#it makes sense in my head but for some reason it
Note
could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐
mad at you | l.mk
“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”
💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we
❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.
❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex
❯ words: 4.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.
an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.
The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.
But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.
You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.
So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.
He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.
He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.
The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.
“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”
You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.
“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”
You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”
"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."
Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.
“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”
“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”
“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”
“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”
You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.
“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.
“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”
“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.
Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.
“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”
You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.
“Oh, so you want to break up?”
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”
The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.
Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.
Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.
“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”
“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.
Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.
He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.
After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.
It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.
Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.
As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.
You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.
The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.
However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.
“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.
You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”
Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.
His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.
"I thought you left..."
Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.
“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.
You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.
He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”
His kindness only amplifies your guilt.
"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."
Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."
"No—"
He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."
Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.
"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."
"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"
Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"
His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.
"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."
You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”
You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.
Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.
His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.
Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.
You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.
He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.
“‘s okay,” you whimper.
Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.
He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.
And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.
“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”
You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.
“Mark…”
“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”
You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.
And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.
As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.
You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”
He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.
Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.
The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.
You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.
You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.
Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.
Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.
And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.
You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.
So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...
“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”
You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.
“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”
And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.
And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.
The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.
You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.
You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.
"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.
"I’m sorry," you say softly.
You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."
#🏷frompaige#mark lee smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#kpop smut#nct hard hours#nct oneshot
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[[and then I met you || ch. 19]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.
chapter masterlist
Words: 3.6k
ao3 link
banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen
Frank, admittedly, isn’t as fit as he used to be.
Running through the desert, carrying all his gear, used to be an everyday thing he could do no problem, but now, running through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he finds his breathing to be a bit labored.
Then again, that might be because he’s pissed off. He, Jones, and Red were in the middle of setting up for a night of surveillance, something Red insisted they do, when the costumed idiot took off into the night without a word.
Normally, Red will give them the damn courtesy of letting them know before he disappears to protect his flock, so him just starting to bolt had Frank and Jones scooping up their shit and following.
One thing Frank’s learned while working with Matt Murdock is to trust the bastard when it comes to his senses - when he says they need to clear out, there is usually a damn good reason to start running. But he has always given a reason or a head’s up - taking off like this must mean something is going down.
Jones gave up trying to keep pace a few blocks back, but Frank is determined to find out what the hell is going on. Red has the advantage of not hauling an additional fifty pounds of gear, and he has taken to parkouring over the roofs, so has gotten about a block and a half ahead.
Frank can keep him in his sights, at least. He’s making a bee-line right towards Chelsea and that’s causing a pit to start to grow in the Marine’s stomach. Not many things override Red’s deep seeded commitment to his city and only one of those things resides outside Hell’s Kitchen.
He adjusts his grip on his bag and forces his legs to move faster.
The buildings around him shift from businesses to residential and about two blocks into the change, Frank knows what set the Devil off.
His little girl is in the middle of the sidewalk, crying hysterically as her mother struggles on the ground against some fat fuck in a business suit. Frank only sees the attacker for a brief second before fury incarnate grabs him by his thick neck and slams him into the ground by Mom’s feet. The sound of a skull being cracked rings clear before it's covered by angry roars and the crunch and squelch of someone’s face being pounded in.
By the Grace of all that is Holy, Red’s baby seems to not care her dad is about to kill a guy and scurries to her Mommy now that she is free. Frank kicks his ass into gear to get there before she can be traumatized anymore.
He doesn’t know if the little girl recognizes him or not, but she doesn’t fight it when Frank picks her up. She clings to him desperately, burying her face against his neck and just sobbing. Instincts he forgot he had kick in and Frank bundles Minnie up in his duster, rocking her and trying to soothe her the best he can.
“Hey, hey, sweet girl, it's okay, it's okay. I gotcha. Everything’s gonna be okay, I gotcha.”
Frank cups the back of her head, careful to not tangle his fingers up in her curls and turns her away from her bloody mother. He needs to check on you, to make sure your wounds are something he can handle, and they don’t need to take you to the hospital, but he can’t do that with a crying toddler in his arms.
“He hurt my Mommy!” The baby wails and his heart just about breaks. He wants so badly to join Red in stomping the piece of shit’s head into the pavement for endangering such a precious child, but he knows he can’t. She can’t witness any more than she already has.
As often as Frank takes digs at Murdock for being an altar boy, he can’t let Red’s daughter see him lose control and step over the line he swore to never cross. He’d never forgive himself for causing that trauma for her. So, he hugs the little girl closer, kisses the top of her head, then grunts, “Red!”
Murdock stills mid-punch, his bloody fist raised and ready to continue his punishment. He looks feral - he is snarling, and gore has splashed up onto his face. He is shaking with rage and for a brief moment, Frank can see why he claims to have the Devil in him. Then, just as his little girl cries for her Mom again, control returns to him. Red tilts his head in a way Frank knows he heard something, then he pushes himself up into standing.
Red rips his gloves off, throwing them to the ground, before taking the few steps to clear the gap between him and Frank. He barely starts to rasp out his daughter’s name before she’s turning in Frank’s arms and trying to throw herself to him, sobbing.
“DADDY!”
The noise Red makes is not at all human as he crushes his baby girl to his chest. A new round of loud tears start and Frank knows he has to work quickly before they start attracting attention.
He pulls his duster off and throws it around Red’s shoulders, trying to hide his garish costume. Murdock seems to realize what he’s doing - he curls into it while ducking his horn-head and moving towards the shadows as he comforts his daughter. Frank can’t hear what he’s saying - his voice is low and the crying covers it - but honestly he doesn’t care.
He turns his attention back to your limp body on the ground, dropping down and letting his knowledge of field medicine take over.
Your forehead is bleeding pretty bad, but a quick assessment of the wound tells him it looks worse than it really is. You’ve got a pretty good gash, but it is shallow, and he doesn’t feel any bone breakage under it or swelling. You’ll need a few stitches, and a hell of a lot of ibuprofen, but you won’t need a hospital. You probably passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion from an adrenaline rush.
Still, Frank checks your neck before deciding to move you, just to make sure it's safe.
As he starts to press his fingers along your spine, Jones finally makes her appearance, jogging up to the scene.
“What the fuck?”
Frank barely looks up as he growls out his reply, focusing on his work while formulating a plan in his head, “It’s his kid.”
“Oh shit,” she replies, then after a beat, “Is he dead?”
Frank barely looks over to the beaten man in question - his chest is still rising and falling so that’s good enough for him. “Nah, not yet. Call it in - then meet us up in her apartment.”
He rattles off the address and apartment number as he scoops you up into a fireman’s carry. He’s glad he doesn’t have far to go, because your weight, plus his gear, isn’t doing any favors to his back. As he gets you situated, Jones steps over to the attacker and nudges him in the side with her boot. His face isn’t recognizable as human, but that isn’t what she comments on.
“What is that smell? Did he shit himself?”
“Fuck if I know, just call it in,” Frank grunts as he begins to trudge towards the right building. “Red, let's go!”
He knows he doesn’t have to explain the plan to Murdock - fucker heard him the first time. Red falls in line and by some miracle, his little girl’s crying has tampered down. She’s still crying - Frank would be more concerned if she wasn’t - but she’s tucked herself close to her Dad and seems to be just more upset than actively terrified. Frank’s got no idea what Murdock could have possibly done to soothe her, but he gives him props for doing it so damn fast.
He can hear Jones calling for an ambulance as they enter into your building, and once in the lobby, Frank wastes no time barking another order, “Take off your helmet.”
That earns him a glare, or what counts as a glare from the Devil, and Murdock uses one hand to pull his cowl off and stuffs it between his chest and his daughter before starting for the stairs. Frank is right at his heel and being so close means he can finally hear what Red is repeating to his girl.
“Just listen to her heart, baby, everything’s okay. You know that sound. Just listen to her heart.”
Frank has a good guess what that means - his theory about passing out from exhaustion and pain is probably correct. If your heart isn’t in crazy panic ‘I’m dying’ mode, you should be fine after a good night’s rest.
The only problem they encounter in the climb up to your apartment is your door. They have to do a weird song-and-dance of Frank turning so Red can get into your purse to get keys while also making sure Minnie can’t see your face. He hasn’t gotten the chance to clean you up in any way and he’s not going to let any little girl see her mom like that if he can help it.
Once they are inside the apartment, Frank goes right to the couch to lay you out. As he does, he says over his shoulder, “I’m gonna call Curt.”
Just because you don’t need a hospital doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see a medical professional. Frank knows what he is doing, but he does not trust himself to stitch up your face. Someone with delicate hands needs to do that, and the best person he knows for that is Curt.
Murdock, however, disagrees.
“Call Claire,” he counters firmly.
Frank knows better than to argue - this is Murdock’s family and Frank ain’t got a dog in this fight. So, once you are down, and his gear is dropped, he fishes out his phone to call the feisty nurse. As he does, Red starts back towards what Frank assumes is the bedroom, talking in a sweet tone to his little girl, “It's okay, Frank’s gonna clean Mommy up, then we can go see her. She’s just got a scrape, everything’s okay.”
Frank focuses on his task at hand - as the line rings, he raids the kitchen for washcloths, bowls, and paper towels. He’s on his way back to the couch when Claire finally answers.
“What did he do this time?”
A little smile forms on his lips at her bluntness - he’s always liked Claire and her no-nonsense attitude.
“Ain’t him. His girl got mugged, hit her head pretty good,” he explains, as he dips a washcloth into the water to start on cleaning you up. The cut on your forehead is still bleeding, but only a little by this point. He’ll have to retrace their steps to wipe away any blood droplets, so they don't leave a trail right to your door.
“So, take her to the ER.”
He hums at the response, then adds the crucial element, “His little girl saw it all.”
The line is silent for a good five seconds before Claire is swearing, “I’m on my way. How bad are we talking?”
He feels a little for the nurse at the moment - she’s always having to deal with Red broken and battered and is probably thinking she’s going to have to do some sort of impromptu surgery. He gives a rundown on your injuries, then adds, “Your stitches are nicer than mine.”
“Exactly what a lady wants to hear. How’s the kid?”
“Physically ok, but probably going to have nightmares for a while,” is his honest reply. There wouldn’t be an attacker left to pick up in an ambulance if Minnie had gotten hurt - he would have made sure of that no matter what Red would have said.
Claire groans in response, “I don’t know anything about child psychology, Frank.”
“No one’s expecting you to.”
The nurse may be a miracle nurse in the eyes of Red’s little vigilante group, but no one in this world is qualified to deal with all their mental problems.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. You’re lucky I’m on this side of town already.”
Claire hangs up on him and Franks stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He’ll need to call Mirco later to set up a camera on your building, something similar to what he’s got for Karen, and arrange for some background checks on the neighbors. The area seems to be working class just trying to get by, but isn’t that just all of the city now? Even if one drunk-off-his-ass guy just made some stupid decision, it put you and the kid in danger and that is a no-go in Frank’s book. As much Red will huff and puff and growl, his family falls under Frank’s sphere of protection and that isn’t something Frank skimps on.
So, a full security upgrade is in your near future.
But that is something he’ll figure out the details for later on. Right now, he puts his full attention in cleaning you up.
The worst of it is the cut on your forehead. He folds a washcloth and sets it on the wound to help the remaining bleeding stop, then moves onto your cheeks. You’ve got some gravel stuck there, but he doesn’t see any glass or metal. There’s some bruising, but he doesn’t think it will be anything to fuss about - it will fade away within a day or so. He’s seen worse coloring on a hickey. The bastard who attacked you didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing, or he was too sloshed out of his mind to be coordinated.
Overall, you are just pretty banged up.
But nonetheless, Frank takes care to make sure it just looks like you are resting, even putting the throw blanket left on the couch over you to hide the grime stains on your clothes.
Red and his creepy bat ears must be listening, because as soon as he goes to dump the bloody cleaning water, he’s coming out of the bedroom with Minnie. She’s still in his arms, clinging to his neck like a koala, but her tears have stopped. She’s still sniffling, though.
Frank hangs back as the little girl is brought to her Mommy and his heart damn near breaks again when she starts talking.
“She’s just sleeping?”
“She’s just sleeping,” Red confirms. He carefully kneels down beside you and makes slow, exaggerated movements as he puts his hand over your heart. “You can feel, too. Just sleeping.”
He watches as the tiny little girl untangles herself from her father and stretches to put her hand next to his. She scrunches up her nose and gets a look Frank has seen a million times on Red.
“Boom. Boom. Boom.”
“Exactly, boom. Boom. boom. The same heart-noises Mommy makes when she sleeps.”
They stay like that for a few seconds before little hands go up to your face and Minnie is examining your cuts.
“He hurt Mommy,” she says so softly that Frank wants to stomp back downstairs and unload his Glock into the asshole. “She has ouchies.” She turns so quickly in Red’s arm that Frank sees him jump just a little - probably still on high alert - and she slaps both her hands on his cheeks, “You have to kissy it better.”
Her voice is so serious and demanding, he’s surprised Red doesn’t instantly comply. Instead, he kisses his little one’s forehead.
“A doctor is going to come and make sure all her ouchies are taken care of. Then we can kiss it better.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her curls bounce as the little girl whips around to address Frank, ordering in the same voice, “You have to kissy it better, too.”
He damn well knows better than to argue with a three year old girl - Lisa could put him in his place like no one's business - so Frank simply nods with a, “Yes, ma’am.” Red doesn't look thrilled at the agreement, but he's not the one who's opinion Frank cares about.
Her brown eyes sus him out, narrowing a fraction before he passes whatever criteria she has and Minnie turns back to her mother and father. “When is she gonna wake up?”
“She'll wake up when she's done resting,” Murdock gently advises. “She needs lots of rest right now.”
Frank knows what question is coming before it is even asked. It is the universal toddler question.
“Why?”
Red, it seems, needs to spend more time with his kid because he looks completely baffled by the question. He repeats the word, which just gets parroted back at him, and Frank can practically hear Lisa and Frankie chanting along with her.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why would you need lots of rest in a way a terrified toddler would get it? There's a slight hint of panic in Red’s sightless eyes as he fights to find an answer and Frank takes pity on him.
He steps forward and asks the little girl, “Have you ever played really hard then needed a nap after?”
Attention swings back to him but this time he is prepared for it. Minnie considers his question, then nods, and Frank gives her a soft, friendly smile. “Same thing, sweetheart. Your Mommy’s body worked really hard and now she needs a nap.”
“She needs a nap,” the baby replies and then, to his amusement, proceeds to stuff her fingers into her mouth and suck on them. He's got no idea what that means, but Red’s shoulders relax a fraction, so he assumes it's a good thing.
He wonders if she's starting to get tired more that the action is over. He can't imagine why they were out in the first place, but he has to guess it was to get something from the store. That is his experience with bringing a baby in their pajamas out at night - there was something needed that couldn't wait until morning. That would also explain the black bag in your purse.
He looks to Red and his girl - Murdock has sat himself on the floor beside the couch, facing you, and Minnie is tucked in his lap, sucking her fingers still. Both of their focus seems to be on you. So, Frank lets curiosity get the better of him and he goes to snoop.
There’s a bottle of Pedialyte nestled inside the bag, and by the tiny bit missing, he has a feeling he knows who it is for. He looks from it, over to the sweet child sitting in Red’s lap, and decides she probably still needs it if her mom went out in the middle of the night for it. So, he turns his snooping to the kitchen and opens and closes cabinets until he finds the one holding sippy cups. All of them have Braille labels on them and he briefly wonders what each says before grabbing one with Big Bird on it. He gives it a good rinse before filling it up halfway with the blue liquid.
He removes his tactical vest before he heads back to the living room. He thinks of it more of a sign for Red than Minnie. The little girl might be scared of the skull art, but he hopes it will help Murdock relax. He’s putting on a good face for his daughter, but Frank can see the tension in his jaw and how on edge and angry he must be, and he can’t be blamed. He knows how emotional Red can get and he’s surprised he’s managing to keep it together - so subtly letting him know ‘there’s no danger here’ and Frank isn’t a threat to his family might just get him to stop grinding his teeth.
He approaches slowly and somewhat loudly, while holding out the sippy cup, “Here you go, sweetie.”
Minnie blinks up at him with those wide brown eyes and he can see the exhaustion starting to creep in - getting a bottle might just knock her out. He has to lean down so she can take it, but as soon as she does, her hand drops from her mouth and politely mumbles, “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”
“What is it?” Murdock questions, nose twitching to try to figure out the smell. Frank doubts he’s familiar with the drink, but soon he’ll have it memorized.
“Blue Pedi-lyte,” the baby grumbles before the spout goes right into her mouth and she starts to nurse it. Almost instantly she starts leaning back against Red’s chest and Frank knows right away she’ll be asleep within minutes.
He checks his phone as he goes to take a seat at the kitchen table. Claire should be here any minute and it's a toss up if Jones comes up or not. He’ll wait until everything is all settled to head out - he does want to make sure you are okay and he’s not going to leave Claire alone with an upset kid and her Dad-devil.
Frank brings up his texts to Karen to start typing out that the op is a bust, when Murdock’s quiet voice interrupts his train of thought.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“Nothing to thank me for, Red. It’s your family. You don’t gotta explain that to me.”
“Still, thank you, Frank. I mean it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Murdock.”
---
a/n: frank has entered the chat and assumed Alpha Dad role. his family now.
tags:
@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife
@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath
@allllium
@anehkael
@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil
@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore
@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt
@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374
@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare
@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars
@
Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets
@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium
@
two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13
@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday
@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face
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The Man 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.
You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?
First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.
You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.
You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?
You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.
You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.
“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”
“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.
“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”
“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”
You look at him, scrunching your face up.
“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”
“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”
“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.
You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?
“Look, about yesterday--”
“I’m talking about today,” he insists.
“Sure, uh...”
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”
“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.
“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”
You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”
He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”
Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.
“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”
“My mom—how--”
He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”
You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.
“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.
He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”
You shake your head and pout.
“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”
His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”
“You can’t... do that.”
“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”
“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.
“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”
You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.
“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the man#the gray man#drabble#series#au#mob au
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blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento
summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.
tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem.
wc: 7.5k
notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.
writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).
disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.
oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?
It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.
Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.
During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.
One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento.
"Are you certain it was him?"
"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."
"And how many students did he…"
"Two students from Kyoto."
Your head instantly felt dizzy.
"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."
"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.
"This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"
Gojo was silent for a few moments.
"Hey…"
"Tell me. I can take it."
After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.
"Yes. It will."
Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.
For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.
"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."
"Of course."
Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.
He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.
There had been a few casualties, though.
Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.
Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.
To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself?
That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.
They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.
Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death.
Help was late to arrive.
They were too late for Haibara.
And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.
The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”
At least
There is a body
To be buried
Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?
In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.
You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.
Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.
In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through.
In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.
His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.
He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.
"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.
"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."
"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.
As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways.
You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.
"Precisely."
"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."
You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.
For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.
His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.
Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.
Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.
You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.
Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.
"Why did you do it?"
Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.
"It was a necessary means to an end."
His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.
You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.
"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"
"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."
"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"
Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.
"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."
You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.
"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"
He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words.
"Don't say his name."
Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.
But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.
This wasn't the case now.
Not entirely, at least.
"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.
"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."
"I'm not a would've been!"
You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely.
You finally understood you were in love with him.
Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.
However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.
That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.
After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.
At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.
Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.
It felt like a promise.
Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.
What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.
What a cruel irony.
"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.
"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.
What a fucking low blow.
"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"
You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.
He diverted his gaze back to the window.
"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?"
Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.
"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"
"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"
Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.
It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.
And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.
The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.
According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.
And you weren't there.
Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure.
The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be.
That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.
Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.
You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.
This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?
We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?
Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.
"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."
He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.
"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."
By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.
"The hell I did!"
You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.
"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."
"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."
You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.
"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!"
Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.
"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."
He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.
"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."
"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.
"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"
"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."
Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.
"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."
In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.
However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.
Your own body held you back from taking his life.
He didn't seem to notice.
Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.
"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.
"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.
"You were never the practical one."
You scoffed.
"Guess I learned something from you."
He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression.
Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.
You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up.
Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.
The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.
You were cornered.
This is it.
You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.
Precise, just as he was.
Deadly, just as he was, too.
You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.
This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.
However, the impact never came.
His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was.
“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.
“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly.
“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”
You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.
“I fucking hate you, Nanami.”
He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.
“I hate you as well.”
For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart.
The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.
"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."
His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.
"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.
"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.
Just fucking kill me already.
His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?
Did he hate you that much?
His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots.
His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.
You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.
When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.
"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.
"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.
He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.
You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.
"What?"
You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.
"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.
His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.
Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.
I should be over her by now, dammit.
Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.
You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.
The way he'd cup your face in his hands.
So delicate, so lovely.
This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.
"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.
He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.
He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.
You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.
"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.
"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.
His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.
You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.
In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.
A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.
You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami.
Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.
This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.
He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.
Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.
His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.
"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."
You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.
"Go fuck yours-"
Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.
He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.
"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.
His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.
He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."
You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.
"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.
"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“
Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.
You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.
With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.
“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words, “what to… ah- do!”
His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.
To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.
Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.
“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.
He couldn't help it.
Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.
He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss.
Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.
In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.
Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.
He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.
Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.
You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.
Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.
You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.
If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.
“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”
You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.
After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.
You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.
For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.
With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.
“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice.
“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.
But it couldn’t.
You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.
And wouldn’t go now, either.
That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.
Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.
“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.
You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.
Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.
His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.
After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.
You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.
You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.
In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.
But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.
He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution.
Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.
You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost.
Good riddance to me, I suppose.
His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.
He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.
“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss.
You could kiss him like this forever.
You actually wanted to, at that moment.
To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you.
Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.
Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.
You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.
Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.
Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.
Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.
Just like you were.
And just like Nanami was.
You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.
“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.
You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.
“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”
For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.
The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.
“Why?”
“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”
He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.
Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.
“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.
“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”
He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.
With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be —, Nanami spoke again.
“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”
For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”
Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.
He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.
You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.
But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.
Not with him, but with the people he had killed.
Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.
It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved.
In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.
The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.
With a decade’s old delay.
“I… just can’t. I can’t.”
Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it.
He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.
He felt pathetically small.
Guess we get what we deserve, after all.
“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.
You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.
“Go to hell.”
He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.
Sad.
“We’re already here.”
At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.
You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.
If only the world had been a little kinder.
But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.
End notes:
I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉
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Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000
@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa
@codenamesongbird
#jjk#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento#jjk fanfic#kento nanami#nanami headcanons#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami x reader#jjk imagines#nanami smut#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#kento smut#kento x y/n#kento x reader#kento x you#jjk kento#jujutsu kaisen nanami#kento nanami angst#nanami x you#nanami angst#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction
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Relax, I know he's big and the phalluses are uh, intimidating but the subject is extremely docile. Who knew aliens would be so–why is he out of containment?
You're frozen. Catatonic.
You remember watching videos of animals in the wild becoming completely unresponsive when approached by predators, how the only thing you could see were their eyes, wide and frantic, and their chests heaving as they seemed to be praying to survive.
Those videos were so funny, right? Well, you're not laughing now...
The lifeform, the alien, the creature you had yet to see, that they'd been easing you into the idea of meeting so that it wouldn't be a colossal shock- Just effortlessly tore down the pressurized, extremely high-tech door to its cell. You didn't even know those doors could come flying off like that.
In seconds, mere stunned moments, the entity you can't even call a monster is staring you down. He's giant, truly, but gaunt like a beanstalk, all flowing limbs and unearthly elegance. You can't count the tentacles that comprise his lower body, you can't focus on the fins of his extremely human arms, the bizarre depressions on his chest area, and the only reason you know him as male is because of the mention of phalluses.
Curiously, he doesn't look hostile.
But he's very much focused on you, and that's not ideal.
It's as if he sensed you through the cell, somehow, and that caught his attention.
A large, water-filled glass dome envelops his head, but you can still very much sense those glazed eyes studying you from top to bottom. Like any human would, he procures eye contact before attempting to communicate.
But unfortunately, he doesn't converse in a language you can gouge.
A myriad of croons envelop the room, these soft tingling sounds that feel just barely within reach of your eardrums. The... Appendage, sprouting from the top of his head sways, an assortment of warm hues gently fading in and out.
Pink. Orange. Pink. Maroon. Pink. Shock pink. White. Pink blinking.
What is this, Simon Says?
He leans down, and trembling, you glance at the intern beside you in a desperate plea for help.
They look utterly fascinated by the interaction. Panicked, but amazed. You have no idea whether or not that's good for you.
Finally, they seem to come to their senses and realize that you are probably seconds away from pissing yourself if nothing is done.
" Okay. Okay- Listen to me. " They start murmuring, an audible gulp follows. Your eyes twitch to the worker, but you don't dare stare at them long enough to lose track of the literal alien.
" Like I said, he's very docile. There's no reason for him to attack you right now. In fact he's... Nevermind. "
What the fuck do they mean nevermind?!
" I need you to not move too suddenly, and don't scream, okay? "
You nod quietly, looking at the still pink-flashing light above their head. He dangles it in front of his face, as close to the glass as he can, as if to make sure you're getting the message. You hope pink signifies friendliness.
" What- What do I do now? " You whisper.
The intern looks at you like they themself aren't quite sure.
" U- Uhm... Let- Let me contact my- "
Out of nowhere, what you can only call a bark of noise rings out through the room.
This extremely loud sound that immediately frightens you, sharp and rough like a branch cracking but amplified a thousand times. Even now, it feels like it's still echoing within your eardrums.
Did he do that? Did something in the building just break?!
You shrieked, because of course you did, eyes nearly bulging out your skull when you realize the employee told you specifically not to scream.
They're looking at you with a tight-lipped grimace, finger poised over what you presume is a contact on their phone.
There isn't even time for you to say your last words, some kind of message for your family or even just a plea for help.
The alien reacts to your agitated noise quickly, but not at all in the way you'd expect. Instead of perhaps lunging to crack your neck like a twig or slashing your face off, the entity grabs you with both arms by the chest, lifts you into the air, and slides inside the cell it was previously contained in. The clutch is what prevented you from screaming again.
Once again, you channel the wisdom of prey animals in nature documentaries by staying absolutely stock still, and allowing the foreign lifeform to do whatever it wants. He keeps flashing colors at you in patterns you don't recognize, but involve a lot of pink tones. Purple now. Long and pudgy looking digits start poking at your outfit here and there, and you spot something rippling under the mass of his front, along that large opening you had never given much thought to until now.
It looks like something's bursting out of him...
Oh God, oh fuck what is that-
You blink, open-mouthed, at what has to be a dick. Some kind of wriggling, prehensile appendage tipped with a much too human-looking phallus. It flattens against your midsection, and you shudder in confusion. Confusion that soon grows into barely contained hysteria as more bizarre and unique extremities keep slithering out of his insides- What is he, made of cocks?
" S- Some help here?! " You finally manage to nearly sob out.
The worker is frantically trying to appease someone on the other end of their phone, picking at their collar while they watch you get vaguely harassed by an excited extraterrestrial.
" No, no sir he's never done that before- I-... No, I didn't- Sir, he tore the whole door off I can't just lock- " Their eyes widen as more hues of purple keep being flashed your way, like something horrendous is about to happen. " Get- Please get here quickly, I'm begging you! "
By the time they hurriedly mash the end call button and try to stuff their phone into a tight uniform, the alien already gently pried most of your shirt off, cooing some kind of melody that fails to lull you into calmness, which is understandable when a variety of reproductive organs are hovering far too close to your bare skin. Some of them are so... Strange. There's no stopping the thoughts of how they might be used.
Footsteps sound, and as soon as the worker tries to get within grabbing range of you, an already ballsy move in your eyes, the subject makes another powerful sound, the depressions in his chest vibrating while you groan in pain.
The filament in the alien's head swells significantly, blasting a color that your brain simply fails to comprehend, seeing it as a flash of pure black that momentarily blinds you before you have the wisdom to look away, trembling in his grasp.
The employee makes some kind of pained noise, you can hear the squeaking of their shoes as they run out the room and...
Leave you to your own devices.
Lord help you.
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159 or 139 for the ficlet please!
(Also, do these numbers correspond or a prompt or are we just winging it here, curious minds would like to know how this lottery is working 🧐)
These numbers correspond to a prompt set which I can post a link to after this is done but I wanted the randomness of it. No offense but you guys always go for the same prompts (which don't get me wrong, make sense for the characters/my writing) but I wanted to stretch some writing muscles!!!! So I anonymized the list :3c
--
Steve groaned when he realized he couldn't ignore the constant pinging of his phone anymore. It had well and truly rung through his half-dozing state. He pushed himself up, popping each vertebrae as he attempted to blink the sleep out of his eyes, then yawned, loud, and scrubbed at his eyes.
He took a glance around his room, then squinted in confusion when he saw his lamp had been knocked off the bedside table, there was a... sock? On the ceiling fan? And the ceiling fan was askew, the edges of the blades scraping the paint off on one side and nearly low enough to clip his hair on the other. He stared at it, mouth hanging open in confusion, especially as it finally registered that it was not a sock hanging from the fan, but a ripped pair of tights.
Steve grabbed his phone, still staring at the tights, as he wondered how, exactly, they'd been ripped right down the middle of the crotch and where, exactly, the other half was. He found it as he rolled onto his back to check his phone, one end tied to the foot board of his bed, the other tied around his ankle. He blinked slowly, then thumbed his phone open, peering at the notifications.
[Bucky]
If you don't respond, I'm calling the cops
Steve blinked again, then sent a simple 'responding' and scrolled up to see what was going on. He came to the conclusion that he'd disappeared halfway through a party. Bucky and Natasha's engagement party, maybe? They were celebrating something, he remembered. The first messages has been teasing, calling him a curmudgeonly old man, then jokes about him getting lucky, then concern as he'd never replied to any of them. He flipped back to Bucky's messages.
[Me]
Yo what happened
My lamp's broken? And my ceiling fan? I'm tied to the bed kinda.
He looked around again just for good measure, then did a double-take at his sheets. He snapped a picture and sent it along as well.
[Me]
Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.
Bucky's response came only a few seconds later.
[Bucky]
Oh my god the stripper??????????????!
I wondered what happened to him!!!!!!
"The stripper?" Steve asked, squinting at the screen in confusion.
The door to his bathroom opened, and a man stepped out, naked as the day he was born. He was beautifully damp. He had a towel wrapped around his hair. Steve understood, suddenly, why half a pair of tights were on the ceiling fan. He immediately wanted to fuck this man so athletically that the other half snapped off his leg and flew onto the ceiling fan too.
"I ordered breakfast," the man said casually, pulling a duffel bag from... somewhere. "It should be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm Tony, by the way," he added, picking a pair of briefs out of the bag.
"You don't have to put those on, Tony," Steve offered, instead of doing the polite thing of offering his name back, or asking if he wanted anything else.
Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Just as charming as last night," he teased, shaking his head.
God, Steve hoped he'd been charming last night. "So... were we introduced last night?" he asked carefully. "And you thought I forgot your name?"
"I was introduced as Bambi last night," Tony said, offering him a smirk. "And you waxed poetic about my big brown eyes until I basically had no choice but to fall into bed with you."
"Bambi," Steve repeated, and then, louder, "Ooooh, Bambi." Suddenly he remembered exactly what had happened last night, up to and including how his room had gotten messed up, and it had started with Tony finally asking, 'Does that make you Faline? Or are you more of a Ronno?' and Steve just picking him up and carrying him toward the door as Tony giggled in his arms.
Well. Food was coming. He'd have time to convince Tony he was more than just a fan of brown eyes. Tony had a cheeky smile. He found those always seemed to get him into trouble in the best way.
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height differences w/ the group
the group x gn!reader (sfw + nsfw)
summary: romantic(and some nsfw) headcanons of being shorter/taller than members of the group.
requested?: no
tags: romantic & sexual hcs, light insecurity mentions, a bit of sub!tgc
MINORS DNI OR GET BLOCKED
isaacwhy
If you're significantly shorter than Isaac (as an average person would be), he loves the fact he towers over you. He will remind you of it all the damn time.
He uses you like a little armrest, coming up behind you and putting his arms on your head or shoulders, using his phone or just talking to the boys while his arms are draped onto you.
Isaac likes to take pictures with you in them, and angle his head out of the photos for obvious reasons. With his height, it's really easy to pull it off. He posts all of them.
In public, don't expect any creeps to approach you. The second he stands behind you, towering over you, nobody dares to come near.
If you're significantly smaller than him, brace yourself. He's really big in all senses of the word, and it's gonna take a while to get used to it.
He loves seeing the pure size difference between you two in the bedroom. The way that in the end, he just has a strength gap with you and can take you so easily. He loves it, but it scares him a little sometimes.
If, by any chance, you're taller than him, you tease his friends with him about being short. Sorry Larry. You become this team of tall people that become house menaces.
You call him "the smallest man to ever live". As a loving joke. He calls you giant in return. Or goliath. Or something of the sort.
Isaac loves his share of dominance, but if you're taller than him, he will give it up. Having that push back from his partner is a lovely change he's never gotten to experience. Make him feel small.
softwilly
If you're shorter than Nick, he loves the fact he's so much bigger than you. He'll wrap his arms around you and coo little endearing phrases until you have to push him off.
Nick loves to make jokes about "my eyes are up here", even if you're still eye level with his head. Especially if you have to look up to talk to him.
Nick also does mirror selfies with you in them, but he always keeps his face in the photos and tries to put his head on top of yours. (He likes to make sure everybody knows you're his.)
If you're smaller than him in general, he will wrap himself around you if he's fucking you. He loves being completely larger than you and having you to manhandle.
If you're taller than Nick, which isn't that crazy, he gets a bit insecure about it at times. He likes his masculinity, and you sometimes gently remind him it's not bad to be shorter than his partner.
Being taller than Nick can piss him off sometimes, ruffling his hair from above him or wrapping your arms around him instead, he'll cuss you out (he secretly loves it).
If you're taller than him, sometimes it's a fight for dominance. He wants that control, and you have the power to take it from him. It's your choice if you want to make him submit.
BigT / Tanner
Tanner, if you're shorter than him, loves being your big teddy bear. He will give you bear hugs, will let you lay your body on him, etc. Absolutely loves the way you look when you use his size for comfort.
He also loves to make you feel big and strong! If you ever get upset over being shorter/smaller than him, he will constantly give you reassurance. Saying, "Ah, I'm really not that tall! Don't worry!"
Tanner really just is sunshine incarnate. Although, if you're the teasing type, he will dish it right back.
Tanner is extremely conscious of a size difference. He knows he might hurt you if he's too fast or rough in bed, so he's constantly checking in to make sure you're okay.
If you're taller than Tanner, he likes it too! He likes being able to collapse himself into you and wrap his arms around you, even if you have to brace yourself a bit. He's been getting bulky at the gym lately, be warned.
He loves it if you will come up to him (in front or behind) and smell his hair or play with it. Press kisses to his forehead. He melts like crazy and goes all soft.
Not being bigger than you gives Tanner confidence in bed. He worries a lot less about being too much, and it creates this amazing connection.
And, for the tops out there, he doesn't mind being smaller and being fucked. He likes being put into submission and fucked by someone bigger than him. Makes him feel all fuzzy and small.
yumi
If you're smaller than Blake, it's pretty common. He's taller than a lot of people. He really likes being taller, being able to kinda wrap his arm around your shoulder while standing next to you comfortably and slightly lean onto you.
Being smaller than Blake gives him a bit of fuel for jokes, though. Sometimes, out of the blue, he'll make a jab at your height and being tiny. But he'll never go so far as to make you feel bad for it.
Blake likes if you slide into his lap when he's at his desk. Being smaller than him, you'd fit conveniently and he likes to hold you like that. Even if it distracts him from editing, and he'll bitch about it to you when you do it.
Blake is super tender in bed. He'll be a bit worried to be on top of you so he doesn't hurt you, but you could convince him into doing it. In which case, he would love the view of you under him.
If you're taller than Blake, he can be a bit feisty about it. It's mostly just jokes, but he'll sometimes complain about being smaller than you when you help him out.
He would love for you to pull him into your arms. It would make him feel so secure to be held by someone bigger than him, as he doesn't get to feel that way much. It would make your hugs even more special than they already are.
He'd be a bit awkward and stilted the first time he fucked you if you were taller than him, but he'd get it figured out pretty quickly.
He secretly does kinda like being smaller. Makes him feel safe and secure, especially if you hold him close while he fucks you. Makes him feel like he'll be okay, like he's not doing anything wrong.
Larry Croft
If you are somehow shorter than Larry, the first thing to say is: congratulations, you've done it! It didn't seem like a possible feat to be notably smaller than Larry, but you've surpassed all expectations! (sorry.)
Larry loves being taller than someone, especially someone he loves so much as to call his partner in life. If there's anybody that loves to rag on him for his height, it's his friends.
Even if you are shorter than him, you can definitely call him short. Pot calling the kettle black here, but you'll get in on the jokes with the other guys. It's only fair, since Larry would do the same to you.
In reality, he's super soft with you when you're alone. He wants you to feel loved and okay, holding you and making sure you're fine after any jokes he or anyone else tosses at you.
He also loves being a bit bigger in bed. It's not a big priority, since it's not very likely to happen, but he'll take what he can get.
If you're taller than him, that's not surprising. However, you can definitely join in on the short jokes without being hypocritical. You make it up to him with lots of kisses anyways.
Although, you always make sure he's okay. Larry's got really tough skin, so he never lets those kinds of jokes get to him. He understands well enough he's short, and that doesn't bother him.
He loves having a partner that's bigger than him. Make him feel loved by picking him up, giving him big hugs, being the big spoon. He's used to it anyways, so he might as well get all the benefits of being smaller in the relationship.
He even loves the size difference in bed. When he's feeling a little more confident, he'll take control and disregard it entirely. He has no shortage of dominance waiting to come out.
But, he likes being small. If it's your style, you can take the reins from him easily and he will happily oblige. You can likely overpower him easily, and he folds. He's not very good at hiding how sensitive he is.
#the group chat#tgc#tgc x reader#larry croft x reader#larry croft#yumi x reader#yumi#bigt x reader#bigt#softwilly x reader#softwilly#isaacwhy x reader#isaacwhy#the group x reader#the group
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daisies - f1 driver x engineer!fem char
warnings: none, angst, nothing f1 related explicitly mentioned but implied, driver can be whoever you want, enjoy! this is my first piece of writing so any feedback is greatly appreciated!!
It was always the flowers. Everything came back to the flowers. Every single moment shared was somehow linked to them.
One daisy.
He had showed up to her place, knocking on the door quietly, but with a sense of urgency that left her wondering who was at the door. It was the weekend, and she was traveling for her job, which she did constantly. Not that she was complaining though. She loved her job, the thrill of knowing she was a part of something so big was an adrenaline rush. It was amazing.
She was on the couch, looking over some data on her computer when four short knocks echoed through the hotel room. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stood up, dusting off some crumbs from the snack she had been indulging in. Opening the door, she was met with him. He was wearing a black hoodie with some grey sweats but the most striking thing in that moment was what was in his hand. A single daisy. His smile widened, the one that many were used to seeing, as he held out the flower to her.
“Hey,” he grinned as she took the flower, spinning it between her fingers to observe it. “Can I come in?”
“I thought I said no date?” she asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t date people I work with. Especially not…”
“Are you really working with me, per se?” he countered, a smug expression on his face. His dimples were visible as she enjoyed the sound of his accent. “C’mon, we just had a win today. Let’s just chill.”
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile formed on her face. Technically it was a podium, but whatever. “Fine,” she conceded. “But this is not a date.” She pointed a finger at him, but he merely pushed it away.
“Agree to disagree,” he shrugged, glancing at her computer. “Data from today?” She nodded, slightly embarrassed for no apparent reason.
“Yeah, just going over some things,” she responded quietly. “Anyways, I have some pasta cooking right now, does that work?”
“Perfect” he beamed. She went to the fridge, about to pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses before he stopped her. “I’ll pass on the wine today, already had enough champagne from the podium.”
“You’re just not going to let it go that you got a podium, are you?” she asked, an amused expression on her face as she went and got two cans of LaCroix. “Does this meet your high standards, podium boy?”
“I believe it does,” he smiled back, and this was a side to him, she realized, that she could get used to. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself.”
A handful of daisies.
On the marble counter was a white vase with some daisies as she walked by. By now, his apartment was a common sight, though she didn’t want to fully commit to living together just yet. She didn’t want to tie herself down, and she relished her independence. But at the same time, she loved spending time with him, her boyfriend. He had asked the question a few months back, during a dinner reminiscent of their first date together, and she had happily agreed.
Since then, it had been a whirlwind of the honeymoon phase. Travelling, dates, smiles, everything was perfect. Now, it was Monday and the two of them flopped onto the couch, jet lag kicking after coming back from a busy weekend.
He laid his head in her lap, her fingers threading through his brown curls. She smiled, humming absentmindedly as she read the book in her hands. “Whatcha reading?” he asked, eyes still closed.
“Just a cute little romance novel,” she responded, still reading. He paused for a moment, not saying anything, making her think he had fallen asleep.
“You know, if my life was a book, you’d be the best part,” he mumbled, sparkling grayish green eyes meeting hers. She felt her heart flutter as she closed her book.
“You stole that from that Daniel Caesar song,” she scoffed, a stupid grin on her face. “I still love you though.” She freezes, having not anticipated saying that. They hadn’t said yet, but she had thought it quite a few times. She studied his face, watching for his reaction.
“I love you too,” he smiled, pulling her down so that they were laying on the couch facing each other. Reaching over to pull her closer, she felt herself relax into his touch and grinned as he pecked a kiss to her cheek. At that moment, she knew he was going to be the one.
Ripped daisy petals.
She slammed her hand down on the counter, fed up. “I keep telling you, why are you so scared of us being public?” she snapped. Glaring at him, she dared for a rebuttal.
“I want to protect us, the media is brutal,” he retorted, stance mirroring her hostile one.
She gave him a pointed look. “That doesn’t mean you have to go out with models all the time!” she shouted, jabbing a finger towards him.
“It’s to keep up my appearance,” he protested. “So they don’t catch on.” She sighed in annoyance.
“Well what if I want them to catch on?” she practically screamed, eyes glaring daggers. “Do you know how hard it is to go on social media and see my boyfriend with a model who’s infinitely prettier than me?”
“This is best for us!” he yelled, frustration laced in his tone. “Don’t you see that?”
She snorted. “Best for who?” she questioned. “Because it seems awfully suspicious that you just so happen to hang out with a lot of models instead of me.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “You think I’m cheating?”
“I don’t know anymore,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just want us to be public but there seems to be something stopping you.”
“If you can’t trust me, I don’t know how this is going to work,” he said.
“Because it won’t,” she responded flatly. “All I’m asking is for one thing that means a lot to me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep putting you first and I can’t even trust you, for God’s sake.” His jaw dropped open, eyes widening at her resolute tone.
“Wait, no,” he pleaded. “We can work this out, this sounds too much like a break up.”
“It is a break up.” With those five words, she watched as his face fell, tears welling up in her own eyes. Struggling to keep her voice even, she pointed at the door. “Just- get out of my apartment.” He hesitated, but after seeing her expression, headed to the door. Giving her a glance, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Only now was when she allowed the tears to flow down her face, sobbing as she sank down against the kitchen counter. Nine months, all wasted. She thought he cared about her; apparently not. Next to her, she saw the shattered vase and daisies strewn on the ground. She had knocked off in her anger. Now, she reached for a flower, a piece of porcelain pricking her finger. She ignored the blood starting to bead up around her finger as she stared at the daisy, heart shattering at all the memories. Anger boiling up again, she grabbed a petal, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground. She kept going until she was surrounded by ripped petals, her heart broken like the vase and bleeding like her finger as tears streamed down her face.
A bouquet of daisies.
It was another weekend of traveling as she stepped out of the elevator. It had been a week or two after her break up, and thanks to her job, she still had to work in proximity with him. Every single time she saw him, all she felt was pain. She thought she was strong enough, but it hurt. Like hell. It was Saturday now, and she only had to go through tomorrow before she wouldn’t have to be around him all the time.
She opened up the door to her hotel room, not expecting the lights to be on as she closed the door behind her. The smell of pasta filled the air, but she was only focused on glaring at the person in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice cold as she scowled at the man in a suit in front of her. “Who let you in here? I’m going to go talk to-”
“Please, hear me out,” he pleaded. When she didn’t respond, he took it as a green light. “I messed up. I was so scared that once we went public, people would start talking and then you’d realize that I don’t deserve you. Or worse, people will come at you. I guess I just wanted to shelter our relationship without a lot of external forces. But I selfishly didn’t listen to you, and I went out with all these models to appease the public.”
She watched him, keeping a neutral face but not glowering at him anymore. “I just was so scared of our relationship changing for the worse with the media factor, and I was scared of losing you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But I still ended up losing you. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you felt like you couldn’t trust me. I miss you so much that it hurts. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t stand not being near you anymore. I’m sorry for acting like a selfish twat. I really hope you can forgive me, and that maybe we could restart.” He held out the bouquet of daisies he’d been fidgeting with, almost like a peace offering.
“We’re not restarting,” she scoffed as she snatched the flowers, making him flinch in shock. Her mouth then curled up into the mischievous smirk he had gotten so used to before settling into something more serious. “You did hurt me, a lot,” she started out. “But I know you had good intentions, and you’re apologizing now.” She stepped closer to him, gazing into his eyes.
“I missed you too,” she whispered before she pressed her lips to his for a kiss. Pulling apart, she watched the ways his eyes lit up as he held her face in his hands, pecking her forehead.
“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmured as she only smiled, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the daisies.
“I don’t plan on leaving.”
#papayadays#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#papaya writes#lando norris#max verstappen#oscar piastri#daniel ricciardo#alex albon#george russell#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 fic#charles leclerc#formula 1#lewis hamilton
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HEY! MINORS ON THE INTERNET! FANDOM BIG SIBLING TALK TIME GATHER ROUND!!
So you know how we, the adults, are constantly telling you to watch what you’re putting in your heads? To be wary of what music you listen to, what shows you watch, what context you engage with?
It’s not about gatekeeping or keeping you from having fun or babying you. We have actual, legit reasons. And it super important. Please please listen.
Coming from someone who started consuming VASTLY age-inappropriate content at the ripe age of 11- you don’t realize how it affects you. I would’ve always been aroace, but I might not have been a ✨traumatized✨ aroace who despises a lot of the shit in my head.
Yeah, some people will only be slightly impacted. Some might not notice the impact at all. But for some of us it will deeply affect our psyches in ways that will negatively impact us for the rest of our lives.
I have really really gross things up in my brain now that is going to take years to get out if I ever can. Thought patterns and daydreams that make my skin crawl. And it’s 100% from the content I consumed at a young age.
Your young mind is absorbing information like a sponge and storing it away- that’s why you learn things faster than an adult. Your brain is developing and snatching up everything it can to make sense of the world and putting nsfw content in there is going to leave a trace. It’s going to affect your outlook, your behavior, your thought patterns, even if you don’t notice it.
So please for the love of everything- listen when we tell you to be careful. Pay attention to what you’re putting in your brain. Indulge your hobbies, learn all the new skills, have all the cool experiences, try all the different things. But protect yourself first and foremost. <3
I love each and every one of you so very much, and I’m not just saying that!! If any of you need to talk, I am available to be a supportive-yet-reasonable internet big sib for whoever needs it. (I will love you to the ends of the earth and also bonk you on the head when you’re being a dumbass <3).
[If my fellow adults could reblog this so your minor followers could see it that’d be great. And tag it with your fandoms because I can’t get them all- I’m in like 2.]
#IMPORTANT#fable smp#bound smp#fandom#fandom spaces#minors please look!!#safety#minor safety#safety brief#saving you from my fate
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“Oh, breathe, just breathe…”
“'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands and breathe, just breathe…” (“Breathe (2AM)” by Anna Nalick)
Sometimes, you just have to accept, that there are things, that can’t be changed or fixed anymore…at least not right now. I guess, I’m more and more coming to terms with this insight, considering the fact, that it just doesn’t make sense to wrap my head around the reason for my disease ME/CFS.
I can’t alter my previous decisions. For the past two years, I’ve blamed myself for catching Covid on an Open Air concert of my German favourite punk rock band “Die Ärzte”…especially viewed in the context that I avoided social gatherings since late 2019 because of my medicinal immune suppression. But when I got these tickets as a gift in 2022, my brain must have shut down and I started to belittle the potential risks of catching the virus by telling myself, that I would stand in the back of the crowd, beneath the open sky. This was also the first occasion, when I didn’t wear my mask…after enduring being bullied and mocked for wearing masks everywhere and rejecting every single invitation to parties and simple get-togethers.
Well…only one week later, my life- as I knew it before - came to an abrupt halt. I don’t want to go into detail about my current situation in this post. Whoever knows me and also my prior posts, is probably already fed up with my complaints about ME/CFS and its results for my life.
So, all I can do now, is to breathe. Deliberately slowly…breathing in…and breathing out. Calming my nerves…soothing my troubled mind with my fantasies of Severus and my absolutely self-inserted OC Jules…
I’ve commissioned someone new for this project. Someone different from all those lovely artists of Snapedom, who I regularly contacted for my usual coping mechanism of commissioning artworks of Sevy and Jules.
This time, I reached out to @pinklovecharm, an incredibly kind and understanding artist, who made me speechless with this drawing. I asked her to help my imagination of Severus and Jules, being on a walk in the forest, come to life.
I can’t tell you, how much I’m missing this simple activity of enjoying the autumn sunshine and some fresh air on a walk in the woods. In my fantasy, Severus would apparate us to a secluded path in the middle of the forest, wrapping his arm around my waist to support my steps. We wouldn’t talk much…but Severus would remind me of the importance of breathing…and he would exercise it with me…patiently waiting for me to eventually calm down. He’s my safe haven…my home.
My dear Sadie, you can’t imagine, how much you soothed my soul with your mesmerising art and your kind-heartedness. You really achieved to put me into my OC Jules…with all her emotions and physical attributes….and you even integrated my cane into your drawing! Normally, I don’t show my reference pictures publicly, but I’m too impressed by your dedication to the details of my appearance, that I can’t stop myself from presenting them here. Thank you for everything, you wonderful person! I hope, we’ll stay in touch and that I may commission you again.
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy and Jules🖤
#Severus x Julia#Sevy x Jules#Severus x OC#fuck me/cfs#commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism#this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom#reminding myself#acceptance#severus snape#i love severus#i love snape#snape#pro snape#snape love#pro severus snape#snape content#severus snape art#snart#snape art#severus snape fan art#severus fanart#self loathing#mecfs#disabilties#snapedom#self acceptance#snapedom is our safe space#he’s by my side for 21 years now#21 years and still counting#he is my personal comfort blanket
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https://www.tumblr.com/dreamfyre-beautiful/748866149787353088/problems-i-have-with-hotd-so-far?source=share
This post is killing me !
Alicent is not a good person.
Helaena is barely a character in the original version and she never had any autonomy.
The point of dancing is not to have a smalfolk perspective, stop with this fucking hypocrisy.
Criston Cole is not even a fucking member of the smalfolk ! Wtf ?!
Then the problem with Laena is not that they try to make her look older than Rhaenyra in episode 5, in fact canonically in HOTD she remains younger than Rhaenyra, so what are you complaining about ? Plus this comment is completely stupid, because Laena is older than Rhaenyra in the book ! You know ! The original version ?!
Um... A mother who abandons decorum for her child ? Alicent doesn't do what she does for Aemond by wanting to take Lucerys' eye and attacking Rhaenyra. She's been doing this kind of thing for 10 years already. She literally uses what happened to her son to try to take down Rhaenyra by making up lies saying that Lucerys ambushed Aemond to try to kill him and then she brings it all on herself, poor woman who has no did what was expected of her all these years. It mostly looks like a woman taking out her frustration on another woman, rather than a mother defending her son, we need to stop the bullshit.
So... Laena didn't die killed by Daemon. She died of a complicated childbirth, like many women of the time. She simply accelerated the death process by getting burned by Vaghar (for somes stupid reasons...). And Laenor didn't even die in HOTD, and people always seem to voluntarily forget that yes, certainly Daemyra had this plan together, but that Laenor there accepted and left of her own free will !
Then, it's crazy this obsession to repeat that Rhaenyra is trying to take the title of Corlys for Luke and therefore that she is taking it from the twins Rhaena and Baela... The TG really has a problem with legitimate heirs, huh ? Rhaenyra was designated heir to the throne by Viserys and Lucerys was designated heir to Lord of Tides by Corlys himself ! What isn't clicking in your head about that ?! Rhaenyra doesn't steal anything from anyone for her sons !
And his rant about "the new promo saying "[team black] acts more like family" maybe my family is weird but we don't fuck or get married at all" Um... wtf ? Yes, the TB is more of a close-knit family than the TG, there is not even a debate to be had over it and sorry but does this person forget that there is incest also among the TG ? Not only because of the marriage of Aegon II and Helaena, but also simply because Aegon II openly flirts with Baela, you know, his uncle's daughter? (I say this because a lot of TG claims that Aegon II is actually disgusted by incest and is only with Helaena out of obligation. So yes, the marriage to Helaena is arranged, but clearly this boy didn't have problem with the incestuous costumes of the Targaryens and Westeros This is shown by his reaction when he learns that he is going to marry Helaena and that he flirts with Baela / sexually harassed her). Aemond even since have a crush on Helaena in HOTD, so... no incest in TG ? Let me laugh !
And oh poor people who are full of the fact that the dragons in their team have no development ? We're going to see Sunfyre in season 2, it's confirmed. Then Dreamfyre plays no fucking role in the dance, just like Helaena. Welcome to reality. This show neglects dragons in general anyway, a shame when this show normaly talks about their extinction...
And still the madness of talking about the fact that Alicent doesn't have the right to terrifying childbirth scenes ?! So, the show is about the Targaryens, especially Targaryen women. At least she's supposed to ! And it makes sense that women who died in childbirth or had complications during childbirth are entitled to on-screen scenes about it. Alicent is not a Targaryen and didn't even have a complicated birth so get the fuck out.
My god the TG really have a problem understanding the basics of this story...
I have a blocked user, so I will not refer to @dreamfyre-beautiful's post, but to what you write.
1) If you feel satisfied by forcing a woman who has not yet delivered her placenta to give up her newborn baby (knowing the history of her siblings, mother and both grandmothers) or march through the entire castle - you are not a good person. If you allow one son to bully another until no one sees it - you are not a good person. If you are planning a coup and usurpation of the throne, sending your children to war because you will not bend the knee- you are not a good person.
2) Helaena is probably more of a character in the show than she was in the book at this point in Dance. She was always barely a character.
3) Criston is not a smalfolk. He belongs to a family that was the banners of the Dondarrions. It's not smalfolk.
What amuses me the most is when someone is both team green and team smalfolk, because… it's impossible. I'm not saying that team black was wonderful for the smalfolk, because during the war you can't do that, as ASOIAF has shown more than once, but it is the green team that is responsible for the vast majority of suffering among the smalfolk.
It was Aemond who burned the Riverlands.
It was Daeron who burned Bitterbridge.
It was the TG people who committed the Tumbleton massacre.
It was the TG people who plundered Spicetown.
It was Aegon who ordered the building of large golden statues of war criminals during war and famine.
These were all crimes against smalfolk.
And TB?
Rhaenyra raised taxes because the Greens robbed the treasury.
Alternatively, you could add the Greyjoy plundering to this.
4) In my opinion, there were some problems with Laena's casting. The actress who played teenage Laena was almost the same age as adult Laena, and the actress who played adult Laena was much older than the actresses who played Rhaenyra and Alicent. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but a little too old for the role.
5) Alicent doesn't even scream to Rhaenyra about Aemond's harm. He screams about his own, putting his own suffering above his son's in that moment. With her attitude, she forced Aemond to comfort HER.
6) Okay… I understand people say Viserys murdered Aemma, but how could Daemon murder Laena…? After all, he cared about saving Laena, not the child. He talked to the maester about this. What did he use to murder her? Because he got her pregnant? They already had two children, in the series Baela and Rhaena are apparently not twins, so it's no wonder that he thought that the third birth would also be problem-free.
7) Rhaenyra didn't take anything from Baela and Rhaena because… Driftmark was never theirs. They are Targaryens. Lucerys is Velaryon. Corlys chose to legitimize his own bastard rather than give Driftmark to his grandchildren, so where is Rhaenyra's fault? Even if she didn't want Drifmark, she had to fight for it, otherwise giving away her son's inheritance would be suspicious, right?
8) The marriage of a niece and uncle is less incest than the marriage of a brother and sister. Even outside the Targaryen family, nieces married uncles and cousins married cousins. Even Tywin Lannister was married to his cousin.
And even if the marriage of Aegon and Helaena was arranged, she is not wind-pollinated and he fathered her three children.
9) I wrote about dragons here, I think it was about the same post: https://www.tumblr.com/nrilliree/749167004582297600/i-saw-a-post-complaining-that-the-show-goes-above?source=share
10) Aemma's birth was necessary because she died that way. Laena's birth was necessary because she died that way. Rhaenyra's birth was needed to show Alicent's cruelty and Alicent's objectification of Rhaenyra's children. Alicent's delivery was not necessary. And seriously, three birth scenes for six episodes was enough. Definitely. I feel sorry for every pregnant woman who watched the series.
#house of the dragon#team black#anti team green#pro team black#rhaenyra targaryen#anti alicent hightower#anti team green stans
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★═━┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈━═★
★ Medkit & Subspace x Male!Reader ★
★═━┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈━═★
"Medkit and Subspace won't stop PHIGHTING."
PHIGHTING! | One-shot | "Fluff" | Romantic..?
Warning/s: [Subspace.]
Extra: [we love Medkit and Subspace daily phighting. + not proofread as always]
≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ───────────────≺
ah, yes.. what a normal day, the soft breeze of the wind, the noises that the civilians make every now and then. You sighed to yourself, quite content at the peaceful atmosphere as you try and munch on your beloved [favorite dessert] and your [favorite drink]. Oh, what could go wrong on this fine day?
"Hm? Oh! [Name]!!" A loud giddy voice called out to you as you flinched not expecting anyone to call you. Looking at the source of voice there you saw him, waving his hand in a fast pace. "Oh, Subspace! I didn't think you're the type of person to come to cafes." You said as you watch him fast-walk towards you, while some civilians avoided him like a plague not wanting to irritate the psychotic scientist. Now that he was near you, he sat down on a vacant seat, his smile getting wider behind his gas mask. "You are absolutely correct, I don't go to cafes!! I just thought having a nice alone chatting time with my beloved.. friend. would be delightful!!" You sense that he didn't didn't really like the word friend, whenever you guys are together. You just shrugged it off not minding it. "Hm, is that so.. then I don't mind...?" Now, you don't hate Subspace, but you have this gut feeling that something is bad gonna happen sooner or later. "Now, do tell how you are doing!?" He hummed a bit as he asked, propping his head onto his hand as he waits for you to talk. And so you did.
Subspace just continued to stare at you listening to your words attentively, his attention is solely on you. Subspace couldn't help his feelings, just being with you just makes him feel something.. and he likes it for some reason. The way you move, smile, talk, laugh— oh, how Subspace just adores you so much! He's just so lovestruck, how can you not see?! The occasional lovestruck glance he gives you, the way he's more touchy with you than usual, the way he let you hold him like he was made for you.. Hell, even Hyperlaser and his Biografts noticed this behavior! Then why can't you?! Subspace couldn't help but think of opening your head that's hiding your brain just to see how you can't see his visible feelings just for you to witness and see.. No matter.. you will be his in no time, his plan will work.. it always will. He chuckled darkly to himself as he now put his focus back onto you. The male who made him feel such unspecified feelings. If this was a game, there would be hearts surrounding Subspace right about now.
if only he knew.. that this shlt is an actual game.
"Hope I'm not bothering you, [Name]." Subspace little obsessed daydream came to a halt, as he gave the most irritated and sinister smile to the person that interrupted his little date. "Medkit! it's nice to see you." You exclaimed a bit as you see the very well known wanted healer. "It is a pleasure to see you too, [Name.]" Medkit smiled softly as he looks at you, a smile that has pure adoration and love, but that smile then slightly faltered as he sees a certain scientist. "And I see you're here as well.." He huffed at the scientist. "And I see you like butting in to my conversation as always, Meddy!!" The scientist exclaimed back, his hand on the table turning into a tight fist, trying to stop himself from punching the living crap out of his enemy. He would do that right now.. But not in front of his beloved specimen. "And I see you like disturbing [Name] again as well." The healer glared, his hand twitching to get his gun that's idly sitting on his holster. "The only one who's disturbing [Name] is you. Why don't you go somewhere else and leave us alone." Subspace hissed as Medkit came closer to you, the hand that's trying not so hard to punch Medkit now gripped the poor table. You could hear the small cracking sound it's producing.
Watching the two duo silently and quietly made you sweat, you see the civilians in the corner of your eye looking at the scene while walking away quickly not wanting to be caught up in that mess, some of them gave you sympathetic looks as they left as well. Damn, you're stuck here with no help.
You figeted with your fingers and try to think of possible ways to defuse the two large ticking bombs in front of you. "Would.. would you guys like to.. well— go somewhere to calm down..?" Yeah, you're bad at this crap. You began to sweat more as the duo looked at you, you couldn't really decipher what they're thinking, it looks like it'll take a while longer to make them calm. "I think I'd like that!!" Subspace suddenly stood up from his seat taking your arm, as he pulled you onto him, his grip tight, but not tight enough to hurt you, no. Subspace will think of branding you another way possible. Just to show this teal phuck who you already belong to.
Not expecting him to make you stand up your beloved drink then spilled over, due to the slight bump you had on with the table. "My beloved drink.." You thought to yourself, quite sorrowful. But that thought stopped as you felt someone else tugged you away from Subspace grip. "Sorry, I think you already have a.. fair share of time with [Name], it's best if you leave him in my care." Medkit held you as if he's protecting you from the danger, that danger being Subspace. The scientist couldn't help but widen his eye. Medkit? The traitor.. the motherphucking bitch who had the audacity who left Blackrock just for his own selfishness, is here to take you away, especially from him? Oh, he can't have that. "Hands off him, Medkit." Subspace horns lit up hot magenta, once he gets you away, he'll make sure to shove a tripmine down Medkit's throat, as he gripped your free arm. Medkit just gave him a glare, almost daring him to make a move, he knew that once Subspace starts acting up. You wouldn't trust him ever again.. Not like you should of.
You never wanted anything than to leave in peace right now.
Dear Illumina, what did you do to get this unlucky. What are you gonna do now? These two are about to rip your arms out. But it looks like some deity felt pity for you as the well known warden is here. "You two." I started off as he stood above your little group. "Are making so much scene in this area." He halfly growled at the two demons, his face, facing towards you. "And you two had the audacity to cost trouble for this civilian." He couldn't help but sighed as he took you out of the two demons' grasp. Neither of them liked that. "Oh, isn't it the infamous warden!! Would you mind and take this abomination outta here? he's ruining [Name] and I's moment!!" He exclaimed as he pointed an accusing finger at the healer. "Am I really the problem, or are your psychological tendencies is just that bad." The two then started to bicker with each other, spilling threats by threats while you just went and talk with the warden.
"That's all that happened, sorry if they cost too much trouble." You apologized at the warden, vouching for those two. "hm, I see then I shall escort them away, do be mindful with those two.. they're a big headache." He told you as he went to where the duo were to take them away. "What— Why are you taking me away!? I'll have you remember that I, Subspace T. Mine, does NOT accept this!!" Subspace began thrashing around like a rapid animal, hissing as BanHammer held onto him, hard, to restrain his movements. "You're lucky that someone higher than me is on your side, if not, then you would be in Banland not too long ago." BanHammer snapped at Subspace, as he was about to do the same to Medkit, just to see that he's gone. BanHammer couldn't help but release a small irritated sigh. As he took the thrashing Subspace away.
Subspace looked back at you and gave you a sad glance, your heart slightly ached at the look of his face, wanting to help him but they're no longer in your sight.
"I guessed that's slightly fixed." You flinched a bit as you didn't expect Medkit to pop out of nowhere. "What the fu—" You were about to finish your sentence until he hugged you. "Sorry that you had to deal with that guy.." Medkit kept you in his arms, holding you like you were hurt, letting you go for a moment as he looks at you, smiling. He was about to say something until he heard a familiar voice called for his name, his remaining eye twitched at the timing of a certain dealer. He looked back at you and smiled once more. "Let's go and hang out again sometime again." He bid his farewell as he took your hand to softly plant a kiss onto it, walking away to the shadowed corridor to leave.
You just stood there trying to figure out what even is happening in your life, you just wanted some drink and desserts.
"Wait, are they gay for me—"
≻─────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
[Woah, another update— what am I on rn..💀 you can also tell that I have no idea what to do at the end :sob:]
#♡nb writings#medkit x reader#phighting x reader#phighting medkit#x male reader#phighting subspace#x reader#subspace x reader#romantic#medkit and subspace won't stop phighting
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Southern Belle Wanda with a temper. Expected to watch the love of her life (reader) marry another woman. Everything goes to shit, simply because Wanda refused to do so. Like, readers dress had a tear in it, her wife to be’s ring went missing (👀), the pastor cancelled on them the day of. Yet it didn’t stop reader.
So, she doesn’t even wait for the fill in preacher to ask for objections, she just dramatically storms through the barn doors and pulls the reader from her fiancée.
I think it could end in a getaway, where R just chuckles and says, “took you long enough, Maximoff…”
The reason for their current relationship statutes, Wanda was supposed to marry rich, but she chose her hearts path to marry the heiress to a small town farm.
“Marry me instead”
Southern belle!wanda maximoff x country!fem!reader
Warning: little bit of angst, hurt/comfort, Wanda has a temper
“Stop the wedding!” Wanda’s yells comes through the whole church and everyone turned their heads to see a distraught wanda. She stormed over to you and grabbed you from your fiancé. Your fiancé gave Wanda a dirty look and pulled you back towards her. “You will not take my wife away from me! You are married to that rich guy, now you leave my woman alone!” She growled but that made Wanda madder.
~ Flashbacks ~
You were in your room looking for your dress to make sure it wasn’t wrinkled when you pulled it out of your closet to find that it had tears in it. You were confused and had your suspicions that it was Wanda but you didn’t think on it more I mean, she wouldn’t do that to you right? She’s supposed to be marrying rich…
~ flashback over ~
“She’s not your “wife”!” Wanda yelled out and pulled you back towards her. Everything made sense now about how Wanda was acting and why things were going wrong. You had a feeling it was Wanda but now everything came together.
~ flashback ~
Tomorrow was your planned wedding day but everything is going to shit, some people have cancelled, your parents aren’t happy about the girl you are marrying, and your dress has a tear in it, and when it couldn’t get any worse. You just found out that the pastor has cancelled on y’all at the last second. You were kissed and every time something bad happens, your mind goes to Wanda.
She better not be ruining this all because y’all couldn’t marry. She was the one who chose rich over you. Now as you were looking in your room to find your box that has your ring in it, you open it to find that there’s no ring it in. You were livid and you wanted to get married now. So you gathered up everyone and got a random preacher and got your fiancé.
~ flashback over ~
“Who do you choose y/n? Her? Or me.” Your fiancé asked you as she gave Wanda a deadly glare that made you uncomfortable. You knew how your fiancé got when she got mad and you were always terrified when she was. You have always loved Wanda and always will. “I choose Wanda.” You said blankly as you snatched your arm back away from your ex as Wanda grabbed your arm gently and ran. You ran behind her as y’all both giggled and went into her car.
“Took you long enough maximoff…” you chucked as she sped off into the sunrise. She looked over at your with a love struck smile and gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Im sorry it took me so long. I had to get rich off my back when I told him last minute that I didn’t want to marry him. He definitely wasn’t happy about it but I didn’t care. All I thought about was you. It’s always you. That’s why I did those things to sabotage your wedding.” She admitted.
You laughed and shook your head. “I had a feeling you did.” You said and she smiled at you. “Where are we going?” You said as you looked out your window to see trees and the morning sun coming up from behind them. “To wherever our car takes us sugar. It’s us from now on and I’m never letting you go.”
A/n: I hope the anon enjoys it! I hope I did everything right with your request. I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too! My requests are still open and remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all
#wanda x fem!reader#wanda maximov#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wandanat#wanda mcu#wanda fanfic#wanda marvel#wanda maximoff#wanda
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hi!!!!!
can i req mafuyu, airi, an, akito, shiho, and rui with a super affectionate s/o?
sorry if that's too many characters, feel free to just ignore this
tysm, I love your work! ♡♡♡
WHAT THE HECK YOU PICKED ALL OF MY FAVORITES WHAT
so just for u anon i will put hearts instead of stars
♡~Mafuyu, Airi, An, Akito, etc, with a super affectionate s/o
(wa)batle nonsense (author's note):
this took me forever but I worked really hard on it, so ty for the request! and don't worry, currently i don't have a character limit, and i even added more!
warnings: none/all fluff
taglist: @stellas-starry-stove13, Rui and Akito are waiting!
♡~Mafuyu Asahina
The idea of being showered in affection is a foreign topic for her since her mother is a terrible person
She feels a subtle warmth when you’re being affectionate with her, like something that could never be replicated by someone else
Although she doesn’t understand what she’s feeling, she does know that when you put your arm around her or put your head on her shoulder she feels a sense of security and relief
I can see her as not minding innocent PDA, like holding hands in public or small cheek kisses, but save the more affectionate stuff for home
I think she sees your affection almost as a safe space, so she will always drop her good girl act around you so she can feel like the affection she’s getting is real
When she sees you attached to her, if you look close enough, you might be able to see a real smile
♡~Airi Momoi
Airi probably thinks it's really cute, and returns it whenever she can!
If you play with or style her hair, she might protest a little, but she won't complain after its done
She might get flustered if you're being really affectionate, but most of the time she'll be okay
I can see her as someone who is also very affectionate, so you two would probably cuddle a lot after school or streams
She probably also wants to be spoiled with cuddles and kisses after a show, so make sure you do that
Gonna be honest— movie nights are a must, she loves to be close to you and loves that you love to be close to her
You probably also play-fight all the time, often resulting in one of you hurting yourselves, but not a bad injury
Overall, she would be a really cute and affectionate girlfriend if you were also affectionate with her
♡~An Shiraishi
Another who would think it's cute and return the favor!
I cannot even describe how much An loves this
You probably pinch each other's cheeks a lot (I know it's cringe, but I just feel like that would happen)
If you're shorter than her, she will wrap her arms around your waist while you cook
If you're taller, she'll put herself in between your arms in front of you while you cook
Same thing for you but vice versa
I can see you being kept up late because you guys can't stop giggling and complimenting each other, and constantly cuddling each other so much one of you almost falls off the bed
You probably sit on each other's laps all the time. I'm sorry but it's true
Idk why, but I can see you two cuddling and writing down lyrics or thoughts for songs and shows
An loves to tease and make you all red, so you should do the same for her
♡~Akito Shinonome
He…likes it
Akito really likes being able to go home and cuddle with you after a long day, and watching a movie with you
He enjoys being showered in affection from you, because it means he gets to spend meaningful time with you
Ena hears about you nonstop. To the point where she has to forcibly change the subject to get him to stop talking about you
Akito would return your affection through gifts, I think
He would ask Ena what he should get you, or he’ll find something he just knows you would like, and he'll buy it on the spot
When you're cuddling or play-fighting, you might get him to tell you that you’re cute
Kisses. So. Many. Kisses.
For some reason, I see Akito as someone who is easily influenced by his s/o in some ways, so I think when you're being extra affectionate with him, he’ll be extra affectionate with you too
So I can see you sitting in his lap, or with in between his legs, or vise versa
If you're sitting like this, he will kiss the back of your head over and over again
He also would lay with his head in your lap and have you play with his hair (or vice versa, he would play with your hair too)
He will hug you from behind at home
♡~Shiho Hinomori
Shiho likes to be alone.
Let me specify, she likes to be alone with you.
PDA is a no-go with her, not even holding hands
Shiho really isn’t a person to like any type of affection, yet somehow she was able to fall in love with you, the most affectionate person she knows (even more than Saki!)
Shiho will hug you back and kiss you back, but only if you do it first so she knows what she’s doing
As much as she would hate to say it, she would ask Shizuku for advice on how to…relationship?
She would return your affection by letting you sit as close as possible and practicing her bass for you
She doesn’t really like clinginess, but she will accept pretty much anything from you
Shiho does appreciate your company, though
♡~Rui Kamishiro
Rui will 100% return it tenfold.
He will carry you around the house, outside, wherever you want to go
You can sit on his lap while he works on new blueprints for robots he’s working on
He’s very sweet to you and lets you be affectionate in anyway you want to to him
Slow dancing. I can see you two slow dancing at home randomly
You also sit in between his legs sometimes
He will let you cling onto him while he tells you about his ideas for shows or concepts for inventions
He probably can’t not cuddle you when you’re being affectionate, and that’s when the seating positions come in
It’s hard for you two to fall asleep because you keep whispering compliments in his ear and he keeps doing the same for you
If you go to the same school you have lunch on the rooftop everyday where you will cuddle together
If you don’t go to the same school then you’ll have to be like Emu and infiltrate
Not to mention kisses
He will kiss you anywhere on your face, the back/top of your head, even ears or neck
He likes to hold you close to him and stroke your head
Idk why but I feel like when you kiss it’s like something out of disney movie
☆BONUS☆
♡~Ichika Hoshino
Ichika will get flustered very quickly depending on what you’re doing
If you’re flirting, expect her face to get red
If you’re just hugging her a lot, she’ll still get red but she’ll hug you back
Like Shiho, one of the ways she’ll return your affection is by playing her guitar while you’re curled up next to her
Yet another who would stay up late by complimenting you
She practices singing around you, and when she gets nervous practicing she’ll squeeze your hand
She’ll ask you for your ideas for lyrics while you’re clinging onto her
She’s fine with pretty much any way you sit, as long as it’s not on each other
She’ll happily hold hands with you anywhere you go, and maybe even link arms!
♡~Shizuku Hinomori
She loves it!
You cling onto each other when you’re walking around, and cuddle together 99% of the time you’re at home together
You sit with your arms around each other and either one of you has their head on the other’s shoulder
When you hug her arm while she’s putting her miso soup in her thermos, she probably drops everything and hugs you back
When you go out shopping together you’re linking arms or one of you is clinging to the other’s arm
She’ll also let you sit with your head in her lap while she plays with your hair
She would love it if you sat behind her and styled her hair however you want! And then she’ll tell you how much she loves it and how good of a job you did, even if it doesn’t look good.
WHEW, MY LONGEST FIC YET!
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#pjsk#pjsk x reader#akito shinonome#akito shinonome x reader#rui kamishiro#rui kamishiro x reader#shiho hinomori#shiho hinomori x reader#airi momoi#airi momoi x reader#shizuku hinomori#shizuku hinomori x reader#ichika hoshino#ichika hoshino x reader#an shiraishi#an shiraishi x reader#mafuyu asahina#mafuyu asahina x reader#wabatle writes#WTF THERES A LOT OF TAGS#its alright im trying my best because i love my wabatle#my tags are a mess#theyre all out of order
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I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.
Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?
I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...
Or...is he?
Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.
Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.
Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.
“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”
To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.
So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.
It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.
Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.
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a few treech headcanons <3
artist! treech lives in my head rent free. he loves going around Seven after his shifts at the lumber yard to find some new spots to sketch
adding on to this, he has a decent sense of orientation but still gets lost from time to time anyway (especially when it gets dark)
he's been saving up for colored pencils for ages, but they're very expensive and hard to get your hands on
i hc him to be more on the introverted side tbh
but he loves his family!! i hc him with a couple of siblings, but his sisters are his (not-so-secret) favorites
he's also a mama's boy, but i think that's a pretty universal headcanon
he often does wood carvings with her and they're pretty good!! he prefers making the sketches for her though
he's good with kids! for some reason, they always fall asleep on him though
i feel like a lot of people had crushes on him growing up, but he either never noticed or he wasn't interested
his father taught him how to juggle. after the war, when they didn't have a lot of money, it's one of the ways he'd bring home some extra food or money
adding on to the above, he's definitely sneaky and has "accidentally" stolen a few things from Seven's richer ppl before
i think that if he liked someone, he'd def pick flowers from the side of the road for them (maybe his sisters even taught him how to make flower crowns)
his hat is technically his father's lucky hat, he often takes it without asking
his big sister made his neck scarf for him! he never leaves the house without it
he either sleeps in a starfish position or curled up like a kitten. no inbetween
#treech#treech tbosas#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#i love him so much#these are all canon in my fics btw#idc he's a mama's boy#artist treech is my roman empire
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