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shanastoryteller · 4 hours

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Happy birthday! Could you continue the naruto daughter of the homage series?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Naruto doesn’t feel comfortable going back to the tower until the Suna kids have collected their scroll and arrived. Gaara had killed nine people – three teams total – in that time. None of them Konoha, thankfully, but that’s mostly due to her team and Itachi engaging in some creative luring and misdirection. The Konoha Twelve can be redirected outright by one of her clones, but the other leaf genin that she doesn’t know as well have to be lured rather than instructed. Getting their own scroll is more an afterthought than anything else.

They probably should have thinned the herd a little more. Now they’re having preliminary matches, which is just another chance for Gaara to kill one of her shinobi.

Great.

“Is that Orochimaru?” Sakura hisses, looking up at the spectator box. “Isn’t he a missing nin?”

Naruto flickers her glance upward, but she’d already known he was attending. What does surprise her are the two people by his side. “Yeah, but he’s also the Otokage, and one sort of trumps the other. Dad gave up on that one a long time ago, and Sarutobi still likes him besides. That’s not the interesting part.”

Jiraiya sends intelligence back to the village frequently enough, but she’s never thought she’d seen Tsunade back in the village.

Orochimaru is already bored.

He barely attends chunin exams when they’re in his own village. But Kabuto had given him an interesting report, and he hasn’t seen Minato in something like fifteen years, so he figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, Anko is proctoring a portion of the exam, and she always complains that he doesn’t visit.

Jiraiya found out, somehow, which was bad enough, but then the traitor told Tsunade, and the two idiots insisted on coming with him for some reason.

Probably because they were worried Minato might try to arrest him, which is frankly insulting. He can and will kick that kid’s ass if he has to.

Hm. Maybe that’s what they’re intending to prevent, on second thought.

Minato’s daughter has her father’s coloring and her mother’s bone structure.

“I’m surprised she’s made it this far,” Jiraiya murmurs.

Kushina throws him an irritated glance, but the white knuckled grip she has on her armrests seems to imply she agrees with him. Minato doesn’t look at either of them, not that he’s looked at Kushina at all. There’s really no point in them playing the part of happy couple in front of foreign ninja if they can’t commit to the deception.

“She’s got a solid stance,” Tsunade says. “Don’t need working chakra coils for that, I suppose.”

Minato’s lips thin, but he keeps his silence.

“Gaara of Suna versus Rock Lee!” shouts Hayate, pausing to cough halfway through.

Orochimaru leans forward now that something interesting is finally happening.

It’s not as immediate of a bloodbath as he thought it’d be. Lee holds out, demonstrating a mastery of taijutsu truly can make up for an awful lot. He fiddles with the weights on his wrist, but then he glances up. It seems as if he’s looking at his sensei, who’s shouting encouragement, but standing just to the left of them is Team Seven.

Naruto’s lips tug down at the side and she shakes her head just slightly, the movements so small thar Orochimaru wouldn’t notice them if he wasn’t focusing on her.

Lee’s shoulders droop even as he backflips to avoid another deadly arm of sand. He’s not even close to exhausted, and he’s lasted longer against Gaara than anyone else has, but he raises his arm and says, “I surrender.”

Everyone is stunned, an air of disbelief surrounding them.

Gaara acts like he hasn’t heard, more sand barreling for Lee. Hayate moves to interfere, but he’s a lot slower than that sand is.

There’s a smudge of yellow across the arena, there and gone, taking Lee with it.

Orochimaru turns, expecting to see Minato’s seat empty, but he’s still there, eyebrows raised.

He frowns, looking back down, and Naruto is back out of the arena, putting Lee back on his feet. “It seems you didn’t hear him!” she shouts, grin so wide her eyes are slits.

“I didn’t know you taught her the Flash,” Jiraiya says.

Kushina stares between her husband and her daughter, eyebrows pushed together.

“Yes,” Minato says stiffly, “well.”

Interesting.

It appears Kabuto’s report was accurate.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #naruto

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traumxrei-archive · 3 days

Text

【 iii. picture perfect shopping 】

summary: for a debutante, one must be the most eye catching at the ball. yuu decides to take floyd shopping with them. what they didn’t realize was how picky the prankster would be when it came to their outfit…

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: floyd leech my beloved <33 i love this guy sm, and i feel like he’s one of the twsties who’d have rlly good fashion ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

"Master~" Floyd groaned, fiddling with his tie. "Do I have to wear somethin' so uncomfortable?"

Today Yuu was supposed to go clothes shopping. Floyd, who had previously looked bored out of his mind, suddenly shot up and volunteered himself. And since none of the others protested, the rest was history.

"Why not?" The corners of Yuu's lips twitched as they buttoned Floyd's vest.

Yuu supposed that they had a bit of a mischievous streak when it came to their own maids. Especially with Floyd Leech. It wasn't often that they had something to tease the maid with.

Floyd grabbed their hand, stopping them in their tracks, "Aren't I supposed to dress you?"

"I suppose," Yuu glanced up, his eyes boring into theirs. "But wouldn't you rather do something more interesting instead?"

Floyd seemed to switch tactics, "Can't I wear my normal uniform? These pants are too stuffy."

Yuu thought about it. About the way Floyd preferred loose skirts that fell just above his knees. Or the way his apron was always stained with something or another from running around all day. Wearing fitted pants probably felt strange in retrospect.

But they had to appreciate how Floyd looked from an aesthetic point of view. The pants all but accentuated his height, coupled with a fitted coat and vest. Floyd looked the spitting image of a young master rather than a maid. (They patted themself on the back for choosing such a perfect outfit.)

"Hmm, but you look handsome like this too," They smiled because Floyd was always weak when it came to compliments.

They knew they won the argument as soon as Floyd released a long sigh "If Master says so~"

"Besides, we aren't trying to attract attention. If it weren't for the ball..."

Floyd grinned then, "Don'tcha worry, all I gotta do is get you lookin' the best at the ball, right Master?"

Turned out that Floyd was quite picky when it came to clothing. Maybe that was why Jade seemed quite apologetic as he was sending them off. What they thought would be a simple shopping trip turned out to be a quest for "only the best that fit Master," as Floyd put it.

"This material...isn't it on the cheaper side?"

Or, "Nah, this color doesn't match your eyes."

Or, their personal favorite, "Master, you're rich, so shouldn't you get a bigger rock?"

Yuu would’ve laughed at all of Floyd’s comments if it wasn’t considered rude to the store owners. The good thing was that Floyd had basically done the hard part for them. He had chosen a suitable outfit on their behalf, swathing them in Night Raven grey, adorned with gold trimmings. And then there were the boots made out of leather from a foreign land. Yuu probably would've chosen without worrying too much about quality if it weren't for Floyd, but he seemed determined to watch over their purchases like a hawk.

Their feet were getting a bit tired, but Yuu couldn't bring themself to say no when Floyd entered another store.

"This time we'll find a good brooch," Floyd said as he opened the door, letting them into the store. "Something bi~g and shiny so that those garbage minnows won't look down on you."

"I'm sure I don't need it," They reassured.

Yuu knew why Floyd was worried. There were plenty of unsavory rumors going around about them, after all. It had been happening for a long time, ever since they attended NRC. 'The young heir is socially inept', or 'A mere teen cannot inherit the Night Raven Duchy, much less an orphan!', or even their least favorite rumor, 'The loyalty of their staff is due to their status.' It didn't matter much to them anyway. By the end of their Debutante, they would make sure that no one would be able to run their mouths about the Duchy or their people.

"Welcome, customers!" The salesman greeted cheerily. "Please have a seat." They both took a seat, and soon the scent of tea leaves seemed to fill the room as they waited. Floyd was already eyeing the display cases, eyes calculating.

The store owner poured them each a cup of tea. His eyes glanced between the two of them before finally landing on Floyd, “What would you like to see, good sir?”

Ah. It seemed that this store owner had mistaken them to be a servant, and Floyd their master. It made sense, given the more simplistic clothing they decided to use if only to disguise their shopping trip. Floyd expression had dropped. They could feel the anger starting to radiate from the maid.

“Hey,” There was a cold expression on Floyd’s face. “Don’t look down on my Master like that.” Oh Sevens.

They tugged at his sleeve, before whispering, “Floyd, don’t—"

“Master?” The owner glanced at them for a moment, not even noticing that he interrupted them. “Are you sure?”

And that seemed to be the final straw for Floyd.

He slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang and Yuu's heart felt like it stopped in their chest. Horror dawned on them as they watched the table shake, the tea set wobbling before shattering with a spectacular sound. CRASH! Hot tea spilled all over the surface of the table, splashing Floyd's arm.

“Floyd!" They hurriedly grabbed his arm, jerking it from the steaming puddle of tea.

Floyd continued to glare at the man, “It seems there’s a minnow who doesn’t know his place.”

They injected as much authority as they could into their voice, “Floyd Leech, I want you to calm down. This behavior is far from appropriate.” They watched as Floyd’s shoulders tensed, conflict passing his expression. The store owner didn’t dare to move either, face frozen in shock.

An eternity seemed to pass before Floyd released a harsh breath, “As your benevolence wishes, Master.” A frustrated expression crossed Floyd’s face before he was turning toward them, sinking to the ground. His forehead pressed against their knee, and Yuu fought not to comfort Floyd for a second.

Instead, they looked up. Yuu stared at the spilled tea with disdain, “Well? Clean up the mess. I'll compensate for the broken tea set.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” The man seemed to sweat even more as he bowed. “And...may I know your name?” The nerve of him to ask after all that.

“Your ignorance astounds me. Most know me as the heir to the Night Raven Duchy.” And the owner turned white as a sheet. Good. That should teach him not to forget their face ever again. As the man stumbled out, they turned their attention to Floyd.

Yuu finally let their hand card into Floyd’s hair, “Floyd. You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘M not,” His voice was muffled, and they could feel him press his cheek against their knee. “Are you mad at me?”

They let out a light laugh, brushing the hair out of Floyd’s eyes. He was staring right at them now. “I’m not. I understand why you were offended. Now he’ll never forget my face for as long as he lives.” Floyd had a bleeding heart when it came to those that challenged their status, more than any of their other maids. And that big of a blunder coupled with the fact that the debutante was soon… It was no wonder Floyd had snapped.

"But Master..." Floyd was pouting now. "You don't hafta compensate him."

"I have to compensate him for the damageds. But the Night Raven Duchy will never give him another penny ever again," Yuu held up their palm. "Now show me your hand.”

Floyd obediently lifted his arm, which was all but soaked in tea, “It doesn’t hurt.” The skin was reddened slightly, and they frowned, wishing that they had intervened quicker.

“Still, we should have the doctor take a look later. And you should get changed,” Yuu traced over the wetness of his sleeve. “I…have your uniform. It's in our carriage, down the block.”

Floyd’s head shot up, eyes glittering, “Really?”

They nodded, sheepishly, “If you really were uncomfortable in those clothes, I wasn’t going to force you to keep wearing it for the whole— Woah—“ Floyd stood up, leaving the store before they could finish their sentence.

The owner finally returned. They wondered if he timed it so that Floyd would leave before he entered. They glanced at him, “Do you happen to have a fitting room here?”

“E-Excuse me? This is a jewelry store, but we—“ The door opened almost violently as Floyd walked back in, expression dangerously dark once more. They tapped a finger against their arm. The owner coughed, “W-We have an empty storage room at the back, p-please go ahead, your grace.”

“Thank you,” Yuu brushed off their clothes before offering a hand to Floyd. “Shall we?” Floyd seemed happy to lead them to the back, and more than happy to change back into his normal attire.

Yuu chuckled at the sight of the lopsided headband and the carelessly tied apron. Riddle and Jamil would have a heart attack if they saw what Floyd looked like as he exited the store.

Floyd stretching ahead of them, “Kinda wish I could've beaten him up a little~”

"Floyd Leech, that is unacceptable," They said with mock seriousness, as Floyd laughed cheerily.

And watching Floyd skipping down the streets, pointing to another store up ahead, well... They couldn't say no.

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

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#/trau writes #floyd leech #twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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dawn-moths · 18 hours

Text

"40 — Love"

Nanami Kento x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(After watching Nanami and Gojo’s tennis matches for so long, you decide you want to try your hand at the game. Luckily, you just so happen to have access to the perfect teacher.)

disclaimer/content warning: nothing explicit but still some suggestive content, minors please dni! set in my i’ll be your angel au (sugar daddy nanami), use of the word “daddy”, reader is called “angel, baby, sweetheart, princess”, size difference, jealous gojo satoru.

*ao3 mirror*

♡♡♡

The early summer’s evening sun beat down against the tennis court, the first gentle shades of what would eventually morph into a blazing sunset blanketing over you from where you lounged beneath the partial shade of an umbrella, the diamonds studding your ears and wrapped around your wrist winking in the soft amber light. Every movement you made caught Nanami’s eye, little glittering flashes of the newest jewels he’d gifted you distracting him like a magpie eagerly searching for a fresh sparkling trinket.

But he kept forcing himself to avert his gaze, umber eyes hidden beneath the lenses of his sunglasses as he trained his stare on his opponent. Gojo Satoru, on the other hand, was somewhat reveling in Nanami’s distraction. Perhaps now he might actually stand a chance at scoring a point against the blonde.

Satoru figured it would be hard for him to take his own eyes off of you, if you’d been visible from his side of the court. But, as was Nanami’s preference, Gojo’s back was facing you, though that still didn’t do much to stop him from trying to show off. If anything, it only encouraged him. Just a single glimpse of you in your sporty little baby blue skirt and crop top, the clothing hugging your sunkissed curves so deliciously it nearly had Satoru salivating despite the dryness his mouth had earned from all the recent exertion, it was enough to inspire him to give it his all on the court today, that was for certain.

Not that he ever took it easy when competing against Nanami, whether you were present or not.

And while Gojo excelled at plenty of other skills, Nanami Kento was a force to be reckoned with when there was a racket in his hands.

As Nanami sent the ball zooming past Satoru once again, earning himself another point (they weren’t keeping score, Nanami had said, just practicing, letting off some steam at the end of a long and busy day, but you’d secretly been keeping track the entire time, and so far, your Daddy was undeniably undefeated) you let out a cheer.

Nanami flicked his gaze over to you and gave a confident smirk and a thumbs up. No wonder he always won. He had the best good luck charm any man could ask for. And if Gojo thought blue was his color, today, it seemed, the shade belonged to Nanami through and through. He swept his gaze along your form, tracing from the big velvet scrunchie secured around your high ponytail all the way down to your pristine white sneakers.

He knew your favorite thing about joining your Daddy on his athletic activities was, of course, the cute outfits you got to model for him. And his favorite part, other than getting the chance to admire his favorite little cheerleader in between matches, was the fact that he’d get to take each and every article of clothing off of you later that night.

In the past, you’d participated alongside Nanami in some of his favorite physical hobbies— like golf or swimming or, like today, tennis— trying so hard to keep up with his speed and his strength and his skill. And weren’t you just so precious, thinking you could even come close to matching him? Because you couldn’t compete with him even if you wanted to. No one— not even Satoru— was a match for Nanami’s powerful tennis stroke.

You’d spent several afternoons as of late serving as a spectator, watching them play while you sat under your private little veil of shade and sipped pink lemonade, idly attempting to read through a book. But the thing about Nanami and Satoru’s tennis matches was, once the grunting and the sweat and the competition really began, you couldn’t focus on anything else. Couldn’t take your eyes off them, cold drink and paperback fiction all but forgotten as you sat up in your lounge chair, practically on the edge of your seat, leaning in as you peered over the delicate frames of your heart shaped sunglasses to watch them racing across the green top.

“Nice one!” Gojo called across to his casual-partner-turned-brutal-opponent as Nanami sent the ball back over the net in a clean, controlled arc. “But don’t forget this is—” His sentence was cut off with a growl as he hit the ball back with enough force to emit an audible crack echoing across the gardens. “A competition!”

Nanami leapt to hit the ball back in time, your breath catching when you feared he might actually miss. But at the last second, almost too fast for your eyes to keep track of, his racket sent it rushing back towards the man opposite him. Gojo dove for the ball but missed it by just a hair, the little blur of lime green slamming into the chain link fence with a shuddering rattle.

“Don’t get cocky now, Satoru!” Nanami teased, finally able to take a moment to catch his breath as Gojo went to retrieve the ball, raking a hand through tousled, sweat-streaked blonde strands. His lips cracked into an arrogant smirk, clearly not intent on taking his own advice. “Besides,” he added, lowering his voice a bit as he cast a glance your way. “You really think I’ll lose while she’s watching?”

Gojo peered over his shoulder, snowy locks damp and sticking to his temples and the back of his neck, a water bottle gripped in one hand while he used his other to fan his body with his black t-shirt. He couldn’t help but grin then too. Maybe if he had a good luck charm as perfect and pretty as you, he might actually manage to beat Nanami just once.

“Y’know, we might need to make a new rule,” Gojo suggested as he turned back to face Nanami, taking a few quick gulps of the flavored electrolytes. When he was done, he let out a satisfied sigh and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, lazily gesturing his tennis racket towards Nanami, he continued, “I could consider you bringing along your little cheerleader as cheating. Let’s see how you’d do without her around, shall we?”

Nanami’s gaze darkened at the prospect of the challenge, but ultimately his smile held steady. “How could I?” he replied, gently jovial. His full attention was on you now, and you resisted the urge to get up and saunter over to him upon his beckoning stare. “Besides, I promised I’d give her a lesson or two after we were done.”

“That mean we’re calling this match?” asked Satoru with a slightly defeated scoff.

Nanami could tell how eager you were to come over, so as he said, “Yeah. Better luck next time, I guess,” he gave you a beckoning wave.

You sprung up from your seat, trotting over across the court with a beaming smile, wearing a brightness to rival the season’s sunny weather. “Is your game over, Daddy?” you asked with that adorable sweetness lacing your tone, all watermelon-sugar and honey drizzled peaches.

What Gojo wouldn’t give to have a girl like you to call his own.

The moment you were within reach, Nanami was pulling you protectively against his side, one of his strong arms cradling your shoulders as you nuzzled further into his loving touch. “I’d say it is, princess,” he cooed, melting in your presence like a popsicle left out in the sun. Then he cast a somewhat taunting glance over at Satoru and added, “I mean, unless Gojo is intent on losing again today?”

Gojo flashed a mean, sharp smile, all pearly white teeth and malice, and then coughed out a huff of a chuckle, something cold and vengeful shining in those elysian blues. “Mark my words, Kento,” he taunted, “one of these days, I’m gonna annihilate you, and when I do…” His gaze then shifted to you, scanning up and down your form, trying hard not to let it stick on the soft flesh of your exposed thighs, the dip of your waist and the little sliver of your tummy that showed in the space between your skirt’s waistband and the hem of your top, the curve of your breasts and the bit of cleavage that peeked out from the V-neck. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, pink and wanting, right before he concluded with, “Good luck charm or not, she won’t be able to save you.”

You felt a little tense then, the energy suddenly seeming to shift as Gojo wore an expression that you swore was hungry. And, god, how tempted he was to make a bet with Nanami, wager a night with you— hell, even just ten minutes— as the prize for one of their weekly matches. And Nanami, being confident in his own ability, relying a little too heavily on his unbroken winning streak, might just be in a playful or arrogant enough mood to entertain Gojo’s little whims.

“Sure,” he’d reply, sarcastic and cocky. “If you can beat me, I’ll even let you have her in my bed.”

And that…

That would be just enough of a stake to seal the deal. To cause Gojo Satoru to become even more relentless than he normally was on the court against his oldest friend.

That would be the time Gojo finally won.

And he’d relish in making Nanami eat his overconfident words just before he’d drown in the pleasure of finally being able to have a taste of you— the one thing in the world he couldn’t buy for himself no matter how many figures his bank account secured.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you for the rematch next week,” Gojo shrugged, his predatory gaze morphing back into something light and unbothered, a look belonging to the Gojo you were more used to. After gathering his things, he gave you a playful little wave goodbye and said, “Don’t go easy on him now!” Nanami offered to walk Satoru out, but Gojo waved him off, saying, “I know my way out. Now teach her well so someday I can drag Megumi or Yuji or Nobara along and we can play doubles.” With a cheeky wink and a self-assured stride, Gojo Satoru was gone, disappearing beyond the manicured lawns and hedges and heading back to where his black Rolls Royce Phantom awaited him in the long, curving driveway.

“Can’t you let him win just once, Daddy?” you asked, some sympathy for Satoru’s defeat bleeding into your whine. “I’ll still think you’re the best at tennis even if he occasionally beats you…”

Nanami hummed out a note of amusement, beginning to guide you off to the side of the court where the extra rackets and tennis balls were kept. “And if I let him win, do you really think he’d be satisfied, sweetheart?” he asked you, pure adoration peppered with condescension lilting in his low, soothing voice. “Do you really think he’d accept a victory that he didn’t earn?”

No, you thought to yourself, Satoru would never claim a victory that he hadn’t earned fair and square. Because as carefree and frivolous as the man could be, he was equally cruel and competitive. He was good enough to outmatch anyone in almost anything, tennis included, just so long as that person wasn’t Nanami Kento. And though the two men were more evenly matched in their golf and swimming skills, it was, of course, the one game that Gojo had yet to best Nanami in that he was so hung up on.

“I guess you’re right,” you agreed with a shrug. As Nanami reached over to hand you your tennis racket— the light pink one he’d had custom made for you the moment you’d shown interest in learning— you took on a slightly more nervous tone and asked, words trembling a little towards the end, “But you’ll go easy on me, right?”

There was no way you’d survive a single one of Nanami’s vicious serves unless he dialed it way back. And he knew this just as well as you did. Not to mention he’d sort of been hoping you’d take interest in one of his hobbies eventually. That way, it would give him the perfect opportunity to spend more time with you, to leave work a little early or reschedule a boring meeting because it was almost time for his precious baby’s tennis lesson, and he just couldn’t be late. It also would be the perfect opportunity to put his hands all over you as he showed you the correct way to hold a racket or take a swing, his palms planted firmly on your hips as he helped correct your form, distracting you in the process of course, though once your lesson was over and he’d praised you for a job well done, the two of you fully intended on revisiting those more intimate parts of the lesson later in the bedroom.

“Of course, angel,” Nanami chuckled, grabbing up two extra water bottles from the mini fridge. “Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine. Besides, don’t I always take good care of my favorite girl?”

Especially because he wouldn’t want you to get frustrated and decide to quit. Oh no, he couldn’t have that. And while Gojo’s comment about playing doubles was probably a pipe dream, Nanami couldn’t help but fantasize about spending cool summer evenings out on the private home court with you once you’d gotten the hang of things, just gently hitting the ball back and forth with the sound of your bright laughter echoing over the net every time you successfully returned the ball to him.

But first thing was first. He had to teach you how to serve. So with your back against his chest and his hands taking purchase over where you held the racket, gently correcting your grip position at the start, Nanami led you through the basics of the swing.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you, allowing you to try a few times on your own. He grinned, impressed. “See, you’re a natural.”

You let out a proud giggle, wondering if maybe you’d end up having a knack for this after all, unlike golf, which was very technical, and swimming, which was very exhausting. Though, you’d always been one to get a little ahead of yourself. Because the ball hadn’t even been introduced into the equation yet.

In other words, the real test had yet to begin.

With Nanami now standing at the other end of the court, one of the fuzzy green tennis balls clutched in your manicured hand, you weren’t feeling quite as confident. You’d liked it better when he was guiding you, felt more capable with his expertise close and at the ready. Now, you feared you’d just forgotten nearly everything he’d taught you, your mind racing with questions of how to hold the racket properly and where to aim and, well, honestly you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to hit the ball successfully after tossing it up into the air.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby!” Nanami called over to you, and it was then that you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you could do this. You wanted to make your Daddy proud, wanted to hear him praise you when you did it right. You wanted to prove what a good student you could be for your teacher.

“Ok!” you called back, preparing to toss the ball up into the air. You didn’t throw it too high, though imagined how fun it would be to one day toss it as far above your head as you could, watching it plummet back down towards you with the confidence that you’d still be able to hit it across the net.

And even though your aim was a little off-center, you were still able to swing hard enough to send the ball over to Nanami, who lightly tapped it back to you, letting it bounce on the green once before you lunged forward to hit it back. You felt the ball make contact with your racket, and next thing you knew it was soaring over the net once more.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, your look of concentration splitting into an astonished grin. “I did it! I actually did it!”

Nanami returned the ball to you in the same gentle fashion, urging you to continue with the streak you two had going now. “See!” he said. “I knew you could!

But it then seemed your newfound confidence got the better of you because, though you leapt for the ball with everything you had, that time it was just too far out of your range. It passed you on the court and rolled until it hit the chain link fence.

“Ah, man!” you said, jogging to go after it, though you sounded more amused than disappointed.

“That’s alright!” Nanami called, casually walking closer towards the net so he wouldn’t have to shout as loud. “Just bring it here and we’ll try again.”

You grabbed the ball and tossed it towards him, Nanami reaching out to catch it in one of his sure, strong hands. “Do you want to try serving again?” he asked. “Or do you want me to serve?”

You took a moment to think about it, then smiled and replied, “I want you to serve now.”

Nanami returned a soft grin. “Alright, princess,” he said, both of you beginning to make your way back to your preferred places on your respective sides of the court.

“Don’t forget to go easy!” you called over, a playful giggle trailing off the end of your reminder.

“I dunno…” Nanami teased, a hint of mischief present in his voice. “I think you might be ready for a little more of a challenge.”

But, in the end, he was still nice about it. The serve came towards you in a controlled, soft arc, though when you returned it that time it was with a little more fervor, the power behind your stroke increasing just enough to wake Nanami up from his gentle daydreams, the lull provided by the balmy, early summer evening breaking upon the next cool breeze that wafted through the gardens.

The two of you practiced hitting the ball back and forth for another hour or so until you grew tired, your perfect white sneakers beginning to scuff and drag a little across the court, your swing becoming a little sloppier as fatigue caused your concentration to slip. But you didn’t want to call it a day until you’d managed to make Nanami miss the ball just once.

Similar to Gojo, it seemed you had some unrealistic fantasies of your own.

So, after asking you a few times if you wanted to be done for the day and you saying one more round despite how exhausted you clearly were, Nanami drew this conclusion and decided that, if he was going to let anyone beat him, it was going to be you.

“Why don’t you serve this time?” he suggested, sending the ball back your way. You let it roll off to the side a bit before going to retrieve it, and then, hoping he maybe wouldn’t catch onto your plan until it was too late, you tossed the ball up into the air, careful and soft like you’d been doing thus far but, that time, when you swung, you hit it as hard as your arms could muster, letting out your first real tennis grunt from the unexpected exertion.

And while the strength behind the swing was still nothing in comparison to either Nanami or Gojo’s, it still caught Nanami by surprise, caused him to hesitate just a split second too long. He went to lunge after the ball, originally intending to miss it on purpose, but when he found himself instinctually trying to hit it back only to miss it by accident…

Gojo would never believe it.

He looked behind him as it bounced out of bounds and rolled to meet the fence, and though technically the victory wouldn’t have counted in a real match, he certainly wasn’t going to tell you that. Not with the way you were jumping with joy on the other side of the net, squealing and giggling as you came running his way as if you’d just summoned magic for the first time.

“Did you see that?!” you asked, nearly crashing into his arms as you met him on his side of the court, your pretty pink tennis racket forgotten on the side you’d scored your first point against him from, the sorbet glow of the setting sun staining everything in sight with rich golds and brilliant tangerine oranges. “I can’t believe I actually did that! Did you see? Did you see?!”

Nanami dropped his racket and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug and sweeping you off your feet a bit as he spun around with you in his arms. “I saw it, baby,” he assured you, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “You were great.”

And when you looked up at him, arms still secured around his waist, wearing that look that was just dripping with pure love and devotion, eyes practically sparkling with it, Nanami had half a mind to lower you both to the court and celebrate your first successful tennis lesson a little early.

“I couldn’t have done it without such an amazing teacher,” you told him, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, both of you warm and dewy with a thin sheen of sweat. “But I had a lot of fun! Can we practice again tomorrow?”

Nanami let out a chuckle, the richness of it rumbling through his chest, velvety and sonorous. He swept you up in his arms, intending to carry you all the way back to the house, all the way up to the master bedroom. He said, “Of course, sweetheart. But first, a victory dinner is in order, don’t you think?”

You hummed out a pleasant note, that beaming smile of yours not faltering, though now something a little more devious snaked its way into your narrowing gaze. “Can the victory dinner involve going out for ice cream after?” you asked.

Nanami let out a sigh, though couldn’t wipe the grin off his face even as he shook his head a little and reluctantly replied, “Alright, I suppose you’ve earned it.”

But after that, once your sweet tooth had been satisfied and the exhaustion from the day crept back in to claim you, Nanami would be sure to collect his own prize. And once he was done with you tonight, well…

You might want to take a break from practicing tomorrow after all.

♡♡♡

(Hiiii everyone and thank you so much for reading! Honestly I’ve been thinking about my sd!Nanami from this au for so long now I just had to write a lil something for him and this is just what came to mind! I also can’t wait for summer, so I’m spending most days just dreaming about that lol. Anyway, I hope you’re all doing wonderful and remembering to take care of yourselves! See you next time, byyyyye~!)

#nanami kento #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n

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shuttershocky · 3 hours

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Is there any power scaling discussion that will inevitably make you feel the need to respond, no matter how irrelevant power scaling is to the actual media in question?

"How did Nero defeat Vergil at the end of DMC5 he's only 1/4th demon he should be much weaker wahh wahh plot armor"

First of all, Nero won because he wanted to win more than Vergil did. Second of all, Vergil's used to fighting an agile clown like Dante and not a brute gorilla like Nero who has no problem with just grabbing him and slamming him into the dirt repeatedly until he cries uncle.

BUT ALSO we know that human blood fuels demons in Devil May Cry. They have to consume it to grow their powers, which is why these guys keep powering all their infernal machinery with blood and why the tree whose fruit is kingmaker of the underworld must feed on human blood.

Before Nero, it looks like Vergil and Dante's strength came from being the sons of Sparda, who was Mundus' strongest soldier and was able to solo all of hell for his lady love.

But honestly I think a lot of their power comes from their nature as hybrids. When Urizen consumes the same fruit that made Mundus king of the underworld, he gets torn a brand new asshole by Dante working with an 8 year old's logic (if Vergil cut himself in two with the Yamato, maybe stabbing myself with Rebellion glues both my sides tighter?) and it actually works.

Not only is Dante's SIN Devil Trigger form written down in Nico's notes as matching (or even surpassing) Sparda's peak, he crushes Urizen both before and after the latter consumes the fruit containing human blood worth millions, completely mystifying the demon king because what the fuck kind of bullshit powerup is that?

Urizen's only able to match Dante's strength once V fuses his human self back into him to recreate Vergil.

I think being a demon-human hybrid basically acts like an infinite human blood battery. It's already inside you and never runs out because your body just makes more blood. The demonic side isn't granting the power, it's granting the abilities; the human side is the gas fueling this killing machine.

The whole time Sparda was turning on his own hell legions for Earth pussy he was unknowingly stumbling into the blueprint for creating unbeatable demonic super soldiers, and had no idea.

Every time Dante defeated the likes of Mundus or Argosax they must have been calling horseshit because there's no way they're getting destroyed by this buffoon just because he's Sparda's son when fighting skills aren't something you inherit like it's hair color, not realizing Dante's powers are fueled by his own blood (and plenty of self-stabbing).

This means that Nero is not inherently weaker than Vergil or Dante by having less demon in him, because it's the hybrid nature itself being their strength.

While Nero's powers aren't as mature as theirs, his demonic strength is enough to grab both Dante and Vergil's SIN devil trigger forms and push them back when they charged at full might, and in fact he's physically strong enough to lift giants like Goliath and ragdoll them around like their name is Bluto and he's just eaten a can of spinach.

Dante even points out at the end that Vergil cut off his own son's arm for more power and the son still kicked his ass anyway. By the end of DMC5 Nero doesn't need the Yamato anymore to do Buster moves, he can shape his own aura into arms to punch and grab things just as effectively, making him completely independent from actually using any devil arms to fight (he only needs human weapons like Lady does). He's strong enough that Dante trusts him with protecting the world by himself while Dante goes to hell, which is a big ask given you know, everything in DMC 1-4.

TL;DR - Nero strong

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tocomplainfriend · 3 days

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REDESIGN AND TIME PERIODS!

SirPentious died in - 1800 / Alastor - 1933 / Nifty - 1950s / Angel Dust - 1947

So I realized unless you told people who didn't know trough streams or wikis-they wouldn't know what time period the character is from! So here have some small stuff for redesigning here! Do research, you have no idea how fun it is to design with all the big references pulled up!!

The most obvious ones are Sir Pentious and Al.

Pen talks in an old way, not actually accurate, but you would get the point. +The Napoleon outfit by the end. +Steampunk is based on 1800-1900! Besides that, him calling the female character Miss/Missy or similar also part of it. Him imidiadlty saluting blabla

His suit doesn't match old suits and seems to be stylized the usual way all the others characters with Suits. (I know Pen wants to be hip with the kids but trowing away the idea of old clothes would be crazy to do) The entirety of the 1800s has different styles each decade too, we are focused on British late 1800s. There are fun variations of clothes too! (btw, in terms of redesign, search up for accuracy videos of people enjoy that style of clothing! Or steampunk!)

he colors can change and figures can always be exaggerated. Take this site I found while making this:

But he is Steampunk! Which is even more similar to the time period, and Pen pretty much gets a washed up version of Steampunk aesthetics. Many more fun outfits are there (for inventors too!)

Alastor is easy to tell more,' 'when' he is from. His specific way of speaking is also easy recognizable. +Radio theme.

The 30's were difficult in the USA, specially for the not 1%... to casual outfits and practical compared to years before, still stylish. + there is the place where you give attention to his Radio star and being mix person in those times affects his clothing!

Watch this video!

youtube

Angel: He does not communicate nor 40's or Mafia (why put on those themes and not used them, I understand the idea of Angel being more modern or kicked out of his mafia family but common!) + remember the possibility of drag!

youtube

Nifty: She died in 50s (her old puddle skirt was PERFECT!) There are so many iconic Hairstyles from this decade too... She would still be a maid, but she still has a style. (I don't think you can tell when she is from, even in her acting, tho).

youtube

Some redesigns:

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel redesign #Youtube

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icewindandboringhorror · 17 days

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examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

#BEGONE!!! *wizard beam blast leaving a black smoking crater in the middle of the tumblr dashboard*#I think another downside to everyone doing everything on phone apps on shitty tiny screens nowadays is the inability to really see details #of an image and thus its easier to share BLATANTLY fake things like.. even 'good' ai art has pretty obvious tells at this point #but especially MOST of it is not even 'good' and will have details that are clearly off or lines that dont make sense/uneven (like the imag #of a house interior and in the corner there's a cabinet and it has handles as if it has doors that open but there #are no actual doors visible. or both handles are slightly different shapes. So much stuff that looks 'normal' at first glance #but then you can clearly tell it's just added details with no intention or thought behind it. a pattern that starts and then just abruptly #doesn't go anywhere. etc. etc. )#the same thing with how YEARS ago when I followed more fashion type blogs on tumblr and 'colored hair' was a cool ''''New Thing''' instead #of being the norm now basically. and people would share photos of like ombre hair designs and stuff that were CLEARLY photoshop like #you could LITERally see the coloring outside of the lines. blurs of color that extend past the hair line to the rest of the image #or etc. But people would just share them regardless and comment like 'omg i wish I could do this to my hair!' or 'hair goallzzzz!! i #wonder what salon they went to !!' which would make me want to scream and correct them everytime ( i did not lol)#hhhhhhggh... literally view the image on anything close to a full sized screen and You Will SEe #I don't know why it's such a pet peeve of mine. I think just as always I'm obsessed with the reality and truth of things. most of the thing #that annoy me most about people are situations in which people are misinterpreting/misunderstanding how something works or having a misconc #eption about somehting thats easily provable as false or etc. etc. Even if it's harmless for some random woman on facebook to believe that #this AI generated image of a cat shaped coffee machine is actually a real product she could buy somewhere ... I still urgently #wish I could be like 'IT IS ALL AN ILLUSION. YOU SEE???? ITS NOT REALL!!!!! AAAAA' hjhjnj #Like those AI shoes that went around for a while with 1000000s of comments like 'omg LOVE these where can i get them!?' and it's like YOU #CANT!!! YOU CANT GET THEM!!! THEY DONT EXIST!!! THE EYELETS DONT EVEN LINE UP THE SHOES DONT EVEN #MATCH THE PATTERNS ARE GIBBERISH!! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THEY ARE NOT REAL!??!!' *sobbing in the rain like in some drama movie*#Sorry I'm a pedantic hater who loves truth and accuracy of interpretation and collecting information lol #I think moreso the lacking of context? Like for example I find the enneagram interesting but I nearly ALWAYS preface any talking about it #with ''and I know this is not scientifically accurate it's just an interesting system humans invented to classify ourselve and our traits #and I find it sociologically fascinating the same way I find religion fascinating'. If someone presented personality typing information wit #out that sort of context or was purporting that enneagram types are like 100% solid scientific truth and people should be classified by the #unquestionaingly in daily life or something then.. yeah fuck that. If these images had like disclaimers BIG in the image description somewh #re like 'this is not a real thing it's just an AI generated image I made up' then fine. I still largely disagree with the ethics behind AI #art but at least it's informed. It's the fact that people just post images w/o context or beleive a falsehood about it.. then its aAAAAAA

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ajdrawshq · 1 year

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points at these ^ things. akira n akechi

#like. yknow ?#sorry ive hit that point of hyperfixation where i have to give everyone a pokemon team n this wouldnt leave my mind #unovan/regular is Akiras n hisuian is Akechis . for obvious reasons #if u know pokedex entires n movepools etc etc #the fact that they also match their color schemes is a happy accident #i have a lot of ideas for these 2...........#also just appreciating hisuian zororark for a sec. what a gorgeous fucked up creature im so glad they had zoroarks og creator make it too #i love their signature moves too.... night daze n bitter malice......#their stats n types match p well too tbh. hisuian is technically stronger (in special attack) and faster #unovan is a balanced mixed attacker and its dark type gives it an edge against hisuians ghost type #and unovans dark type n better physical attack can mirror Arsénes 2 main attack types #while hisuians ghost and normal types can be compared to curse and either phys or almighty damage #unovan and hisuian zorua are called the tricky fox pokemon and baneful fox pokemon respectively #unovan zoroark tends to stay in packs n is protective of others of its kind and hisuian will attack so fiercely that it harms itself #i. really like zoroark. can u tell #BUT YEAH i just think that. yeah #even hisuian zoroarks origins could be similar to Akechi if u squint hard enough #n both of their illusionary abilities can be compared to both palace stuff n the third semester........#also . that one unovan Zoroark dex entry that talks abt ppl who are lonely asking Zoroark for illusions of others. Man. i need to use that #p5 #pkmn

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conflictedkismet · 9 months

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Love LOSES!!!!

#kismetthoughts #yes this is about the splatfest #team Love #so many mirror matches.... and for what... not even popular vote....#i dont think i got a singular non mirror tri color match #i def won some of those but i got No Clout. so ig they dont give clout for mirrors in tri color???#(serious deja vu typing that)#splatoon 3 #im not being salty btw. im glad the two other teams got points #DEVASTATING but its okay

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snowshinobi · 1 year

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still not over the time i told a recent friend (now recent bf) i liked his shirt (pale blue-grey polo w narrow white horizontal stripes, compliments his fluffy light brown hair + hazel eyes) and several lunch walks later he said he can’t remember the last time someone complimented him on his outfit. i think my heart audibly cracked

#where to even start with this like.#HE LOOKS GOOD. FREQUENTLY.#he matches the accent colors of his band tees to his pants and/or shoes. my fave combo rn is #the black The Who tee (white and red lettering on both sides) + cream shorts + black sneakers w red accents #he does the accent matching thing subconsciously btw. i pointed out ''your sneaks match the shirt that's cool'' he was like ''oh they do''#no one ever said anything huh #my understanding is dudes are hesitant to compliment other dudes bc they fear being called gay for it. classic homophobia making life worse #first and foremost for gay ppl but also for the straights #and women are hesitant to compliment dudes bc they worry he'll take it as flirting. classic heteronormative #''women and men can't be just friends'' + ''she asked for it'' garbage making life worse first and foremost for women but also for men #and yeah also all genders of trans and/or enby folks may be hesitant to compliment guys bc they fear being hatecrimed. can ya blame em??#look at the fucking statistics #on the one hand not being constantly judged for their presentation is a win for men. i love the compliments but it's also unnerving how #ready ppl are to appraise my appearance #that said it sucks that men getting pos attention for looking nice on the daily is so rare #all that suit hype yet no love for subtle accent matching. sweet kicks. a good sturdy jacket. FLANNELS #also would it kill us to tell guys their facial hair looks good? multiple guys ive dated have asked my opinion on their facial hair choices #before stating what their preference is. i'd get asking out of curiosity or wanting to know how it affects the kissing texture #but dude. man. my guy. people who love you will kiss you anyway even if it's a lil fuzzier than they prefer.#what's important is you like it #idk how to condense all this into occasional normal compliments anymore i just tell #bunny boy #his hair is pretty and his taste in band Ts fucks and spend 30 seconds curling and uncurling his fingers bc his hands are nice #sigh #snowswords

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sttoru · 11 days

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Trueform sukuna who never kisses his concubines. EXCEPT he only kisses his favorite concubine aka reader 😞🎀

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. you’re the only one deserving of lord sukuna’s.. direct affection.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!reader. fluff, suggestive at most. uhh exhibitionism ? kinda but nothing crazy sexual happens, so pda. size difference. reader gets called ‘doll.’

you’re standing at the entrance of the estate, along with some other concubines. four of them. uraume is there with you as well. you’re all awaiting the one person you’re serving; ryomen sukuna.

it’s silent. the women don’t dare to speak up nor do they dare address you in a menacing manner because of uraume’s presence. you’re thankful for them. you really don’t want to have another petty fight with the concubines. not before your little trip to the village nearby.

you’re all accompanying sukuna to meet up with an infamous clan leader. it’s official business, but you’re needed as a sign of your lord’s high status. you’re basically his trophies that he likes to show off.

“interesting choice of clothing,” sukuna finally shows up. you all bow, showing respect. you look up and only then realise that he’s addressing you. his eyes wander over your figure, “who’s chosen that for you?”

you glance down at your kimono. it’s a beautiful red—suiting the color of sukuna’s eyes. your hair is put up in a neat bun, with a matching crimson hairpin that represented who you belong to.

him.

“my lady-in-waiting, my lord,” you say quietly. you cannot see it, yet can easily feel it; the jealous glares from the four women. they’re dressed in the exact same color red, yet their lord hasn’t paid them any mind. not even a glance.

sukuna just hums in response and makes a mental note of your answer. at least his human servants are good for something. he continues to shamelessly check you out.

“lord sukuna,” uraume interrupts carefully. they bow their head once the king of curses looks their way with a stoic expression, “we’ll have to leave now if we wish to make it there at dawn.”

it’s a gentle reminder, but there’s some urgency in their voice. sukuna rolls his eyes—he may have some official business, but he’s not attending that. not before taking care of other more important stuff first. “silence,” he comments to uraume, heavy steps heading your way afterwards.

your eyes meet his. you blink in confusion, eyelashes fluttering. the sight makes sukuna’s hands twitch at his sides. the way you stare up at him with such naïveté is making him want to destroy it.

you’re unsure what sukuna wants from you. as he orders, everyone stays quiet. you watch as his big hands wrap around your body—your waist engulfed by his warm palms. your eyes widen, but before you can question his actions, your lips are sealed by his.

it’s rare that he does this. kissing sukuna is a privilege. one that no one has ever gotten the honour of having, except for you.

you’ve tasted him. you’ve felt his tongue slither against yours. you’ve had his saliva mix with yours. you’ve had him grunting in your mouth.

you’ve had it all.

no one says a thing. even as your feet are lifted from the ground by the sheer strength of sukuna’s grip on your small body. to reach his lips properly, he has to pick you up and hold you against his chest. it’s his favorite thing to do.

“pretty thing,” sukuna coos with a grin. you can feel his lips curling up menacingly against your mouth. it makes you whine. you instantly shut up once you realise that you’re still outside and surrounded by others—who are basically waiting on you two to be done.

you’re embarrassed to the point that you want nothing more than to hide your face against sukuna’s chest. but he will not let you until he’s had his fill. your tongues swirl around each other passionately, followed by him sucking on your bottom lip and biting it with his sharp fangs.

“my lord,” you whine quietly. you know this’ll end up like that one time in the garden. where he shamelessly took you in front of his servants. you’re unsure if it’s a smart thing to do right now. sukuna has an appointment to go to after all.

his mouth doesn’t stop interlocking with yours. his thick fingers tug at the hairs on the back of your neck, causing you to part your lips in surprise. the king of curses takes his chance and explores your warm little mouth. the one that he’s claimed as his the moment you became his concubine.

you tug at his sleeve as a reminder. sukuna grumbles in annoyance, but he knows you’re right; he should let go. his bottom set of eyes dart over to uraume for a second and upon seeing their expressionless yet determined face, he sighs.

all that official business can suck his dick.

sukuna finally detaches his lips from your now wet and swollen ones. you’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath. you’re flustered to the point you actually bury your face into sukuna’s chiseled chest. you’re sure this’ll be the only talk around the estate for the upcoming week. you’ll become the victim of some more. . . bullying.

the king of curses notices that you don’t let go of him at all. he grins at the sight of you so desperately clinging onto him. he tries to undo the little mess he made of your once neat hair in the meantime.

“what? want me to carry you all the way there, doll?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, teasing you as per usual. you don’t let go of him since you’re still cooling off. you’ve never really kissed outside of the bedroom. it always happens behind closed doors, so this one time took you by surprise.

you shake your head and plop down on your feet again. “no, my apologies, my lord,” you straighten the material of your kimono and don’t even dare to look at the others. uraume would understand, since they’re used to their lord’s antics, but the concubines will cause big trouble once you’re back home.

sukuna nods in acknowledgment. he still got that evil smirk on his face. his thumb brushes the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, cleaning up his mess once again. he’s nice enough to do so today.

“heh.” sukuna lets out an amused chuckle before walking away and ahead of you—the others silently following, as do you. you’re right behind him, on his right side, as he turns his head to yours, “just so y’know, i’m not done with you.”

you know sukuna isn’t. you can easily tell by the way that he didn’t even bother to wipe the lipstick from his own lips. he’s wearing that stain like it’s a medal of sorts. evidence that you’re the only one he’s ever going to show such affection to.

either way; you’re in for one hell of a ride once you’re back from your little business trip.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

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