#they’re all still trying to save each other

[wttcsms]

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated. 

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose. 

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry. 

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell. 

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself. 

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview. 

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early. 

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?” 

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.) 

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.  

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving. 

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him? 

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door. 

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water. 

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner. 

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him. 

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with. 

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself. 

“Look at me.” 

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him. 

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you. 

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

#atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #drabble #imagine #alright if this doesn't make it to the tags im never posting again

[bombuni]

contains: roommates!yungi x gn!reader, pre-poly (?), yes they r in love with u and each other yes they have no idea what to do about it

“They’re gonna be so mad,”

Yunho turns to Mingi, who’s all too casually chewing on his sandwich you made him, with a swiftness that causes his neck to jolt. He purses his lips in frustration and furrows his brow so Mingi gets the message that his input is not needed.

Mingi keeps chewing and watching Yunho fumble with your now bleach stained shirt. Your favorite shirt, to be exact. All he’d done was put your laundry to wash and now he feels like disaster is imminent. He’s kneeling on the floor of your guys’ living room-on the patterned rug you bought-completely distraught and still in his pajamas. He’s been dealing with this predicament all morning, suffering by himself and trying like hell to get rid of the big, ugly thing. He’s starting to think it’s taunting him.

Yunho turns back to the shirt he’s flattened out on the floor, “What do I do?”

Mingi sits back on the couch and turns the TV on to his current watch, humming whatever song he heard on the radio as if his roommate isn’t 2 feet away and practically breaking down. Yunho runs his hands over the front of your shirt again, like he’s been doing for the past hour, as if that’ll make the giant mark disappear. The clock ticks and he’s all too aware of the time of your arrival slowly inching closer and closer.

Mingi internally giggles at Yunho’s disheveled hair, “Serves you right for touching their stuff,”

Yunho pouts from the floor, “I was trying to help them out!”

“So why didn’t you do my laundry too?”

Yunho pauses for a few seconds before turning to scoop your shirt up in his arms, carefully as if it’s not already tainted by himself, “You’re useless,” he stands up quickly and exasperated, turning back around with an accusing finger, “and you haven’t been working overtime. That’s why I didn’t do your laundry.”

“Hey!” Mingi pouts and stands with purpose, just as irritated as Yunho now. He wants to poke fun at Yunho some more, but he spies your lit hot buttered rum candle out of the corner of his eye. The one you lit this morning before you left for work so the house would smell nice for your roommates. He spies the neatly organized coat rack by the door, the one where he always haphazardly throws his jacket on but finds it neatly back in its designated spot the next morning. He spies the second wrapped sandwich left on the counter, the one you made specifically for him.

Yunho’s already gone into the kitchen to try, for the millionth time, to wash out the stain once Mingi’s had the little revelation that he’s so endeared by everything you do for them, or just you in general. He figures Yunho’s already realized this a while ago, based on his unrelenting efforts to save your favorite shirt. God, you haven’t even told them outright that it’s your favorite shirt but they both just know because of how often they see you wearing it. Mingi’s just thinking over every little detail about you he’s subconsciously stored in his brain, shelved right next to every little detail about Yunho.

He stands next to the brown-haired panicked man by the sink, now ready to double his efforts and put his all into saving your shirt. He starts scrubbing like the stain owes him money. He gets a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach now, standing next to a pleading Yunho and your material under his fingers. Mingi feels fully at home, servicing both of you, but he doesn’t want to unpack that now. Yunho feels a softness blooming in him, watching how focused Mingi is getting, and the softness grows until he feels like it’s going to burst out of him like the cotton fluff in a teddy bear. A knock on the front door takes him out of it.

They both look at each other with wide eyes, panic rising as the lock keeps clicking and the door creaks open. Yunho shakes the shirt wildly in a last, stupid attempt to magically get the stain off and Mingi bites his fingernails in anxiousness. Waiting, guiltily, to let you find them both like kids caught stealing out of the cookie jar.

“Hey,” your voice echoes in the kitchen as you casually walk in and unpack your lunchbox. It’s eerie because of the out of character silence. Usually you’re hounded by Yunho asking how your day was and Mingi complaining to you about whatever he wants to that day. They’re turned away from you, standing at the sink and fiddling with a cloth in their hands. The guilt is hanging in the air, almost contaminating you too. It’s so clearly written on Mingi’s pouting face every time he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and you don’t really have to wait to have your suspicions confirmed.

You lean on the counter and cross your arms, “Ok, what did you two do?”

They slowly turn to you, “Nothing, we ju-“

“Yunho got a bleach stain on your favorite shirt.”

You both look at Mingi, Yunho turning with a betrayed look on his face, “What? You shouldn’t have done their laundry without permission,”

You walk in between where they stand at the sink, taking the shirt into your hands and unfolding it until you spy the splotch. Yunho twirls his hands and watches you with puppy dog eyes, curling in on himself as if he’s preparing for a scolding. Mingi thinks he’s adorably pathetic, falling for his wide eyes even though they aren’t directed at him.

You hum and shrug, “I’ll just use this as a sleep shirt from now on.”

Yunho splutters and stands tall, offense overtaking his features and once again making Mingi the scapegoat to all of his problems, “You said they’d be totally mad at me!”

Mingi has a dumb smile on his face as Yunho keeps blabbering and smacking his side. You blow out the hot buttered rum candle on the counter, watching as the two keep battling and calling to you to ‘join their side.’ It turns out like always, with Yunho pinning Mingi to the couch and their ‘fight’ dissolving into soft giggles. It’s quiet for a moment as they catch their breath, before you come crashing onto Yunho’s back and forcing him to topple over Mingi. The room is loud again, filled with complaints and grumbling but none of you move. Mingi shifts so you’re both comfortably on top of him. His arms hardly fit around two bodies and Yunho’s practically falling off the edge of the couch but he’d rather die than purposefully leave the feeling of Mingi’s chest rising and falling under him, the feeling of your gentle hand running over the spots on his face. It’s another Thursday night in your crowded home and you can find love in every nook and cranny.

bom note: love domesticity hope i can try it sometime

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez soft thoughts #ateez soft hours #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #song mingi #jeong yunho

[houseofevanbuckley]

I just have this head canon that one night while he and Tommy are just sleeping, Buck has this awful nightmare where he relives Eddie getting shot. Tommy is jarred away by Buck scrambling out of bet and rushing to the bathroom to wash his face in his confusion. It's a terrifying thing but once Tommy has Buck back in bed and Buck tearfully tells him what the dream was about, he's so understanding and amazing he actually bundles Buck up and they go to their Diaz boys together, no jealous or insecurity, just the five of them being their for each other like a whole ass family

This ! All of this !

I wish my baby wasn’t hurt that way but it is part of him now. It wouldn’t be his first nightmare while he sleeps with Tommy, but it’s the first one that’s strong enough that he can’t hide it. Waking up gasping for hair, his arm scratching at his chest trying to claw at his lungs to make them work! To make them do their job. The darkness of the room closing on him while his lungs are.still.not.working!

And then light appear and Tommy’s arms get around him, pulling him agasint his chest. He put his own hand on Buck’s chest, rubbing on it while he talks in his ear. Just repeating numbers again and again, getting Buck to focus on him. “ In, 1 2,3,4… Out 5,6,7,8,9… In,12,3,4”

It takes a while but he finally can get a breath in, making the stars that were starting to appear over his vision recede.

They stay silent for a while, tremors still running over Buck’s body, being replaced by Tommy hands rubbing along his arms, his chest.

Tommy doesn’t want to push Buck so he waits for him for a minute, and then two, and three.

Until he feels water on the arm rubbing Buck’s chest.

“Baby…” he says, pain in his voice at seeing his boyfriend like that.

He pulls him more agasint his own body, his chest covering the entirety of Buck’s back like a shield, and Buck breaks.

His breath stutters but the panic doesn’t come back. He talks then. He talks about that boy they saved. About how proud and happy Eddie was when they left his house. He was right. He saved that boy. And then the bullet. The blood. The hiding under a car. The dragging. And the wait. The wait for help, the time running away as they struggled to get away. To get to the real help, to the hospital.

And more wait.

Tears are flowing freely as he talks about it. Telling Christopher. Waiting again.

And Tommy gets it. He was in the military. He gets seeing his people shot, the one that are here to support you, to help you. Brothers and sisters. His heart break for his boy. His sweet boy who just want to save the world, to protect the ones he loves and even the ones he doesn’t.

He should have never been in this situation, none of them should have.

He takes a decision then. He may not be able to bring his own ghost back, but Buck doesn’t have these. His people are here, and they’re ready to support him.

He stands up when Buck finally calm down enough that he feel he can leave him for a few second.

He goes doesnstairs to get some water and grab his phone on the counter, sending a quick text to Eddie. Not saying too much, he knows Buck would rather run away than talks about his nightmare, but he says enough.

He goes up to Buck’s room, with some room temperature water, something that wouldn’t attack his throat or his body with some temperature chock.

He has him drink two glasses before he put the bottle on the bedside table and tells him to stand up while he grabs Buck’s comfy hoodie on his dresser and a sweatpants.

“Wha-what?” bucks asks, bewildered by clothes being thrown his way.

Tommy who comes back in front of him and kiss his birthmark

“Trust me, baby”

And Buck does. He does completely.

It takes them ten minutes to get fully ready. Tommy heard his phone buzz downstairs and when they go down he sees the answer he expected.

“Come on, baby” he says grabbing his boyfriend hand and gently pulling him outside and to his care.

“Where are we going ?”

“Where you need to be”

It takes them less than 20 minutes to reach the Diaz house, at 4 am the traffic is quiet all over town and Buck has recognized the way they were taking half way through their trip

“Tommy…”

“It’s ok baby,” he says, putting his hand on Buck’s thighs the rest of the way.

When they reach the house, Eddie is waiting at the door, hair in every direction, tank top and sweatpants on.

He welcomes them with a hug each, lingering in Buck’s when he feels how Buck sags against him and Tommy just watches with a soft smile and a grateful nod when Eddie looks his way.

They make their way inside and Christopher is sitting at the table, ice cream boxes open in front of him with some bowls, a documentary is playing on low volume on the tv and the boy smile at Buck, his own hair reflecting his dad’s.

“Guys,” whispers Buck, awed that anyone would do that. That they’d wake up for him, be there for him. He turns back to Tommy who took him there, kissing him on the lips softly.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes shining.

“Come on baby,” says Tommy, guiding him to the table, “gotta be quick before Christopher steals all the chocolate mint.”

They stay there the rest for he night and well into the day. Being there for Buck this night, like they’d be there for the others on an other night. Like a family should

#anon games #anon ask #the Buck-Diaz family is so dear to me and adding Tommy to it makes it only stronger #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #tevan #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #evan buck buckley #buck and tommy #evan x tommy #tommybuck #kinley #don’t mind the typos #it’s 7am and my brain is still mush

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Hello! I’d love to read your vision of the LoD boys x MC in high school. (High school to adults, just high school, childhood. Anything!) Alllll the cliches appreciated, haha.

Coming-of-Age HC's with the LADS Guys

pairing: fem!reader x Zayne, fem!reader x Xavier, fem!reader x Rafayel

content: fluff, alternate universe (kinda)

Childhood with Zayne is filled with increasingly hot summers and snowy winters. It’s memories of an extroverted young girl dragging along her much more introverted best friend (well, Caleb’s friend first) to make popsicles under the blaze of the June sun and snowmen in the cold of January. In the same way snow melts with the coming of spring, you chip his shell away, making a friendship that’s stronger than any of your lifetimes.

Those years with Zayne are like a pleasant dream, soft and gentle, like his hand when he wipes away the tears from your cheeks whenever you fall or when he places a band-aid on one of the many injuries prone to an adventurous spirit.

Middle School with Zayne is when you first feel fragility in your friendship. You’re realizing you might be growing in different directions.

Zayne is intelligent, often getting attention for his grades and participating in scholars tournaments while you’re busy with your own hobbies and friends that come with them.

There’s hope your friendship will persevere each time you walk home together, each time he lets you share his umbrella on heavy rainy days, and each day he saves to spend with you.

High school with Zayne is confusing. Growing into adulthood is an exciting and nervous situation for anyone but even more-so when everyone but you seem to realize that you have feelings for your childhood friend.

Your grandma is constantly reminding you how smart and handsome Zayne has become. He’s going to study to be a doctor, you know! Maybe you should ask him to prom?

Caleb complains about how Zayne usually takes your side in arguments and does what you want all the time. He frequently teases you every time you sigh over the older boy. Isn’t getting a crush on your older brother’s friend too obvious?

They’re right though, and it’s awkward. What’s more awkward is the stolen kiss with Zayne in the new car his parents got him when he first got his license. You don’t talk about it even after he goes to college.

Meeting Zayne as an adult is nostalgic yet new as you learn about each other again. The trust you had in each other never truly left.

With each trinket, you realize he’s still the same Zayne, quiet and stern on the outside but with a patient and gentle center. However, his smart mouth still rears its head as frequently as it did back in high school.

You watch out for him more as an adult, because you see that he isn’t actually good at caring for himself despite all his intelligence. You make it so he can rely on you to get through the past days and future ones.

You try new things together. You adapt to how your views of the world differ so you can mold those differences together, creating one shared experience in the life you build with one another.

Childhood with Xavier is innocent. Being born on Philos is like being born in a fantasy book. Your world is sword training and ceremony rehearsals, your feet always chasing after the decorated knights and lightseekers before they board their spaceships. In your mind, the world is as limitless as the starry sky promised just beyond its surface.

Xavier is the same way. He says he likes sword training because it’s the only thing he’s good at. Truthfully, he loves that sword, carries it around with him everywhere like a third arm, and you love training with your new fellow student.

As you get older, things start to change for reasons you don’t really understand. The loss of innocence is slow, dragging out like the death of a star. It starts when silly days sword practicing becomes military drills. Then, Xavier’s ceremony rehearsals become real with each trial he has to overcome. It culminates when you find out that he will probably be betrothed one day against his will, which manifests into doubt that you would ever be on the list for a prince to marry.

Military Academy with Xavier offers a surprising amount of freedom as you discover yourself away from the watchful eyes of the royal family. It’s reintroducing him to your favorite snacks and music and sneaking out of the barracks to watch the stars and anything else he couldn’t do under the iron grip of his family.

There’s also many nights helping him study and focus so he can become the best version of himself because he still has rebellious tendencies after all these years.

These tendencies lead you to covering for him and also him talking you into one too many bad ideas. Ideas that leave you carrying one another home on stumbling legs after too many rounds with random wanderers or rounds with liquor way stronger than you know how to deal with.

It’s okay. You have each other to keep the other safe, so attached at the hip that Jeremiah always wonders where the other one is whenever he catches the two of you apart.

His light shines only for you. If you asked, he would give anything to make sure you’re happy: his time, his freedom, his life.

The jealousy and longing to be with you grates against the cage his title keeps around him whenever he sees someone else who has seen your light and fallen in love with you too. It’s written love letters, never signed, but left in your locker, the ones that smell like forget-me-nots and written in a prose that Xavier hopes you won’t recognize as his when he sees you fawning over the little notes.

Your looming graduation reignites the worries about your relationship. You have to come to terms with your respective role as a knight and Xavier as King. Xavier feels the same way.

Yet this part of your life quickly becomes filled with sweet nothings – promises to run away together, carried on his wishes to be with you for the rest of immortality, all wrapped in the little star charm carried on his sword. It makes you realize your feelings were requited all along.

Adulthood with Xavier fills like achieved dreams and nights you never want to end. It’s basking in the company of one another, adorned with kisses and released longing that couldn’t be given years prior.

It’s becoming more than just his guiding starlight but his entire galaxy, and he shows it with each kiss he gives you.

Childhood with Rafayel feels like you’re dreaming. Mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but there’s one right in front of you.

You learn so many things from him. He loves talking about almost anything from his culture to your culture. He loves art, the sunset, and music.

You bring him lots of things from land that you think he would like, spending long days at the beach trading items with him and showing him human toys. It becomes normal to strike out early every weekend to meet the Lemurian boy again and again.

He braids Lemurian ribbons and clips seashell accessories into your hair. He teaches you Lemurian lullabies and sayings. He often gets in trouble for accidentally gifting you family heirlooms without realizing the weight of said items. He just thought it was pretty. Even if he got in trouble, it was worth it to see you smile.

Your time together eventually develops into trying to think of ideas to explore further from the beach. You train to hold your breath a little longer with hopes of making it further into the sea than last time.

Your first kiss is because of the legend that Lemurian kisses can let one breathe underwater. It wasn’t really a big deal back then. However, the memory of it makes your face hot many years later when you think back on it.

The end of summer marks the slowdown of your free time together. It always ends with a pinky promise to spend your next free day with him.

Your 8th grade year with Rafayel is a collage of photos and videos filled with cawing seagulls, the serenade of his harmonica, and the first time your feet were able to touch the surface of the water. Rafayel always seems to want to show off his new powers as the next God of the Sea.

He’s still a child though, which means he is still insistent to sneak to school with you to see what human classes are like. He still talks too smartly to the other students, and you still have to talk him out of a fight with one of the other boys.

It’s an exhausting day but he seemed to have fun running around town with you, saving the day in the strip of pictures printed out from the photo booth and the memory of his first surface world sunset.

Your later teenage years offer even less time together but each time you visit him feels more meaningful than the last even though you can’t go further than the crackle of a bonfire at the edge of the beach. You’re happy with these late nights though because you love the boy from another world.

No matter how many years pass, he’ll always be the boy who gets shy and makes excuse after excuse to avoid singing for you despite being born a siren. He’s the boy who constantly complains about his classmates being idiots for saying you’re going to steal his blood and make him into oil and how they tease him for being friends with a human. He refuses to tell you that it’s more because of his crush on a human. Despite all that, he has no issue dropping hint after hint about how Lemurians can bond with others by giving one of their scales.

Years later, it still makes a lovely necklace to wear when he finally makes his choice to be on land, with you, his beloved bride.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #zayne fluff #rafayel fluff

[sunnystrollblog]

IM BACK WITH EVEN MORE IDEAS! Wholesome edition because they deserve nice things

Despite refusing to wear the bracelets, the Borrowers are very happy to participate in Hug Time. It's one of the things they all missed when living in Bergen Town. Caretakers routinely get dog piled by their broods

They really like games like hide and seek and capture the flag. They claim it's for training. Everyone else is just glad that they're having fun.

Smidge gets adopted by the defenders

Poppy makes a whole scrapbook of the best and worst gifts to give a borrower. This scrapbook is affectionately refered to as "The Sacred Texts"

They don't like big loud parties despite this they still stand guard against any predators attracted by the noise.

Aaaaa this is so real!!!

I’d also like to add on to this wholesomeness!

Many broods have a big fear of critters so Milton moss lets the defenders bring them to come see his critter care center to get use to them and even let them hold some!

Smidge definitely gets adopted by the defenders and loves that she has a friend group who can keep up with her workout routine!

Creek and kismet finally get to meet each other which makes branch and poppy go into friend matching mode where they try to set up friend dates for them!

Trickee has a soft spot for broods which also extends to non borrower trollings and boy do kids exploit it

Sky Toronto asks for the help of scavengers and rescuers a lot, for some reason they’re both very good at finding and retrieving rare party items they’re very fast at it too.

Borrowers are known to sleep in packs so it’s not uncommon for other trolls to find branch and kismet snuggled underneath a shaded tree dozing off.

Sometimes poppy will remind defenders that they’re not living in the compound anymore and can join in the parties the offer is usually declined but poppy will still save some cupcakes for them.

AAAHhh I love this au so much!!! Gonna go draw some of these ideas now!!!

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls fandom #trolls branch #dreamwork trolls #trolls au #branch trolls #borrowers au #trolls band together #trolls sky toronto #trolls smidge #trolls milton #trolls kismet

[trollsedits]

Random Brozone Headcanon….

-If you ask the brozone brothers who has the most ugliest crying face… They all will say Clay cuz he’s in a sad book club

-Floyd is the laziest brother out of all the Brozone brothers (sorry Floyd 🥺)

-All of the brothers hate Creek Cuz branch told them how creek sold the trolls village out to save his own skin

-Floyd is the shortest brother along with John Dory

-They once have a reality TV shows called Keeping up with Brozone 🤧

-Branch once hit John,Bruce and clay for treating him like a baby after he said he’s a grown Ass man poppy had to stop him

-once a week clay made all his brothers join his sad book club

-Floyd still dose not know what happened to Grandma :( the brothers refuse to tell him what happened

-Branch acts like their grandma 🙂‍↕️

-Bruce is the best cook

-DO NOT LET FLOYD OR JOHN DORY NEAR THAT FUCKING KITCHEN AT ALL COST!!!

-clay,Bruce and branch can cook/bake

-John Dory said Clay had the biggest Glow Down same with Bruce Which Bruce Wack John across the seven seas

-Floyd is like a Emo troye sivan

-Clay still refused to give John Dory a hug

~They’re pop trolls and yet clay still refused to hug John~

-Floyd gives the best hugs that’s why branch won’t let go of Floyd he probably prefer being hug by Floyd and poppy

-Bruce still acts like a immature kid when he is around his brothers but when he is with his wife and kids he’s acts super mature

-Bruce refused to cuss at all cost since he’s a dad now but back in his boy band days yep he’s cussed a lot

-John,Clay and Bruce are Potty mouth back in their bands days

-Floyd can’t cussed even if he try to 😂

-Floyd still thinks Grandma Rosiepuff is alive so he would wait for her to come back no one had the guts to tell him not even branch

-Branch would dress up as grandma rosiepuff to make Floyd think that she was still here but poppy and the others said is time to tell Floyd the truth

-John Dory is weird Af one of the snack pack said it 🙃

“he’s like a weird old version of branch he’s always hanging with us dose he not have any friends? I feel sorry for him.” -An anonymous person from the snack pack (Branch Probably said that 😭)

-The Fashion Twins Styles all of Brozone outfits when ever they have events or shows in pop village

-Poppy and Viva likes to play pranks on Brozone and the snack pack would help pitch in

-smidge likes to prank branches brothers but she gets carried away

-Cloud guy would call branch brothers Branch duplicator or something

-Floyd and Bruce are such and underrated siblings duo as-well Clay and Floyd 🤧🩷

-The 4 younger brothers have a John Dory Hate club @definitelynotclay (Looking at you dude 👀)

-Clay likes to see John in pain but he definitely hates seeing Bruce,Floyd and branch in pain 🥺

-John Dory thought barb was a boy 🤣!!

-Who say you can hate John Dory if anyone gonna hate on him it has to be Clay, Clay will bash anyone who hate on his older brother b/c Clay wants to be John Dory only number one Hater (speaking facts 🫶🏻)

-Clay and John Dory fight the most

-Clay and Bruce would be Bestie if they weren’t brothers 🙂‍↕️

-Floyd stills throw tantrum

-John stalks his brothers for the past 20+ years so pretty sure you see him but he’s in disguise 🥸

-branch talks to himself a lot

-John sold many embarrassing pictures of his bros to fans (I’ve mentioned that before but it gets worse each time)

-Bruce said clay is his ride to die for life….

———————————

Well, that’s all anyways

Like + Follow are very much appreciated! ✨🫶🏻

#trolls #dreamworks #trolls band together #trolls fandom #trolls movie #dreamworks trolls #brozone #trolls floyd #trolls john dory #trolls clay #trolls branch #trolls bruce #dreamworks trolls headcanon #trolls headcanons #brozone headcanons #brozone branch #brozone hcs #brozone bruce #brozone clay #brozone john dory #brozone floyd #floyd #bruce #branch #jonh dory #clay #grandma rosiepuff #grandma Rosiepuff mentioned

[thestobingirlie]

i love the scene where steve hits billy with his car for a lot of reasons, but one of it is for the monster hunting trio of it all.

so, jonathan’s in the car, trying to get away, nancy’s standing guard, shooting at billy, and steve is the one that swoops in at the last second, sacrificing himself for them (obviously he didn’t die, but could’ve so it still counts)

anyway! first of all, you get the parallels to season 1, with jonathan repeatedly dragging the both of them away from the demogorgon and to safety, nancy shooting the demogorgon to try to save them, and steve running in, to dive in front of the demogorgon.

just, like, at their core, these characters aren’t totally different. they’re changed by what they’ve witnessed, but their instincts are still the same, even nearly two years later, they’re still trying to save each other.

just, in both seasons, they’re protecting, but in different ways. jonathan is trying to save them by getting away, nancy is trying to save them by killing the thing that’s threatening them, and steve is trying to save them by diving in front of them all, and doing whatever he can to protect them.

#they’re so messy and fucked up. and all of them have reasons to resent the others. but none of them do. #they’re all still trying to save each other #i just love the monster hunting trio okay #i miss them so much #i’m like a wife waiting for my husband to return from war #but it’s been so many years that i’m pretty sure he’s dead #honestly tho. if the duffers don’t give us the trio being friends in s5 i may go insane #steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #monster hunting trio #stoncy #stranger things #my post

[museenkuss]

Spn blogs in my recs and they WILL NOT LEAVE.

#they’re even on my main blog now #at least for me #and like yeah I get it blood and rot and family and whatever #I think I’m getting my period soon because it usually doesn’t annoy me like this but GOD #I don’t WANT these here. #but tbh I just don’t like the fandom. it’s all very clique-y and I am so so lonely #like genuinely I haven’t felt good about a single thing I posted for that in way too long #I like WRITING but posting?? in that fandom? it’s terrible. I hate it #& I’ve taken to writing out all my frustration and anger and grief in a separate doc to be deleted before posting the main work #which is fucking. just. it’s bad. I’ve never had to do that for ANY fandom I wrote for. #and I geeeeeet that it’s because it’s such a big fandom so people know each other and it’s not like my small communities where you #parallel play in peace. but I don’t like it. it’s deeply uncomfortable and isolating and I’m so sick of it #but I also like the writing I do so I try to just stay in my niche and not look at anyone else #I think I unfollowed every fandom blog save for two? three? so I could be alone instead of lonely #but it still washes over me whenever I post something. #oh an! sometimes I’m tempted to just do something super mass appealing so they’ll like me but that just makes me feel worse #I’ve been tempted to delete my blog so many times because I lost my friends from the old fandoms and this one is the poorest substitute #but I also feel like that won’t make me happier either. I wish I’d just never started engaging w that show tbh #okay done. just. I’m going through it

[curly-cottage-girl]

finished the return of the thief and have Feelings

#all the stuff with his dad still holding him like a baby #I literally squealed it was so precious #but then he dies auushsjshssjdhdkjd #‘the king and his thief’ was about the twins I cantttt 😭 #also the whole thing with Irene saving Sejanus through Pheris like Gen did with Costis/Teleus back in KoA #and Gen talking with and kissing Sejanus’ forehead before he dies 😭 #also his first kill was NOT in The Thief???? it was before with his grandfather holy crap that was kinda dark #Philologos :( #and Hilarion too I liked him #and of course the window scene near the beginning haha #and OF COURSE Gen trying to kill the ambassador from Pent #and then everyone just hears him and Irene yelling and they think they’re gonna kill each other lol #(but the tender!! scene of his head on her lap! ough!) #and then when they check in the morning they literally just found them in a makeshift bed together #like ah yes that’s their relationship right there lol #everything was just so… beautifully written #the emotions #the people seemed so much like peopl and not just characters #(which is kind of a theme I see from different povs heh) #the queen’s thief #the queen’s thief spoilers #the return of the thief #it’s really late and I need to go to bed but I could talk about everything lol

[shadowglens]

looking at a prompt @montliyets sent me for gigi/peter days ago and wishing i had the strength to write a 5+1 formatted fic about five times they couldn’t help each other and one time they did

#txt #all the angst of micommunication and misunderstandings #of growing up so differently and being thrust into being heroes so differently #and how there was always going to be a disconnect there - between heroes need to save people and gigis subconscious desire to be saved #them both trying So Hard over the years to make that bridge and meet halfway but the other always being too emotional or compromised to * #* see the opportunity for what it is #until one day it clicks and it hurts because they’re still very different people but they Know How To Help Each Other now #😭😭😭😭😭 #anyway idek if this makes sense I’m just constantly going insane over my super indulgent break up ship you know? #(it’s not about them learning to love each other!! it’s about them learning to understand each other!!) #fuck gotta tag them so i don’t loose these ideas #gigi x peter

[muted5ilence]

When the Farmer’s precious Livestock are being preyed upon by the Wolves

#maki mayhem #The poor livestock. Cows and sheep and chickens. All minding their business and living their lives. #Sometimes the Farmer will kill them to feed itself and/or it’s family. #Wolves will prey on the livestock when they can. Be it dark of night or broad daylight. #The Farmer is responsible for its livestock. A bad farmer lets the wolves have at it; as long as the farmer still eats. #A good Farmer will protect the livestock from Wolves by setting up protective measures for them or by killing off the wolves. #Some may still eat their lovestock despite protecting them from Wolves. As long as they eat. #The Livestock don’t know any better. They’re just trying to survive; it’s in their nature. #The Farmer or its family can try to save the livestock or they may selfishly steal the Livestock for their own purposes. #Sometimes the Farmer and its family can be particularly sick and twisted and cruel towards the Livestock. #Other Farmers do the same. They can steal livestock from competitors. because those Farmers perceive others as threats. Maybe 4 good reason. #Sometimes the Livestock know their Farmer sucks. They try to leave. Sometimes to other Farms. Who knows. #But of course; they do not have the power/ability to fight back against the Farmer or their family or the Wolves. Not alone. #It’s hard to rally a herd of cattle and sheep and chickens and horses and rabbits all together. They may not even like each other. #Sometimes it’s hard for them to get past it. Sometimes the Livestock may be just as bad as the Wolves or the Farmer and their family. #A Wolf in Sheep’s clothing if you will. The Farmer may turn a blind eye or can’t tell the difference. Rarely is the Wolf outed. #Give this to students as a logic problem or something. Put this in the education system. Find and raise problem solvers.

[strawberrysturniolo]

goal // hockey!chris

summary: your boyfriend gets in a fight during his hockey game

part two

“SHIT!” I scream as the opposing team launches the puck into the goal. With some miracle, it’s pulled to the side goalpost, keeping the score at 2-2. 

I relax in my seat with my best friend sitting next to me, her tension releasing just as much as mine, maybe more, considering her boyfriend is the goalie. 

I watch as my boyfriend skates back onto the ice, tapping his stick three times to get my attention. 

I love you. 

I smile at him, watching as he races across the ice and steals the puck from his opponent. 

In retaliation, that player slams Chris into the boards in front of me. My eyes widen at the sound of the impact, but my boyfriend skates backwards unscathed. 

“We still on for dinner tonight?” he asks me in the middle of his game. 

I nod, trying my best not to distract him. 

We met when my best friend took me to her boyfriend's hockey banquet. It was hard not to be captivated by Chris. He checked all the right boxes and captured my attention with ease. I wanted to know everything about him.

We talked the whole night, then hung out in groups until we finally had the courage to go on a proper date. He kissed my cheek when he dropped me off at my apartment across our college campus, a complete sweetheart in the palm of my hands. 

We started dating after a few months, taking everything really slow, especially with the chaos of our own college schedules and him having to travel for his games. 

Chris skates next to his brothers, Sturniolo stitched into three jerseys standing next to each other as their coach speaks with them during their timeout. 

I look at Chris’ hand, sticking out behind him. He has his hand out with his middle and ring finger down, signing I love you.

“You guys are just too cute, aren’t you?” my best friend teases me. 

My cheeks burn red, a smile on my face that I can’t shake off. 

A power play is set up right next to where we’re sitting. I always find this so interesting. I can hear everything the players say to each other. 

“Who’s little girlfriend is there in the green?” someone says. 

I know they’re talking about me, so I immediately scan Chris’ face to see what he says. He doesn’t respond, but his jaw is locked and his eyes are burning into the other player. 

I watch Chris’ brother, Matt, charge into our view, stealing the puck away and attempting to shoot. It’s another lost cause. This goalie has saved the last 10 shots. 

“Oh, Jesus,” my friend groans. “Look at Chris.”

I scan the ice for my boyfriend, finding the number 3 and following his every move. He follows the player with the last name Hart like a shark. I can’t hear anything, but I can see the anger on Chris’ face, and the humor on Hart’s. Finally, I watch Chris hit his breaking point. 

With seven minutes left in the game, Chris races across the ice to Hart, despite the fact that his other brother, Nick, is already playing defense on him. Chris slides in front of his brother, cross-checking Hart. 

“Are you kidding me?!” I hear a shout from behind me. 

Eventually, the area around us erupts in cheers. Students from our school rise on their feet, jumping up and down, cheering on Chris as he picks a fight. 

Sticks are thrown, and the referees stand in shock as Chris lays sprawled on top of Hart, regaining his balance before throwing punches at his helmet. 

My heart is pounding, but I know better than to react and embarrass him. He knows how to be safe on the ice, and he knows his limits way better than I do. Not to mention, everyone loves Chris. Our school gathers just for him and his brothers, cheering them on at every game. The last thing I want is to embarrass him or his reputation. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Chris roars, and at that, the referees finally get involved. It’s useless. While two referees hold onto him, another player from the opposing team runs up to defend Hart, throwing a punch at Chris’ jaw. 

“Hey!” I find myself jumping up and yelling. I watch as the blood starts to pour from Chris’ nose, and now that there’s blood involved, I feel every bit of anxiety bubbling up in my chest. “Someone do something!”

Chris continues to get nailed, slurring out profanities as he expresses his anger. 

“Do NOT talk about her!” he screams one last time as he’s dragged off the ice, his brothers eyeing down everyone else in case it’s their turn to throw a punch. 

“Christopher Sturniolo, five minute penalty for fighting,” an announcer says over the speaker, repeating the same spiel for Hart. 

I grab my bag and stand from the bleachers. “I’m gonna go meet him outside the locker room.”

I say goodbye to everyone and head to the locker room, wanting to know more about this fight, but more importantly, that he’s okay. 

About 20 minutes later I see Chris walking with his coach, his nose mixed with some fresh and some dried blood. When his coach notices me standing outside of the locker room, picking at my fingers, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice.”

Chris nods, walking right past me and into the locker room. I’ve already seen everyone else leave, so I know it’s safe to go in, but seeing that he completely ignored me, I don’t think a few guys in there would be enough to keep me from entering. 

“So you’re just picking fights and ignoring me now?” I scoff. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, tearing his padding off and shoving it into his hockey bag. 

I watch as he pulls his shirt off, his toned back facing me. 

I find myself becoming embarrassingly distracted and forgetting what I’m actually in here for.

“Do you still want dinner?” I ask quietly, my voice timid. 

Chris sighs and places his hands on the sides of his locker, the muscles in his back tensing. “Where do you want to go?”

I shrug even though I know he can’t see me. It’s like I’m too nervous to say anything in case he gets mad at me over something that happened during the game. 

When I don’t answer, he turns around, finding nothing but concern painted all over my face. 

He sighs again, this time one that tells me that he’s sorry without actually saying it. His arms wrap around me, his bare chest bracing my clothed one. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my hair as he kisses my head. 

“What happened?” 

He breathes out a laugh, tossing his shirt into his locker. “Johnny Hart happened, that piece of shit.” 

I don’t ask for more information. The dam has now broken and I know the water carrying the information is going to come flooding in. 

“He’s known for being a top tier trash talker, but it takes it way too fucking far,” he tells me. “I mean, talking about my family, my girlfriend–Fuck!”

I flinch at the sound of him shouting. “What did he say about me?”

He shakes his head. 

“Tell me,” I plead. 

“No!” he shouts again. “God, just– Go wait outside. I’ll be out in a minute and we can go get something to eat.”

“I want to know what he said!” 

“He’s a dick! Go wait outside,” he demands, but my feet are planted to the floor. I refuse to back down. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“Yes!” I argue. 

“Fine!” he gives in. He takes a deep breath. “He was just saying disgusting things about you the whole time. Talking about your legs, how he wanted to see what you had under your pants.” I watch as his jaw tightens again. “He said he wanted to see if he could make you wetter than I can. That he would take you after the game and pin you against his car… Is that enough for you?”

I can see his face turning red, his anger bleeding out of him. It’s at this moment that I can also see that his face is still a bloody mess, and that matters more to me than what some idiot on the other team has to say about me. 

Without a word, I walk to the sinks, grab a rag that has been folded up and get it damp with warm water. I motion for Chris to sit down on a bench in front of his locker, and when he does, I start gently dabbing his mouth with the rag. 

He gives me a soft smile, and as cute as that is, my focus is on his bloody teeth. 

“Oh, baby,” I mumble. I find a bottle of water buried in his bag so he can rinse his mouth, and continue cleaning his face. “Are your hands okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Had my gloves on.” 

I nod, remaining silent as I wipe the blood from his mouth and give him somewhere to spit the bloody water. 

“Coach is pissed,” he laughs lightly. 

“I’m not surprised.”

“He was already getting on me about my grades, and with this… I gotta get it together or he’s benching me.”

We both know that his coach will fight anyone to make sure Chris stays on the starting team. He’s the best player this college has seen in years.

“I can tutor you again,” I offer. “I have time before work on Friday’s.”

He shakes his head at me. “I don’t want to put that on you.” 

“I wouldn’t have offered if it would have been an inconvenience.”

He nods, then rests his hands on my waist, eventually pulling my wrists down to remove my hands from his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. 

“I know.”

“I just…” his voice trails off. “I can’t stand it when they do that shit. I know you’re a catch because… come on,” he motions his hands at me, making me laugh. “I just can’t sit there and pretend like I’m not bothered by it.” 

“I get it,” I assure him, trying to relieve the part of him that feels like he’s letting people down. “Let’s just get those grades up and try to tone back on the fighting, okay?”

He nods, this time smiling with a lot less blood in his teeth. He pulls me down to his level, resting me on his lap before holding my cheeks and kissing me gently. “I love you.”

A smile grows on my face. “I love you more.”

His eyes go wide. “Enough to fight Hart’s girlfriend for me?”

I let out a short laugh. “Let’s go get something to eat.” 

#sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #taako adventurezone #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides #McElroys #griffin mcelroy #the adventure zone

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 5)

Masterpost

It took a little convincing to get Jazz to come back with them, but she didn’t want to stay with Constantine because he ‘smelled like cigarettes and generational trauma’ and she couldn’t stay alone. So in the end she agreed to come back to Wayne manor with the promise that Tim would help walk her through the process of getting emancipated since he’d already done it before. Dick informed Agent A they’d be having another new person for dinner and asked Jazz if she had any allergies, which was also a no. Apparently the Fentons tended to be a very hearty family. 

They took the jet back, dropping Jazz off at the manor before parking in the batcave and changing into civics as quickly as they could so they could go greet her. Before they could Alfred sent a video on the family group chat. The video started with Danny pacing in the foye, then the door opened and Jazz hesitantly let herself in only to be greeted by a battering ram of Brother hurtling towards her. 

She managed to get her arms up in time to catch Danny with an Oof before they just clung to each other. Awww, why weren’t any of Dick’s siblings like that with him?! Something to bully them about later.

—----

“What happened?” Danny whispered against Jazz’s chest. 

“The Justice League finally stepped up and dealt with it. Locked the portal, took away mom and dad and Vlad, I don’t know what will happen with any of them but it’s not our fault whatever it is. It’s not our responsibility or our problem, I’m going to focus on university and you’re going to focus on keeping yourself and the babies healthy and safe.” She said softly, feeling Danny wince.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the babies, I just didn’t know how too,” Danny said, and Jazz could feel how he tensed, expecting her to be angry with him.

“It’s okay little brother, I understand. That was a lot to process, I’m sure you would have told me soon,” She murmured and he nodded. “Danny, did he… did he rape you?” Jasmine forced herself to ask softly. She didn’t think so, but she just needed to know.

“No, he stole my DNA and tried to clone me. But it didn’t work and Danielle and the other clones were melting. I don’t know how many he tried but I can’t imagine he started in batches of ten. I could only save two, Daniella and one of the boys. It was awful. I don’t know how long they’ll need to stay inside me to fully develop but they can take all the time they need. I can feel them inside me, I can feel their love. I love them too, they’re my babies Jazz, I know I’m young but…”

“You’re going to be a great parent Danny,” Jazz promised softly, giving him a gentle squeeze. “And I’m going to be the best aunt and babysitter you could ask for.”

She didn’t realize he was crying until his laugh came out audibly wet. “I’m sure you will. Thank you Jazz.”

“No problem Danny. What about the Wayne’s, you trust them? You think you’ll be okay here? I’ll going to Gotham U so I’ll be close. I’d like to work at Arkham anyway.”

“Ya, they seem good, I’ll be fine here Jazz. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you little brother,” Jazz said softly and Danny laughed again, trying to wipe his face as subtly as he could before he pulled back and finally let go.

Alfred cleared his throat delicately to remind them he was still there, though Jazz was glad he hadn’t interrupted their moment. “Dinner is ready when you are Master Danny, Miss Jazz,” he said with a nod and disappeared back down the hall towards the dining room.

“Well I’m starving, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast!” Jazz said as she started to steer them both after Alfred.

“I’m pretty much always hungry,” Danny admitted with a chuckle. “The little ones take a lot of energy and I need to replace it somehow I goes,” He said touching his stomach in a way she now realized he’d been doing a lot. How had she missed that?

“Well you eat as much as you need to, and any cravings too. They probably have nutrients you and the baby need. You should see a doctor too. I know you probably went to see Frostbite already but you’re still half human and if they’re cloned from you so are the babies. Ask Bruce about a doctor that you can trust.”

“I will, I promise. You’re right, I really do want the babies to be okay and with what you said about the Justice League doing their job I have a feeling my existence won’t be illegal for much longer.” Walking into the dining room just in time for the family to overhear the last of that conversation. 

“Definitely not,” Bruce said firmly. “I know for a fact Martian Manhunter is absolutely furious hearing they did something like this to another sentient species just because they weren’t human.”

“You know Martian Manhunter!?” Danny said with literal stars in his eyes. 

“Oh here we go,” Jazz said with fond exasperation.

“Yes?” Bruce said, he hadn’t meant it like a question but he was just surprised, and a little worried, there was no way Danny would be prejudiced right?

“Oh my god can I meet him?! He’s been my favourite hero for ever! He’s from SPACE! I love space! I want to know everything he knows about space, and about Mars! I’ve never been to space! Well I’ve flown to the moon a couple of times but I couldn’t go further and be back in time for school.”

He had started floating off the ground as he enthused about space, with fond exasperation Jazz grabbed the back of Danny’s shirt and tugged him back down into a seat at the dining room table. It was like Peter Pan with the joy lifting him up, and his excitement was both adorable and infectious. It was so good to see him happy. 

While he was talking food had been being passed around, and Damian, who was sitting on Danny’s other side from Jazz, had been heaping his plate while the older boy was distracted. It was sweet to see him being… caring to another person, he was even putting some meat on Danny’s plate with an odd stubborn set to his jaw. He almost looked aggressive but that was really just his determined face. Damian had accepted Danny in record time, which was a little surprising but it also made sense, they all knew Damian really loved caring for people, and children, and with Danny carrying babies no doubt Damian was already staking his claim on the role of favoured uncle. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce promised with a little smile. He was sure J’onn would be happy to meet Danny so it wouldn’t actually be hard. 

“Thank you!” Danny cheered, only Jazz’s grip on his shirt keeping him from leaping back into the air. 

“Eat,” Damian reminded, shoving a fork into Danny’s open hand. “Pennyworth says you were too worried to eat much at lunch and you need the nutrients!”

“Aww thank you ghostling,” Danny cooed, roughling Damian’s hair who scowled and ducked away, but didn’t lash out At All! Huh apparently pregnancy was a shield against Damian’s aggression.

Danny did start to eat though, and to keep him on track the family started talking with each other. It seemed to make him more comfortable, if things were quiet he felt the need to fill the space instead of filling his mouth. It was honestly sort of nice, even Damian shared a bit more than he usually would have about school, and about his art, then started telling Danny in particular about his animals. Danny hadn’t met them yet after all and he needed to know everything! Which ones were friendly, how to appropriately handle any of them, what treats they could have. 

The way Danny lit up and started questioning Damian about his animals was honestly a little startling, but it couldn’t be more clear that he was genuinely enthusiastic and Damian was preening. Rarely did he get such an attentive listening ear when talking about his pets, especially since everyone who had been in the family for a while had heard similar rants so many times they’d started to tune them out. 

It was a testament to Damian’s self control that he insisted Danny finish his dinner before dragging him away from the table to go show him all the various animals he had collected over the years. Danny laughed as Damian tugged on him and waved back at the family, joking about being kidnapped again (which, worrying) but he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s good to see someone with such a healthy and well supported obsession,” Jazz said with a little smile, watching after her little brother and Damian rush off. “Oh!” She said, snapping her fingers, “I should explain all that for you! If you’re going to take care of Danny you’ll need a crash course in Ghosts and Liminality. I uhh, I have a powerpoint?” She said, looking embarrassed and hopeful as she pulled a USB out of her pocket.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Miss. I’ll set up the projector in the family room,” Alfred said as he whisked the last of the dishes away. 

“Oh! Thank you Alfred. Can I help at all?” Jasmine asked, already getting up from the table so she could follow.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest and you had a very long day already. I’ll set it up, and then fix a room for you next Master Danny’s for tonight,” Alfred said briskly, shooing her back into the dining room room with the family. 

She looked like she was about to argue but she thought better of it. “Alfred is really the one in charge around here and we all know it,” Dick commented to her with a little smile. “No use arguing with him, and he usually knows best anyway.”

“Well, alright if you say so,” Jazz said with a little smile and tension slowly eased from her shoulders. When was the last time she got to relax? Having to worry about her brother and no one really taking care of the, how long had she been googling “how to stitch up a wound’, ‘how to help a 14 year old with ADHD study’, and various other things to try and care for a boy only two years younger than her. 

“So I know you mentioned to Nightwing that you wanted to go to Gotham U? I don’t know how your grades are,” (a lie, they knew she was a genius and her grades were excellent), “But the Wayne family sponsors many scholarships and if you don’t qualify for any of those we would be happy to just pay for your schooling. What would you like to study?” Bruce asked 

“I want to study psychology!” Jazz said, lighting up instantly. “That’s what I’ve wanted to study since I was seven. I want to be a psychologist, and I’d like to intern at Arkham. I know it’s a dangerous place, but I’m tougher than I look and I have Danny on speed dial so I’ll be fine.”

Well at least she had thought about the danger, and tougher then she looked meant something because she already looked plenty touch. “Well, I know Arkham can always use good doctors,” Bruce chuckled. “Just try not to become the next Harley Quinn,” He said it like a joke but he did mean it, the last thing Gotham needed was another evil genius. 

“Don’t worry, she lacked grounding connections due to her upbringing. I’ll have Danny, and his babies, and I’ll make friends outside of the hospital. As long as nothing happens to Danny I’m sure I’ll be fine, just like as long as nothing happens to me, or the other people he loves, Danny will be fine.”

It sounded like a warning, and it probably was, but they already knew that. Zatana had warned them that Danny could be dangerous. He would need grounding connections, but everyone did, and the Waynes already knew they were going to be family. On their own any of the Bat clan knew they could go off the deep end, a lot of them had even seen the futures with evil versions of themselves but with the other to care for and about, it kept them on the right track… at least mostly.

Next

#damian wayne #danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dick grayson #bruce wayne #Zatana #cassandra cain #finally getting help au #danny is pregnant au #trans!danny #mama danny #jazz fenton #alfred pennyworth #tw sa mention

[missroki]

SNEAKY AS A SPIDER┊gojo satoru is one of your closest and oldest friends, but recently he’s been acting strange. he’s unreliable, flaky. will say one thing and do another. after your science internship starts, you decide it's time to call him out on his behavior. it’s just your luck that it turns out he’s the most wanted vigilante in the city.

content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, female!reader x spider-man!gojo, public sex, reader is nicknamed bee, holding you with one arm, fingering, creampie, reader wears glasses, reader called pretty and baby, depictions of violence and injury, accidental manhandling, oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected, he breaks the headboard. all lowercase. word count: 10k

satoru has been acting… weird, lately. and it’s not his usual weird; the way he always wears tinted glasses regardless of setting, his intense obsession with anything sweet, the way he talks as if he’s constantly on camera. no, in the three years you’ve been friends, satoru has always been that way.

he’s a little different from the rest of the friend group, the words you’d typically use to describe him were annoying, loud, and maybe even quirky if you wanted to really piss him off. thing is, flaky was never a part of that list until recently and it felt as if gojo satoru was rarely ever around anymore.

ever since your college internship started, you’ve seen your friend less and less. this was unusual especially because you were normally attached at the hip — the “hip” being suguru as you two argued over the last slice of pizza. if you were to ask anyone else in the friend group, there was definitely a ‘will they won’t they’ situation going on, but regardless of your feelings towards each other he was always there. a constant.

nowadays he cancels plans at a moment's notice, one time leaving before you’d even grabbed a table with your friends. 

you started paying more attention after that.

as you caught on to his patterns, it was hard for you not to notice that he conveniently disappeared as soon as things started going wrong in the city. at first you thought he was just trying to avoid danger, leaving at the first sound of more than one police siren in quick succession. it wouldn’t surprise you if the loud mouth was all talk.

you’ll never forget the day when the two of you almost got crushed during a villain’s concrete throwing rampage — only to be suddenly saved by the infamous red and blue vigilante that swings through the sky.

spider-man, they’re calling him. a masked hero running through the streets and taking down anyone that dared to live a life of crime. BOOM! POW! CRASH! WHAM! are the only sounds you hear when that guy’s around. that fateful day was the first time you ever made direct contact with him, and when you heard him speak — you knew.

you’ve heard satoru’s shitty attempts at prank calls enough to know that badly deepened voice anywhere.

so here you stand, on a rooftop in manhattan, watching as he clumsily tries to change into his civilian clothing. he hasn’t noticed you quite yet, tripping over his sweats as he tries to shimmy them on while hopping on one leg. he falls unceremoniously on the ground, rubbing his left ass cheek as it meets the concrete.

“need some help?” you ask, watching as his head whips in your direction. his body catches up before he does, limbs hurriedly trying to cover himself. it’s no use, you’ve seen the skin-like suit already and how it hugs him in all the right places. despite this, he still grabs his backpack (the dijimon one that he swears is not for children) and tries to cover the large emblem on his chest anyway.

“h–hey there, bee,” he stutters out, “fancy seeing you here.” he shifts so that his elbow is resting against the ground and holding his chin, on his side with the other hand on his hip.

“wow,” you muse, “you’re definitely pulling off the casual look.”

“i try. it’s the only way we can get through this rat race called life. it’s hard out here for us normal everyday college students.”

you raise an eyebrow. “normal and everyday, huh?”

“yep! normal, plain, basic... all the other adjectives…” he trails off and you see his eyes flicker to the door behind you. you can tell that he’s worried, wondering if anyone else would be making their way up here soon.

you know they aren’t. your lab team believed the lie that you came to take some samples of the greenhouse for your thesis. everyone knew not to bother you when you got in the zone. you’d run around with a million different tasks, swiftly collecting data like a worker bee collects pollen — your namesake.

“hm. and what other adjectives could we use?” you inquire, blood pressure rising. “oh, I know. sneaky, devious, cowardly—!”

“would you believe that i’m just heavily into cosplay?”

“gojo satoru!” you hiss, your tone immediately making him stand up to his feet, palms raised in your direction. his body is fully covered by his suit, the only thing missing the mask. even now it’s hard for you to imagine him under the two white teardrops that peered down at you that day, swiftly bringing you to safety. “explain yourself.”

he groans as if the confession will actually kill him, reaching a gloved hand back to scratch at his undercut. his hair is a mess, sticking in all directions. you begrudgingly find it cute. “if i do, do you promise not to freak out?”

you briskly walk up to him, black heels clacking as your lab coat sways behind you. “i’m already freaked out, satoru. who wouldn’t be after finding out their friend is spi—“ 

“shhh!l” he reprimands, hands flying around in the air in front of you. “what if someone hears you?” he quickly looks left and then right, peering around the rooftop as if the mystery person would materialize out of thin air.

“hears me?” you scoff, lowering your glasses to apply pressure to your nose bridge. “that’s the least of our problems. you’re not the only person at risk here. you’re a criminal, a vigilante and i am now officially a guilty party.”

satoru watches as you lean against one of the wooden analysis tables, careful not to touch the equipment with your hands or sleeves.

“i didn’t exactly ask you to be,” he grumbles, following suit and resting against the dark wood. “listen, i wanted to tell you. both of you. but suguru is so morally righteous that i couldn’t trust him to not tell my family. i didn’t want to drag you in and have you constantly worrying about me. i’m sorry, really, but i don’t regret doing it. i just regret you finding out this way.”

you snort, glancing over at him. you notice now that he has gotten bigger over the past few months; large biceps and shoulders broader than they’ve ever been. “‘toru, i’ve known for three months now.”

his eyes widen, bright blue and vivid underneath the moonlight. you should be heading home now, but seeing him swing through the sky and land on your building, a detour was added. it was the only way you could get him alone. “what do you mean you’ve known? since when?”

“christmas eve,” you answer sheepishly, “you uh, you saved me from that guy with the horn? when we were shopping?”

“rhino.”

“is that his name?”

he shrugs. “it’s what i call him.”

you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“alright then, sure, rhino. the guy damn near crushed us.”

satoru bumps your hip with his, a sly smile on his face. “i wouldn’t have let him. especially not if i knew you’d hug me so tightly after.” of course this is when he tries to flirt with you.

“we were flying through the air and i thought my friend,” you poke his chest and try your best to ignore the hard ridges, “was still under the rubble.”

“well, good thing i wasn’t!” he exclaims, “i was busy saving your life and being a hero.”

“a vigilante.”

“a hero. and a good one, too.” a pouty look passes over his eyes, his face resembling that of a kicked puppy. “i knew you’d react this way.”

in the years you’ve known him, satoru has always been a bit over dramatic, but you can tell that you may have actually hurt him a bit with your words. you quickly backtrack. “alright,” you sigh, “maybe you are a hero but… that also makes you a target, satoru. i’m more worried than i’m angry. what if something happens? fuck, like that week that you weren’t in class? you got hurt didn’t you—“

“come on, bee.” he interrupts, moving to stand in front of you. when did he get taller? “i need you to trust me. just this once.”

his hands drift to your shoulders, gripping your lab coat and pulling you close so that you’re forced to place your hands on his chest to create distance. he’s warm underneath your fingertips. you give in and loosely wrap your arms around his waist.

“okay,” you murmur, “but you have to come up with better excuses, satoru. shoko thinks you’re on drugs, suguru thinks you’re depressed, and nanami… well, actually he’s been fine.”

“ouch,” he whispers with a teasing lift in his voice, “that hurts.”

“your ass or what i said?”

“both. definitely both.”

the two of you giggle, your hands migrating to his hips as you pull away to look up at him. his arms are around you now and you can feel each muscle flex as he caresses your back. it feels intimate, familiar. it’s not the first time you’ve hugged but warmth rises up your neck. the night air nips at the skin beneath your glasses.

“you know, i missed this.” you sigh, “this is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in months since you’re always gone now.” the words are sitting in waiting on your tongue. “i really missed you, satoru.”

you like to think he knew this, even before you told him.

“shocker.” he says this teasingly, but quickly shifts back to being serious, a small smile on his face. “i missed you too, bee.”

you break eye contact so that your gaze is in line with his chest, puffing out a gust of air as your eyes zero in on the spider emblem. “i never got the chance to say thank you. for that day.”

“don’t,” he responds, “it’ll inflate my ego and then i’ll hold it over your head forever.”

“oh, yeah? well, at least you’re honest.”

“painfully so. that being said, i do still require a small payment for my services. it’s only fair.”

you raise an eyebrow, but nod, your left hand coming up to pull lint from the textured fabric of his spider suit. “uh oh, what?”

his gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. “do you think,” the tip of his tongue glides across his lips, the pink muscle leaving as quickly as it came. “i could kiss you?”

for a moment, you simply stare him, drinking in the facial features that are situated directly in front of you. satoru has always been handsome, you knew that when you met him. only recently had your feelings developed into something… more and you both were seemingly content with letting things stay the same. 

as far as you could tell, gojo satoru wasn’t interested in romance. you’d never brought it up but there was only so many flirty jokes that you could take. it makes things worse that he’d been gone for so long. if you thought that you’d grown immune to the stupidly charming man, you were wrong. even though he’s a mess, freshly out of a fight according to the small cut on his eyebrow, he retains that alluring, almost unreal beauty that comes with someone like him.

warmth flushes your cheeks as you are suddenly more aware of your close proximity than ever. your eyes widen, a nervous giggle leaving your lips. “you’re not being fair.”

“i’m being serious.” he replies, though his tone tells you he is anything but. he lifts a hand to tuck a curl of your hair behind your ear. “i heard you talking to shoko. you said that spider-man had… what was it again? the tightest ass you’d ever seen— ouch!”

you punch his shoulder hard but he barely moves. your fingers throb and you ignore the pain as you quickly pull away. “that was a private conversation!”

“your voice carries and i just happened to be around! also, are you sure you aren’t secretly a superhero? i’m probably bruising as we speak.”

you roll your eyes. “alright, i’m leaving.”

you turn to make your way to the exit door, but you’re swiftly pulled back by your wrist. before you can even blink, the white-haired menace lifts you up bridal style in his arms. you immediately start pounding at his chest. “satoru put me down—!”

“come on, kiss me! you know you want to.” he smirks at you, cocky and knowing. he shifts you so that your legs wrap around his waist. not expecting the sudden movement, your arms automatically wrap around his neck to keep you grounded. when did he get so strong?

“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“oh, i get it now,” he teases as he leans in close, voice soft as his lips graze the shell of your ear. “you want me to put the mask back on?”

this stuns you, and by the way you tense up you’re sure he knows that you’ve probably fantasized about something similar in the past. “you’re insufferable.”

“keep going, this is doing it for me.”

“i’m actually going to kill you.”

“not before i get my kiss, bee! come on, it’ll be fun.”

you narrow your eyes at him. ‘fun’ for satoru could mean many things, typically on the more dangerous side. if the small scar on your thigh was anything to go by, you might need a helmet and shin guards. “be serious.”

“do you want to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, bending down to press his forehead to yours. you feel your gaze soften at the same time his does. fuck, he definitely wasn’t being fair now.

“what kind of question is that?” you breathe out.

“a serious one.” his eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes peering into yours. “answer it.”

“…of course i want to kiss you. you already know what this is.” you grumble, giving in.

“then come here. i only bite on the second date.”

“do not use tongue.”

“sure, pretty.” pretty.

you shift in his hold, staring into the familiar blue eyes in front of you. with a sigh, you cautiously begin to lean in. before your lips can touch, something occurs to you and you abruptly pull back. satoru does a terrible job of hiding his disappointment.

“wait, you can pick me up?”

at first he gives you a confused look. blinks once, then twice as his brain catches up to your statement. he looks down at your current position, him holding you as if you were a paper weight.

“of course i can pick you up. i can pick up a car.”

you distantly wonder whether he can hear the erratic pounding of your pulse at the information. his palms ever so lightly curve over your ass before settling on the undersides of your thighs, drawing you close enough that you feel the hard ridges of his muscles again. you want to touch him, drag your hands over the sharp divets in his body. maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or just your own desire shining through, but you decide that maybe just this once you’ll tease him back. "a car, huh? i knew i was crushing on spider-man for a reason."

despite your attempts to keep your voice steady, there’s still a slight nervousness to it, he smirks. "i am a superhero after all, i hear girls typically like that sort of thing.”

"that depends on if you’re done teasing me." you murmur. you are certain that the shiver beneath you isn’t from the chill night air.

“i can be,” he responds, hooking one arm under your ass and moving the other to hold your chin. his nose brushes against yours. “but you have to stop stalling.”

you’re not sure if he’s talking about just the kiss, or the obvious tension between the two of you. either way, you give him an imperceptible nod and the smallest ‘okay’. it is all the reassurance he needs to let the line that has buzzed between you for so long — snap.

you know you’ve reached the point of no return when his lips touch yours. a warmth spreads through your body, threatening to set you aflame if you didn’t hold satoru tighter against you. the hand that once held your chin presses against your back. you are impossibly close but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

the anticipation of finally kissing him has reached its boiling point, bubbling up inside of you and spilling over the edges of your heart. unable to contain it, you whine against him, feeling his thumb rub circles into your back.

satoru’s mouth is hot against yours as you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue. you can feel him smirk as he easily lets you in. the taste of a fruity energy drink is on the tip of his tongue as you intertwine, moving your fingers to trail up into his hair. 

it’s only when you feel a familiar ache between your thighs that you pull away, the two of you huffing against each other's mouths.

“what’s wrong?” he pants, “did i do something?”

you shake your head, mind hazy as you process your thoughts. “n-no you’re fine. very fine, actually, i just… i think i’m getting too lost in you. we should stop.”

he hums. “you wanna stop?” satoru is already leaning in to capture your lips again.

you voice is barely above a whisper. “uh huh,” as you eagerly close the distance.

this feeling is new, nothing you’ve ever experienced from anyone until now and especially not from satoru. his normally teasing mouth is anything but as he kisses you, explores you in the form of languid kisses. hands that you now know can bring someone to their knees, twitch as they caress your thigh and spine, grip the nape of your neck.

it is entirely meant to be innocent, you had no intentions of crossing that line. but then you shift slightly and feel the swell of his cock against you. a whimper stumbles from your lips.

now it is his turn to pull away, forehead resting against yours. “okay, fuck i see what you mean now,” he breathes out, “we should actually stop now.”

you nod your head ever so slightly, lips just barely an inch away from his. “y-yeah, we really should.”

when you say this, you swear that you mean it. of course with the way satoru is looking at you, eyes narrowed and lidded, it’s hard to be stern. his cheeks are rosy, lips bruised pink, hair a start contrast against the deep blue of the sky. you don’t want to stop, you know he doesn’t either.

“how long do we have until someone comes looking for you?”

you start pressing warm, opened mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of his jaw, his hand grips down tighter on your thigh. your words are slightly muffled against his skin. “now? like twenty minutes.”

you barely register it when you feel yourself being placed on one of the work tables, dress hurriedly pushed up around your waist. your heels clatter to the ground but you don’t have time to care when his fingers begin to tease and rub against your clothed slit. “s–satoru! wait–!”

“we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” you lean into his shoulder and whimper as his long fingers rub at you through the soaked fabric of your panties. “just be good for me, yeah? let me make up for not being around like i should’ve been.”

there’s a brief pause where his glove is discarded to the ground. you feel a now bare hand pull your panties to the side, the cold night air making you shiver despite the warm body in front of you. there’s the distinct sound of your slick coating his fingers as they spread you open, a moan finding its way out as you grind against him.

his hand shifts so that his thumb teases your clit, fingers prodding at your entrance. “satoru,” you whimper, “please.”

you feel him smirk as he presses kisses against your flushed cheeks and forehead. “yeah, baby?” he murmurs, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers? get you nice and ready for me?”

you gasp as two of them enter you, dragging against your walls as you clench down. “fuck, you’re tight,” he comments, a flash of panic on his face that you don’t see with your face still in his shoulder. “this isn’t your first, is it?“

you shake your head, calming his trepid heart. “just been a while–!“ you choke out, his fingers grazing your g-spot. 

“then i better make it memorable, yeah?”

your equilibrium is thrown off balance and you can only gasp as you suddenly find yourself in the air. satoru’s fingers pound into your cunt as you drip down the grooves of his palm. while one hand is dragging your moans out of you, the other holds you as if you weigh nothing, strong and stable as it curves around your ass.

“oh, fuck!” you moan, gripping at his shoulders as tears pool in your eyes. his fingers are relentless and he shows no sign of tiring as he keeps you firmly in place. even if you wanted to get away you couldn’t, like a caged animal, or more fittingly an insect trapped in his web.

your glasses start to tilt off your face and instead of having to push them up again, you move to take them off. you yelp when a bite is placed on your neck, cunt clenching involuntarily as satoru pulls back with a lustful gaze. “keep them on,” he groans, “you look so sexy with them on, bee.”

you lean your forehead against his, your moans and whimpers becoming intertwined with his as you kiss him again. this kiss is different from the others you’ve shared, all tongue and lips as loud smacks are heard whenever you pull apart.

“need you so badly,” you admit, “wanna feel you inside me, filling me up.”

your friend (if you could even still call him that) is quick to grant your wish, easing his fingers out of your cunt and placing a quick kiss on your lips. “one sec, gotta get this off..”

he places you again on the table, quickly tugging down his suit so that his torso is exposed. you see the swell of his cock where the suit now hangs, dripping precum from the pink tip against the bottom of his stomach. fuck, was he not wearing underwear?

you reach out to tease the head, reveling in the way satoru bucks forward into your palm. “how do you want me?” he asks, his heavy breaths obvious against his sweat slicked chest.

you smirk, lifting your arms in his direction. “i want you to bounce me on you. you’re strong, right? you can do all the work?”

satoru chuckles but it’s not in his usual playful tone, a hand grips your throat but doesnt add pressure, holding you in place. “we don’t have a lot of time, i can’t promise I’ll be gentle with you.”

“i don’t want you to be,” you whisper, wetting your lips with your tongue.

he quickly pulls your panties off your legs, lifting you with one arm so that you’re positioned perfectly. with his free hand, satoru guides himself into your wet cunt, growling as you take him to the hilt. he hasn’t even moved you yet and your juices are already dripping down to coat his balls.

“hold on tight, pretty girl. you can even bite me if you like, I’ll barely feel it.”

you’re trembling, holding onto his shoulders as you adjust to his size. when you nod your head against his neck, satoru lifts you up before slamming you back down on his cock.

wet slaps of skin echo in the quiet night. you’re too high up for the bustling city to make much noise, your moans and whines lost as you dig your nails into his back.

satoru isn’t faring well either, his free hand groping your ass and copping a feel of your tits. “when we’re not on this fucking roof i’m gonna worship this pretty body, but you don’t want that right now do you? no, you like that i can fuck you with one arm; treat you like my own personal fuck doll.”

you moan at his words, impossibly wet as he tweaks your nipples and grinds the fat of your ass. you feel consumed by him, like there isn’t a part of your body that he hasn’t touched. 

“did you – ah.” satoru hisses, biting down on his own lip. “did you hope it was me?”

“w-what?” you whimper, trying your best to focus despite the hand that you feel now playing with your clit. “i-i didn’t know until after. heard your vo – shit – your voice!”

he moves your body quicker now, grunting each time he pistons his cock into your tight heat. “did it turn you on? knowing that i kept you safe, that i protected you?”

you feel a familiar pressure in your stomach. “s–stop talking,” you whimper, “or i’ll—“

“cum? i want you to, honey bee. want you to milk me for all i’m worth.” he kisses against your neck, up the skin to bite down and suck on your earlobe. “cum for your hero. show him how thankful you are.”

with eyes damp and foggy, you hold him tight. “s–satoru, c–cumming—!” and feel your pussy flood with his cum. tears track down your cheeks at your orgasm but satoru’s movements don’t stop, riding out his orgasm as you slump into his chest. “there you go, honey bee, ride it out. that’s it.”

you feel like you’re floating, weightless against him. satoru holds you in both of his arms now, fixing your glasses before gently petting your hair. “are you okay?” he asks, murmuring into the crown of your head.

you nod, sighing against his chest. “more than okay.”

he’s about to respond when the loud echo of police sirens go off in the distance. you perk up, looking at him in alarm. you know from the look in his eyes that he—

“i have to go.” he says, placing you down on the table and hurriedly handing you your panties. he’s tugging his suit back on, glove and mask following soon after.

“seriously, satoru?” you ask, squirming at the feeling of his cum inside you. he gently puts your heels back on your feet.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. but i’ll see you later, okay? we can… talk. leave your window open.” he’s about to leave, shoot off into the night, but you grab his arm and stop him in his tracks.

“satoru, be safe.”

he tugs his mask up to reveal a small smirk, leaning to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “of course, always.”

with those parting words, he swings off into the night. you can only hope that he’s able to keep his promise.

on the nights when you dream of him, you wake up in fear.

sweats drips from the hot, temperamental skin of your forehead, tiny baby hairs curl at the moisture against your nape. you are falling, gasping as you sit up abruptly from your chilled bedsheets. shadows seemingly shift in all corners of your bedroom and the edges of your mind. you know now that the heavy pounding you hear is not the rush of thick blood pouring from a gushing wound, but instead a hand against the wooden frame of your bedroom door.

“bee!” your grandfather yells from behind your door, “you gotta see what’s on the tv, darlin’!” his accent is heavy, years of living in the city warping his speech.

you clear your throat and reach for the plush cover on your bed. when you find only a thin sheet, you realize that you must have kicked it off in the night. you hear the pounding again and imagine a weathered, sun spotted fist against strong pine.

“c–coming,” you stutter out, “just give me a sec!”

from behind the door comes your grandfather’s signature grunt of acceptance. you notice the way his knees click as he makes his way back to the front room, showing his old age.

you stumble out of bed, legs loose as you tug your pajama shorts lower on your thighs. you didn’t want to have to hear a mouthful from your grandmother tonight about showing too much skin.

when you lift your head again, you realize that the fear that manifested before still lingers, your vision is blurry as you try to make sense of your room that’s only illuminated by pale moonlight and a flickering neon sign. 

your science fair trophies are where they have always been, your poloroids are still attached to the wall with the same tacky blue paste. your basket of unfolded laundry is still there and your high school diploma sits mounted right above it. nothing is out of the ordinary, but in its own way, normalcy is nothing short of terrifying.

you quickly snatch your glasses from the bedside table and put them on, thankfully realizing that the outline of a jacket was not the sleep paralysis demon you originally assumed it was.

the apartment you live in has always been small, so it doesn’t take you much effort to make it to the front room. hurried footsteps follow the sound of crashing and gunshots from your grandparents old box set tv. as you round the corner you see your grandpa leaning back in his favorite chair and your grandma holding what seems to be an abandoned crotchet project.

your blood runs cold as you watch the scene unfolding before you. it’s the channel five news, live and showing a high speed chase down a busy new york street. a masked set of criminals are shooting from the back of an unmarked van, lifting their heavy weapons up high in hopes of hitting what appears to be a moving object (with the way they whip their guns around in the air).

the figure is distinctly male, webs shooting from his wrist as he easily flies through the cityscape. the helicopter footage only shows so much, but it’s enough for you to see as the bullets narrowly miss his head and shoulders, red and blue blurs past your screen just slow enough to catch the spider emblem on his chest. whoever these criminals were, they had alarmingly good aim.

“see that, bee,” your grandpa mutters, “this damn spider-guy has been wreaking havoc all over the city! i mean look at the state of that street!”

“he’s lucky he hasn’t lost a limb with the way he’s throwing himself around,” your grandma adds, “do you see the way they’re shooting at him? he could be killed!”

you walk closer to the screen, kneeling down on your knees as your gaze follows your boyfriend. it had been six months since satoru confessed to you on the rooftop of your shared internship building. it was… nice, knowing that he trusted you enough to share his secret (even if you had to weasel it out of him). and since then, things have been a lot smoother between you two.

he was still busy, but you knew why now, making swift excuses for him on your nights out with friends. suguru teased you to no end, shoko finally let up on the drug addict allegations, and nanami was glad that he didn’t have to deal with the obvious tension between you two anymore. things were looking up, genuinely improving.

when he had the time, satoru would take you to his favorite parts of the city. the first time he actually had you in the air, you refused to even look at him until you landed on solid ground. he’d kiss your forehead and yell out stupid quips to you as you glided through the night, the familiar new york sounds making it hard to hear. “you aren’t scared, are you?” he’d tease. “those wings not working, honey bee?”

despite his incessant teasing, you trusted him to never let you fall. but recently your safety wasn’t what was on your mind. seeing him now, just barely avoiding death, it unnerves you.

the nightmares were gradual, kept at bay when satoru sneakily ended up in your bed at night. but when he wasn’t there (which was more often these days) you struggled to have a peaceful night's rest. 

it was always the same visceral scene that your mind would conjure up:

you would be at home, like you are now, watching as spider-man battled the latest villain of the week. your body would go numb and your mouth would be dry as sandpaper. there would always be a buzzing in your ears, gentle when paired with the shrill sound of satoru’s screams; of him begging for help that would never come.

the air would smell of congealed blood and bile, you’d suddenly be out of your living room and crouched right next to him in crumbled concrete. he’d cry for you, plead for you to save him, but you could never stop the bleeding.

you’d wake and think you could still feel his nails digging into your forearms; the urge to scrub your hands raw is all consuming as they pulse with unseen blood.

you never wanted to talk to him about it, hovering over your cellphone with each strangled breath. fear was a powerful thing and you were afraid that if you spoke about what you saw, it would turn out to be true.

“satoru,” you breathe, watching as he stops the van with the force of his body and webs, holding the vehicle in place before it can ram into a sea of people in times square.

“your white-haired friend? don’t tell me he went out tonight,” your grandpa asks with worry, eyebrows furrowing as he goes to sit next to you on the ground.

your grandma follows suit, placing a gentle hand on your head and a kiss to your temple. they smell of home, comfort that you often seeked out since the night your parents died.

“i’m sure he’s fine, sweetie. he’s a smart boy, sharp as a tack! he can handle himself.”

she had no idea how right she was.

you imagine a powerful, strong body tangled in limited edition spider-man bedsheets. (satoru bought you a set despite them being too small for your bed.) you imagine soft breaths in your ear and the tickle of long pale fingers against your chest. you think of early mornings with blurry blue eyes and hurriedly grabbed coffee as you enter the internship building. they entangle you, situate themselves firmly in your chest so that even when he’s gone you will always have him near.

when you think of him this way, your fear suffocates you. you have to force your tears to stay put as you lean into the comforting shoulders of your grandparents, lean into the security they provide. “yeah,” you whisper, “i know he can.”

your grandmother was right, satoru could indeed handle himself. the chase ended at around two am and your grandparents retreated to their bedroom as things settled down in the city. the criminals were apprehended and spider-man was gone as quickly as he came.

you stare at the news reporter as they interview civilians on the scene. the general consensus this time was that he was a hero. he saved their lives and for that they were grateful. grateful enough to stand out in the rain just to sing his praises. you wonder if they would feel the same loss as you, if the mere thought of his death kept them up at night.

it’s a split second decision when you text him, when you realize that the only way to ease the ache in your chest was to feel him. see him. alive and breathing.

you: come over.

satoru: oh? right now? you miss me that much? ;)

you: satoru, please.

satoru: that bad? alright. no need to beg, beautiful. i’m on my way.

there’s a gentle knock on your bedroom window. it’s three am according to your digital pochacco alarm clock, but your body is as awake as it’s ever been.

you quickly shift off your bed to flip the latch, yanking the window up to reveal a familiar smirk patiently waiting for you on your fire escape. air fills your lungs as if you’d been drowning for weeks.

“hey there, pretty,” satoru murmurs, eagerly pressing a tender kiss to your lips. his mouth is cold and raindrops drip onto your windowsill, but you feel warm in this space.

you move back to make room for him to hop inside, noticing that there is no hint of red or blue under the collar of his black sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“hey there, handsome. was starting to think you weren’t gonna make it.”

satoru arrived later than expected. his hair is slightly damp from the rainwater which tells you that it was uncovered on his journey here. he must have changed clothes and opted to take the subway, laying low so that no one could find their way here by following him.

“and miss you in these extremely cute pjs?” his hands curve around your waist, travel down to the slope of your ass with a gentle squeeze. “i couldn’t possibly miss out on that…”

his voice trails off as you lock eyes, a curious look appearing on his face. at first, you think he’s confused but the look leaves as soon as it came. he pulls you in close and your hands press into his chest.

“does it matter? you’ll tear them off of me anyway.” you trail your hands downwards to grip his hips, slowly easing down to the ground on your knees. you feel the way your boyfriend tenses up from the attention.

“right, but typically that happens a little later, yeah? someone’s eager tonight.” he comments. you can hear the slight nervousness in his voice, but you don’t comment on it as you palm the slowly growing erection between his thighs.

“can a girl not miss her boyfriend?” you ask, freeing his impressive length as you situate his sweatpants and underwear under his balls. satoru hisses at the contact, a hand gently caressing your head.

“no, baby that’s not it i just— oh fuck!” you take him deep in your mouth without warning, your hand moving to grip the rest of his cock that you can’t fit. “i’m just w-worried about you. not that i don’t want this but y-you’re not usually this riled up— holy shit.”

your tongue drags against the underside of him, eyes glancing up to watch the way satoru tilts his head back in ecstasy. his hand grips your hair as you see a flash of light from the neon sign outside. it swallows him in a sea of red, and you swear that the gasp he lets out is suspiciously close to a final breath. blood. bright and thick blood floods your vision. it’s on his clothes, his skin, a gaping wound in his torso that just barely holds him together—

you jolt back, your head knocking against your bed as you try to create distance, eyes wide and blinking. satoru is startled for a moment before he sees the panic on your face. he quickly ducks down, hands hovering over your now shaking form. one glance down at his state of undress and he’s tucking himself away with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“hey, hey,” he coos, “what’s wrong? did i hurt you? how do i make it better? do you want to stop? we can stop–”

you can’t help the sob that leaves your throat, despite your best efforts. you cover your mouth with both hands as to not alert your grandparents. the last thing you needed was for them to barge in here and see your best friend sketchily hovering over you.

although he seems alarmed, satoru doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in his arms. he easily pulls you into his lap as you bury your face into his shoulder. weeks of anxiety and fear spill out of you at once, harsh and ugly cries leaving your lips. god, you felt ridiculous.

“you aren’t ridiculous,” he chastises. you realize you must have said that out loud. “we’ve known each other for years and the closest i’ve seen you get to crying is when you ate that ghost pepper with shoko.” you giggle at the memory, burying even further into his warm embrace.

satoru smells like the city, respectively; of rainwater and smog… but there’s a hint of familiarity there. underneath the haze is his soft laundry detergent and cologne. he is the pillar that grounds you and you cling to him like a child. “i’m sorry,” you whimper, feeling his palm caress your clothed back.

“don’t be. i don’t want you to ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want–“

“that’s not why i’m upset.” you interject, not enjoying the shift in the conversation. the last thing you wanted to do was make him believe sex was the problem. satoru pulls you in closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head. “i’ve been… having nightmares, recently. vivid as hell and i haven’t been sleeping well.”

he doesn’t speak at first, hand still rubbing your back to soothe you. your tears fall silently now, your throat heavy with the weight of your admission.

after a while, he sighs. “you always do this.”

you clear your throat and the weight lifts. “do what, exactly?”

“not tell me how you’re feeling! you’ve been this way for years, sure, but you’re my girlfriend now. the apple to my pie, the straw to my berry–!”

“gojo satoru.”

“i’m being serious. whatever scary thoughts you have, you can keep them from everyone else… but not from me. never from me.”

he pulls away so that your words are clearer; not muffled by the fabric of his clothes. “what’s been going on in the busy little head of yours, bee?”

now it’s your turn to sigh, fist clenching and then unclenching around his sweatshirt. you’re most comfortable in what you know, so you start there. “like i said, i’ve been having nightmares... about you. specifically, you dying in various horrific ways while i watch… unable to do anything.”

you feel satoru stiffen, but he recovers quickly. you decide to continue.

“it’s all science, really. conditioning! you being around relaxes me, but when you aren’t i can’t sleep. i just sit up all night wondering where you are and–“

“and if i’m dead.” his voice is plain when he speaks, but the gravity of the words are even harder to swallow when he says them; his own mortality held in the palm of his hands.

you inhale sharply through your nose, hold it in until your lungs burn, then release it. “yes,” you whisper, “if you’re dead.”

satoru is shockingly quiet, but you know he’s simply thinking. he breathes steadily, as if you had simply told him how your day was. you know your breaths are more erratic, that he is feeling for your heartbeat with every touch against your back.

“damn. i guess it’s a good thing i’m a superhero, then. some random bank robbers aren’t going to kill me.”

you scoff. “but the guns they have might.”

“i told you how my powers work, didn’t i? i can sense them before they can even think to hit me. i can feel everything around me all at once if i concentrate hard enough.“

“but what if they catch you off guard?”

satoru pulls away from you so that your eyes meet, his hand cups your cheek. “they won’t. they can’t.”

“baby—“

“listen to me, bee. i told you on that roof that i’d be safe. yeah, i take a few risks here and there but i’m always… mostly careful.”

you raise a brow.

“look, what i’m trying to say is that you don’t need to stress yourself out worrying about me. i don’t plan on leaving you behind anytime soon. plus, i think we still have a few movie marathons left in us.”

his thumb caresses the skin under your eye, tinted slightly darker from your lack of sleep. “well, maybe one more.”

you giggle, poking a finger into his side. “you’re such a pain in my ass.”

“but i’m yours, yeah?” he presses a kiss to your cheek, nose drifting across your skin. “you’re stuck with me.”

you smile, leaning into him again as his kisses trail even further up your face. your heart pounds in your chest as you hold him close. “yeah, and you’re stuck with me,” you reply, voice low and steady. “which means i can’t watch you die.”

“you won’t have to.” he murmurs against your hairline, his lips gentle against your skin. “i’m the strongest, remember?”

and you do remember, it would be hard not to. satoru has always been strong mentally, but the physical is all you can focus on now. even through the thick material of his sweatshirt, you can tell that he is anything but weak. you miss feeling powerless under him. you enjoy letting everything go when it’s him that makes your mind go blank.

“how could i not?” you respond, pulling away so that your palms travel down the front of his sweatshirt. “…unless, you want me to forget? focus on something else?”

he grins at your obvious teasing but a hand grips your wrist. “are you sure? i wouldn’t want you getting overwhelmed again. i tend to have that effect on pretty girls.”

the way your other hand finds its way to his bare stomach is answer enough, but you still respond. “i’m sure you do, spider-boy… but if you can’t get it up again, i understa–”

you are pinned to your bed before you can fully blink, practically having flown in the air with the speed he’d moved you with. you can’t move, arms firmly pinned to your sides. satoru is looking down at you with an expression you recognize and you feel a throbbing between your legs.

“tell me if you want to stop, but let me just…” he reaches down to dip two fingers into your pajama shorts, letting out a stuttered breath at the wetness that begins to pool between your puffy slit. “there you are, beautiful. gettin’ nice and wet for me already. such a good girl.”

his fingers tease and rub against you, gathering your wetness and dragging it up to your swollen bud, rubbing it back and forth as you whimper and writhe against his strong hold. you can’t help the way you gasp, covering your mouth with your palms to muffle your scandalous sounds.

satoru is quick to take advantage of the way your hands are now preoccupied, using his own free hand to tug your breasts out of your flimsy tank top.

“fuck,” he growls, groping you brazenly and playing with the peaked nipples on your chest. his tongue is hot as he takes one in his mouth, his fingers now fucking into you with each suck of his long tongue.

your legs twitch as he starts to kiss downward, leaving your nipples slick and chilled from the night air. satoru is slow in the way he kisses every expanse of your skin, your pretty stomach and supple thighs, your soft feet and the backs of your knees. he travels down to your pelvis to watch as he thrusts inside your wet heat, slick against his hand and coating his fingers.

“so pretty,” he groans, “how could i ever leave you behind, huh?”

“satoru,” you moan, “please. i need you inside.”

he presses a kiss to your mound. “patience, beautiful. i promise i’ll give it all to you in time… just let me taste this perfect pussy first.”

the movement that follows is a quick whirlwind of fingers tugging off clothing, a determined look in satoru’s eyes as he folds you practically in half on the bed, forcing you into the position as if you were a mere toy, weighing nothing to him.

you nearly choke on the gasp that leaves your mouth as he latches onto your clit, hands firmly on the back of your thighs as he shoves his tongue deep inside your tight hole, drowning his moans in your cunt and lapping up your essence.

“oh my god,” you moan beneath your hand, the other moving to gain purchase on the bedsheets as he practically devours you. satoru is a man on a mission, his fingertips digging into your skin as his tongue penetrates deeper inside you until you’re shaking and writhing in the bed, begging to cum.

“yeah, pretty girl? you want me to make you cum on my tongue? want me to hold you in place so you can’t run away from me?”

you nod frantically, biting down on your lip so that your hand can bury in his hair. when you tug on it, you feel his hands grip even tighter, your voice sharp as you feel the sting of nails in your skin. the pain is welcomed as you cum in a sudden shuddered moan, feeling the coil in your stomach fully unravel as satoru reluctantly pulls away from your pussy.

his mouth is messy, his breathing ragged. you know from the look in his eyes that he is fraying at the seams, trying his best to not lose control.

“come–“ you pause and clear your throat ever so slightly, voice slightly scratchy. “come here.”

it is, once again, alarmingly quick how he slots his throbbing length between your thighs, spreading your ass cheeks so that he can see all of you as he sinks inside with a slow, desperate stroke.

every inch of him feels like relief, your moans tangling into one another’s as he leans down to capture your lips in his. your cunt flexes hard around him, practically begging to be filled.

satoru is quick to grip your headboard, the other arm wrapped your waist to keep you close. he shuts his eyes in hopes to calm himself but you would be an idiot to ignore the sharp crunch of splitting wood above your head and the small bit of dust that floats in the air. there is now a large crack in your old headboard, traveling down the side and disappearing underneath your pillows.

satoru lets out what is a mixture of a groan and laugh. “oh, shit. sorry. guess i still have to get used to the whole super strength thing.”

“we can accept a casualty or two.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back to you. satoru is unrelenting as he moves in a blur of slamming hips and sweaty chests. you find yourself wanting to feel him closer. your fear that he could simply disappear has been eased but you need more.

you hook your legs around his ass to pull him in deeper, the sudden angle shift causing a choked cry to fall from his mouth. “what are you doing?” he hurries out.

“need to feel you, toru, make me forget. please.”

your pleas egg him on as satoru grits his teeth and meets your hungry gaze, lifting to pin you further into the bed as he thrusts harder and faster. the bed creaks underneath you but you find yourself uncaring, hoping the still turned on tv would drown out the noise. satoru desperately wants to make it better, wants you to feel safe and secure because you’re his. he had to protect himself so that he could protect you.

a shift in the air happens when tears start to trickle down your cheeks. at first, satoru is shocked as he watches the water drip and cover your pretty skin, but he soon realizes that the tears are not your own. his vision blurs as you lift a hand to cup his face. “i love you,” you whisper though your speak is warbled, “stay with me.”

“fuck, bee,” satoru scrambles to find purchase on his emotions but everything comes to the surface. he can’t help the way he blurts out—

“i love you, too. so much. i’m not going anywhere, baby. i promise.”

he leans his forehead against yours as you connect in a sea of ragged, damp moans and whimpers. the soft pattering of rain on your window is gentle when paired with the sharp sounds of you reaching your peak, hands holding on to satoru as if he’d disappear.

your orgasm is harsh and sudden, your limbs clenching as you bury your face into satoru’s strong shoulder. you try your best not to be loud, muffling your sounds as best as you can as your boyfriend’s name bubbles up in your throat. satoru, you whimper, satoru.

“so close,” he grunts, “bee i–i’m fuck—!”

satoru’s babbling is cut short as his own orgasm rips through him like a surge of energy, intense and all consuming as hot streaks of his cum flood your insides in white.

your boyfriend lets out two heavy breaths before he’s rolling you both in the bed, back against the sheets as you rest against his chest.

the movement cause his softening cock to slip out of you, and you whine at the sudden empty feeling.

“holy shit,” you both say in unison, giggles erupting from both of your throats.

“that was… a lot,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest. “but it was good. really good.”

“of course it was,” he says with a smirk, “you don’t keep me around for just my pretty face.”

you press a kiss to his chest. “no, i guess i don’t.”

satoru briefly wonders how much motivation he has to get up and head back to his place, knowing that in the morning your grandmother would come knocking with an offer of pancakes. still, he wants badly to—

“‘toru.” you murmur sleepily, fatigue finally catching up to you.

you feel a forehead press against yours as satoru responds with your name, your actual name. “it’s me.” he whispers. “i’m here.”

you hope he always will be.

“my grandparents don’t like spider-man all that much.”

he chuckles and twirls some of your hair around his finger. "they still like me though, right?"

a few seconds too long pass and satoru stops his toying with your hair. "…right?"

your snoring is the only reply he gets.

not going to explain anything important in this a/n bc yall never read them anyway, lmao. hope you enjoyed reading! thanks for the support on my new account since my last one got flagged.

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk smut #angelshubnetwork

[mayo-advance]

Reading the Nimona graphic novel and then proceeding to watch the movie not even 10 minutes after is just hhgkdhfkdhfksjaldhf-

The movie is so much more forgiving, so much softer in a way that I can’t explain, and that difference allows me to interact with the characters in a new way. In the novel it’s pretty obvious that Ballister and Ambrosius are husbands who have been messily divorced for 12 years and still not over each other- but in the movie they’re still trying to figure out what they want to be, and they’re trying to save each other and constantly trying to reach out to show that “see! I’m right here, please come back, don’t let this take you from me!!!”

In the graphic novel, Nimona lies about her past, like blatantly lies straight to Ballister’s face and yknow, as she should, claiming that she used to be a perfectly normal girl, while In the movie she deflects his question by turning it into a joke to avoid answering.

And most importantly to me, in the book Ballister acts like a villain because “that’s what they need”. He poisons people, he’s always fighting with Ambrosius, he’s trying to undermine the institution right from the start. while in the movie he begs his innocence but still gets the label because the Director believes “that’s what they need”, and still he believes in the world around him, and when he loses that belief he doesn’t want to fight, he wants to leave.

I guess the way I see it the book is about trying so hard to be what you’re not, trying to be a normal girl, trying to be the villain they want, trying to pretend that they are enemies and not deeply connected. And the movie is about trying to find who you are, from “because I love you” to “I see you, Nimona”, to just everything- the book is the call and the movie is the response and it all comes back to learning to love and accept who you are and I’m crying

#Nimona #Nimona movie #mayo rambles #delete later #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin