch. It felt like you were being split apart. 

He’s rolling his tips upwards, glissading you in a cozy massage against the ridges of his sweat-shielded abs. “M’gonna make it- duh. Look at me-” Dextrous fingers curling around your throat to make your woozy gaze focus on him, “Yeah- yeah. Look riiiight at me wh-when I ah- ”

And it takes only the tiniest probe of his thumpingly peaked veins bludgeoning against your tender walls, fuming divot bawling out a few geysers of creamy precum that fill you up scorchingly.

It takes only that for you to cum with an unstable shudder, moans piling on top of moans. You’re digging your fingerpads into Nanami’s damp scalp and pulling when you cum for the nth time on his cock.

You didn’t even know how you were cumming again - why, but you had a feeling that the thickening perfume of vanilla and candy in the room had something to do with it…

“C-cummin’ from jus’ the ah- tip? Seriously?” Nanami’s breathing, chest heaving with awe. Pushing and pushing away the heavy strands of his blond hair just to see you. And the urgent motions only make your pussy slide down even more, spearheading his lusciously right-leaning curve up into your gooey placeholders. “Really are jus- ah- made f’me- really ah! So perfect. So, so perfect.”

You’re watching his huffs turn heated, “Mmm- wanted you to f-fuck me like this ever since I was- ngh at the office.”

“Ohhh what a coincidence.” He grins - grins. “I’ve wan’ed to fuck ya like ah- this, since I first s-saw ya. Woulda fucked ya right then n’ there in your pretty lil’ cubicle if I ah- could.”

Crying out, “More- more more more-”

“Jus’ another inch-” Nose crinkling at the gripping resistance of your tight entrance, you were so slicked-up that you were practically flooding him with delirious puddles of resin. His fat thumb smears open your lips, “S-see? Juuuus a lil’ more-”

Oh…fuck.

He was finally- wait. No, this had to be a dream, right?

“Wait- shiiit- did you seriously-” He’s stuttering - stuttering exactly the way he used to back in the office. Back in his disguise. “Seriously…think ya deserve a little r-reward for that, right?”

Your reward just-so-happened to be another treacly wad of saliva being blasted onto your tongue. And by now you’re doing nothing but letting it easily be swallowed up with a cockdrunk smile. “God, m’feelin’ so hngh! full— c-can feel ya right- here-” 

Every jackhammer bullied up into your goopy orifice had Nanami wrecking you from the inside. His crowned, rotund tip prying open those stickily sweet walls of yours, barely even having to try to stir up a wet wipe against your poor cervix. 

“Feel me right-” One softened palm splays down across your tummy. Hard. Feeling for that tenderizing whack of his thickly tip into your most precious spots. “-here, huh? Yeahhh- f-feel that bump- touch it. Gonna c-carve out a fuckin’ ngh- cute lil’ bruise right here.” 

“P-please.”

And then, with a heady drawl of laughter, Nanami’s dredging out his tired tongue to lick over your rapid pulse like he wanted to bite. Palms still groping that orbed bulge, “Y-you wouldn’t believe what this- ngh- this is makin’ me think…”

Ever-so-curious, even when you’re being fucked stupid like this. “Wh-what?”

Earning you another few vicious ruts into your g-spot, a few thin lines of drool waterfall past his lips. Almost as if the very thought is enough to make him light-headed. 

“Jus’ thought a-about how yer always so ngh- pretty.” Muttering low and frantic with every bounce on his painfully hard cock, like he didn’t even want to admit this pussydrunk nonsense. But couldn’t stop. “So pretty when you were handlin’ Yuji today. Pretty when yer all ah- overstuffed with my cock b-but…you’d make an even prettier mama, though.”

Oh. 

A mama - Nanami Kento wanted to make you mama. 

And he was pressurizing you with pound after pound drilling into your melty depths until you were sure that you were molded around his shape. That mountainous curve of his crownhead striking every bullseyed sweet spot.

“Wan’ it-” Your legs wrangle around his slender waist, heels digging into the pretty dimples at the bottom of his spine. “Want you to f-fill me up so ngh- badly, Kento.”

“S-seriously?” Your words so distracting that it has his riotous cock drilling hard into that spot and skidding away in increasingly sappy thrashes against your battered and bruised cervix. Jaw clenching, “Really wan’ me fuckin’ this cute cunt hngh- p-pregnant, darling?”

Making you only nod and nod and nod-

“Yeahhh- anythin’ my girl ah- wants, huh?” He’s tittering at how adorably your hips were slurring out the tiniest of grinds. Up and down up and down - failing to meet his sloppy cadence, but angling your hips to use him. “N’ right now- all I wan’ is you all ah- round and fuuuuull.”

And it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac talking. 

You were beginning to overspill already, the flooded torrentials of his slushy precum seeping from the pouty ends of your slippery slit. You’re moping down his length with such humid tufts of juices, “Cum in me- please- need you to- now.”

“Mama didn’t teach ya ah- patience, my girl?” 

And despite his words, he’s falling back to lounge so sexily against the dampened sheets. Close - he could feel it in the snaking heat at the bottom of his stomach that he was so very close. 

Losing his faint grip on his power, Nanami’s clenching and balling his fists to stop from soiling permanent marks all over your body. Mind shattering. Your bedsprings bursting. Teeth gritting to stop him losing control-

Voice breaking into a few whimpers when he finally utters, “S-s’alright- greedy girl.” Before palming one hand onto the bloated budge of his length, the other swirling over your tearily overstimulated clit and tweaking. “-I can be th-the heh- strict parent.”

Oh, at this point, your orgasm is more a few heavenly tingles than anything else. 

Stimulating your most fragile of pummeled crevices, you’re feeling warm, thick goblets of Nanami’s cum swash in a sticky wave. And there’s so much of it - extra with his condition right now, spurting out ribbony ropes of sickly sweet cum with every squeeze of his bulky balls.

Those knotted wads of ivory are filling you up until your gummy walls were inflating, thunking out a little wet spot at your cervix. Something that he can’t help but keen over a few fat digits and push to make a splashing mess. “Gonna get ya pregnant- I will g-get ya pregnant.”

Nanami’s big, beefy arms are pinning you to the front of his chest like he never wanted to let go. Never would. 

Heaving to chase his breath - and, yet, still failing with every battering ram of his snaking cock. Fucking up the thickly viscous streams of cum up deeper and deeper-

“O-oh.” Nanami’s muttering, glassy wooden eyes straying somewhere beyond you and towards the end of the bed. The strangely…sagging bed. “We broke the- hah- we broke the bed.”

Shit. But you barely have the time to register his words before- THUD!

Your back is being brazenly splayed-out across the mahogany floors of your bedroom, Nanami’s arms underneath you shielding your body from every ounce of the stinging smack. Strong. Holding onto you tight. 

Still pumped inside, still carving out the free ounces with masses upon masses of his swollen cock. 

With your head drooping barely-lucidly to the side, you’re gasping at the blackened palm print that had burned itself onto the floor right beside your head.

The air around the two of you was candied, pheromones of candy and vanilla melding into what was probably your favorite scent now. Ahhhh…he didn’t even care if this was the cure anymore.

And despite being the strongest being in perhaps the entire universe, Nanami was melting into you. His abs adhesively plastered against your front, hips rolling in what can’t even be called grinds. Just simple, sappy gyrations of his still-twitchy cock. 

He’s whispering out a slurring mantra of words into your thoroughly wrenched open mouth - barely even able to talk coherently after that mind-shattering orgasm. “Lock- lock them- lock them please-”

“I-I caaaan’t.” You’re whimpering out, limp legs uselessly dangling like dead weight where Nanami was resting them on the cushiony home of his deltoids. 

But not to worry. Of course not to worry, your Nanami was here for you. 

Biceps bulging when one arm bends to pin your ankles behind his neck, he’s folding you down, down, down into such a filthy mating press. 

Moving you around as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t hear your joint weakly popping. His healing powers being kicked involuntarily into overdrive…fuck.

Nanami can feel his cock jerk - barely softened for a few nanoseconds before thumping with every ounce of blood in his fully spent brain.

“Awww, t-too weak?” Planting a sodden peck against the corner of your ankles. And something in that tone told you that the two of you were far, far from over. That the slowly drunken fucking of Nanami’s hips was just the beginning. He’s squashing back a few remnant dredges of seed from just earlier, slipping out just enough to smear a messy white lipstick. “Well then…”

You’re jolting at the quick pap! pap! pap! of his ballooned tip popping out a few sloppily smushing strikes - before sinking deeply back in.

He’s fucking you again- and again and again and-

“Y-you know I h-haaaah- hate disrespectin’ my girl like- this-” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, gesturing languidly at the expanse of the floor. Ever-the-gentleman…usually. “-but if s’f-fer makin’ our daughter…then. Gotta make sure that I can be her Superdad.”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have the best week n’ happy new year in advance <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[chucklechampion]

ah heem heem......