#and now i'm leaving and idk when i'll be back

[simplygojo]

I Like Your Tie...

A/n: OMG ONE OF MY FAVS REQUESTED! I loved this request; thats why it took SO LONG I’m sorry my friend I hope you enjoyyyy!! <3 I needed another Nanami request so bad so you did me a favour with this one, LOLLL.

Request: “Your last Toji fic got me frothing like a rabid dog. Lol. in all ways it was very uniquely him indeed ! The same for Gojo and Witch!Reader. Could I shy request a fic with the song 'Talk' by Hozier paired up with Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader ? Something sensual steamy but ever so romantic for the blonde? I can practically see him saying or thinking such lyric quotes as "I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do... So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you. Imagine being loved by me". May she's a fellow Special Grade sorcerer, and their friendship keeps building up, but neither wants to cross the line ? So they dance around it, until something happens ? Idk. >\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< I'll leave it to your artistic hands and imagination what to do with this? If you feel inspired to. In any case, please delete if this seems rubbish. Anyway, thank you for your stories ! Thank you so much. ♡” - @erebus-et-eigengrau (lurvv uu)

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f/reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+ Content, SMUT!, intercourse, light choking, control kink(ish), pet name

The late-night quiet of Jujutsu High was comforting in a way—no students rushing through the halls, no teachers around to monitor. You had been grateful for the peace, retreating to your room after a long day.

But as you reached your door, you stopped in your tracks.

There he was. Nanami Kento stood in front of your door, leaning casually against the wall. 

—

You and Nanami had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, though it all began back in high school. Back then, you had a bit of a crush on him—not that you’d ever admit it. He wasn’t the type to flirt or give much attention to relationships, but there was something about him that always caught your eye. 

You had your moments, too—shared laughter, and private conversations late into the night, when the walls between friends almost seemed to blur. 

But Nanami never made a move, and neither did you. You knew how seriously he took his role as a sorcerer, and you didn’t want to complicate your friendship with feelings that you weren’t sure were mutual.

As you both graduated and eventually became high-level sorcerers, those moments of potential intimacy became even more distant. You grew into your own roles, taking on increasingly dangerous missions and fighting curses that most could barely comprehend. Nanami was often assigned to the same missions as you, his calm, steady presence a source of reassurance when things got chaotic.

There were times when his professionalism would slip, just for a moment. A fleeting look, a brush of his fingers against yours, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke your name. You always wondered if he felt it too—that same tension you tried so hard to ignore. But you never dared to ask, afraid of what it might mean if the answer was yes.

And now, standing in front of him in the quiet after everything that had just happened, you realized just how deeply those old feelings still ran.

There were times, though, when your old crush resurfaced. 

Sometimes, it was the way he’d look at you across the battlefield, silently checking to see if you were okay, his eyes filled with a concern that was more than just professional. Other times, it was the rare, gentle touch when he’d help you after a fight—his hand brushing your arm or waist as he steadied you after a particularly tough encounter.

But you always pushed those feelings down, refusing to acknowledge them for the sake of professionalism. 

The sorcery world didn’t leave much room for distractions, and you knew that Nanami was as dedicated as ever. He was the picture of control, never letting emotions dictate his actions, always focused on the mission at hand. You convinced yourself that whatever crush you had on him was just remnants of your high school days, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in your current life.

—

His arms were crossed, his tie long loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The dim lighting of the hallway cast a shadow over his sharp features, making the intensity in his eyes even more pronounced. He looked every bit the composed man he always was, but something about the way his gaze followed your every movement made your heart stutter.

“Nanami…” His name left your lips in a quiet murmur, not expecting to see him there, not like this.

“You’re out late,” he observed, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if the stillness of the night demanded it.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, one of the first-years wanted some late-night training…What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, eyes flicking down to your lips before settling back on yours. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, making it hard to think clearly. His usual restraint seemed to falter, just slightly, but enough to make your pulse race.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice was steady, but the words made your breath hitch.

Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Waiting for me?” You said quietly, a heat beginning to pool between your thighs.

Nanami pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate. The space between you closed as his tall figure made its way toward you—the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks finally came to a boil. 

“Why were you waiting for me..?” You questioned, “I need to talk,” He responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“I used to try to talk so refined, in fear of you finding out…” He admitted, his voice lower now, almost rough around the edges. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. 

“Finding out what, Nanami.” You breathed, watching how his lips parted just slightly while he paused. “How I’ve been imagining you." 

The air between you was thick with tension, so heavy you could almost taste it. Nanami stood inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His normally professional demeanour had cracked, revealing something raw, something primal. The careful distance you both had maintained was no longer there.

"Imagining me…?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his gaze roamed over you in a way that left your body practically squirming under his scrutiny. His jaw clenched for a moment as though fighting some internal battle, but when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, filled with a desire he was no longer trying to hide.

“Every time I look at you,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you, “I think about how you’d feel under my touch… under me.”

Your breath caught, your throat suddenly dry as his words sank in. The image of his hands on your skin, the weight of him pressing against you, the feeling of him between your legs—it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you borderline trembling with anticipation.

“Nanami…” you whispered his name, your voice trembling with the same desire that was now coursing through you. The distance between you felt unbearable.

The professionalism you both held onto so tightly was crumbling, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming.

The hallway was too quiet, too intimate, and it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. It was just the two of you, standing there on the precipice of something dangerous and irresistible.

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things we’d do,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced your jawline, gently tilting your head with two fingers. His eyes darkened with want, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

That was all it took. The pull between you snapped, and before you could think, your hands were fisting in his dark blue shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss that was heated, desperate—inevitable.

His hand swiftly opened your door before pushing you into it, causing both of you to stumble into the dimly lit room. With a loud thud, Nanami kicked the door shut before pushing you back up against your entryway wall.

Nanami groaned softly into your mouth—your pussy practically throbbing at the sound—and his hands immediately wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the idea of any space between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that you hadn’t expected, and it left you breathless.

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips firmly, pushing more firmly against the wall. The cool surface against your back was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him as he pressed himself closer, his lips never leaving yours.

His kisses were deliberate, slow—but rough—as if he wanted to savour every moment of this. 

"Mmf…Nanami," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen from the kiss, breathless. "What are we doing?"

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. There was something raw, unguarded in his expression. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. “Now be a good girl for me, y/n.” He practically purred against your lips, as he lifed you so your legs wrapped around his waist. 

His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding up your sides while you were pinned against the wall, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You tugged at his hair, your fingers desperate to feel more of him.

His hands, rough from battle and years of work, were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your painfully hard nipples, teasing you. You arched into him, your body responding to every touch.

He made quick work of your jacket—and that tiny tank top you wore underneath it, his hands roughly reaching for every bit of exposed skin.

Nanami growled softly with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailed down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that had you moaning his name.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his breath hot against your neck, but the fire in his eyes told you stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Don’t," you whispered—pleading with him for more, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Don’t stop."

Nanami’s eyes darkened further at your words, and a slow, subtle smirk spread across his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. 

His hand moved up to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, fingers working quickly to loosen it even further. Before you could register what he was doing, he slid the tie off entirely, his movements deliberate and slow as he looped the fabric around your neck.

The silk felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged at the tie, pulling you closer, the pressure on your throat light but enough to send a thrill through you that went straight to your now-soaked pussy.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the side of your neck as he admired how the tie looked wrapped around you, it falling on your bare chest. In a moment, his lips were back on your skin, trailing lower this time as his free hand continued to explore your body. He kissed a path down to your chest, the tie around your neck tightening just slightly as he pulled you even closer.

He brought you to the couch in your small room with one hand while the other held the back of your head as his tongue explored your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, do you know that, y/n? With my tie around your pretty little neck…” He murmured against your skin, his voice laced with raw, unfiltered need. 

Hoisting you up onto the back of the couch, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs, and the contact made you gasp. 

With one swift but gentle movement, Nanami slid your skirt and tights down your legs, and now you sat in front of him—completely vulnerable.

“Nanami—” Your words were cut off by a moan as his fingers returned, pressing more firmly, the slow, torturous circles he drew making your entire body tremble. The tie tightened just a fraction more as he leaned back to look at you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that had your heart racing even faster.

“You’re so responsive for me,” he growled softly, his fingers entering your dripping cunt slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your interior. “It’s driving me insane.”

You could barely breathe, the combination of his fingers between your legs and the light pressure of the tie around your neck leaving you a trembling mess in his arms. You clung to him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you fought to hold on, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and every desperate moan.

"Nanami, please..." You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and breathless as you begged for him.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You want more, don’t you?” He asked, his voice thick with amusement, but the tension in his body told you he was just as desperate as you were.

You nodded, your head falling back as your body arched into his touch. “Please…”

The sound of your begging seemed to snap something in him. With one swift motion, he lifted you up with one arm and spun you around before setting you on your feet in front of him, your ass pressing up against his bulge as the cool leather from the couch pressed against your lower abdomen. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers slipped inside you again, making you gasp loudly at the sudden (welcomed) intrusion. 

“I want to hear you beg for me again,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity. His other hand subtly undid his belt, lowering his pants just enough to expose his desperate cock.

You moaned, arching into his hand, your body betraying you as it responded to every touch, every whisper of his breath on your skin. “Nanami...hmmf…please...I-I need you in me.” You managed to get out between moans.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers exiting you, but they were quickly replaced by his dick as he inserted himself into you—feeling you stretch around him caused him to throw his head back in pleasure, and he gave a little yank on the tie, your head jerking backwards as your stomach pressed harder into the couch, provoking a pornographic moan to exit your lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each stroke thrusting deeper into your gummy walls, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened, and the slow, deliberate rhythm gave way to something more primal and desperate. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in every rough thrust, every growl that rumbled from his chest as he claimed you completely.

The tie tightened again, the silk digging into your skin just enough to heighten the pleasure, and the sensation sent you spiralling toward the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

He leaned forward, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper into you. He gently moved your hair off of your shoulder as his delicate fingers traced the border of his tie and your skin. “You really are such a good girl.”

His thumb pushed into clit as he thrusted into you at a dominating pace—the sensation was nearly enough to push you over the edge—but you held on a little longer. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking as his pace quickened, he tightened the feeling around your throat with the tie around your neck pulling you closer to him.

Nanami’s body moved behind you, the warmth of him pressing against your back as his hands gripped your hips. Bent over the back of your couch, with the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed skin. “Mmhf–Nanami…Oh please.” You moaned out, practically begging him for more as he fucked you with a controlling pace

His breath was heavy, ragged, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, making you feel the sheer size and strength of him as he dominated you completely.

Nanami’s fingers wrapped around his tie nicely wrapped around your neck, pulling it taut. The sensation made you gasp, your head tilting back slightly as the silk tightened around your throat just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. Suddenly he took his soaked dick out of you letting it land on your ass, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin.

“You look just perfect like this,” he growled low in your ear, his voice thick with lust as he tugged the tie just a bit tighter, your chin tilting up as he whispered in your ear. “Bent over—begging for me.”

Your legs trembled beneath you, your body quivering with anticipation, but before you could respond, he was inside you again. 

The stretch was immediate, deep, and overwhelming as he thrust into you from behind, filling you completely with a single stroke. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled you back against him, the tie keeping you tethered, under his controlled.

“Nanami…” You moaned his name, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper as he began to move, his hips snapping against you in a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was harder than the last, his grip on the tie tightening with every movement, pulling you back into him, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

His pace was brutal, his control slipping entirely as he watched the way your body reacted to him, the way you moaned his name with every stroke. His free hand found your hip, gripping you so tightly that you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow, but the thought only sent another wave of arousal through you.

“You feel so good, y/n,” he growled, his voice rough as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “My good girl...”

His words are what sent you over the edge, the stimulation of your orgasm turning your vision white. 

Your body was on fire, every nerve alive with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. The tie around your neck tightened even more, the pressure just enough to leave you lightheaded, completely at his mercy. You felt every inch of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, along with your breathless moans as pleasure washed over you.

Nanami's body pressed closer as you shuddered beneath him, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through you. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Even as your body trembled, oversensitive and breathless, he kept thrusting into you with the same relentless intensity. His pace didn’t falter, and each stroke seemed deeper, more demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him.

Your moans turned to gasps as pleasure mixed with the overwhelming sensation of him continuing to push you past your limit. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin with a painful force, but he didn't slow down. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Look at you, taking it so well," he groaned, his voice dark and full of praise. "You feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Your legs shook around him, your body still pulsating from your release, and the overstimulation had you crying out, your nails leaving marks along his back. 

"Nanami... please..." you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going. You felt like you were being consumed, every nerve on fire, and yet your body responded to his touch, desperate for more.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, his hand still pressed firmly against your clit drawing rough circles. The tie around your neck tightened just a bit more, enough to remind you of the control he had, the control you were willingly giving him.

“I’m not done with you yet," he growled, his thrusts growing rougher, faster, his body taking full control over yours. "You can come again for me, can’t you?"

You didn’t know how it was possible, but the overwhelming pleasure began to build again inside you. His touch on your clit was insistent, his hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless, teetering on the edge of something even more intense than before.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation and pleasure merging into something maddening. Every nerve was alight, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. You were already too sensitive, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the brink once again.

Nanami could feel it—he knew exactly how close you were, how your body tensed around him. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again, y/n. I want to feel you fall apart around me baby.”

With that, his fingers pressed harder against your clit, and his hips slammed into you at a brutal pace, each thrust sending you spiraling further out of control. The pressure inside you coiled impossibly tight, and with a cry of his name, you shattered once more, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your moans turning to sobs of pleasure as you convulsed around him. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you never wanted it to end. Nanami’s name fell from your lips like a prayer as he continued thrusting into you, his own breathing growing more ragged, more desperate.

"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you unravel beneath him, his pace rapidly increasing. "So fucking beautiful."

He wasn’t far behind. The way your walls clenched around him, the way you shook with each thrust, sent him over the edge. 

His pace grew erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, groaning your name as he came. He tugged at the tie harshly, yanking you up form your bent over position so yoru back was against his sweaty chest, his hand gently holding your chin up. 

“You were so good for me,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, igniting a spark in you again. You remained silent for a few moments, breath staggered as you tried to catch it, still shaking with pleasure as he held you upright in front of him. 

Finally, you opened your mouth to speak, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, “I like your tie…”

[maneskinwh0re]

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

[phenomenalgirl9]

Idol! Bangchan x Reader: I Missed You 🔞

A/n: I haven't posted in ages, so sorry if this sucked! This is nothing but a self indulgent fic written while I was feeling extensively horny. Ngl. Its short and just letting out my feelings. But Minors DNI 🔞

Summary: Chan was away touring for months and you missed him a lot. (Idk how to put it)

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

It's been a while since you've seen Chan. He's been overseas for months touring America and Europe, with the Straykids. And he was coming home today, you wished you'd be there when he entered home but you had an important meeting and you were out all day. And now you were rushing home to finally meet your boyfriend.

“Channie?” you called out and found him in the kitchen, you had texted him that you were coming back so he started some ramen. The two of you rushed and hugged each other and she picked you up and spun you around. “Babygirl! I missed you” he said, setting you down and holding you tight in his embrace. And just like that you felt like all your troubles and worries had walked away. “I missed you so much” you said, as you sniffed him, that same familiar smell filling your senses. He's here now, there was so much you both missed about each other but being in each other's arms was what you missed the most. 

You took his face in your palms and kissed him, him immediately kissing you back. His lips mirrored the sense of urgency that you felt. You needed him and he you, badly. 

You fisted his t-shirt and pulled him closer and he pressed your body to his by your waist. 

“Fuck I missed you” you whispered against his lips. “I'm here now. Right here” He said, and kissed you deep, you giving him way to explore every crevice of your mouth as your other hand travels to his hair, your fingers intertwining with them.

You pulled on his T-shirt and in one swift motion he took it off and chased your lips. Your hands lay on his toned chest as it traveled all over his torso. He pulled onto your top that was tucked into your pants and took it off of you his lips immediately attacking your neck and his one hand on you boob and the other on your waist leaving no space between your bodies. You guided him back on the couch and straddled his lap and you attacked his lips and lightly bit his bottom lip, making him gasp. He unhooked your bra and a sigh of relief left you and his hands traveled up and down your body. He pushed you back for a moment, surprising you. “Gosh I love you” he said with a lovesick smile, with eyes raking all over your bare body. 

You smiled and dived onto his neck as you felt him hard inside his half pants underneath you. You bit into his soft skin and your waist moved against him, making you both groaned in unison. “Bed. now.” you instructed as you rubbed your nose down his collarbone and bit on his chest. He groaned in light pain yet broke into giggle “yes, maam”. He picked you up and moved you both towards the bedroom. 

He dropped you onto the bed and kissed you down your neck leaving breathy butterfly kisses tickling you and you giggled. His hands traveled down your waist and he undid your pants and you kicked them away. You pushed on your elbows and sat up and pulled down his pants. You were about to take his member into his hands but he stopped you and pushed you onto the bed. “I need to be inside you or I'll combust” he said and you laughed. “What are you waiting for then?” You taunted and as if in reply he pushed himself into you all at once. You moaned in satisfaction, no matter how much you tried to do it yourself nothing felt like him and nothing will ever feel like this how you feel when he's inside you. 

He moved in and out as his mouth found abode on your nipples teasing him as you fist his hair. “Chan…” you moaned.

“yes, babygirl?”

- “I missed you”

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

Masterlist

[doyeons]

going back to my apartment tmrw. everything just feels kind of incorrect rn i cant describe it

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[silverselfshippingchaos]

.

[thetomorrowshow]

every hand’s a winner

trust au masterlist - previous

I COME BEARING FLUFF.

also a little note: due to personal reasons, i will be stepping away from social media for an unforeseeable amount of time. because of this, fics/updates will be posted once a month on the second tuesday either until i get back or until they run out. for january expect some esh au, and the next part of hubris in february :) additionally, my queue will be posting every other day either until i get back or until my queue runs dry (unlikely, as there are close to 300 posts in it lol).

forget all that, though!!! bc i have some people being happy for you!

cw: blood and injuries

~

Scott goes home that very evening, like most of the other emperors—bar Jimmy, who is slated to stay overnight in the infirmary. They’d tried to keep Scott as well, fussing over his bloody nose and torn skin, but he’d promised to check in with the Rivendell healers at home to make sure time in the Void of the End won’t seriously affect him.

For once in his life, Scott willingly goes to the Rivendell infirmary, leaving with a couple of bandages and instructions to write down any strange symptoms.

The thing is, nobody has ever fallen into the Void before—let alone the one in the End—so there’s no way of knowing what might happen further down the road. Scott’s an anomaly of sorts, and it looks like he’s now the subject of a medical study.

He hasn’t noticed anything apart from a slight lingering dizziness, so he writes that down, feeling somewhat stupid about it being the only symptom he has to report, especially when that could be caused by a myriad of other things. It’s not like he’s never been dizzy before. He practically didn’t stop being dizzy back before he figured out how to sleep.

That night, he luckily doesn’t have to deal with his insomnia—he’s up until the sun rises meeting with various advisory groups: working out the best way to lock down Rivendell whilst still keeping trade routes open, mobilizing the layman army, and deciding how to go forward with various declarations of support for other empires. Within the night, four different ambassadors turn up to arrange an alliance, and Scott knows that his fellow emperors are awake dealing with the same things.

He doesn’t get a moment alone until well into the next day, after he has to send out a formal announcement that his and the Codfather’s betrothal is postponed until after the war (if Jimmy still wants such a relationship, of course). He can tell that many of his advisors don’t necessarily agree with this decision, but they recognize the direness of the situation (and Ilphas, Aeor bless them, defends Scott’s choice with a fervor), and allow the postponement to occur.

It’s past four in the afternoon before he finally has a moment to relax, kicking off his boots and bathing before changing from the travel clothes that he’s been wearing for almost two days straight into something clean. The sight of Jimmy’s robes in the closet next to his almost makes him cry for some reason, but he pushes past them to the back to dig out a pair of hose and a skirt, tucking an embroidered but comfortable tunic into them.

He can’t sleep.

Several months have passed since the torture of fWhip’s basement, his wounds entirely healed, but he can’t quite convince himself he’s safe to sleep alone. He really thought he’d be over it by now.

It’s no use trying, of course—after so many long hours, he doesn’t want to risk a panic attack. Instead, Scott lies in bed and just breathes, trying not to think about all the war preparations that he’s just spent hours making.

He also tries not to think about Jimmy.

That’s a whole other issue to deal with.

For a couple of minutes, he’s able to lie there in peace, shutting down any thought as soon as it breaches his mind.

Then his bedroom door opens.

Scott sits up, ready to reprimand whatever servant is entering—he’s in his private quarters, he could be without his veil—but he’s not meant to have a veil anymore, is he—

It doesn’t matter anyways, because it isn’t a servant at the door.

It’s Jimmy.

“Hey,” Jimmy waves awkwardly, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. “How—how’re you?”

Jimmy looks terrible.

Well, he looks beautiful, as per usual, but his fall through the Void has certainly taken its toll. There are bags under his eyes, his hair greasy and limp, and he walks with an unsteadiness that tells Scott he’s been experiencing the same dizziness. Most notably, his face isn’t bandaged anymore.

It had been hard to see in the End, when Jimmy’s face was pretty fairly just a mess of blood, and impossible to see when there had been bandages plastered on half his face, but it’s clear now that Jimmy’s lost almost all of the scales on his face.

They had run in patches up from his throat to the line of his jaw on both sides, some speckling across his cheeks and a handful clustered around both his mouth and eyes. Scott had always found them gorgeous, little sparkling jewels on his face that truly brought out the flecks of green in his eyes. Now there’s maybe three around his eyes, ten total over the entirety of his face. In place of all the missing scales is torn skin and scabs, blood shining on his jaw from where the scabs have split.

Scott feels a little sick looking at it. Jimmy’s throat is still wrapped in bandages, and he can see some tied around his hands, so he can only guess at how many are missing across the entirety of his body.

He’s not sure why the dressings are gone from his face, but those wounds look ripe for infection. They shouldn’t just be out in the open.

“Jimmy, where have your bandages gone?” he asks instead of replying, swinging out of bed. “You need new ones, come here.”

Jimmy follows him into the washroom that leads off from what was once their joint sitting room, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his sleeves. “They made me take them off at the door,” he explains. “To make sure it’s me, and all. It looks pretty gross, I know.”

“No, it’s not—it’s—I don’t want them getting infected, is all it is,” Scott says absentmindedly, digging through his healing chest for the proper materials. He finds a basket of bandages and a roll of gauze, which he removes and sets to the side. His hands pauses over a regen potion, glancing uncertainly at Jimmy.

Jimmy shakes his head. “No potions, doctor’s orders,” he says. “They’re afraid it won’t . . . grow back right. It’s a wait-and-see thing at the minute.”

Scott passes over the regen and the health potions, landing instead on some disinfectant ointment. He closes the chest and gestures for Jimmy to sit on it, turns away to wash his hands before twisting open the ointment.

Jimmy doesn’t sit still as he applies it, jiggling his knee and wincing and pulling back every time Scott touches him. His injuries must really hurt, then—Scott’s being as gentle as he can, barely touching his cheeks as he rubs the ointment in.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when he cleans a particularly ugly patch and Jimmy actually cries out a bit. Jimmy shakes his head, face twisted into a lopsided grimace.

“It’s fine,” he grits out. “Thanks.”

Well, it’s not as if Scott was going to let Jimmy patch himself up. He’s not sure what he’s getting thanked for.

He finishes up quickly and efficiently, hesitating at his mouth and eyes. The bandages are too blocky to work with the curves there, so he tears one up and uses the pieces to line any awkward spots.

Jimmy really doesn’t look any better once he’s done, covered in so many bits and pieces of bandages that barely any skin is showing. He forces a smile anyhow, shows Jimmy his reflection in the mirror.

Jimmy stares at himself for a long moment. “I’d laugh if I could move my mouth that much,” he comments, and the smile on Scott’s lips becomes just a bit more real. He’s making jokes. That’s got to be good.

Then Jimmy takes one of his hands, and Scott’s heart skips a beat.

“What’s this?”

Scott follows his gaze down to his hands—Scott’s knuckles have similar bandages wrapped around them.

“Same as you,” he says, flexing his wrists. “I escaped with just losing a bit of skin, fortunately.”

Jimmy nods. “Right. Scales—on a fish, perfect protection. Bit weak when you combine it with normal skin. It—it makes sense.”

“And you were in there for longer,” Scott adds. Jimmy shrugs, looking away and down. Every which way, except for back at him.

Scott leads the way back into the sitting room, gestures for Jimmy to take a seat on the sofa (it’s his favorite spot, Scott knows, the velvet of that left cushion still brushed back weird from when he’d been sitting there last). Scott almost sits in his preferred armchair, but makes a last-minute decision to sit beside Jimmy on the sofa.

They’re quiet for a moment, and it isn’t a gentle quiet, nor a comfortable one. It’s awkward, filled with tension, and Scott’s certain they keep looking at each other but never managing to catch one another’s eyes.

He’s got to say something, but all he can think about is Jimmy’s exhausted eyes, love confessions falling from bloodstained lips, impulsive kisses and a slippery grasp on his lover’s bleeding face.

He has to say something.

But Jimmy speaks first.

“I really like you,” Jimmy says, looking away, and Scott takes the moment to gaze at him, truly take in the fatigue lining his face and the droopiness of his eyelids. “I didn’t—I have for a while. Months, really. Ever since . . . I don’t know when. I just—well, I tried, that one time—” he grimaces— “I just . . . I didn’t feel worthy, I suppose, of you. You’re—Scott, you’re so perfect, always all put-together and—and rescue-y and everything, and I’m just . . . me. Gosh, I’m sorry for rambling—I really just meant to say that I like you and—and I kinda hope you like me too.”

Scott blinks.

If his heart flipped when Jimmy took his hand earlier, it’s positively doing cartwheels now.

Jimmy likes him.

And apparently, all that pining was for waste because he could’ve confessed this whole time and Jimmy would’ve reciprocated.

Scott can’t help it: he laughs. Just a little, a giggle that slips out accidentally, but it’s enough that Jimmy freezes and glances over at him, eyes terribly fearful.

Scott waves frantically, pushing closer to him. “No, no—I—I wasn’t laughing at you,” he’s quick to correct. “I was—Jimmy, I’ve liked you for ages, but I was so afraid of you rejecting me that I didn’t dare say anything. Just think what might have happened if we both actually used a bit of logic for once in our lives.”

Jimmy blinks. A surprised laugh bursts out, one that’s quickly stifled as Jimmy winces and covers his mouth. It’s really not funny—it must hurt to laugh, with his face in such a state—but Scott can’t help it. He laughs again, lightly punches Jimmy on the shoulder.

“Don’t laugh,” he reprimands, still laughing himself. “You’ll start bleeding again, and we can’t have that.”

Jimmy clearly can’t help it, his shoulders shaking as he struggles to not even smile. Scott’s smiling too, he’s gazing at Jimmy beside him as he tries not to laugh and. . . .

He’s really in love, huh? Because Jimmy’s always shone like a star, he’s always been so breathtakingly beautiful, but he’s somehow so much more so now that he’s his. Now, Scott gazes at him, wave after wave of glory hitting him like waves of heat from the sun.

He’s in love, and it’s wonderful.

“Um,” Jimmy says after a moment, and Scott realizes that not only is he staring at Jimmy, but Jimmy is staring right back.

“Sorry—” he starts to say, looking down at his hands, but Jimmy interrupts him.

“I actually—I know you’re busy, with . . . with everything going on, and I am too, but if you wanted to just have one night before all that? I’d still like to—to go stargazing with you.”

It’s wartimes. He only has the one night to offer Jimmy, and no promises for the future.

Scott smiles. “I would be honored.”

-

There’s no snow on the ground where they pick to stargaze, a stone shelf in the side of the mountain that Scott’s lain on many times past. He spreads out three blankets on top of one another and leaves a fourth bundled to the side, in case the air gets too chill.

Jimmy splays out immediately, just like how he’s always first in bed—an incredibly intimate thing for Scott to know, and something inside him seems to almost purr at the realization. Jimmy is his, and he is Jimmy’s (at least for tonight).

Scott eases himself down next to him—his lover, Jimmy’s his lover—and, in a split-second decision, shifts a bit closer so that their hips touch.

Jimmy doesn’t move away.

Scott’s heart flips a little.

Exor’s hooves, you’re acting like a teenager, he tells himself. You like him, and he likes you. Just—be normal.

He can’t be normal. There is no way he can be normal.

The world around them has been gradually growing dark the entire time they spent hiking up to here and setting up, and now it’s dark enough that Scott can barely see Jimmy’s face.

He hadn’t been able to see Jimmy’s face then, either.

He’d seen him fall.

Scott had just caught sight of it as he regained his sense of balance from the End portal. He’d looked up to find an unfamiliar island, the world surrounded by the darkness of the void, and on the other side of the island—

Even from that distance, Scott could tell that Jimmy’s fall was the most graceful he’d ever seen.

He spread his wings and took off without a second thought, abandoning the others who followed him through the portal.

He had to try. He had to.

He’d passed fWhip, who was laughing—who tried to grab him—as he went over the edge of the island.

And then, wings pulled tight to his body, nose down, he dove after Jimmy.

“Scott?”

He blinks, looks around. Jimmy’s at his side now, head propped up on his arm. Jimmy quirks an eyebrow, still barely visible. “You good? You kind of zoned out for a second there.”

Scott blinks again, looks up. The stars are starting to twinkle into vision, bright and lively, and Scott almost waves up to them.

Perhaps Jimmy doesn’t know much about elven beliefs, doesn’t know the significance of the stars. He doesn’t know that Scott could point out a dozen or two elven legends and heroes—Gelidrian, Calireth, Alinar. And others, more mundane—his parents, the nurse who had raised him, the palace guard from a mere two decades ago.

Someday, Scott knows he will join them all. Hopefully not any day soon.

“Whoa,” Jimmy whispers. Scott glances over at him, his face illuminated by the exaltation of elves. One of his hands is raised slightly. “They're so close.”

“They really are.”

They watch in silence for a while, more and more bundles of light appearing in the sky. When the entirety of the Stags is visible and bright, Scott points it out, taking Jimmy’s hand (his heart jumps, Jimmy’s his lover) to trace his fingers down the lines of stars.

“That’s the Clash of the Stags,” Scott tells him, tracing it over again. “On the left is Aeor, see His antler?”

“That’s your god, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s Aeor.” Scott smiles just a little bit—somehow, every time Jimmy knows something about elven history, it makes him ten times more attractive. “And then below Him and to the right is Exor, His brother.”

“I’ve heard you say his name before. Is he your god, too?”

Scott can’t help but snort. “No. Exor may be Aeor’s brother, but they don’t get along. Exor was cruel, controlled those under his domain, sacrificed the weak and oppressed the followers of Aeor. Aeor, meanwhile, ruled with kindness and respect, befitting of the last remaining gods.”

“What happened to the others?” Jimmy asks. “There are others, aren’t there?”

“Yes, we believe so. I’m sure you’ve heard Pix mention the Great Slumber?”

Jimmy nods, the movement scrunching up Scott’s sleeve. Jimmy’s so close to him, close enough that Scott can feel his every twitch and breath.

“Aeor and Exor were the only gods not to fall asleep. But when Exor became corrupted, jealous of his brother’s rule, Aeor knew He had to do something about it. So He gathered all His power and wielded it in a mighty battle against Exor—the Clash of the Stags. See how Aeor is kicking Exor down?”

Jimmy nods again. The nerves in Scott’s arm are tingling at his every touch, and he has to take a moment to swallow back the squeak that threatens to break his voice. “Um. Aeor used everything He had to seal Exor and his followers within a mountain forever,” he says, thankfully with no cracks. “Then He withdrew from the people, still hearing their prayers and granting small blessings, but separate from them. He lost much of His power in that fight, and has spent many thousands of years resting and caring for us—as any god should.”

Jimmy’s silent then, and when Scott looks over at him, he’s staring up at the sky, eyes flicking from point to point. Scott doesn’t look away, and while Jimmy’s eyes trace the stars, Scott’s eyes trace Jimmy’s face.

In the dark with the stars as their only light, the raw patches around his mouth and eyes that they hadn’t been able to bandage are invisible. The lines of exhaustion are impossible to see, as are the shadows Scott knows ring his eyes.

Instead, Scott sees the way his nose twitches. He sees long eyelashes that flutter gently. He sees golden hair that’s starting to curl around the gills, long in a way Scott’s never seen it. He sees lips that move soundlessly, lips that are looking more and more kissable by the second.

“There,” Jimmy says, and Scott pulls himself out of his reverie to follow Jimmy’s finger. Scott squints up at the sky as Jimmy traces a triangle shape out of the stars.

“That can be the mountain,” Jimmy says, sounding proud of himself. “The one that Aeor trapped them in. Do you guys know where that mountain is?”

Scott giggles a little—he can’t help it, it has to be a crime to be so cute—and traces along Jimmy’s triangle as well. It’s part of another constellation, he realizes after a moment—the Crystal of Rivendell, made up of stars of rulers who have passed on. “The mountain probably wasn’t real, Jimmy. Rivendell scholars have searched for it for literal ages, and they’ve not found evidence of it yet. Besides, I find it hard to believe that a mountain could entrap a god.”

“It was a magical mountain, you said so,” Jimmy says stubbornly. “Aeor sealed it. And I think it would be a great idea—some mountains are older than the ocean, you know, surely they have some sort of power.”

“Well, when you fight a god, trap him in a mountain and let me know how it goes.”

Jimmy laughs too, then cuts off abruptly as a cold gust of wind blows over them. He shivers, shifts close enough to Scott that he’s practically curled up in Scott’s side, head resting on his shoulder.

Scott’s certain that his heart actually stops.

Which is stupid, because—because they’ve done this before! Almost every morning, Scott wakes up pressed into Jimmy, and it’s fine. Well, it’s nerve-wracking and overwhelming and suffocating, but it’s been weeks since he last blushed and apologized, and much longer since he stopped pretending that Jimmy isn’t a very physically affectionate person. Romantic intentions or not (and now, in retrospect, Scott knows that most of them likely were romantic in some way and isn’t that something), Jimmy hugs him or leans on his shoulder on a near daily basis. This isn’t anything new.

Somehow, though, it’s the strangest sensation he’s ever known.

He’s been quiet for some time, he realizes suddenly, and before he even knows what to say he’s blurting out, “What’s your favorite constellation?”

Jimmy jerks a little bit. “What?”

“I—that’s how it started, isn’t it?” Scott says, and he just knows he’s paler than the stars right now. “You asked me what my favorite constellation is. Which one’s yours?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer immediately, pulling back a bit to gaze up at the stars properly. After a few moments, he takes Scott’s hand (the hairs on his arm stand up) and guides him up, much further to the left than the Stags. There, he traces out a strange shape—almost a lopsided rectangle, but with five sides.

Below it are two stars that are very familiar to Scott, he realizes with a jolt—

Staying up late every night—he’s just a child, he ought to be in bed, but instead he creeps over to the window and looks up at the stars.

His nurse had taught him to make a wish on the point of Aeor’s antler, and if the God was willing, his wish might come true. Scott can’t really remember where it is most of time, but he can always find those two bright stars to wish on—and that way, he would get two wishes!

He wishes twice for himself, or sometimes he uses one for Xornoth, or sometimes he uses one for his parents.

Most of the time, though, he wishes twice for himself—and he wishes for a friend.

Jimmy traces it again, the soft bandages on his knuckles rubbing against Scott’s matching set. “That one. That’s my favorite.”

“What is it?”

Jimmy’s hand falls to his side, almost in slow motion. “I don’t know,” he says, and there’s something wistful in his voice, something terribly sad. “But it feels like home.”

-

It gets too cold to stargaze, so Scott packs everything up and helps Jimmy back to the palace, flying in through his window so as not to get caught out by the guards.

And sure, it may be the beginning of the end of the world, war hovering over them like the executioner’s axe, but Scott can’t stop giggling. He and Jimmy are sneaking around like teenagers, trying to not be seen as they clamber in through his window. It’s so very cliche that he can’t help but enjoy it, can’t help but be entirely wrapped in the feeling of new love.

They both collapse onto Scott’s bed, both laughing, even though Jimmy’s covering his mouth and wincing like it hurts. He doesn’t stop, though, eyes sparkling as he snickers.

“The funny thing—the funniest part is, it’s not even funny,” Scott gasps out, and it isn’t—he thinks they’re more laughing because of the absurd pressure it is to sneak into a building that you belong in in the first place. It’s more stupid than anything—it would have been just fine to go in through the gates, really, but they’d decided to do it proper just for the fun of it.

Jimmy laughs harder at that, cutting himself off with a small “ouch!”. He presses his sleeve to his mouth for a moment before pulling it away, examining it for any blood. Apparently satisfied, he lets his arm fall and stretches out a bit.

“This was really good, Scott,” Jimmy says after a minute, and dear Aeor, even the way Jimmy says his name. . . .

“Can I kiss you?”

Scott blinks, sits up. Jimmy’s watching him, a blush spreading across what’s visible of his face. He almost looks just as surprised as Scott feels that those words fell from Jimmy’s mouth.

And really, props to Jimmy, because it’s not a bad idea. It’s a very good one, in Scott’s mind.

But they really need to talk about it first, don’t they?

Scott sits up, runs a hand through his hair. “I’d like to apologize, actually. For our first kiss.”

Jimmy frowns. “Yeah, I—it was sensory overload, yeah? I don’t think you need to apologize for that.”

“Wha—when did I say it was sensory overload?”

Jimmy sits up too, scoots along until he’s sitting beside Scott. “Well, I didn’t figure it out until today, actually. I sort of thought you hated me at first, but yesterday, when . . . and then again, earlier. You said—you’ve liked me this whole time, right?”

Scott nods.

“Right. Well, I figured if you did like me back then, you probably wanted to . . . do the whole kiss thing. And it’s really not like you to just run away like that. And I know you get sensory overload real bad sometimes, so. . . .”

Scott slides his hand toward Jimmy’s, loosely tangling their fingers together. It’s a conscious movement, one that sends nerves sparking up and down the very bones of his body.

It’s dangerously close to too much.

Yet it’s everything he’s wanted for so long.

“How about this,” Jimmy continues. “We—we’re . . . courting now, right? Um—that—that’s really nice to say—so how about we always ask first, before a kiss? And stuff like that. That way, neither of us is taken by surprise.”

Thrills go up and down every inch of Scott’s skin when Jimmy says that they’re courting, his breath stolen from his chest. They’re courting. They’re in a committed relationship. Jimmy is his, and he is Jimmy’s, and it’s true because Jimmy said so. It’s real.

“That—that sounds good,” he manages. He takes stock of himself—definitely on-edge, but he can handle one kiss. As long as they make sure it’s just one. And maybe if they do some pressure cuddling afterward.

“Can I kiss you?” Scott asks, his voice almost a whisper. What’s visible of Jimmy’s face under the bandages goes through a series of emotions—anxiety, enthusiasm, warmth, and then settling back on anxiety. He nods, a little uncertainly, and turns to fully face Scott, drawing his legs up criss-cross on the bed.

They’ve kissed three times before, but everything is different about this one.

There’s an awkward sort of lean-in, of course—the first and second times had been sudden, passionate, and the third filled with the thrill of survival. For this, they move slowly, telegraphing each movement carefully—akin to trying not to spook a wild stag, Scott thinks offhandedly.

And then their lips meet.

Scott’s always led kisses in past relationships, his lips slotted above his partner’s, but Jimmy takes the lead here, leaning up a bit to match Scott’s height—and Scott thinks he likes it. His lips are warm, far warmer than Scott’s, and wet, and so very very soft.

It’s not the burning fireworks of their first kisses, but it’s warm like a cozy evening by the fireplace—there are so many nerve endings, he can feel his shoulders start to raise at the overstimulation—and it’s Jimmy and he loves him so much and it’s overwhelming, it’s perfect, it’s underwhelming compared to the first time because Scott knows that Jimmy has very sharp teeth and knows how to use them—

But Jimmy pulls away after just a moment, their lips parting slowly, and offers a small smile. “Good?”

Scott can only manage a squeaky noise in the back of his throat, and Jimmy giggles. The sound is a little bit loud for his sensitive ears.

Scott stands and pulls off his cloak, muttering something about putting on softer clothes before ducking into his walk-in closet. He can hear Jimmy laughing behind him.

Normally Scott would consider himself the smooth one—why is he so uncollected? He can’t even find the words to make any sort of dirty jokes. Jimmy must think something’s wrong.

(And so many things are wrong, of course, but definitely not this.)

He changes into soft pajamas, emerging to find Jimmy having also changed—he’s in a loose shirt and shorts, hair mussed and occasional bandages wrapped around his arms and legs. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how one looks at it—his face and hands had taken the brunt of the damage, only a couple of patches bandaged on his arms and even fewer on his legs. Jimmy smiles brightly when he sees Scott reenter.

“I sort of assumed I’d be staying the night. You looked overstimulated, do you need anything?”

Scott points to the bed. “Sleep?” he suggests, swallowing half of the word back. Jimmy nods, pulls back the covers.

“Do you want me on top of you?”

Scott can’t help it—he snorts. Jimmy goes totally red, sputtering incoherently.

“I—you know I—Scott!”

“Very forward, Jimmy, and on the first date too—”

“Oh, come off it!” Jimmy shakes his head, sighs, then adds, “We’ve been engaged for a while now; I don’t think it counts as a first date.”

Scott quirks a brow, and this is more familiar, this is how their banter is meant to be, flirtatious and comfortable and not at all awkward. “So you’re saying you’re open to it?”

“You are a menace,” Jimmy tells him, but he’s smiling, and it really does feel like before all of their issues. Except now Jimmy’s actually his, and the awkward dancing around each other in a newfound relationship hasn’t passed, but maybe they can become like this again soon enough.

Scott climbs into bed, turning down the lamp on his way in. He curls on his side, pulling the blankets up to his waist, his wings resting on the cushioned shelf built into his bed for this precise reason.

After a moment, the bed shakes as Jimmy climbs in beside him, then slowly, carefully, rests an arm around Scott’s waist.

“This okay?”

The weight of his arm is heavy and warm, the perfect amount of pressure, and Scott rolls to be fully on his stomach before pressing closer. When his head is up against Jimmy’s chest, and their knees are bumping at every readjustment, he nods.

He can be close to Jimmy. He doesn’t have to be self-conscious about wanting to touch him. He doesn’t have to restrain himself in private, pretend that the physical affection is all for show.

Scott moves one arm up, wrapped under Jimmy’s arm and up his back, and sighs. This is comfortable. This is right. This is real. Their bodies know how to fit together, weeks of practice in their sleep lending subconscious knowledge to Scott as he presses up against his lover, his Jimmy.

This is real, he tells himself, and it’s perfect.

[daz4i]

uh oh i think my laptop's officially dead

[multi-lefaiye]

sorryyyy gonna vent under the cut

torn between "this customer knows nothing about me and i know nothing about him and i'm not going to assume that there is malice in his actions because i have no reason to" and "i need to sit this man down and explain to him in detail the consequences his actions are having for me specifically and also i hate him"

(elaborating in tags)

[devilzfruit]

i just napped for like 4 hrs. uh. hello.

[red-eft]

@magmacannon as requested, here's quemada...! she was born like 2 months ago. very small beast

[anders-hawke]

you could even say that greek mythology is my achilles heel

[rainbow-sparks]

I saw Jay's playthrough of Sally Face today and it made me remember how much I love this game, so I drew Sal :))!!

[concerto-roblox]

MY IPOD BROKE AGAIN I'M GONNA CRY

[astrxealis]

sometimes . hmm. i remember doing research (that i crammed lol) like, 2 years ago, for school and it was for SOGIE stuff and honestly that was really really enlightening and i'm so glad for what my school makes us do with that sort of thing even if i stress so much