#either that or i was lonelier than i thought LMAO
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next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.
who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.
tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.
wc: 7.7k.
a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this
also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest
mdni.
You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you.
Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times.
There were more bottles than glasses, lately.
It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you.
Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.
You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short.
You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.
In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice.
You know?
To which Nanami had replied, “No.”
Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?”
It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked.
Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance.
In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next.
“I’ve never had sex at all.”
Kento Nanami. A virgin.
The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years.
You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.
It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.
Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends.
But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t.
“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.”
Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity.
You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite.
The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker.
A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least.
And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either.
You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud.
“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously.
“I’m not deprived of anything.”
You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?”
In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not.
He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”
You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.”
“Or even know their name?”
You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.
With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.
“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head.
“I’m only human.”
You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”
With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected.
“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head.
Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.
It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would.
Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask.
“What about me?”
Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?”
“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.”
Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.
His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on.
You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response.
“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.”
Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?
Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.
His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.
Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five.
You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could.
Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.
When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes.
“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick.
“And we always will be,” you reply.
He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch.
You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his.
“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.”
Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself.
You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space.
Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.
Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it.
“But I’d like to kiss you.”
Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.
You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.
“Nanam-“
As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away.
“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“
Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows.
Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air.
You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further.
Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together.
The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose.
The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it.
Enamoured with him.
You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours.
Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting.
Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble.
After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow.
He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat.
“Kento-“
“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.
His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same.
He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck.
“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…
“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly.
But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part.
And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.
It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.
It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh.
“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”
You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet.
He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation.
“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.”
You frown. “And th-“
“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.”
Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.
You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time.
Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma.
But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.
And neither can he.
You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush.
His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when.
The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it.
Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed.
But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips.
You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was.
Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there.
His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.
“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.
“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place.
The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear.
Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you?
The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his.
The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.”
“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you.
“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment.
You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.”
His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more.
He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate.
With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you.
“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal.
You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead.
You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily.
“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.”
Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”
You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect.
“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought.
He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.”
Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers.
You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so.
Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.
A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you.
Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees.
With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.
It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue.
Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.
You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed.
It’s endearing.
Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.
When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit.
“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that.
“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased.
You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation.
It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed.
“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?”
He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move.
You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to.
“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.
You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure?
“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up.
As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps.
You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly.
You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment.
He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response.
Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.
“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.”
The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all.
You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this.
Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily.
Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you.
Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same.
But you two had waited long enough.
Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips.
Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need.
His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless.
So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had.
Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper.
You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.
When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.
You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.
“Do you want me to stop or-“
“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.”
The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax.
You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping.
“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe.
He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now.
A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.
You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.
“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.”
He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now.
You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face.
Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders.
You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together.
“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.”
The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze.
He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains.
“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“
He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever.
You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast.
But it’s not quite enough.
“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…”
“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-
-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether.
With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life.
He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises.
His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart.
Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you.
After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“
“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure.
He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated.
You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.”
Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably.
“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.”
A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly.
He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away.
For now, of course.
masterlist.
#nanami x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#kento nanami x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#nanami#kento nanami
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“Little Girl to Little Lady”
Dads best friend! Miguel x Younger! Fem! Reader
Warnings : Cock Warming, Age gap, oral, mentions of masturbation (and slight but very little), dirty talk? Breeding king (per usual lmao) and I forgot what else but it’s sex so
Summary : Miguel and you have always been close… but even closer now
It always annoyed me whenever people would say “you grew up so fast” or “I remember you when you were just a baby”. It was even worse when Miguel O’Hara, your dads best friend, would say it. He didn’t say it often, but when it was a late night of drinking with my father he would always say it to me, almost as if he was telling himself. Whenever he said it he sounded like he was trying to reason with himself rather than just making small talk or being an emotional drunk. It wasn’t like Miguel and I weren’t close either. In fact my dad had always left me at Miguel’s house to babysit when I was younger, no naturally I looked at him as an important older figure in my life.
Well actually I looked at him more than just a supportive adult. To say he wasn’t an attractive man was a total lie. He was gorgeous, body chiseled like a greed god. He was the reason I even got sex toys and explored my kinks. Because every night he would plague my mind as I got older.
He was 20 when I was born, was married and had his daughter, Gabriella at 25. His wife passed 5 years later when he was 30. It was heartbreaking to see him and Gabriella in such despair and pain. Me and my dad had visited more often. I had felt the pain as well, especially as a 10 year old. Dana was a mother figure to me ever since my mom had up and left after I was born. Naturally this led me to help take care of Gabriella and be a supportive woman in her life. She lost her mom and I didn’t want her to feel the  loneliness that I felt. I was (obviously) 5 years older than Gabriella so when I turned 15 I was able to babysit her alone when Miguel and my father had went out. I taught her about body and how she would be changing, helped her dress up and learn makeup. It was almost weekly that our parents would come home and find us cuddled together, sleeping with a movie on.
When I had turned 19 it was a little harder to visit Gabriella but I was always a text or phone call away if she ever needed me. My connection with her and Miguel was still very strong, as they came over for “family night” often. Obviously Miguel and my dad would drink while forgetting about whatever card or board game we were playing soon after. Gabriella started to get tired, it was around 10:30 as I put her to bed in my room. Whenever she fell asleep I would always share the bed with her. That’s what led me, Miguel and my dad to be downstairs, still drinking.
I didn’t drink really, Miguel and my dad knew this, never offering alcohol unless I specifically asked for it. I didn’t have a reason to drink, my social life never landing me at parties. When it came to relationships, I was hopeless. I was usually into older guys and besides a decent fuck, I didn’t see myself getting attached to them. At the end of the day, I always thought of Miguel when they were on top of me. It was shameful but most of the time the guys were too horny to even realize I wasn’t moaning their name.
I sat next to Miguel on the big couch as my dad sat in the arm chair to our right. He smiled as he listened to my dad, looking over at me. That’s when I heard the usual.
“Seeing you take care of my little Gabriella reminds me of when you were younger. You’re much more grown now though. A little Lady instead of a little girl”. I laughed as my dad finished his drink.
“Well Miguel? Let’s look at some baby photos!” My laugh abruptly stopped as my face flushed. I always objected, saying that Miguel has seen me as a kid so many times already, that he didn’t need to see anymore or be reminded. They always laughed me off as my dad took out the book.
“Even if I took care of you then, it’s nice to be reminded. I may still see you as a kid but the pictures remind me of how much you’ve grown”. There was that tone again. The one where he sounded like he was fighting himself to reason. But to reason over what? That I was a growing into a woman? Or that he thought I still acted like a kid? I grumbled as Miguel finished his beer and flipped through the photos with my dad. Even though I objected at first, it was nice laughing all together about my funny photos. As the night went on, my father slowly fell asleep on the couch, a smile on his face. I shook him awake, helping him to bed. As I came back down I saw Miguel still flipping through the book. I sat next to him again, looking over his shoulder.
Then there was a photo oh Miguel, feeding me cake as I sat in his lap. We both looked so young. I was probably around 6 in the photo, his frame still much larger than mine. He sighed, sliding his thumb over his bottom lip. I looked at him, as he looked at the photo for a good few minutes.
“Uhm.. Miguel is everything okay?” He glanced over to me, face flushed. I had never seen him look that way. He put his bottle down, next to the many other bottles…. I knew Miguel could drink but when did he finish so many? While we were looking at the photos? Miguel definitely wasn’t drunk but he was positively tipsy. He put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg. I shuddered at his touch. “Miguel?”
“I would kill to have you in my lap like that again”. He said unwavering. I felt the heat rush to my face as he said it, I looked away and shifted awkwardly.
“M-Miguel where is this coming from?” He chuckled and stopped his hand at my upper thigh.
“The only reason I’m able to say this is because of what I heard you doing to yourself last night”. My face drained. He saw that? How much did he see? I was face down, ass up with a vibrator, is he talking about that? Or is he pulling my strings? Did he hear me moan his name?
“What are you talking about? I was in my room reading.” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to seem convincing, I really did but I was so nervous under his gaze.
“Were you? That’s not what it sounded like… or what it looked like.” He shifted onto the ground, moving in between my legs. His arms on either side of me, trapping me on the couch. I couldn’t move. I was so nervous as my body trembled. “Did you imagine me eating you out? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, hm? You were so loud.. just for me”. He kissed my legs, slowly inching towards my inner thigh. I slightly opened my legs on instinct. He chuckled and didn’t move any closer. “Use your words querida.” He said firmly as I shook my head. This was too embarrassing for me. Even being below me he had so much control over me. He shrugged his shoulders and began to get up. I panicked and grabbed his shoulders.
“P-please don’t leave…”. I pleaded. No matter how embarrassed I was, I have been wanting this for so long, so painstakingly long. He licked his lips as he got on his knees in front of me again. Kissing my thighs again. “I thought about you… uhm well I thought about you eating me out” I choked out. He already knew that I thought about him, no point in hiding it. He smirked into the kisses and slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly. Miguel looked at me for conformation and I nodded my head. He pulled them down and off my body, leaving me in a shirt and panties. He brought his fingers to my clothed pussy, feeling the drenched fabric.
“Ahh so wet already. Were you thinking about me today?”. I nodded my head as he looked up at me. “Why? Tell me what made you think about me”. I felt embarrassed again, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about the answer.
“When I was putting Gabriella to bed I thought about having a family with you… a-and what it would feel like to have you put a baby in me”. His laugh was deep as he put his hands on my lower back and pulled me closer to him. His lips hovered over my panties, kissing my heat through the cloth. I twitched from the contact
“Oh my… you’ve got more of an imagination that I thought. Would you want to be a mother? Have my babies inside you?” I nodded my head again and he snarled. “Words cariño.” His tone was stern, not making things easy for me
“Yes, Miguel”. He nodded his head in approval before sliding my panties down and blowing over my heat. I yelped as the sensation, his breath was hot, and it made my body shudder. “Miguel please~”.
“Please what?” He asked teasingly as he inched even closer.
“Please eat me out”. He chuckled and latched his lips on my pussy. He took no time sliding his tongue in. He lapped at my juices as I threw my head back, gripping onto the couch. I whimpered while biting on my lip. I didn’t want Gabriella or my dad to wake up. He moved his hands to my thighs as he prevented them from clamping on his head as he continued to eat me out. His tongue did wonders and he moaned into me, letting the vibration of his moan toy with me. He spread my thighs further apart, allowing him to go deeper with his tongue. I didn’t think it was possible but the sliding of his tongue left me shaking. I wanted to squeeze my legs around him so bad, I wanted him to stay right there.
“Miguel more please~” I whispered, I was so scared to release a moan that I squeaked out the words. I was surprised he even heard me as his hands moved to my ass, allowing me to close my legs. I felt the knot from in my stomach as he continue to tongue fuck me. My legs squeezed around his head as I came in his mouth. He lapped up all of it, licking his lips. I panted as he chuckled and wiped his cheeks. He played with my juices on his fingers, putting them up to my mouth and making me taste myself.
“Was that good? I don’t think any guy your age could do as good as me”. He stated proudly as I nodded my head, still dazed from the sensation.
“I’ve only ever fucked older guys… but no guy has ever done that for me in the first place”. He scoffed
“Really? So un-classy… good thing I’m taking care of you from now on hm?” I giggled at his response. He was really getting an ego boost from this. He moved me from the couch and brought me upstairs to the guest bedroom.
Him and Gabriella were over so often that it was pretty much his. The only problem was that it was right nexts to my dads, and the walls weren’t exactly thick either. I reminded myself to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake him. “Rest for a few minutes. Im gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll come back up and give you what you really want”. I nodded my head, feeling my pussy throb and clench on nothing. He walked out of the room, my body trembling thinking about him. I wonder how big he is…. I mean I’m already much smaller than him so he would probably stretch me out.
I let my fingers slid down to my pussy, gliding over it. I let out a breath as I slid my fingers in, toying with my walls. I bit my lip again as I finger fucked myself to the thought of Miguel. He was amazing with his tongue but his dick would be 100x better. Hitting every spot, reaching deeper and deeper… then coating my walls with his seed-
My wrist was grabbed and my fingers were pulled out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness as I saw Miguel over me, licking my fingers. I stared up at him, watching him clean off my digits. He cleaned up that fast? Or was I imagining him for that long?
“Really? You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” I looked away embarrassed. He chuckled pushing me flat on my back. He took his jeans off and tossed them across the room. He slid his boxers down just enough. Miguel stood at the edge of the bed and pulled me towards him. I yelled as I felt my pussy press against his cock. He finally lifted up my shirt, unclasping my bra. “God you look perfect”. He stared at my flushed face, hair sticking out everywhere with lustful eyes. My nipples hardened at the cold air, perking up. He left one hand on my waist for support, the other hand lining himself up. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up with me. I gulped. The most I’ve taken in is 5 inches, Miguel was at least 8 and his girth…. He pushed his tip in and I gasped.
He continued to push himself into me, my pussy stretching more and more. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. He cusped my cheek and wiped the tears. “You’re almost there querida, breathe”. He got half way before my pussy clenched again. He grunted before putting both hands on my waist. He rubbed circles, trying to help me relax. “Mi amor please you have to relax or else I can’t fuck you”. The words ‘mi amor’ rung throughout my head. My body relaxed as I thought about it. I didn’t know Spanish but I knew that much. My face heat up as I brought my hands to my face. Mi amor? Would he call me that even if we weren’t fucking? Did he like me? I mean I liked him, hell I loved him. Did I love him or did I just want him to fuck me?
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his push the rest of himself inside of me, I moaned out loud before quickly covering my mouth. I wasn’t ready for it as he bottomed out. He chuckled as he brought his lips close to mine.
“What got you so distracted? It’s almost like you forgot that my dick was in you”. I blushed as he stayed in place, me basically just cock warming as he spoke.
“I- uhm…. You called me ‘mi amor’ and I started thinking”. I trailed off, looking away. I didn’t want to move or else I would moan again. His eyes widened at my reaction.
“(Y/N) look at me”. I hesitated. “Look at me now.” I turned my head and met his eyes. Before could explain myself he kissed my lips. But it was warm… so warm and loving. I kissed back, wanting to feel more of his passion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. As our kiss deepened he began to rock his hips into me. I moaned into his mouth, letting him slide his tongue in. He took immediate control and continued to fuck me.
He bottomed out quickly, beginning to pound into me. “Listen to me (Y/N), wether I had you in bed or not I love you”. I nodded my head and whimpered as he continue to fuck me. He moved his hands to my breast, latching onto my left one with his mouth and playing and twisting my right nipple. I tried so damn hard to stay quiet as his balls slapped against my ass. If I spoke now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making noise. “Say it mi amor”.
“I- I love you too Miguel-mphm!” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, moving his to leave hickies from my shoulders to the valley of my chest. His tip hit every spot, I felt every vein on his girth as he continued to pounded into me.
“Yeah? So that means I can put my babies in you? Fill you up with my cum all night? You would want that wouldn’t you. For me to use you as a cum dump”. A ray of yesses left my mouth, said so drunkenly. I was so dazed from his cock I couldn’t think straight. The drool started to pour out of my mouth as he pressed himself deeper and deeper. He has so much stamina. He grunted as he watched my tits bounce. “Don’t be too loud… your dad might wake up”.
Miguel put his hands on my waist, wanting to let my boobs bounce on their own. Lewd noises filled the room as I saw stars, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. He staggered, my pussy clenching on every bit of him. A knot formed in my stomach as I continued to pant and whimper. It took every ounce of will power not to break and scream out his name.
I felt the knot burst as I came, a moan escaping my lips. A few more stores and Miguel coated my walls. I felt the heat fill me up to the brim. He hovered over me before pulling his cock out. He watched as our mixed cum began to spill out of me. Miguel pressed his thumb to my hole, keeping in as much as he could.
“Don’t want any of it to go to waste right? Or else we’ll have to do this again”. He was met with silence. Well besides my pants as I stared up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes and drool still lining down my cheek. He stared at my fucked out appearance and admired his work. He went into the bathroom (connected to the guest room) and grabbed a towel. He cleaned us both up before putting on a pair of boxers. He ventured to my room as he grabbed me a pair of panties. He looked over to Gabriella, sleeping soundly. He smiled and kissed her forehead thinking about how good of a mom I would actually be.
Coming back to the guest room he saw me sitting up, cleaning up my face and hair. We smiled at each other as he helped me put the underwear on. He gave me one of his shirts as it would fit like a dress. Although the sheets were slightly stained, that was something he would worry about another time. He debated his options. He could sleep and cuddle with me and run the risk of my dad seeing us or he could send me upstairs to Gabriella. As safe as it sounded he decided to keep me with him, wanting to be with the woman he just talked about having a baby with. It’s the least he could do after he just fucked you like that.
He pulled me close and laid down with me, spooning me from behind. I used his arm as a pillow, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smiled as I closed my eyes, painfully tired after our “little stunt”. He watched me fall asleep before kissing my head and closing his eyes as well.
OKAYYY SO IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A FEW HOURS NOW AND IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART 2 OF LIKE THE AFTERMATH THEN JUST LMK! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED
If I do write a part two should I make the dad find out and have angst or basically keep it hidden until the reader is old enough to live on her own
PART 2 IS UP AND ITS FLUFF - I don’t know how to link it so bear with me please and just find it, it’s “Little Lady to Little Wife”
#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o#hara smut#miguel smut#miguel o hara#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel#smut#x reader#x reader smut#x you smut#x you#dads best friend#breeding k1nk#lemon#astv miguel#spiderman astv#astv fanfic#astv
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Can you talk more about my lesbian experience with loneliness pretty please
ok. It’s dog shit written as the salve of a deranged narcissist’s ego.
I am sick of things being lauded as revolutionary and important just because they’re Real - Real and Honest. honest does not mean good. memoirs are works like any other. they have their biases and a point to make and goals to achieve. I can read into their content and criticize their handling of it and the goals and motivations of the “characters” therein. and, believe it or not, I am not in the business of clapping for wannabe rapists just because they were so far gone they thought that hiring a prostitute was an essential expression of their adult autonomy and independence (and Female Power and Sexuality blah blah blah blah blah)
boo-hoo. poor me. I had anxiety and depression and an eating disorder and I self-harmed and and and I was the most pathetic sad little worm on the planet. I was so sad and so lonely. and now I have put it out there into the world - seeking absolution from an army of people who think that what I did was fine because I put it all on display - and you can’t criticize it because it is so real. if you criticize it, you’re afraid of dark and uncomfortable subject matter. if you criticize it, you just didn’t get it. (on that note, I would say that I got it better than the author. the portrayal of that prostitute really says it all. lol. lmao.)
really, why should I give a shit about the pity party therapy session of a woman who used her own pain as a justification for exploiting another human being, who contributed to the sex industry, whose only fear was of disappointing her parents and only shame was the fact that she was too inhibited to really enjoy the experience? why should I support and uphold the work of a person who did that and then profited off of it? why should I appreciate the cultural contributions of someone whose perspective on Lesbianism is a purely self-indulgent affirmation of what people already imagine to be true: that we’re mentally unstable, dysfunctional sex perverts?
I wouldn’t clap for Jimmy Swaggart, either.
I am not going to say that I hope she dies but I’m ending the sentence there.
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Hi there! Can i request platonic hcs of Poppy x best friend reader. So lets say Poppy finally joined Naranja/Uva academy and was sadly proven true where many kids were intimadated by her status as an Elite Four, causing her to be isolated by the other kids. But after a few days since she joined the school, a new kid from another region came. The new kid had become the most talked subject around school which cause Poppy to get curious herself. So then she met the reader and quickly become fast friends with them as they didnt know of her Elite Four status
Idk if you notice but i kinda frame this up to be similar to Nemona’s and the Protag’s friendship, so can i also have the rest of the elite four + Nemona and Geeta reacting to Poppy now having a best friend?
(Btw the reader is from Alola and you can choose whatever pokemon you want them to have as their partner as long their from Alola)
Hope you have a good day/night!
- 🪷 Anon
Thank you! Hope you have a good day/night too!
For a split second I thought this was about Poppy Playtime until I read the academy names lmao
........
For a while, Poppy wanted to pursue her studies at Naranja/Uva Academy, seeing as she was at the age where she could attend school.
But her worries about being seen as "different" held her back, although her fellow Elite Four members convinced her and she finally made the choice to enroll.
As she feared, however, students and staff instantly recognized her and were shocked.
They kept wondering if she was here for some inspection, never fully believing she was just trying to be a normal student and forget about her E4 responsibilities.
Unfortunately everywhere she went, kids were intimidated by her status, not wanting to be paired-up with her in battle studies (to the point where Ms. Dendra made them, lest she lowered their grades).
Honestly it made Poppy feel sad, knowing she's getting special treatment from teachers AND frightened looks from kids her age.
She just wanted to make friends, but these past few days have made her feel lonelier than ever...
Or at least, until she overhears chatter about you, the newest exchange student from Alola.
She only picked up a few things, among them being your unique Pokémon nobody has ever seen before...and this gets her curious little mind wondering who you are.
Turns out, you're in most of her classes and always willing to become her partner for assignments!
You didn't know she was an E4 member (heck, you didn't even know Hassel was either), so you struck up a friendship with her rather quickly.
The "unique Pokémon" in question is a very tame Kartana, who looked like an origami project you made in art class--but was really a grass/steel type, which absolutely thrilled Poppy.
If a steel type is your partner, you're automatically upgraded to best friend.
Every now and then, you and her would have battles in and outside the academy (although ofc she holds back a LOT as she's afraid you'll be scared off if you knew her status).
You do wonder why your classmates keep ostracizing her. She was a sweet kid.
When one teen mentions her status, you find that hard to believe and tell them to stop joking around......until you see the look on Poppy's face, meaning they aren't.
You stop her after class, asking if the rumors were true, and she starts crying despite her best efforts to hold back the tears.
"Woah hey! What's wrong?"
"What's wrong??? I-I...I kept such a..a-a big secret from you!! That's what's wrong!!" She sniffles, afraid she's going to lose your friendship over this.
Why did that meanie have to go and do that?
Long story short, your Kartana finds and drags that kid back to you and Poppy, and you make them apologize to her. They definitely learned their lesson after the UB threateningly sharpens its blades while you're scolding them.
That day, Poppy discovers you are a true best friend who doesn't treat her any differently and gives you tons of exp candies as a token of her gratitude.
She becomes more confident in herself, excitedly telling the other Pokémon League members and Nemona (who recently battled her during class) about her new bff.
Hassel, who has seen your friendship grow from the start, is like a proud grandad (and totally didn't sob over it).
Larry appears indifferent, but he does smile a little, glad to hear she's adjusting to the Academy life well.
Rika and Geeta, who were the ones that pushed her to pursue school, couldn't be prouder to see Poppy doing better and finding a great friend such as yourself who didn't judge her.
They had their initial concerns, but realized she was going to be okay after all.
Nemona can 100% relate when she learns how other kids were scared of Poppy bc of her battling skills, and she's thrilled she found a friend who wasn't like that and enjoyed battling her even after learning the truth.
#clanask#lotus anon#pokemon x reader#pokemon sv x reader#pokemon scarlet x reader#pokemon violet x reader#platonic#pokemon poppy#kartana#headcanons
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warnings: angst, i think reader is gender neutral, idk, but i was envisioning a female, I kinda just rambled about stuff in a way lmao. I'm not editing it so this is as good as this will get. I'm usually good at writing when I'm motivated
🌕 You had known Eddie for who knows how long. You had liked him for even longer. It felt like it, at least. You never kept track, time always either slowed down or sped up with Eddie. The two of you were best friends. You were close. Closest. Until Chrissy came around, that is.
🌕 Now, it seemed like she was his best friend. It was all about her. And you hated it. It was supposed to be you by Eddie's side. It was practically tradition, it had always been like that. Since you two had known each other. And now it wasn't.
🌔 You could have stuck around the two of them, third-wheeling. That was humiliating. But perhaps it would've been less humiliating than people asking you why you and Eddie aren't hanging out anymore, why don't you sit with Eddie at lunch like you used to, and all the same questions over and over again.. It would have been less humiliating than watching Eddie and Chrissy side by side, all the time, just like you and he once were.
🌓 She took your place at the table. You felt like a ghost. Just gone, like that. Of course Eddie tried talking to you, but you just brushed him off, too pissed at him. You were angry, upset, and so many other things. You had a part to blame in him leaving you alone and you hated it; you told him to leave you alone and he obeyed. He was supposed to do the opposite.
🌒 Months from the designated time of your replacement, you found out that Eddie and Chrissy started dating. Why wouldn't he want her? She was practically perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes, truly a sweet girl. Now they were close. Like how you and him were. It just hurt.
🌒 By now, you were practically invisible. Eddie stopped glancing at you occasionally, but the other members of the Hellfire Club were still rather worried. They still acted like they could see you. But you knew their vision was faltering. You can't see a spirit if they choose not to reveal themselves. Even if secretly they were dying to, just too stubborn to do it. If they would stop looking for you, you would stop revealing yourself.
🌑 You were now invisible. Nobody glanced in your direction. It was as though you didn't exist. Like those dreams where nobody else can see you but yourself. You could do anything you wanted, nobody would pay any mind to it.
You thought you were lonely before. Now you know what it's really like. Spirits are truly lonely things. They have nobody. And they must "live" that truly lonely life forevermore. Death has no comfort. Just cold, cruel loneliness.
At least you got Eddie's full attention when word got out that you'd be out in a wooden box six feet under. That's all you wanted.
At least you got his attention one last time.
#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie x reader#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x gender neutral reader#eddie munson angst
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𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎 - 𝐍.𝐖.
older!nancy wheeler x babysitter!fem!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: babysitting for nancy wheeler means getting fucked by her as a reward.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5261
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content! (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!!), idk if that needs a warning but reader gets insecure for a second, mention of oral sex, fingering, finger sucking, praise kink, dirty talk, mommy kink, strap-ons, not proofread (very rushed ending because i just wanted to finish it lmao)
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: happy (belated) mother's day to our favorite milf! 💋
her eyes aren't just blue. they also hold a spark of grey in the inner part of their pupils.
this was the first thing you noticed when she let you inside through her apartment door.
she works a lot, needs someone to look after her child occasionally, she'd explained to you with a tight-lipped smile.
her lips had been a light shade of pink, matching the blush she must've applied before -because, truth be told, there is no way her cheeks are such a sweet pink naturally.
somehow you had been a lot less nervous than you had expected that day. you were applying for a job, this should be a lot more stressful, shouldn't it?
you should be rocking back and forth or biting your lower lip -a nervous habit you picked up on somewhen through highschool.
yet her presence had eased your normally anxious way of being.
perhaps it had been her sweet scent that lingered all over her apartment, or the way she held your hand just a little bit longer than she should've when you first greeted her.
or it might have been that little bit of grey in her ocean-blue eyes.
you can see it right now too, though it is much harder to recognize when her eyes are tired and her eyelids are fighting with all of their strength to remain open.
it's hard to believe that months have passed since the first time you met her. when there seemed to be nothing of greater importance than the color of her eyes.
looking back at all these weeks, you can't remember when or how things changed.
was it when you noticed her loneliness? when you left the apartment only for the thought of her following you for hours? when you realized that, even though she was probably in need of somebody, no one ever came?
for some reason, your pity turned into a strange longing.
perhaps because you were well aware that you could be that somebody.
perhaps because you wanted that more than anything.
and yet, none of it explains how things have gotten this far...
you promised each other that it didn't mean anything after it had first happened. an accident. something that would never happen again.
sweet little lies, told in the shameful rush of getting dressed again after you had spent hours in her bed.
that was the first mistake you made. but it was nothing but that, a simple mistake.
"we can not do this again" nancy had said, back turned to you. "she likes you...i like you. we can't- i can't afford ruining this"
of course you knew that already, of course you knew you shouldn't do this again. so you crawled over to her on the bed, a hand to her back to rub her skin to offer some sense of comfort.
nothing but an innocent touch.
one second it was that and the next it was nancy underneath you. it was her moaning your name right into your ear. you holding her while you made love to her slowly until she came around your fingers with that beautiful arch of her back.
it was nancy coming, again and again and again.
nothing stayed the same after that.
your eyes would always somehow find the other pair and you would always tell each other that this was the last time until eventually you just...stopped.
maybe she'd grown tired of the lies too and you weren't the only one who couldn't stand to hear it anymore. maybe she was just repeating them in her head, too scared to say them out loud.
either way, it was like a weight had been lifted from both of your bodies.
somehow there was no shame in the way you touched once you stopped apologizing for it.
her lips on yours became something that felt almost natural to you, like it had always been meant to be.
she gained some confidence in the way she touched you too. suddenly you found yourself on your back a lot more often, her kisses heated and wanting as she runs her mouth all over her body.
because, god, nancy herself has never known this kind of want before.
she didn't even think it was possible to feel this attracted to another.
that's until, well, you.
until she learned how to love you, how to make you moan and cry in pleasure.
after all those months, there is almost a routine in the way you do it.
you're nothing but the babysitter whenever you come around. never look at her for too long, no touching, not a word about any feelings around the baby.
not until you're behind shut doors.
it's like this all the time by now.
you're holding her daughter with one arm, the child propped on your hip while you finish cleaning the tabletop, crumbles of your own dinner, and bits of the baby food still left on the surface.
you look up to find nancy in the doorway and the baby squeals in your arms.
she resembles her mother perfectly; the same brown curls, and the exact same nose. only the eyes are different.
you've often wondered what her father might look like. he must've had brown eyes, that much you know by looking at the little one's face.
"oh look who's home" you smile at the child and take her hand in yours to wave at nancy.
"say 'hi mommy'"
nancy smiles, genuine adoration at the way she watches you, and steps into the room.
"god you're a lifesaver," she tells you. "it's past your time isn't it?"
it's long past your working hours. but you don't tell her that.
you also don't tell her how she is probably overworking herself and how this can't possibly be good for her. you conceal it with a welcoming smile.
you've gotten used to the fact that this happens, that she sometimes gets home later than she has said.
and you always try not to mention it, especially not when her daughter is around.
because if you don't take proper care of her, who will then?
"it's fine, i love spending time with this one" you let her take the baby from your arms and watch as she kisses her daughter's cheek.
you know she's about to fall into a rabbit hole of telling you how this really isn't necessary and how you should get home so instead you take her daughter back in your arms once she has peppered her little face with kisses. she's all ready for bed, you took care of that before nancy has gotten home, and her tiny yawn only proves that it's about time someone takes her to bed.
"don't worry" you quickly speak. "you look like you could use a bath. i'll take care of it, okay?"
"y/n-" she sounds like she is about to protest, but then drops her arms weakly. "i really do need a bath..."
you chuckle sweetly and let her say goodnight to her daughter before carrying her to bed.
⋆
it doesn't take long until she is peacefully curled up in her bed, snoring quietly to the even rhythm of her breathing.
then, and only then, you sneak out of her bedroom, and down the hallway to where nancy's room is. to say goodbye, is what you tell yourself.
this is how most of your days end. in the room of a woman who you technically work for.
you're taken aback by the sight in front of you when you enter the large bedroom.
nancy wheeler is laying on her side, one hand resting on her hip while the other holds a glass of champagne.
she has changed out of her work attire, switching it for a light pink set of lingerie that you've never seen on her.
it's not like there is much to see, anyway. it's a tiny thing, see-through and barely holding anything with its thin, lacy material.
might not be the best for support but, god, she looks good in it.
her hand rests just over her hipbone and, with the way the light of the room reflects on her skin, she looks almost angelic; skin pale and dark brown curls framing her face in all the right ways.
your jaw instantly drops and for a couple of seconds, you're frozen in place just staring at the woman in front of you.
your eyes wander over her body, taking in the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, her slim, long legs, crossing slightly just above the ankles.
nancy sees the way your chest is rising and falling, long before you even notice yourself.
she laughs softly before she turns to put the glass of champagne onto the bedside table, giving you a great view of her backside too.
you watch her with hungry eyes and lick your lips. this isn't what you had expected, not the kind of turn you thought this evening would take, but oh well. who are you to complain?
she crawls toward the edge of her bed on all fours and her voice is silky when she finally speaks.
"were you planning on leaving yet?" she nods her chin in the direction of the jacket you have thrown on on your way to her room.
"i- uhm- no, not anymore-“
"not anymore huh?" nancy swings her legs over the edge of the bed and steps closer to you slowly.
"no" you shake your head and gulp audibly. she hums in response. her blown pupils are a lot more visible now that she is stepping into your space with a sway of her hips.
soon enough, her delicate fingers meet your shoulder while she tiptoes around you.
you watch her from the corner of your eye, most of your focus on the weight of her hand on your shoulder.
"i missed you today, you know?" nancy mumbles absentmindedly. "couldn't stop thinking of that pretty body of yours..."
she pushes the jacket off of you as she speaks and you let it drop down to the floor.
her sweet perfume lingers all around you and you inhale deeply, taking all of her in. floral scent -your favorite- mixing with something that is entirely her own.
"y-yeah...?" you breathe, voice hitching in your throat.
"hmh" her hands roam your sides from behind, her fingers hiking up the top you're wearing while her other palm presses against the side of your neck to tilt your head aside.
her lips brush over your skin, hot puffs tickling against it.
"can i touch you...?"
the quiet "please" falls from your lips in a much more desperate manner than you had intended but you're rewarded by hot kisses against the side of your neck that quickly help you forget.
your heart is beating fast in your chest, the sensual kissing reaching new heights as her lips find the structure of your jaw and bite down on your skin.
you hiss out in pain but it quickly changing into a groan of pleasure when she runs her tongue over the pulsing mark it has left.
eventually, she steps around you, your eyes meeting when she gets up on her tiptoes, arms dangling from the back of your neck loosely.
her lips glisten in the light. they're puffy too, from how she has kissed you.
"kiss me" you whisper and it's all it takes.
nancy leans in slowly, so slowly that you catch a glimpse of her biting on her lower lip in the excitement of hearing that you want her too.
but then her mouth is on yours and nothing else matters.
she cups your face with her fingers while her lips move against yours.
they're soft and have a hint of champagne on them.
you really can not help yourself but melt against her touch, allowing her to kiss you however she wants to.
she takes her time today. it's nothing like the desperate times when you end up pressed up against the door while she makes you cum at a fast pace. the times when her kisses are uncoordinated and wild. when her lips are whispering dirty things to you.
you moan into her mouth the second she parts her lips, your hands reaching for her hair, for anything to hold onto so that you don't lose yourself in the taste of her.
she hums, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your top as she steps backward.
you're chasing her, never letting her step too far from you.
you reach down yourself, helping her get you out of the layer of clothing that is separating you from her.
nancy has reached the bed, kneeling on it without ever allowing too much space between both of your bodies.
once you have gotten rid of the shirt, you follow her, knees on the soft mattress and expensive sheets.
she pulls back then, to look up at you. she looks beautiful like this.
nancy always looks beautiful, but never like this: eyes full of want, of need.
"nancy-" you manage.
the woman in front of you bites her lip and sighs. "let me have you..."
her voice is hoarse, hungry for you.
you nod your head erratically, "yes".
her gaze wanders down your body, your legs still in a pair of wide pants.
too much clothing, nancy decides, and unzips them with a well-coordinated flick of the buttons and zipper.
you take them off quickly before turning back around to find that she's already staring at you.
to be fair, you don't really understand what a woman like nancy wheeler sees in you.
only the way you must look next to her right now has you wondering again; in a mismatched pair of light underwear that's got nothing on nancy's fancy set of lingerie.
she can tell something must be wrong, taking your face in her hands by placing her palm to your throat and grabbing your jaw between your index and your thumb.
"what is it, pretty girl?"
blush creeps up your chest and you look down at your own body. nancy's eyes dart after yours and a warm smile lights up her face.
"you're beautiful" she finally speaks, as if she's been reading your mind. "so beautiful"
she sits up on her knees and moves closer to you, one hand flat against your back when she starts kissing down your torso.
she's mumbling sweet nothings against your chest and you hold her there, a hand to the back of her head, silently begging her not to stop.
skilled fingers make quick work of your bra and she throws it over her shoulders carelessly, finally touching you closer to the way you need her.
nancy kisses further down until her lips latch around your nipple.
you gasp and she chuckles. she gets the message though, sucking harder as a first, actual moan falls from your lips.
you're already rolling your hips desperately, in search of anything from her.
"what is it?" she mumbles, staring up at you with her chin against your chest.
"touch me" you simply breathe, too much brain capacity taken by nancy to form a proper sentence.
if there is one thing that has surprised you about her, then it's the way she gets pleasure from getting you off.
of course, she loves to have your head between her thighs too, loves to come around your fingers or lips.
but she uses every possible opportunity to get you beneath her.
"will you let me touch you?" she mumbles. "will you let me take care of you?"
your eyes flutter and you nod, over and over again until you feel her finger run down your body.
her index trails a line down your middle, following the valley between your breasts, down beneath your belly button, where it pushes below the waistline of your panties.
you reach out immediately, arms wrapping around her body, and your back arches forward as her hand finally gets to where you need her the most.
she moves her arm further down until her palm is cupping your mound.
nancy watches you carefully, takes in your reaction to the first time she dips her fingers down to your entrance.
her facial expression matches your own, mouth agape and eyes fluttering when she feels your arousal pooling.
you resist the urge of pressing your thighs together, allowing her to coat her fingers in your wetness.
with a shaky whisper of "fuck, god, nancy" she starts flicking your clit slowly.
she draws clockwise circles around it, exploring the arousal between your thighs every now and then while your nails dig into the skin of her shoulder blades.
you nearly choke on your own breath when she leans close again, pulling you into somewhat of a hug, except that her fingers are working wonders on your throbbing cunt.
your jaw drops and your eyes roll back in your head when she slowly inserts two of her fingers, stretching you out around her in a way that feels a little too good.
even your head drops back at the first thrust of her fingers.
you're canting your hips, rutting against her, a plead for her to finally go faster, fuck you in the ways from which she knows that they will make you cum.
your head nuzzles her neck, all ten of your fingers scratching down her back to keep her close and to let her know how good this feels.
"you like that, yeah?" she whispers.
you bite your lip and nod, "so much nancy, please"
"yeah?" her tone is a kind of mocking that was your walls fluttering, sucking in her delicate digits.
"p-please"
nancy looks into your eyes when she picks up the pace of her fingers, curling them against that spongy spot inside you that has your knees nearly giving out underneath you.
it's heavenly but both of you know that this is not enough yet.
the whimper that falls from your lips when she removes her fingers from you is almost embarrassing but you know she likes it by the way she smirks at you.
"shhh" she takes your chin in her hand again, tilting your head so that you're looking right at her. "you're such a greedy thing aren't you?"
"hmh" you aren't even paying attention to what she's saying. "please, i need you nancy"
"you sound so sweet when you beg me to fuck you" the woman with the power to ruin you chuckles. "i wanna hear more of it"
you reach for her and kiss her, sucking her bottom lip into your mouth in a silent plead.
"don't worry, you'll have me" nancy mumbles. she leans back to look at you; at your messy hair and desperate eyes, knowing damn well that no one else could get you to such a state.
she licks her fingers right in front of your face, moaning at the taste suggestively.
your heart skips a beat and you watch her hungrily while she sucks her digits into her mouth.
"god you taste so good"
the second they leave her mouth, you lean back in. chasing your own taste by letting her tongue glide past your own lips.
eventually, she releases your mouth with a wet pop noise.
"i got something," nancy says. "and i really want to use it on you, if that's okay?"
the idea of what she might've gotten creeps its way into your mind slowly, causing your head to spin. because if your assumption is right, then you want nothing more than just that.
you confirm it by nodding your head. you can't even manage a proper response.
she tells you to wait and you gladly do if that means getting to watch her body move in the set of lingerie, clinging to her skin in all the right ways.
"god you're gorgeous" you groan while she gets on her knees next to the bed, fumbling something out of a drawer of her bedside table.
nancy smiles to herself and eyes you from where she's sitting.
"i got it just for you..." she mumbles. "i knew you would like it on me...same occasion that i got this-"
she finally gets up, revealing the mysterious object in question.
your mouth waters when you recognize what she's holding and your center throbs at the thought of her taking you like that.
"holy shit..."
you drop down onto the mattress as you watch her hand wrapped around the shaft while she's securing the harness to her hips.
you didn't think it was possible for the sight of her body in lingerie could get any better but...oh well.
nancy just chuckles while her hands secure the toy to her body.
"god, i'm gonna fuck you so good-" she whispers absentmindedly, and yet you hear every word, shivers running down your spine at the mere thought of it.
"please" you whimper, your eyes watching her every move when she turns to you again.
"turn around for me, will you?"
you comply immediately, body scrambling over the sheets while you turn and get on all fours.
you put your head down on your crossed arms, arching your ass up in the air.
nancy is out of your sight now, but you feel when her weight moves the mattress behind you, just shortly before she strokes your sides softly.
"so perfect...such a pretty thing..." her fingers trace down your spine until they reach the dip of your waist. they hook under the waistband of your panties and she pulls them down slowly.
"god" she nearly moans, "you're so fucking wet for me"
you nod your head, hips moving back against her on their own accord. at this point, you want nothing more but to get fucked senselessly by her.
"patience"
you gasp when you feel the tip run through your folds slowly, coating it in your arousal.
your eyes are pressed shut the closer it gets to your dripping entrance, silently praying for her to finally push it into you.
"i need you nancy," you whine. "please"
and, just in case that isn't enough for her yet, you add a desperate "mommy" to your begging.
nancy's nails dig into your flesh when she pushes you back against the tip, causing it to sink into your dripping pussy.
"mommy hm?" her chuckle sounds darkly in your ears. "you want mommy to give you her cock yeah-?
"oh my- yes- mommy-" you moan at the delicious feeling of getting stretched out like this.
she stills for a moment, allowing you to get used to the initial first stretch and how it feels to get filled up like this.
but you take it greedily, clenching around the cock the deeper it moves inside you.
"just like that" she praises you. "take me so fucking well...good girl"
this alone is enough for you to push your hips all the way back, taking the whole length of the strap all at once.
the gasp that comes from behind you tells you that this must've caught nancy by surprise too, but she doesn't seem to be too bothered by it.
her hand strokes over your back while she stays entirely still.
you can feel your arousal dripping down your thigh. you need her to move, need her to take you until you're screaming.
"what do you want again...?"
you don't need to see her to know there's a wicked grin on her face.
the pull-out comes suddenly, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you wail in agony at the emptiness, ass wiggling after the sensation of getting filled up.
"i wanna hear you...”
"fuck-" you whimper. "please- please put- put it back into me- please- fuck-"
"yeah-? then let me hear you!"
"fuck yeah- god nancy please, i- ah"
she pushes herself back inside, not wasting a single second as she thrusts her hips to meet your ass over and over at a relentless pace.
her grip on your ass hardens, nails digging into the soft flesh to get you closer.
you didn't even think you could make the kind of noises that fall from your lips.
you cry out, your hands tightening to fists in the bedsheets.
"oh- oh my god nancy-"
"yeah- yeah that's it pretty girl" she grunts. "take it so well"
and it is really all you can do; taking it while you're on your stomach for her.
but, god, it's not like you're complaining, no. in fact, she's fucking you better than anyone else ever has.
"you're- fuck- so deep" you babble. "feels s'good-you feel so good when- god- when you're inside me"
"yeah? has anyone else fucked you this good? tell me? does anyone else's cock makes you scream like this?"
you shake your head against her pillows, your eyes pressed shut tightly as you whine.
nancy leans in closer, causing the strap to push into you from a slightly different angle that has it fucking into you in short but deep thrusts.
she takes a fistful of your hair and yanks you back in a way that has you yelping.
"words, princess" nancy whispers, her palm right between your shoulder blades now.
"n-no" you finally murmur. "no- no one- no one has ever fucked me this good before"
"good" she said confidently. "gonna make sure it stays this way hm?"
"yes. god yes."
her strap is pounding against your g-spot in all the right ways to a point where you're struggling to stay up on your elbows.
nancy lingers over you, her breaths coming shorter from the exhaustion of fucking you at such a brutal pace but she doesn't dare stop.
not when this gets you to a point where you can't even form words anymore.
eventually, your arms do give in entirely and your face drops into the soft sheets beneath you.
of course this does not stop nancy from pounding into you further.
"so- fuck- so close-" you mumble, face buried in the pillows.
it catches you by surprise when she suddenly pulls all the way out of you again.
"what are you-" you're about to protest but she cuts you off.
"need to see you" nancy pants. "need to see your pretty face when you cum"
she shifts on the bed and sits down, spinning you around so that you're face to face with her.
she taps her lap.
"come one pretty girl" she breathes, her voice hoarse and dripping with arousal. "ride me until you cum all over me"
you don't even know where you find the strength to straddle her lap but maybe it's just the thought of riding nancy's strap and your building orgasm that makes you do it
she kisses you deeply when you sink onto the plastic cock, a long and lewd cry erupting from your throat when you take it all the way in.
"so pretty" nancy praises while she's brushing sweat-stained hair out of your eyes.
you feel her fingers on your ass, helping you with your movements while you bounce up and down. you do it slowly at first, but quickly pick up your pace to chase your own orgasm.
"fuck please" you whimper. "nancy fuck me already"
and so she does. her hips move upward to meet yours with every thrust. you have both of your hands on her shoulders to somehow steady yourself while she is making you see stars.
she's moving slightly slower than before, enjoying the sinful moans that fall from your lips and trying to make this moment last.
but not slow enough to stop the intense build-up of your orgasm.
you reach down your body and nancy watches it happen, lets you circle your clit to add on to the intense pleasure.
the feeling in your core is swelling further and further.
"fuck nancy-" you moan. "fuck please don't stop-"
her bedroom is filled with the squelching of your cunt around the strap and the breathless moans drawn from your lips.
you're getting closer with every stroke of her and you can tell that she knows.
you can feel your walls clenching around her.
"nancy- holy shit- i'm gonna- you're gonna make me cum nancy"
"i know" she exhales sharply. "cum for me pretty girl. god, please soak my strap and cum for me"
your thankful for her hands on your waist because you would've probably fallen over, that's how much you arch your back against her.
you feel your climax everywhere, each and every nerve of your body on fire when you moan her name in ecstasy.
the hand that you have on your clit can't keep up anymore and you let it drop to your side, but the strap is more than enough for you to ride through your orgasm, coating it with your release like nancy has asked you to.
"fuck, fuck, fuck" you mumble. the sensitivity is slowing becoming too much to handle and you slow down until you come to a halt.
"oh my god" nancy breathes. "that was- god- you look so pretty when you ride me"
you chuckle breathlessly.
"seriously" she murmurs. "you're gorgeous"
you lean down to kiss her but whimper when the strap hits that one particularly sensitive spot, waves of aftershock causing your limbs to shake.
but nancy kisses you through it, hand reaching down to pull herself out of you.
"you did so good" she whispers while withdrawing the strap from you and unbuckling it from her hips.
you drop to the side immediately, the sheets comforting against your damp skin.
nancy joins just a couple of seconds afterwards, throwing the strap aside so that she can nuzzle up against you.
her hand finds yours and she links your fingers together.
"did that feel good, hm?"
you nod your head "hmh"
she wraps a leg over your lower body and holds you close. her arm crosses over your torso, a palm resting against your overheated cheek.
"i'm gonna have to get you out of these" you mumble with your eyes still closed.
"what these-?" she eyes down to her lingerie.
"hmh"
she shifts on the bed and sits up slowly. you don't open your eyes until you hear the noise of a bra getting unclasped.
"god nance you're killing me" you groan at the sight of her stripping out of the top piece.
that's when you know that this was only the beginning...
#nancy wheeler#nancy wheeler x reader#nancy wheeler x female reader#nancy wheeler x fem!reader#nancy wheeler x y/n#nancy wheeler x you#older!nancy wheeler x reader#nancy wheeler fanfic#nancy wheeler imagine#nancy wheeler smut
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Hot take: I like what they did with Izzy
First of, this is all my own opinion and if you think they did Izzy dirty, you do you babez. But please don't come after me for what I think about Izzy and his character arc.
Tbh I don't really know if there could've been a direction for Izzy to go without Ed. Like he said, they were Blackbeard. In season 1 he saw Ed wanting to move on from Blackbeard, so he became desperate enough to give them up to the English so that Stede would be killed and they could stay as Blackbeard. But Ed really loved Stede, so he brought up the Act Of Grace just to save him. Then when he returned alone and became Blackbeard again, Izzy thought he got what he wanted. But it wasn't what he wanted after all.
In season 2, Ed was Blackbeard alone, leaving Izzy to feel isolated and hurt over and over again by something he thought he wanted. But that loneliness and separation from wanting/needing Blackbeard opened him up for the rest of the crew. It allowed him to accept their help and their love. So when that bullet he fired missed, he decided to go help his family instead. With Stede coming back, he allowed himself to finally have even the tiniest of friendship with him because he recognized the love Ed had for Stede. It wasn't mean and twisted like the love he thought he wanted from Blackbeard, but nice. By episode 6 he had enough courage to join the party the crew was having instead of brushing it off, even joining in with his iconic singing and look. He looked at the crew as family now, something he would fight and die for gladly. And eventually, he did.
I think even before they got to the boat, Izzy knew he didn't have much time. As much as the people around him wanted to help, it would only be a waste of time and resources. He apologizes for what he has done in the past even though they have BOTH been terrible to each other. Blackbeard was not healthy for either of the parties involved and both of them have grown to the point that they can see it now. Izzy thought he'd be nothing without Blackbeard, so he fought hard to keep Blackbeard as it was, only to see that without Blackbeard, he was so much more. When he says "I wanna go", I took it as him accepting death rather than just wanting to die in general. Because he crawled from his death bed to help his family, and seeing that his family was safe Ed included (Eddie, NOT Blackbeard). He has grown over the season to embrace Ed, to try and love him like he loved the idea of Blackbeard. So in his final moments, he tells Ed to just be Ed. Even giving us a mirroring scene with that "There he is" line. The difference is that s1 Izzy wanted Ed to become his image Blackbeard. s2 Izzy got to know Ed and just wanted him to be himself. And him dying was like the final nail in Blackbeard's. Ed killed his part of Blackbeard by embracing Edward and following his dream of opening an inn. Izzy killed his part of Blackbeard by learning to be his own being and being a part of something else: the crew, his new family. And though he unfortunately didn't survive to see them thrive, he died knowing his family was safe. With the "brains of the operation" being gone, Blackbeard is truly... dead.
Also, I've seen a couple people say that they didn't like how Izzy was buried on land near the inn. Like,, sure, again you can have your opinions, but you can't exactly bury him in the local cemetery. And if he was just dropped in the sea, it would've felt like just another joke like "welp, that's dealt with". I like to think that having Izzy's grave near the inn allows Ed to go and talk to him but that's just a headcanon lol.
So TLDR: I think they did Izzy's character arc justice by having him learn that his desire of needing to be a part of Blackbeard was not healthy, learning to open himself up to his new family and eventually learning to love Eddie for Ed, not Blackbeard.
Of course it would've been nice to see Izzy thrive in season 3, but his character arc is done (dead and buried lmao). Yes, it was rushed, but I blame HBO max entirely, this show deserved 10 episodes.
#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd spoilers#our flag means death spoilers#our flag means death#our flag means death s2#izzy hands#unpopular opinion#spoilers#some things might be out of my ass but i stand behind every word#well at least most of them lmao#rip bbg
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Some random and canon fun facts about our boy Darkles that we sometimes forget 🖤🖤:
He's an Aries (LMAO I thought he was a Scorpio but this makes sense too).
Our boy is an artist. He can play the violin.
He has a sweet tooth! Anything sweet, he loves it.
He hates onions.
He loves animals and is kind to them.
He loves nature.
He loves the forests and the smell of trees and sap.
He decorated his room with carvings and depictions of forests because of it (as well as the other Grisha bedrooms. Actually the whole freaking Little Palace).
His favorite colors are deep blue, red and everything bright. But most of all the color of sunlight.
More than likely, he chose the kefta colors for the Grisha from his favorite colors (blue, red, purple)
He used to be afraid of the dark as a boy and felt embarrassed for it.🥲
At age 13, he was fluent in Shu and Kerch and could pass as either. His Fjerdan, however, were not very good.
He has many half-siblings. One of them is a mermaid and met her once. Actually he sought after many of his siblings, to meet them and ask them to accompany him (out of his own loneliness😔)
He never met his father. Never even knew his name. He constantly asked his mother about him. He only ever knew that he was a Heartrender.
In canon, he holds Heartrenders (and Corporalki in general) in high esteem. Perhaps because his father was one.
In a solar eclipse his powers wouldn't be affected.
He had many lovers through the centuries.
As a child he never had any friends although he yearned for friendship and connection. His only permanent companion for more than 400+ years was his mother. Let that sink in.
The first time he used the Cut was 13 and did it accidentally. It was when two children his age tried to kill him and take his bones. One of them was a girl he thought a friend.
He's very observant and good with deduction (the Grishaverse equivalent of Sherlock Holmes😭).
#some of these are not even fun🥲#grishaverse#grishaverse trilogy#shadow and bone#the darkling#pro darkling#aleksander morozova#pro aleksander morozova#fun facts#demon in the wood
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What if springtrap x reader but I write it from springtraps POV idk I wanna study him this is rlly similar to another thing I wrote btw if it feels familiar :P idk why but I love writing this exact scene lmao
God, how long has it been? Months? Years? Decades? How was I supposed to know? I haven't spoken to anyone since I was left in here, and I probably never will again. I'm still trying to figure out what to do to pass the time. At first my methods were a little more about escaping, but clawing at the walls and slamming my self against the door was both very painful, and was also not doing anything for me, so I stopped doing those pretty quickly. Then I remembered there were arcade machines in this room! But then I remembered that this is the parts and service room and they were out of order. And very unplayable. But that didn't stop me, I ended up disassembling and putting them back together a few times.
That got boring, too.
Now I'm not really sure what to do. I spend a lot of my time either fidgeting with loose wires or pacing around like some kind of scared animal. After I stopped having the indescribable dread of realizing I was trapped here, it changed to craving something. Anything, really. Whether it was hearing music from outside, seeing a color other than pitch black, feeling anything other than the freezing cold tile floor and my own pain.
I think I mostly craved company, though.
I was never into psychology, but speaking from experience, I'm pretty sure that completely depriving a human of any communication or entertainment for years (decades??) will fuck someone up.
There's some sort of noise around the door. It's happened a few times, usually someone who broke in trying to get into the room before discovering it's boarded up. I don't know who boarded up this room, but I'd like to have a talk with them. Only a little murder included. So I don't get my hopes up too much. They're not going to get in.
So maybe I get a little excited when for the first time, I actually DO hear the door crack open and light pour in.
Holy shit, it's happening.
I can finally get out of here.
I felt nearly manic at the sight. So imagine my thoughts when someone walked in.
I freeze. What do I do?
There is so much I want to say.
Can I even talk?
I don't know anymore.
Who is this?
I try to look at them without moving. Nobody I recognize. That's probably a good thing.
If I move, I might scare them.
On one hand, then I'd be able to leave.
But on the other hand, I need to talk to someone, ANYONE, so bad that I can't let then leave already.
So I stay still while they approach.
They must not be deterred by the sight of me, surprisingly, because they crouch down beside me like I'm not... like this.
"What the hell are you?" They laugh under their breath. Wow, okay. First words spoken to me in this long. I deserve that, though.
I need to talk so bad but how am I supposed to talk to anyone now? I don't even remember how it works, let alone if I physically could. I pray they'll ask a yes-or-no question soon.
They stand back up.
No. No, no, no, not already. They can't leave. I have to risk it.
I try my best to tell them not to go. It comes out as more of a noise you'd make on your deathbed, but it's enough to get them to stop in their tracks.
"No. Nope, I am NOT being your horror movie protagonist who dies first, nope. Not today." They turn to run out the door. This time I'm prepared. Kind of.
"No-" I manage to choke out before realizing how much it hurts to speak, and very pathetically falling against the wall in pain. I have to get the message through, though. "Don't go."
"Hooly shit." The person stares at me in horror. "I have so many questions."
Talking hurts so bad, but nothing hurts worse than my indescribable loneliness, so I'll just have to deal with that later. I have to say something.
"Me too."
#springtrap#fnaf 3#springtrap x reader#self shipping community#fnaf f/o#fnaf#fnaf x reader#william afton x reader#yooo im writing!!#girl talk
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Saw you had writing prompts up and thought I’d send in something that brain conjured up in the early hours of dawn
“What if I want them to kill me? What if I want them to try? What if I want to see them realize that as much as I and others have tried. They…We can’t?’
d’know if this was what you meant by prompts but enjoy a depressed God?
More Than Human
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At his very core, Janus was human.
One might say he was more than human, being a God, but being more than something doesn’t take away from that something, it just adds onto it.
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| Ao3 | Next Part |
Warnings: implied/referenced suicide attempts, touch starvation, depression (with a somewhat positive ending)
Pairings: platonic roceit, though could be perceived as romantic if you so wished.
Word count: 1601
Notes: If I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fic with Mortal!Roman and a god!side I'd have two - (gets killed)
I really needed this lmao so tysm for the prompt! I've been really struggling with writing inspiration recently so this was really great!
It's been so long since I posted something new - it feels so good lmao. I left it fairly open ended so I could write more if anyone wanted it <3 just send an ask!! I'm always down for prompts :)
----
Janus was, first and foremost, a God
To be precise, he was the God of deception, trickery. In some communities he was the Guardian of all Evil, in others he was a representation of temptation, sin, all that was wrong with the world.
At his very core, Janus was human.
One might say he was more than human, being a God, but being more than something doesn’t take away from that something, it just adds onto it.
Janus was still human, deep down, he always would be, no matter how many layers were added - immortality, reality bending powers, worshippers, temples - he couldn’t bury the human parts. Though he tried, he wasn’t indifferent. No matter what he did the harsh words still stung when they tore at him, the hatred many felt towards him sat heavy in his chest, loneliness clawed at him like a starving animal - and he was their prey. As it had been for years.
He had been naive, a thousand years ago, to become a God. But they’d needed someone to shoulder the burden of the world's evils. They needed someone to shield them from the terrors, they needed someone who could face the lies and treachery and not be torn down by them. He had been foolish then, just a boy who was different, a boy who wanted to help.
There was no way out, either. Janus had tried his best, he’d begged the universe, he’d searched. He’d tried to cut himself off from the world but that had only made the lonely, empty feeling in his chest worse, he’d tried to end it all, when he had no options left, but that hadn’t worked either.
You couldn’t kill a God, after all. He wasn’t the only one who tried.
—-
“You’re not going to defend yourself?” Said the knight, dressed in shining silver armour, a red cloak fastened at the shoulder flowing behind him, a confident expression turning to confusion. The challenger stood before him in his temple, shining sword drawn and pointed at Janus’ chest where he sat on his uncomfortable, stone throne.
“No,” He answered simply.
“You’ll just… let me kill you?” He said, faltering, the only movement was his fiery red hair in the wind.
Janus leaned on his elbow and didn’t say anything. The knight lowered his sword just a little.
“Armies will try - if I fail,” The knight said, widening his arms in a gesture, “More people will come, try to kill you, why just allow it?”
“Maybe I want them to kill me,” Janus said softly, not quite looking at the knight, “What if I want you, them, everyone to try? What if I want to see them realise that as much as I and others have tried. They…We can’t?’”
The knight stared at the God before him, eyes widening as he realised, “You… whyever would you want to die?”
Once again, Janus said nothing. The knight sheathed his sword and Janus sighed softly. He supposed today wouldn’t be the day.
With the soft clanking of the knight’s heavy armour, he stepped forward, slowly approaching Janus’ throne as though he was prepared to be attacked. Even if he never went to draw his sword again, Janus could see the fear growing in his eyes with every step as he got closer. Janus didn’t move.
“Why do you want to die, Janus: God of Deceit, guardian of Evil,” the Knight asked, now standing over him. How interesting, Janus thought, that a mortal would have the courage to do such a thing. Many Gods would have felt that something of the sort was an act of disrespect, possibly even choosing to smite down the mortal who dared to do such a thing, Janus found he didn’t have the energy to care. Instead he just smiled softly - at least this made his life just a little more interesting, even if it did nothing to lessen the emptiness in his chest.
He sighed, he’s certain the knight would listen if he turned him away, but Janus had yearned for someone to talk to for hundreds of years. This knight would leave soon anyway and Janus would never see him again, what did it matter.
“Tell me your name,” Janus said, the Knight tilted his head and frowned, “Tell me your name, first, and I’ll answer your question.”
After a long, thoughtful pause, the knight sighed, “My name is Roman - Sir Roman Greenheart.”
“A lovely name,” Janus said softly, Roman smiled tentatively, “Now- your question… Why do I want to die? The answer is that living is painful.”
“Oh…” Roman said softly, “I would have thought a God would have an easy life.”
“Easy and painless are not the same,” Janus says softly, “People try to kill me on a monthly basis, Roman, and that’s barely scratching the surface.”
The pair were silent for a moment, before Roman gestured to the floor by Janus’ feet, “May I sit down?” He asked.
“You may,” Janus said. With permission, Roman folded to sit cross legged by Janus’ feet. He wondered silently why Roman’s attitude had changed so abruptly - minutes ago he’d been prepared to attempt to kill him. He wouldn’t ask though, instead simply ignoring him, resting his elbow on the uncomfortable arm of the throne and resting his chin atop his fist.
Minutes spent in silence later, Roman must have shifted, because Janus felt his shoulder brush against his leg, sending a jolt of warmth through him, strong enough to make his gasp. He hoped Roman wouldn’t notice, but as the knight turned to look at him, he knew he wasn’t so lucky.
“What was that?” Roman asked, frowning up at him - though the look seemed to be one of concern, Janus couldn’t be certain.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Janus said, making a point to look forward instead of down at Roman. Unfortunately that left him unprepared for Roman laying his hand atop Janus’ knee. His whole leg jolted as he flinched away in surprise at the way the touch burned.
“What are you doing to me,” Janus hissed, trying to sound menacing though he was fairly certain his fear and confusion were showing through his facade.
Roman simply frowned, “How… How long has it been since someone touched you?”
For a moment, Janus couldn’t think of an answer because when he thought about it, Janus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched by another person outside of combat. His silence seemed to be enough of an answer for Roman.
“I didn’t know Gods could be touch starved,” Roman said softly. Janus’ frown deepened.
“Will you stop being vague and let me in on whatever odd breakthrough you’re having?” He asked, voice tired but still a little snappish, Roman jumped.
“Oh- um…” he sighed, “I believe you might be touch starved.”
“...Meaning?” Janus asked, frowning down at the knight with a raised eyebrow.
“You’ve gone too long without touch,” Roman said, sighing, “So you aren’t used to it - people need touch to be happy.”
“I am not a person.” Janus pointed out, frowning, he wasn’t even sure why Roman was even still here - now he was telling him he had this strange sickness of some kind? Who did he think he was?
“You don’t have to be a human to be a person,” Roman pointed out, voice irritatingly soft.
Janus narrowed his eyes, “Why are you still here?”
“Why haven’t you told me to leave?” Roman challenged, Janus blinked. People didn’t usually stand up to him - well, not after trying and failing to kill him, anyway. They usually ran in fear after that - that’s how it always went.
Roman held his gaze for a long, quiet moment, before Janus sighed.
“I don’t know,” he said. Eventually, Roman’s expression became one of pity, maybe concern.
“You…” Roman trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, “Do you have anyone to talk to? Other Gods?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Janus said, tone growing icy. Roman frowned, but seemed to understand as he stood up.
“Well - I must get back to my village duties,” He said with a small smile, confusing Janus greatly - though he tried not to show it. Why on earth was he smiling?
“Good,” Janus said sharply, “Leave me be with your prying questions and annoying presence.”
Chuckling, the knight turned away, though the glint in his eyes certainly worried Janus - if only a little, though he tried immediately to get the sight out of his mind, “I will return here in a week's time - for no reason - perhaps I’ll bring some cookies.”
Janus frowned as he watched him leave. Was this mortal trying to tempt him, a God, to return to his own temple, with the promise of cookies? He said nothing as Roman walked away and continued to sit there once the knight was out of sight over the crest of the hill. Janus thought he shouldn’t come back next week - as the mortal was clearly inviting him to - but he wanted to. He really wanted to and Janus wasn’t one to deny himself what he wants despite having not wanted much other than death for the last few hundred years.
Despite that, and despite his harshness towards Sir Roman, he still wanted to see the strange mortal again.
So for the first time he actually kept track of the passing days and a week later he returned to that temple. For the first time he appeared before a knight without hoping that it would be the last time he did so.
----
Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)
#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#janus sanders#ts janus#roceit#(platonic or romantic its your choice lol)#roman sanders#ts roman#fanfic#fanfiction#rowans writings
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i watched ep 226 and i have some thoughts about it...
keroro being suspected for something he didn't do is often par for the course, and granted it's both because of his status as an invader and for his tendency to actually cause trouble
[pictured: some examples off the top of my head of - mostly natsumi - assuming the worst from him]
but this episode to me is fascinating because of what else it brings up in relation to it. remember red oni blue oni? keroro's conflict about... on one side, keron, on the other, pekopon... about being seen as both the villain and the hero, so his position isn't threatened, while trying not to lose his friends on both sides. he doesn't actually want to be an invader, but it's tied to a lot of shit like his self esteem and... well, stuff I talked about in the past.
I think at least subconsciously he is afraid that his precarious position may blow up in his face eventually, and that is why he's jealous of everything that threatens it by being similar enough to him/receiving enough praise that he feels he might get replaced by it. he needs his position to be exclusive, because if it isn't, he doesn't have any merits for it ("leaders don't really do anything..." "I coasted along" "what makes me great?"). it feels like this is not just a random insecurity from lack of self esteem or fear from his unstable situation on its own (as an invader/"freeloader", feeling guilty for living in their house and causing them trouble) either, but ALSO projection from the fact that canonically yeah, he IS replaceable - that is a real constant threat for him. the clones? what makes him special?
[funny how many meetings keroro does where he's actually just venting lmao, he's got his priorities all out of whack ... or rather his feelings don't matter if they can't somehow be integrated into a mission?]
[pictured: the aformentioned projection dearimasu]
[keroro processing his feelings alone like he always does. loneliness and being misunderstood r such key parts of his character.]
But I think a similar emotion is true from Fuyuki's side, who's always been a bit lonely and overshadowed, so he'd be afraid of his trust being betrayed... but nevermind that, I like seeing keroro's situation specifically explored, because...
he knows he didn't do anything wrong, but his relationship with fuyuki means more than ego. he's willing to set it aside, and besides... it's easier with the guilt he already feels due to his situation, to apologize, because fuyuki means more to him than being right... his friends mean a lot to keroro, that's why relationship trouble with them so easily throws his emotions off balance. why he has to resort to everything else (denial, acting out, projection of guilt, people-pleasing, hiding how he feels, selfishness, etc), but with fuyuki in particular, I think it feels like the one relationship he hasn't messed up yet. honestly that person who said he's a dororo parallel was SO onto something...
they both love each other, but they're not infallible, so they'll let each other down, they'll misunderstand, they'll let their own feelings and fears and past experiences get in the way. they're not technically on the same side, after all
[the field trip misunderstanding... or you could say, keroro assumed earth is like keron? that they're two sides at war?]
but at the end of the day they still love each other, they are healing for each other and for what it's worth, they saved each other...
but that's the thing to me is that, by merely existing in his life, I think keroro feels like he's being a weight to him. that he's doing something wrong, that it's selfish of him to want to stay. that he has to earn it and yes, that he's not needed (AKA REPLACEABLE...).
trust is something that has to be built in a friendship but... due to keroro's situation... he can never fully prove himself one way or another (it would mean treason...) and in this ep I see the tragedy of that. fuyuki loves him, and generally trusts him, but it's not like keroro hasn't broken his trust in the past or gone too far, it's not like his planet and plans aren't still a danger for them, no matter how he feels about it...
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chaos: 6, 13, 25!
This was unexpectedly trickier than I thought because I don't think I hang out enough in fandom, but thank you for the asks!
6. Which ship fans are most annoying
I truly don’t have a good answer to this, so I'll commit violence against myself and say the Dean/Emily shippers. Because honestly, I dislike a lot of the fanfic I see written about their “what ifs”—the way so much of it is OOC, or falls short of the tough work LMM was doing in showing their relationship and its toll on Emily, or seems to exist for mere titillation. They were my emotional support ship during my angsty teen years and so—recalling that long expose of my relationship with the books—they are extremely personal to me. They’re mine. Only I Understand them and the particular nuances of both how they could work and why ultimately they didn’t. (This whole response just proved my point lmao).
13. Worst blorbofication
I know I could probably come up with a better answer for this if I wracked my brains further, but honestly the first thing that comes to mind is Mr. Darcy. I feel like this is mostly due to the 2005 movie, where Matthew MacFadyn does go around looking perpetually like a kicked puppy left out in the rain, but (I think I saw this pointed out elsewhere on Tumblr) we sincerely AREN’T supposed to like him or feel sympathy for him throughout the first 3/4 of the book. We are supposed to agree with Lizzie’s estimation of him and come to the revelations about his true and upright character when she does. We shouldn’t ever have the chance to feel sorry for him to the extent that we do in that movie, imo.
25. Worst fandom complaint you’re sick of hearing
Not entirely sure this comes from within the fandom (is there a Bronte fandom? Idk, it’s still a complaint), but it’s “Wuthering Heights isn’t a love story, it’s unhealthy!” A, those two statements are not incompatible. Show me a love story that doesn’t have its moments of unhealthiness, of problematic elements. The definition of an “unhealthy” relationship differs from culture to culture. B, Emily Brontë wasn’t writing a love story, but not in the way critics mean it, either. I always remember a line from the Introduction of the first copy I bought, where the writer—expecting a “bodice ripper”—was surprised at the “asexuality” implicit between Cathy and Heathcliff, despite the very intense physicality that happens in their relationship. So, no, it’s not a love story in a romantic sense, but I’d argue it’s in a Romantic sense—the tension between individuality and understanding, the loneliness, the violence, etc. It has nothing to do with what we think about ordinary romance or sexuality, and I don't know who's exactly responsible for the misrepresentation lol.
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Love, Death + Robots: Jibaro Analysis
The synopsis of the episode (16-17 mins long) revolves around a siren and a deaf soldier. In the very beginning we are introduced to a group of conquistadors. (Spanish colonialists, this is where my belief that the theme is about colonialism and greed instead of just toxic relationships nowadays. I’ve seen people say it’s about toxic relationships and they’re free to hold their own beliefs, but I kindly disagree.) Note at this point that the Siren is watching from the lake, but not attacking anyone. As the conquistadors approach the lake, the deaf Conquistador Jibaro sees a golden scale in the lake. Fascinated he pulls it out of the lake, marveling at the scale. Meanwhile, the other conquistadors have broken away and are being blessed by the Catholic Church. While this can be left up to interpretation, it appears the Catholic Church have hired the conquistadors to rid the lake of the Siren and likely steal the Siren's gold (as the Catholic Church has a rich history of stealing valuable items lmao literally look at all the museums in Britain, 99.9% of artifacts are stolen). Whether the Siren has been indiscriminately attacking people or simply defending herself and the lake, the conquistadors are sent on a death mission. (special note: I don’t want to write the entire summary on my own because it’s around 1:30 a.m. and this isn’t a school paper where I have to cite my sources so I copy pasted info about the episode and then wrote my thoughts) Moving on, upon removing the gold scale, the Siren appears out of hiding, and begins her magical and fatal screaming. The Siren, covered in the gold of her attackers and likely her own prey, uses her bejeweled body to her advantage, dancing in a seductive and disarming manner. The Siren appears to collect the gold of those that she has killed, either out of shame for her own appearance, loneliness, greed, or a mixture of all three. The conquistadors AND the catholic priests and nuns become filled with a crazed lust, even attacking and killing each other in order to reach the siren, driven mad by their own greed and selfishness. The deaf Jibaro, unable to hear the Siren's scream, watches in confusion and horror as the other conquistadors are dragged to their deaths. However, Jibaro seems less concerned with the deaths of the conquistadors and catholic nuns and priests, and instead cannot keep his eyes off the siren before eventually attempting to flee.
The Siren, now realizing that the Jibaro cannot be lured by her screams, becomes fascinated- infatuated even. The Siren has only encountered those filled with greed that she can easily lure to death. Having never encountered a person immune to her screams, she appears to believe Jibaro is different than the other conquistadors. She stalks Jibaro, observing him in his sleep, even smelling him, and ultimately laying down beside him in a human-like act. When the deaf Jibaro wakes up, he is startled by the Siren, but does not appear scared- grabbing her in an attempt to stop her from fleeing from him. When he grabs her several gold scales become embedded in Jibaro's palm. Realizing that the gold scale he picked up earlier in the lake in fact belongs to the Siren and the value of her bejeweled body, Jibaro becomes greedy, and pursues the fleeing Siren.
The Siren, realizing that he is not afraid, attempts to seduce him in the waterfalls and communicate her infatuation. As she is dancing against Jibaro, he quietly pulls a gold scale from her stomach, causing her to bleed and foreshadowing the following events. Distracted by her pursuit of Jibaro, the Siren tries kissing Jibaro, accidentally hurting him in the process with her bejeweled tongue and lips. Jibaro, now fully aware that sex is out of the question prepares to strike; The Siren realizes she has drawn blood, but still fascinated tries to kiss him harder despite the pain it causes Jibaro- it should be noted that when Jibaro pulls away there is blood but seemingly no damage to his tongue or lips, likely due to the Siren's healing properties. Using her intense attempts at seduction to his advantage, Jibaro pushes her back, kissing her a few times softly on the face as a further distraction ploy and then knocking her unconscious.
While the Siren is unconscious, Jibaro violently rips all the gold scaling and jewels from her body, ignoring that its harming the Siren and causing her to bleed out, a nod to the pillaging and raping done by Spanish conquistadors. Just as a rape violates and strips a woman of her self worth (this isn’t to say that a woman has no worth if she’s raped, just that the act itself is extremely brutal both physically and mentally) Jibaro stripped the Siren of her self worth..literally. Once satisified with his spoils, Jibaro pushes the Siren down the waterfall as if she means nothing, no longer of use to Jibaro now that he has gained his gold. The Siren's body drifts back into her lake, and her desecrated flesh bleeds into the lake, causing the lake to become imbued with magical healing properties. Jibaro, still consumed in his greed and trying to haul the gold back to his campsite which he can now claim entirely to himself and not share with the other dead conquistadors, fails to realize that he has backtracked himself to the Siren's lake. He drinks the bloodied water, and finds himself able to suddenly hear, which causes Jibaro to panic and bring himself even closer to the lake.
As Jibaro realizes that the noises are actually sounds that he is hearing, which is shown by him slapping his hand into a puddle of water and listening, screaming, and then ultimately connecting the sound of chirping to birds overhead, the Siren, now regaining consciousness, comes out of the lake and upon looking down realizes that in her naivety, she was violated, stripped down to essentially nothing and robbed of her ornamentation without consent. Realizing that Jibaro is just as greedy as the other conquistadors, and that she has allowed herself to be fooled in her infatuation, the Siren begins screaming in shame, pain, rage, and humiliation. Jibaro, now able to hear, cannot resist the Siren's screams any longer, and is ultimately drowned by the Siren. The Siren was a monster, killing anyone who may attack her or the lake, but Jibaro was greedy, consumed by his own need for financial gain. The siren may have been born a monster, but is largely just following her own nature, defending her own jewels and lake; while the conquistador who was not born a monster became a monster by his own greed. Even then however, the Siren is not without fault, inflicting her own pain on Jibaro with little thought- just as one would see in a toxic relationship.
The siren while initially implied to be the predator, is shown in reality to be the prey- doomed to never receive love or affection and be pursued to the death by those filled with greed, but abusive and harmful herself by her own nature. In the end, Jibaro's greed was his own downfall, but both parties suffered the consequences of the toxic relationship and each other's abuses to each other, just as the forced colonization of the central, south, and latin american communities. The Siren, though stripped and ashamed, gets the last laugh, using Jibaro's own shortcomings to bring him to his demise.
Another note: I don’t know if the soldier’s name is actually Jibaro, the name itself is a Puerto Rican word referring to traditional self sustaining farmers who worked with the land (funny because the soldier is so greedy). Regardless, I’ve seen some people say the soldier is Jibaro while others say it’s the siren. I have no idea who is right so I just wanted to include that here.
I also saw another analysis that the siren is the embodiment of greed itself. Here is the theory verbatim from another person:
“ It is in its nature to lure things to it. It doesn't kill. They kill themselves reaching for it. But it cannot help but lure things to it. That is its nature. It longs for someone to reach for it but not out of greed. The Jibaro is innocent at the start. His deafness is his innocence in this case. It pursues him because it cannot help but to lure. It feels he is one that can reach for it but not out of greed. He grows greedy and strips it of its gold and throws it to bleed out in the river. The river is filled with red. This is his guilt. He cannot out run his guilt. He drinks from his guilt. In imbibing his guilt... He loses his innocence. He gains the ability to hear.
The Siren is heart broken that he has lost his innocence. She cannot go against her nature. And he cannot go against his.”
I think this theory might be valid, especially since she saved the soldier’s horses and didn’t kill any of them since they are innocent creatures. I don’t know why this episode hit me so hard but as a woman and as an immigrant I could relate to the siren and I felt her pain when Jibaro betrayed her and tossed her aside like she was nothing. Overall, I just really enjoyed this episode and I sometimes go a bit manic and overanalyze shit so thanks for bearing with me. Goodnight!
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I mean this in the nicest way possible but it sounds like you have severe body dysmorphia and are a shut in. You’re making yourself feel like shit constantly comparing yourself to others and it’s gonna drive crazy not having basic social interactions with others. It’s easier said than done but either talk to online mutual/friends or befriend a coworker who doesn’t seem insufferable to be around or become a regular at local spots in your town (cafes, comic stores, music stores). It’ll help with the spiraling thoughts that you’re not good enough and the loneliness. Anything sounds better at this point than passively living in your mind all the time. I’m sorry life hasn’t been kind to you lately.
xoxo
I KNOW, NONNIE, YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT AND I APPRECIATE THE MESSAGE A LOT….. It’s just fucking hard because I’ve never been enough for anybody, not in my entire fucking life. I want to feel ‘accepted’ by somebody so bad but it just pushes me further into the trenches, makes me do stupid shit and pairs me up with assholes who enjoy the stink of my desperation and help perpetuate the cycle. I’ve been chasing after metaphorical carrots-on-stick since I was a child. I’m not sure how to exist in any other state but this I guess….
I’m definitely getting out more, which is good….. but like I’ve mentioned before, I can’t really…. connect well with others lmao…. I’m not sure how to fix this problem, I assume I just haven’t met ‘my people’ yet. I get along with my coworkers fine enough, and it’s helped me with my social skills a lot, but I don’t think they really see me, ya know…… I’m still trapped in my little box………. but I think there’s potential for growth, of course I do, or else I would’ve just blown my le freaking brains out already lel.
Maybe I’ll take your advice and start doing cafes more!!! I think even just leaving the house and having ‘me’ time might be good… I’m sort of reluctant to leave the house unless I have someone accompanying me but idk, maybe I should go check out the local pubs and see a ballet show or something. Try to spice up my day and go pretend I’m apart of general society to help me acclimate outside of dah muck 🫡
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So I don't know if this is usually what you enjoy writing, because I'm a sucker for lonely angst, I'm prompting a (very short, as you said) fic (or imagine, maybe just a hc if it's easier?) about how Leon copes with his soul burning loneliness, especially when it's lit up by so many disappointments and failed expectations. He's a sad man, my poor heart, but also fuck the content is SO good, lmao. Sorry Leon, I'm giving you an actoss-the-universes hug though!
We know he drinks like a fish, but what does he actually say to himself?
Anon, have you seen my AO3? That's my favorite thing to write, actually (other than porn lmao).
Decided to set this just before Vendetta, when he first checks into his hotel in the middle of nowhere. I got the sense that, when Chris and Rebecca found him, it wasn't day one of his vacation; he was in the middle of it.
Remember that this was written mostly on my phone while at work, so it's not my best prose ever, but I hope u enjoy all the same.
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It was raining.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Leon -- rain out in the middle of nowhere in Colorado -- so, maybe "surprising" wasn't the best word. Unbelievable, perhaps. Ironic in a way that was either cosmic or poetic -- he could never really remember the differences between either one. It was like something out of a bad movie, where the weather was set up to match the protagonist's mood.
Though, he knew better to think of himself as "the protagonist" anymore. Even within the context of his own life, he was hardly the main character. He hadn't been for years.
The rain reached out towards him in varying intervals -- sometimes as a quiet patter rapping on the glass of his hotel room window. Other times, a silent wind carried it over with more force. Water scattered against the pane almost horizontally, as if trying actively to cut through and break in. Leon pulled up a chair and simply watched it, a half-filled whiskey glass dangling idly from the tips of his fingers all the while.
This wasn't the first time this had happened, actually. It had been raining back then, too -- on the night he'd come as close to dying as he'd ever been.
In fact, if the CIA hadn't had his gun confiscated, he would have died.
Leon's resilience and aptitude for survival was damn near mythical among the ranks of government officials and military officers who had the clearance to know who he actually was. What they didn't know was that all of it could come undone in a matter of seconds; a villain lurked just out of sight, lying in wait as a constant threat. A villain who had almost won that night, if only he'd been armed.
There was truly no greater threat to the legend that was Leon Kennedy than himself.
"Hard to believe it's been seventeen whole years," he said aloud to no one.
He raised the glass to his lips and intended to just to just take a sip -- but he quickly thought better of it, threw his head back, and took the whole glass's worth of liquor like a giant shot.
It was the first drink of many, he already knew.
With a soft clink, he set the now-empty glass on the table beside him and turned his attention back to the window. Pale, cold light from the street lamps outside flickered beneath the oppressive downpour of rain, as though threatening to go out.
It was quiet. Aside from the rain, the world seemed almost dead just beyond these walls. There were no people about on the sidewalks, no cars in the street. The normal sights and sound of a busy city that Leon had become so completely used to in his adult life were now nowhere to be found. If he were of a mind to, it'd be easy to close his eyes and convince himself that he was the only person left alive on earth.
That had been the point, originally -- to get away from the constant movement and noise and chaos that was his life -- to find somewhere where he could be away from people, from expectation. That was what he'd wanted, and it was what he'd found here in this tiny little town.
But now that he was here and he was living it, he wasn't so sure that he wanted it after all.
"Story of my life," he murmured softly to himself -- and then immediately regretted it, loathing the sound of his own voice in this empty room.
It was a bad habit that he couldn't quite remember when he'd developed. No one ever listened to him anyway, so he made it a point to speak when no one could actually hear. In some twisted way, it made him feel less alone -- most times, at least. But not tonight.
Tonight, he didn't want to hear it from himself. He was so tired of himself -- of what he was doing, of the life he was living, of the person he'd become and of the personality that he'd developed.
He reached over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey he'd had set out on the table by the neck, screwing off the top using only his thumb and forefinger. He was careful to place it gently on the tabletop as soon as it sprang free from its rails, and he was just as quick to grab the bottle and refill the glass.
A gust of wind sent a spray of rainwater splashing hard against the window at an upwards angle. It caught Leon's attention only briefly from the corner of his eye, and he flicked his gaze in that direction for only a second before he refocused on what he was doing.
It was a hell of a thing, to be so sick and tired of himself. Tired of the way he thought about things, tired of his own interpretations of people and events, tired of the words he used and the habits he'd developed. He could remember being 20 and wondering at where he'd actually be in ten years, and it looked nothing like where he'd ended up.
At 21, he didn't expect to live long enough to see that ten-year mark hit. He didn't expect to see age 25, even. He didn't particularly want to, either.
But 25 came and went. Then 30. Then 35. And somehow, he was still here, now at 37, and nothing in his life had changed. He may as well have still been 21, if not for the fact that his cynicism had grown alongside his age, and his body had struggled to keep up with both.
Not that he was particularly helping it at all. He'd been doing well for a while -- taking care of himself, staying on top of his fitness, keeping a routine.
But a few dozen friends turned corpses made quick work of that little bit of progress, and now he was holed up in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere at the dead of night, using whiskey to top off (and soon exceed) his recommended caloric intake for the day.
He just didn't see the point anymore. What was the point of keeping himself in peak physical condition, if people were going to die under his watch no matter what shape he was in or how hard he fought? What was the point of trying to get close to anyone if he couldn't even stand to be around himself most days?
It was a question with no good answer, and he hated to think about it, besides. Thinking about it would start a horrible spiral of connecting thoughts regarding the transience of time and the fleeting nature of human existence, culminating in the grim reality of what was waiting for him back home once his too-short vacation was over.
Back when he was 20 and wondering where his life would end up, those were concepts he'd never even thought to consider, much less contemplate in such great detail that he fell out of time and space in the midst of a self-inflicted existential crisis.
Settling back against his seat and slouching down the slightest bit, Leon breathed out a heavy breath through his nose. Outside, he could see the faintest silhouettes of treetops scratching against the night's sky. Shadows danced across the leaves as the cold yellow light from the streetlamps got trapped between the boughs and disappeared into the void behind the bark.
Still, the world outside was quiet. Still, the area remained devoid of human life.
Leon took a sip of his drink and glanced over to the table to his left. He hadn't brought much with him. That was kind of the point. His bike's leather saddlebag sat unopened at the far end of the tabletop, leaving only two things within reach: the whiskey bottle and his gun.
It was on his gun that his attention lingered.
Slowly, absently, he pulled his whiskey glass from his lips and settled the base of it against the top of his right thigh. Somehow, he always ended up here -- in a staredown with his own weapon, acknowledging the grim reality that, one day, he was going to use it. One day, he'd do more than just look at it and feel the weight of inevitability settle down against his chest like a weighted blanket.
One day, it wouldn't even be a conscious thought in his mind; his thoughts would be blank and his body numb, and the act of shooting himself would come almost as second nature -- instinctual, even.
He knew that, because that was how he'd felt that night so, so many years ago. There was no question of "if" or "should." It was "I will" -- followed by the realization "I can't" and all of the horrible ugliness that came with feeling that he was so completely incompetent and worthless that he couldn't even kill himself properly.
The next time "I will" came to him, there'd be no one there to stop him. No one to take his weapon. And he will.
Leon took another sip of his whiskey and turned his attention back to the window. The incandescent lights in his hotel room flickered briefly, but they refused to give out beneath the force of the storm just yet -- though, it was probably just a matter of time.
And when that time came, he would welcome the darkness.
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why YJH orv shouldve been a girl
*Specifically a trans woman, btw. If she was a cis woman that would be a different conversation and there are nuances regarding transness which wouldnt exist in what im talking about otherwise
(This is gonna be a bulleted list bc fuck ordering things in an essay format, also mega orv spoilers so look away if you havent read the novel in its entirety)
it wouldve been a legitimate time save in previous regressions while mastering breaking the sky swordsmanship and that concept is So Funny to me
the transcenders are all gnc af, theres a whole theme surrounding breaking from the norm to reach their true potential, it wouldve fit thematically
if done right, it could emphasize the theme of loneliness thats tied with joonghyuk’s character if none of her other companions are trans; even if they were it wouldnt have mattered since they would have forgotten she was a woman in future regressions anyway
if she tries to repress her identity bc expression of it is deemed unnecessary or meaningless, even more points
would have pushed the narrative foiling with dokja even further since they already have opposing imagery and metaphors, now they would be the opposite gender too
the ‘does dokja and joonghyuk is gay’ joke wouldnt poke fun at the thought of two men being together, but rather at the absurdity of a relationship occurring and still being called such in the first place simply bc of joonghyuk’s gender
bonus points if you emphasize joonghyuk’s canonical lack of interest/attraction to men in light of this, dokja could have joked about that easily
random person: “you two look like lovers lol”
dokja, internally: the bitch is literally a lesbian but Okay-
it would have fit orv’s style of comedy a lot and also remove the slightly homophobic undertones of the original joke too, do you see a downside to this? i dont
she would parallel sookyung (dokja’s mom) even more since joonghyuk essentially “raised” dokja after sookyung could no longer do so
theres already a strong theme about how twsa became dokja’s caretakers in a sense and having joonghyuk be a mother figure instead of a father figure would push the idea of her taking up what should have been sookyung’s duties
besides, the narrative focuses way more on how the lack of a present maternal figure affects dokja over a paternal one so itd be more relevant
also insert joke about joonghyuk being a milf
next, this would parallel sooyoung a lot more, there tends to be this joke amongst creative circles that a creator often projects parts of themselves in their works and that includes characters, both of them being women would make that way more obvious
parallels hayoung bc uh, Trans obviously (sooyoung loves her trans main protagonists lmao)
transfem joonghyuk wouldve made her dynamic/relationship with seolhwa much more interesting since they wouldnt be a typical “het” couple anymore, seolhwa’s character could have been given a little more relevance with the kind of conflicts which could arise from this, the most obvious relating to sexuality
on that note, their ideas of femininity and how they prefer to express it are completely different despite them both being the same gender which could bring up interesting conversations about it (mostly thinking about that scene where seolhwa and joonghyuk go to the auction house prior to gigantomachia and talk about cosmetic skills, this scene couldve been way more fleshed out than it was presented in canon)
if you still want the punisher to exist, this could also fit into that conversation about gender expression and bring up interesting ideas depending on how butch you make joonghyuk
both seolhwa and the punisher would add a lot of complexity to joonghyuk’s whole relationship with self-indulgence and happiness since again, bc of her situation as a regressor she either wouldnt want to open herself up in the interest of practicality or doesnt feel deserving of it when her goal hasnt been accomplished
god are there more points? ill edit this if so but this is already so fucking long-
I actually wrote a whole thing about joonghyuk being uncracked during the events of orv and the comedic potential of it is endless when dokja is the only one who knows, so trust me when i say it does work out very very well (i can link to the stuff in the replies? so far ive got uhhhhh *counts* 54k words of that shit)
Anyways transfem yjh supremacy
#yoo joonghyuk#sauce reads orv#omniscient reader#orv spoilers#transfem yjh#ok to rb btw#though i would append a long post tag as well bc damn#also i wasnt originally gonna post this but then i realized it wouldve been funnier if i did#bc holy hell jhfdhfjkds#transfem yjh au#transfem yoo joo au
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