#airy writes for blue lock

[bokutosbabe]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[mwahmimi]

you could write a one shot where the reader (who is part of the bau) always acquits or does what Spencer says, letting him talk for hours and Do you also write down facts that you find interesting? I think that's a very nice thing. (also if there is some smut afterwards I don't complain somehow).

p.s. I love your stories<3

Pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape🍇

(Hi! I’m sorry I know I don’t usually add comments onto my fics anymore but I just needed to say that I loved writing this. This concept was so fun to write and I’m quite happy with how it came out.)

“How is everything you say somehow so profound but yet so socially inept?” You chuckle, shaking your head through your laughter as you look up at him. Spencer laughs along with you sarcastically, an unamused fake grin painted on his face. He takes a step closer to you, lifting the umbrella over your head, protecting you from the unforgiving Quantico rain. Spencer leads you forward, guiding you with his hand on your lower back as he rubs his palm against your damp jacket. “Back to my place?” You speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “We’ll get sick if we’re out in the rain too long Spence.” Accepting your offer he links his arm around yours and you begin to walk down the street together. “Sickness is not directly caused by rain, but being outside in rainy conditions could increase your exposure to airborne viruses that might be present.” Spencer explains in his trademark, matter of fact tone. Giggling, as you fiddle with your keys, searching for the right one to unlock your apartment door. He sneaks them out of your hand, inspecting the lock on your door and the keys in hand, picks out the correct key and unlocks the door with a timid smile. “Clean towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself off.” You recommend him the blue one, it’s new and fluffy and completely unused, knowing he’s more likely to feel comfortable with the knowledge that it’s new. You want him to feel nothing less than comfortable. Spencer nods his head and makes his way to the bathroom. At the loss of his presence you reach into your bag, pulling out your notebook and pen. Scribbling down some nonsense as a scrappy, badly written diary entry as quickly as you can. Your journals were the one thing that held every detail of your life, not even your social media pages held that much information on you. You dot your i’s and cross your t’s, swiftly closing the book and burrowing it inside your handbag again.

A few days pass and you’re not feeling up to scratch. With the pharmacy not filling your prescription, mixed with the depths of your unrelenting depressing you’re struggling to keep your head above water. The files of paperwork stack up higher than they should on your desk, coffee rings stain the wood on your desk as it wobbles under your writing. Each case seemed to be more emotionally demanding than the last. But there was Spencer. He stumbles over to you, clumsy and un-spatially aware as ever, placing a bag of baked goods in front of you. The smell of cinnamon hits you immediately and you melt into the back of your chair, your lips pin up into a beaming smile. The monster in your head silencing just for a moment under the soft, dulcet act of Reid. “You’ve- you’ve seemed down. I didn’t want to pry incase you didn’t want to share, but sugar stimulates feel-good endorphins associated with reward. So, cinnamon buns!” He announced, his voice airy and angelic as he scratches the back of his head with his left hand; his right fiddling with the buttons on the stomach of his cardigan. He needn’t say anything more, the smile on your face and your back finally resting against the chair, regaining posture, says all the gratitude he needs. Spencer simply taps the bag on your desk with a grin and returns to his desk. Not only did he leave you with a sugary treat, he left with you with more of off the top of his head statistics that you couldn’t get enough of. Each one of them showing he cares, he thinks of you. He puts thought into everything he says, whether or not his words land with the people he speaks to is irrelevant. He shows he cares in his own unique way and you simply cannot get enough of it, you find your journal once more, leaving todays page decorated with his facts about sugar. Reaching into the bag from the local bakery, you take out your bun, wrapping the base with the napkin. With your first bite, you grin. Even if it didn’t ‘stimulate your endorphins’ it still tasted like heaven.

Friday night rolled around eventually, this week had felt never-ending. Slotted next to Spencer on the jet, you reach out and poke his side, demanding his attention. He jerks back with a giggle, you always forget he never grew out of being ticklish. You smirk and tease, “Oh right… ticklish. I forget you’re a little baby.” His cheek gain a new pink blush that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “You can’t grow out of your nerve endings in your skin sending electrical signals to the somatosensory cortex. Plus- most adults are t-ticklish.” He stutters over his words, almost as if they are too shy to be spoken. His hands rise to protect himself as your fingers threaten to poke him again, he chuckles in anticipation. “Whatever you say genius, deny it all you want. It’s still adorable.” Your voice soft and teasing as you smirk at him again. “Movie night tomorrow?” You suggest, your hands moving back to your lap as he begins to re-adjust himself and relax. Spencer nods, “Can we watch Star Wars?” He asks, sounding like an excited puppy. You roll your eyes playfully and smile, “Fine. As long as its Revenge of the Sith.” Spence chuckles, shaking his head and rises from his seat, heading to the jet bathroom. As is your new routine, your diary finds its way to the table in front of you. Scrambling to write today’s entry before Spencer returns, you try to remember his every word as you write. As you hear the door unlock you practically throw the book behind you and sit in front of it. Praying that the man with the 187 IQ doesn’t notice, should be fine, right?

Settling the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you get the TV set up ready for Spencer’s arrival. Everything is perfect, you’d bought his favourite popcorn, salted obviously. You’d also brewed a pot of the tea you’d made him last time, it was just English Breakfast tea but he’d sworn it was mind-blowing. The door is knocked, three times, Spencer’s lucky number. “It’s open!” You bellow your voice and put your feet up onto the sofa. Spence walks in, lifting your legs and placing them down on his lap when he settles next to you. He places his bag down on the floor beside him, but something bashes against it. Reaching down to find the offending item, you find its your journal. “Hey, y/n. I think you left this book on the floor. Where does it live so I can put it back in its rightful home?” He questions, you feel the blood drain out of your face, you pale immediately. “No- its okay! Just gimmie.” You respond, but he notices your shaking hands reaching out to snatch it. Spencer pulls away, opening the first page. “What are these huh?” He teases uncharacteristically. “You writing little love letters?” He jokes, before looking down at the pages and blushing when he reads his own name. He reads at an alarming speed at the best of times, but when he’s transfixed on text, he can read even faster.

“You’re- you’re writing about me? I said every word here.” Spencer’s eyes widen, the hazel irises expanding as he turns the pages rapidly and skims the text. “Oh you just had to write that. Didn’t you?” He chuckles, reading your interactions from yesterday on the jet. “I. I just find you interesting Spencer. I know everyone teases you and interrupts you when you speak, I know they don’t appreciate you enough. They take your words for granted, even when they’re so profound.” Your pale face begins to blush, it was enough that Spencer had read your private diary, but having to admit your feelings that you’ve been trying to repress and ignore, it was seemingly impossible. “I want to remember the things you say because they’re important, and every time you say something personal to me, I want to treasure it. Bottle it and keep it forever, you know?”

Spencer, for once, is at a loss for words. His cheeks burning under the heat of his blush, he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brain searching for anything to say, its like he’s frantically looking through the filing cabinet of words in his head and still coming up empty. With no vocabulary on his tongue, he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours. They’re soft and ample, featherlight against your own. No concerns of the lip gloss smearing and decorating his lips. Pulling away with a confused expression, “Spencer?” Your one word question is all you can say as you run your fingers through his hair. Your nails scratching against the back of his head softly and he leans into your touch wanting more. “I can’t help myself. I’ll stop if you want, if you didn’t want that I apologise profusely and I take full responsibility of my actions and I’ll do anything to make it up to you…” He gets in his own head about the moment just gone. “No, I definitely wanted that. Definitely.” You smile cheekily, rubbing your thumb against his heated cheeks. Spencer leans in once more, gasping into your mouth trying to dig deeper and deeper into your soul. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. I just don’t- I don’t know how to get here. You know?” He explains, his hands find the small of your back and pull you closer to him. Your index finger reaches up, shh-ing against his lips. Silencing him to keep him from rambling for the first time ever. You scramble up onto his lap, leaning over him playfully. “You’re perfect Spencer Reid. Without even knowing it you’ve taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you.”

You roll your hips slowly underneath him, smirking as he fiddles with the back of your bra strap. Even with an IQ of 187 he can’t figure out how to unbuckle a bra. You smirk and let out a giggle and he blushes, “So needy already?” You tease, your voice hoarse and desperate. He grips onto your hips as if he’s deprived, pushing into your lips, kissing you like a man starved. Spencer’s breath is shaky and weak, you take his chin into your thumb and forefinger, lifting it up, deepening the kiss. “I want you.” He speaks shakily, “I know. I want you too.” You say, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands. Rutting your hips against his bulge again, he convulses underneath you. He gasps and rushes his hand over his mouth and you know what’s happened. Not wanting to embarrassed him, you slide off of him. Slotting yourself next to him on the couch, trying to figure out the social expectation is when your crush finishes in his boxers before you’ve even touched him. You settle on pulling him into a cuddle, rubbing your palm up and down his back, feeling his boney spine through his skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and full of adoration, looking like pools of honey. “I need a few minutes, and maybe some of your magic tea.” He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the self depreciating humour he responds to the situation with. “Of course pretty boy.” You press your lips on the top of his forehead softly, breathing in his shampoo and cologne. He smells like coconut and sweetness. You jokingly reach out for your journal. “Today Spencer ended up cumming in his boxers.” You giggle together, your bodies rising and falling with each breath and your legs intertwined. The next hour could take a lifetime to arrive and you’d be a-okay with that.

[keerysfreckles]

Can you make an Aphrodite reader x Luke fic where she’s has low self esteem and he’s like your so beautiful!??? And she’s like stop your lying to me :( and he kisses her idk?

pretty isn't pretty — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite fem!reader

warnings: mentions of self doubt and self esteem issues

a/n: oh how i've missed writing luke fics

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

being the daughter of aphrodite was hard for y/n. her mother always made her feel pressured as if she wasn't enough. that she wasn't pretty enough or liked enough.

that was until luke castellan came around. luke and y/n started dating less than a month ago when luke had saved her from a hellhound trying to enter the camp. he helped her to the infirmary and kept her company. the rest was history.

luke made y/n feel seen, adored. however she couldn't help but feel self conscious about her own looks when she saw her newest sister walking around camp. she had gorgeous blonde hair that flowed down her back like a waterfall. there were freckles placed so delicately on her skin, it made y/n's insides twist. her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue anyone has ever seen, and her lips were as red as cherries.

y/n felt like a dud. she felt so small and unworthy of aphrodite's name when the new camper had gotten claimed.

what did y/n do when she felt like this?

she locked herself in her cabin all day.

yes it wasn't the most practical option, but she felt as if she had no other choice.

a knock on the cabin door brought her out of her demolishing thoughts.

"come in," she mumbles against her pillow.

luke walks inside the cabin and is instantly confused once he sees y/n curled under the covers of her bunk bed.

"sweetheart? you okay?" he kneals down besides the bed, and brushes the hair out of y/n's face.

"you know that new aphrodite camper?" luke nods, "i feel like my mother hates me."

luke's eyebrows only furrow as y/n covers her head with her blanket.

"i'm gonna need you to elaborate love."

y/n sits up with the blanket pooling at her waist. "i feel like the gods made a mistake or something. i don't belong in this cabin. i don't belong here. i'm not pretty enough to be in this cabin. i'm not smart enough to be in athena's. i'm not strong enough to be in hephaestus'. luke i don't know what i'm doing here."

"hey, hey no. we talked about this. you're more than enough, okay? you do belong here love. you belong in this cabin. you belong at camp. and you belong with me."

luke was now sitting on the bed facing his girlfriend. he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips.

"i hate seeing you like this," his words are soft as the air brushes against y/n's. "i just can't believe you don't see what i see."

y/n moves her hands to fiddle with the curls at the back of luke's neck. "what do you see?"

luke lets out an airy chuckle.

"i see the most beautiful girl sitting right in front of me."

"luke," y/n cuts off her boyfriend with a groan.

"no, you didn't let me finish. i truly do think you're beautiful. not only your looks, but your soul. the most beautiful soul i have ever met."

he leans forward again and kisses the girl. this time she kisses back, making the kiss longer than the first one.

"what did i do to deserve you?"

luke shrugs with a smug look on his face, "oh i don't know, guess you couldn't resist my charm."

[solacestyles]

─ EARLY RISER ❜ aegon ii targaryen

─ summary to wake your husband for his duties, you need to take desperate measures.

❛ pairing Aegon II Targaryen x reader

❛ note this is the first time I post anything I write here! also, english is not my first language.

❛ word count 697

Unfortunately for your husband, you've always been an early riser. The heat waves from your hometown used to force you awake and out of bed right after sunrise, the time that it became unbearable to even stay lying down.

When the light started gleaming through the thin navy blue curtains your body immediately stirred, taking you out of your rest. Aegon's arms were keeping you locked close to his chest, and not even your tiredness from the night before was enough to keep you in bed, his body warmth combined with the high temperature left you bothered, your skin burning where the blanket and his skin touched yours. Thankfully, the servants already knew you enjoyed bathing first thing in the morning, especially on warmer days like this one, and made sure that your bath was ready before the first rays of light reached the horizon.

You knew your first challenge of the day would be convincing Aegon to get up and ready. The family carriage was set to leave at 8 for your son's name day hunt, and although it was your husband's idea, you were aware he wouldn't mind leaving the realm's most important lords waiting several hours just so he could get a few more hours of sleep.

The first try was calling his name and touching his pale face, it only made him snuggle closer to be more comfortable with you. You tried again, getting out of his embrace and shaking his shoulders, but again, a failed attempt. At least you were seeing progress now, earning a few complaints from him.

Silently deciding this was your last try before taking more desperate measures you straddled his body and left kisses all over his jaw and neck, finally contemplating his dark violet eyes opening.

"Good morning, my handsome king." his face was still red and with evident sleep marks, his eyes struggling to be kept open. One of your husband's hand went directly to your waist, while the other was occupied rubbing his eyes.

"Morning, my dear queen." he bent his body to peck your lips and dropped his head again to the pillow straight away. "Must you wake me at this unholy hour?"

"Well, I don't know if it slipped your mind, but today is Rhaegar name day." you said giving him small kisses with each word. "You know, your son, the future king, our little brave dragon rider."

Aegon gave you an airy smile and mumbled something among the lines of "totally remembered" while closing his eyes again.

"No! Don't go back to sleep, do you know how long it took me to wake you?"

No response. You climbed out of his lap and stopped by his side of the bed. Sighed and debated mentally what you could do to get him up for good.

"Aegon!" you said a bit louder, making him jump a little in bed. "Love, please get up."

"Dove, i'm begging you, let me enjoy a bit of sleep before making me endure those lords dull talk." he did not even open his eyes, trying to go back to sleep.

"We need to be there so the lords dull talk is not about how they have an irresponsible queen and king as rulers." again, nothing. "Please, Aegon."

You finally get fed up and decide to use your low blow. You walk away slowly from the bed and stop close to the door that leads to the bath chambers.

"Fine, do as you please." you said with a ruff, and this sparked Aegon's interest, you never give up this easily, he opened one eye to see what were you up to, and he watched you start to undress from your white nightgown.

"I'm going to take a bath, I was expecting you to join me, but it seems I'll be alone today."

Aegon leaps up immediately, his eyes wide open. "No, no! I'm already up.”

He speeds to get to you before you leave and rapidly caught your waist with both of his arms. With his head resting on your shoulder, as he sniffs your neck lovingly, getting giggles out of you.

"Knew that would work."

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

♡ Gojo / Fem Reader

♡ Warnings; age gap (you’re 24, Gojo is 40), major daddy kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, anal sex,

♡ Note; God, I hate myself for writing this. Alas, I couldn’t help it. It’s probably about 1000 ish words? It’s an AU where Gojo is the definition of a single DILF and you’re his new babysitter.

When you first got recommended to babysit for Gojo Satoru, you thought nothing of it. You needed the money and you had a great track record with other families and there was no obvious reason to decline. Plus, you’d heard nothing but good things about the man in the circle of moms, but you’d never met him yourself.

You never paid attention to the gossip of how beautiful he is, brushing it off as exaggeration of bored housewives and truthfully it didn’t matter to you either way. The only thing that felt a smidge out of place was being informed that Gojo is a single dad.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that inherently,you just routinely deal with the mothers. Whatever, no skin off your back, it’d be fine. A decent change of pace.

To your immense satisfaction, it was. It is. Gojo has the most wonderful four year old little boy, Megumi. You love that kid as if he’s your own and he adores you.

However, the moms were clearly not being dramatic. Gojo is, to your disdain, angelic. The way his snow white hair frames his face, how his eyes are as crystal blue as the ocean and not to mention he’s tall as a mountain. To put it plainly, you were fucked.

You weren’t surprised when your thoughts abruptly turned down a sexual path. Hell, he’s a DILF if there ever was one. You couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, you’re not here to lust after your boss, this is your job.

You used every fiber of your being, every ounce of willpower to try and squash those thoughts and lock them away never to see daylight again.

Nevertheless you couldn’t get used to his god like stature. You’re embarrassed to admit it was made infinitely worse by the fact that he’s pushing forty, and you’re only twenty four.

When you gained that piece of helpful knowledge, your stomach burned. You weren’t able to meet his eyes for a week.

It’s not your fault you have a fucking daddy kink.

And so, after almost a year of your pathetic, overwhelming pining for the man, your heart dropped to your stomach when you found out Gojo harbored similar fantasies for you.

He had invited you stay late one night after Megumi had gone to sleep. He told you he wanted to watch a movie, drink some wine and relax. You had agreed because you’re well past the point of friends now and it was the weekend, so what would be the harm?

The two of you had drank enough wine to loosen your lips. It wasn’t enough to become sloppy, but it was just the right amount for the lines of what’s appropriate to blur. So much so that you started calling him Satoru and flushing every time you did.

It was enough for Satoru to drunkenly admit he’s been lusting after you for months. For him to almost forget he was telling his deep dark secret to the person it conveniently was about.

You sat side by side on his fluffly couch, thighs pressed together. Your head got fuzzy and his was the same. Satoru had his let his head drop onto the backrest with a thunk, pretty eyes closed off from the world while you admired how sinfully long and lean his legs really were.

“I’m a terrible person,” he mumbled out of nowhere, brows pinching as he kept his eyes shut. You hummed in question, focusing intently on his snowy eyelashes. “I think, no I know I have feelings for you. I should feel guiltier than I do for wanting to have sex with someone so much younger than me, but I don’t,” he said with an airy sigh, shifting his head and snapping his eyes open to gaze at you.

Warmth instantly curled in your lower belly and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. An involuntary flash of arousal blistered through your limbs and left you to unsubtly clench your thighs.

It was too easy to admit that you felt the same way, to admit you had touched yourself thinking about him. Your body went white hot when Satoru leaned in too close. You’d turned your gaze away and Satoru giggled at the shy action.

“You’re so cute!” He gushed. “Don’t worry baby girl, I stroke my cock daydreaming about how your pussy would feel around me. About how much I could show you. I bet you don’t have that much experience do you sweetheart?” Satoru taunted, wolfish grin on his lips.

You shook your head no, shifting your weight when he trailed the soft pads of his fingers over the sensitive crease of your elbow and tickled the underside of your bicep. The heady tension between you became unbearable.

You’re not sure who leaned in first for the kiss, you’re only aware that now you’re occupying Satoru’s bed, wine long forgotten. You’ve both lost your clothes along the way and you’re tangled in his blankets.

Satoru presses a large, sweaty hand over your mouth to try and keep your whines at bay as you desperately try not to wake up Megumi while Satoru urges you to ride his cock.

Satoru reclines on the headboard, keeping his knees bent and feet planted so his thighs act as a cradle for you to rock against.

The jerk is making you put in the work for your third orgasm, thighs burning as you chase your high. He was eating your pussy not even five minutes ago and now you’re bouncing in his lap.

Satoru starts to trail his free hand down your spine, following the knobs of bone down to the crease of your ass.

A startled cry of his name presses into his palm when he gently pushes the pad of his pointer finger against the pink, taught skin of your asshole. The unfamiliar sensation causes your movements to falter.

Satoru’s eyes light up, as if he’s just tried a new sweet and loved it. He tilts his head at your reaction, shaking it condescendingly, tsking at you when you stop moving.

“That’s not the right name, is it princess?” He teases, applying more pressure to your rim. Your eyes flutter shut and you shake your head no, a low moan escaping you. “Tell me what it is,” he demands, blue eyes piercing as he removes his hand from your mouth so you can answer.

“Daddy,” you murmur, nails biting into his shoulders while he continues to loosen the ring of muscle. You’ve come to a stand still in his lap, unused to having your ass played with.

“That’s it, what a good girl for daddy,” Satoru purrs. “Say babygirl, has anyone ever fucked your ass?” He muses, raising one eyebrow and biting the tip of his tongue.

“No daddy.”

His cock twitches in response.

“You gonna let daddy be the first one?” He presses harder on your rim, the tip of his finger sinking in. You yelp, tensing slightly. “I swear daddy will make you cum like you wouldn’t believe.”

You’re quite anxious about the pain, but ultimately you trust Satoru. You nod your head, happy to give him this first. He grins as if he’s going to eat you alive, the hand not in your ass squeezing your waist harshly.

Quickly Satoru helps you out of his lap, manhandling you until your cheek rests on the sheets and your ass is in the air. Satoru steps off the bed to grab lube from nearby.

Your belly fills with butterflies, pussy clenching when you admire the way he moves. He’s tall, lean, and gut wrenchingly beautiful.

He’s looming behind you before you can even register it, rubbing your lower back comfortingly as he delicately slips one lubed finger past the tight ring of muscle.

Your breath hitches, fingers curling around the sheets shakily. It’s uncomfortable and Satoru soothes you with encouraging words.

“Shh, it’s okay baby girl, I promise it’s going to get so much better.” He pumps his finger in and out until you relax. You take a deep, steadying breath, releasing it as Satoru eases his middle finger in alongside the first, all the way to his knuckle.

“Daddy!” You cry out, forgetting to be quiet. The stretch is overwhelming, a terrible mixture of a dull ache and barely there pleasure.

Satoru bends over your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and shoving your face into the mattress.

“Hush,” he admonishes you, scissoring his fingers in a warning. You nod quietly, close to sobbing into the mattress below. He hums in approval, releasing your hair as you keep yourself muzzled.

You don’t even notice the third finger and after a few minutes of stretching your rim to his satisfaction, the pleasure starts to drown out the pain.

You protest when he finally decides to pull his fingers out, the empty sensation almost unbearable now. Satoru chuckles, lining himself up.

“Don’t tell me you’re whining now, after all that complaining you did?” He teases, rubbing his tip over your soft, warm skin. You fold your arms under your head, resting there and ignoring him.

It doesn’t phase Satoru. He grips the base of his shaft and applies increasing pressure until the tip pops past your rim. The initial sharp sting makes you tense up, before relaxing as it fades to a dull ache.

Satoru produces a twisted version of a whine, carving a space in your ass until his curly white pubic hair brushes your skin.

“Okay?” Satoru asks, panting lightly and petting your lower back, straining with the effort to stay still.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him, even if you’re not completely sure you are. You start to clench rhythmically around the thick cock splitting you, involuntarily trying to get him out of you.

Satoru sucks in a breath through his teeth. He’s lightheaded from the pleasure, feeling like all the blood in his body is currently in his cock.

Satoru holds your hips, starting with a teasing backwards pull until only his tip remains. He smoothly pushes all the way in and repeats that steady motion until it suddenly clicks in your mind.

The pleasure from anal sex is divine, absolutely brain melting as he rocks his hips back and forth, creating a smoother, faster paced rhythm. It’s intense, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A warmth burns violently behind your navel, as if you’ve never felt pleasurebefore. It’s so fucking good, you immediately know you’ll be addicted to it.

“Daddy,” you can’t help but moan. You’re still attempting to be quiet, but it’s proving impossible. You want Satoru’s attention.

“What baby?” He asks breathlessly. He moans as he watches his cock disappear into your puffy rim while he waits for your answer.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, stifling your moans into the sheets as they increase in volume. Satoru laughs meanly behind you, but he thrusts harder at your words.

“Already?” He questions incredulously. “That was fast.” He sounds smug, tilting his hips so he’s hitting your g-spot through the thin wall separating him from your pussy.

Your pulse thunders in your ears, going silent as your orgasm shakes you to your core. The blood in your veins thrums at a dizzying pace. You feel all the thoughts in your head fizzle out to pinpoint on the pleasure as Satoru fucks you through it.

“Oh god. Yes, fuck — just like that,” Satoru snarls through clenched teeth, spanking you harshly.

Your thighs start to shake when Satoru doesn’t let up in his pace, but you’re starting to float down from your highand you’re getting overstimulated.

“Satoru,” you gasp, trying not to scream as he chases his own orgasm. “I can’t take much more,” you plead, trying to move forward. He just giggles, gripping your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts, he knows you don’t mean it.

“Just a little longer princess,” he coos, voice wrecked. You nod, taking deep breaths that rattle your chest.

Satoru throws all his weight into the next few thrusts, forcing a wail out of you that neither of you pay any mind to.

“Fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” Satoru whines, yanking his cock out of you, causing your rim to clench painfully around air.

He fists his cock twice before he lets out a strangled sound. You feel the long ribbons of warm cum all over your back, some even reaching up to your shoulder blades.

Satoru lets go of his cock and sits back on his heels, breathing heavily as he calms his heart rate. He reaches forward and tugs your legs out from under you so you can collapse onto your belly.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so satiated in your life. Every inch of you feels like jello.

Neither of you speak for a moment, soaking up the silence as you collect your thoughts. You still can’t breathe yet.

Eventually, Satoru pats your ass twice before rising and hunting down a damp wash cloth to clean you with. You lay there limp as he wipes away the mess he made of you.

He pokes your rib playfully when you don’t move a muscle. Twitching, you open one eye to look at him.

“Did I fuck your brains out?” He teases, giggling. You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. He laughs out loud this time, head tilting backwards.

A soft knock on Satoru’s door makes the two of you jump two feet off the bed. Your heart skips a beat as you raise up to sit on your knees.

“Daddy?” Megumi’s tiny voice calls out softly. “Are you in there?” You and Satoru share a panicked look. Thank God you locked the door.

“What is it my love? Are you okay?” Satoru calls out fondly. You’re shocked he’s able to keep a steady voice.

“Come lay with me daddy, I had a bad dream,” Megumi whines, little sniffles coming through the door. His sad voice makes your heart squeezes in your chest. Satoru’s eyebrows scrunch in concern.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream Gumi, I’ll be there in a second to lay with you bubba, go lay back down,” Satoru soothes.

“Mkay.” Megumi’s soft footsteps fade away as he returns to his room. Satoru looks at you guiltily, but you give him a sweet smile.

“Go, it’s okay. Poor Gumi, I hope we didn’t wake him,” you whisper. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s in love, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll be back, then we have to discuss how to tell Megumi we’re dating tomorrow. He’s gonna be surprised to see you so early.” Satoru pulls on a pair of loose sweats as he speaks, heading towards his door.

Something warm and sweet settles in your heart knowing that Satoru already assumes you’re dating. Not as if you have any complaints about that.

You watch the door shut behind him and you shift around, pulling on the t-shirt Satoru was wearing. You snuggle up under his sheets and promptly pass out.

You sleep peacefully knowing Satoru will return soon to wrap you up and hold you tight.

[aweina]

ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

[jeannineee]

Hiii pls write some dorian fluff!! I swear there's like 5 dorian fics on this app 😭😭

Dramatic

Dorian Havilliard x Reader

a/n: requests are open!!

warnings: some suggestiveness at the end w Dorian’s invisible hands 😉, but that’s it

“That was the most ridiculous ending ever written,” Dorian muttered from behind you. His arms were wrapped around your waist, a book in his hand.

You laughed and tipped your head back, meeting his icy-blue eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I can’t believe I wasted two days of my life reading this book,” Dorian said, tossing it onto the end of the bed.

Another airy laugh escaped you as you turned to straddle him, and brushed your lips against his. “At least you spent the two days with me.”

“You’re the only thing that made them bearable.”

“So dramatic.”

“What was more dramatic was killing the main character at the end of the book.”

“I think it was poetic,” you murmured, twirling a finger through his dark locks of hair.

Dorian deadpanned. “It was poorly written.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright. Agree to disagree.”

Dorian gasped in mock-surprise, before grinning. “You’re not trying to be right for once?” He pressed a hand against your forehead, checking your temperature. “Are you unwell? Something must be off.”

You swatted his hand away, giggling. “Don’t be an ass.”

A light chuckle fell from his lips. “What? I’m nothing but nice to you.” He kissed you again, eyes darkening as he pulled away. “Except in certain…circumstances.”

Your heart fluttered, heat pooling in your core. “Oh? And what circumstances are those?”

“Circumstances you rather enjoy, if I’m remembering correctly,” Dorian mused, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your breath hitched as his invisible hands crept up your spine, one of them possessively wrapping around your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your exposed skin. “Perhaps I need a reminder.”

You could feel Dorian’s smirk against your skin as those invisible hands tightened their hold.

[captainnameless]

What have you been working on lately?👀

theres a lot of little thoughts that haven’t made it past the 5 sentence mark, too many to discuss

but when i put out that i maybe wanted to do a freaky friday type thing where i write something that’s different to what i usually write i got a request for Maxiel w/ Max as an actual toddler and i —

It’s a hot summer night in Monaco, the sun has only just set and the sky is darkening into a beautiful navy black. The stars barely visible.

Their beers are empty, cans threatening to fall over with the soft breeze that’s flowing over Max’s patio. Their feet are touching, their fingers splayed, hands supporting their upper body weight, lounged on a thin striped blanket.

Max drops down to his elbows while he overshares, tells another story from his childhood with an airy smile on his face like it isn’t the most traumatic thing Daniel has ever heard.

“I wish I could change that for you.” Daniel breathes, readjusting his weight so he can brush his finger past Max’s forearm.

“Hmm,” Max hums, turning to look up at Daniel. “It is what it is. It’s okay.”

It isn’t. Daniel thinks but doesn’t say, just suppresses his sigh and tries to match Max’s soft smile. It doesn’t work.

“Don’t be sad.” Max frowns, turning to lay on his side and look at Daniel. “It’s not like we can do a do-over. I’m okay with what has been, I turned out okay.”

Despite of it. Daniel thinks. Not because of.

“You’re more than okay.” Daniel says, genuine, keeping Max’s eyes locked in his.

“You’ll make me blush,” Max jokes, but there’s a real flush that creeps down his neck anyway, breaking their eye contact with a shy chuckle, it makes Daniel smile.

“Look!” Max exclaims, shooting up from where he was laid down. “A falling star!”

Daniel blinks, follows Max’s pointed finger in the rapidly darkening sky, and sees the bright flash of a rapidly falling star.

“Maybe your wish will come true.” Max chuckles turning back to Daniel who feels a cold rush through his body as he breaks his gaze off of the star and back on to Max.

“Yeah,” Daniel breathes. “Maybe.”

— — —

They don’t speak about it again that night, with the temperature dropping they clean up their mess and make their way inside, Max offers Daniel his guest bedroom, which he takes without a fuss.

When Daniel wakes there’s light already dripping through the curtains of the room, the muted noise outside indicating the city is awake too.

He swings his legs out of bed, ready for a cup of coffee as he shuffles into the kitchen. The cats are awake, greeting him by curling around his feet.

“Goodmorning,” Daniel greets them, stepping over them to get to his destination.

“Hi.” A strange voice answers, and Daniel stops dead in his tracks when he rounds the kitchen island.

He blinks, blinks again but his vision doesn’t change. In front of him, surrounded by a teared up box of cereal sits a tiny child, with bare feet and chubby rosy cheeks, and ocean blue eyes that Daniel could pick out of a line-up every time.

“Daddy!” The toddler cheers, mouth full of cereal.

Max.

[merakiui]

Meraaa the lunar love hotel is such a wonderful event!! I'm loving all the writings and menus you've come up with ✨✨

May I order a Flower Bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu with Ruggie, with the fluffiest cream puffs and fruit smoothie from the morning menu? Thank youu <33 I hope you have a wonderful dayy

ruggie bucchi x (gender neutral) reader cw: slight nsfw, friends with benefits note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re not sure where Ruggie finds the energy. It’s only been a few minutes since the two of you have climaxed and caught your breath, but in those short moments he’s already dressed himself and is flitting about the room, casting clothes into the laundry bin and waving his magic pen to summon a bowl of warm water and a washcloth into existence, humming absentmindedly as he goes.

“Do you ever rest?” you mumble into the pillows, turning over to grant him access to your back so that he may dab at the many bites and scratches that litter your skin, evidence of a particularly wild round. You sigh when the soft, moist rag collects blood and sweat in smooth, even strokes. “Rugs?”

“If I’m getting paid to rest, I’ll rest,” he replies with his trademark snicker. “Besides, I’m used to it. Leona’s got me running around for stuff all the time. This is nothing compared to that.”

“Still, it’s important to rest. Clean-up can wait. Come cuddle with me instead.”

With a smile playing at your lips, you peer at him from over your shoulder, observing the way his brows furrow. Your arrangement isn’t normally one of cuddly nature—rather it’s one built upon lust and physical attraction—but despite that neither of you are ever opposed to the unspoken intimacy that follows sex. Quiet, peaceful times wrapped in one another’s embrace, listening to steady heartbeats thrum beneath the other’s chest, admiring the stone ceiling, and discussing all manner of things, both good and bad, are some of your favorite moments spent with Ruggie. You’re not sure if he shares your love for the little things because you’ve never been able to read beyond his casual smiles and laughter, reminders that every slice of affection and care is merely friendly in nature. Friendly and nothing more. It will never be anything more, or so you’ve told yourself.

Sighing, he runs a hand through his tousled, tangled hair. “You’re really too good to me, ya know? That sorta kindness is gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“But you’ll save me if that happens, won’t you?” you tease. 

“If there’s a reward to be had.”

“You’re so shameless!” You sit up despite the dull ache in your hips to smack his arm.

He recoils with an airy laugh, raising his arms in mock surrender. “If you want me to play hero, you’re gonna have to pay me first.”

Rolling your eyes, you angle your body so that you’re sitting directly in front of him. Your hands close around his, and the rag is locked in a cage of fingers. You lean in towards him. Ruggie stares at you, blinks a few times, and meets you halfway, your foreheads connecting.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispers, running his calloused thumb over the top of your hand. “Didn’t mean to get so carried away. Honest.”

“You’re good.” Your palm cups his face. Blue-grey hues soften when they meet yours, and for a moment you think you’re peering into a shadowed oasis. “If that was your version of rough, it was awfully gentle.”

“Hey, hey... That’s gonna chip my pride! I can be rough!”

You giggle at the way his lips twist into a moue. “Yeah, yeah. I believe you. You’re the roughest, toughest hyena I know.”

Ruggie barks out a sardonic laugh, which soon sticks in his throat when your fingers find the scruff behind his ears. He never admits it, but you know he’s fond of the way you scratch him there, running your nails in soft, soothing circles. He leans into your hand and attempts to huff at you—as if he wishes to pretend like he’s averse to your touch—but it comes out in a pleased sigh instead. 

“Why’re you so good to me? I’m not really good to you in return. I mean, I try to be. But...”

“You’re plenty good.”

“I stole your lunch last week.”

“I...kinda figured that was you.”

He snickers, but it doesn’t seem as mocking as it normally is when his pale cheeks color pink and his voice falters. “And... And you didn’t say anything? If that had been me, I wouldn’t have let the thief off so easily. Food’s valuable, ya know? Back home, you lose teeth and skin over mere morsels.”

“Then I’d better find a way to give you the world so that you can always eat delicious meals.”

He eyes dart elsewhere, his cheeks reddening a considerable amount. “Seriously... Do you hear yourself? That was so cheesy.”

“But could you imagine? Truffle pizzas with real gold flakes! Fancy chocolates imported all the way from who-knows-where! And a truckload of donuts in all flavors and shapes!”

Ruggie licks his lips, his eyes twinkling. “You’re literally describing the dream I had last night. Are we soulmates?”

“That depends,” you joke, smirking. “Are we thinking the same thing?”

“That our world lies in Leona’s wallet?”

“Wow! We really are soulmates!”

It doesn’t occur to you that you’re smiling widely, so dumbly in love, until Ruggie’s ears have flattened on his head and his expression mirrors meekness. It doesn’t fit on his face; you almost fear the reason for the sudden shift when his hand nearly slides out of your grasp, and your smile quickly vanishes. But then he tightens his grip, determined for a reason you can’t yet understand. He looks at you, shoulders squared awkwardly, and clears his throat. 

“You know... Soulmates and stuff... Soulmates stay together, don’t they?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Being friends is fine and all. But... Honestly, I think we could try being each other’s world...o-or something like that. Soulmates who’re friends but...beyond that. Like, we do all the stuff we normally do as friends but also as lovers, ya know? Is that too cheesy? I have no idea what I’m even saying.” He shakes his head with a flustered scoff. “Being tongue-tied like this is so not cool...”

You watch him with wide eyes. “No,” you admit in a single breath, heart floating. “No, it’s really cool... I mean, you’re cool—really cool. I love you, Ruggie.”

Ruggie’s eyes are just about the size of plates when he absorbs that last line. “H-Hold on... You...” He squeezes your hand, excitement brightening his eyes. “You’re actually agreeing? You’re not just saying that, right? You can’t get a guy’s hopes up with that and then not mean it.”

“Of course I mean it!” you admit hastily, too riddled with nerves to even think about how awkward you must sound. “I... I’ve liked you for a while, but I never said anything because I didn’t want to make things weird.”

“I didn’t wanna make ‘em weird either!” He laughs in surprised disbelief. “Wait. Were we both on the same page this whole time and neither of us said anything?”

“I... I guess so.” 

Ruggie smiles—a genuine smile devoid of deception and trickery—and pries the soaked washcloth from out of your hand so that he can tug you down onto the bed with him. The rag is tossed back into the bowl with a splash. You stare at him while he wraps the both of you in the duvet, his fingers massaging your aching hips. How he knows you’re in pain there, you can’t quite say, but you return his gentle touch with a kiss on his cheek. His ears flick, listening to a sound you can’t hear. 

“You really like me, don’tcha? Your heart’s beating real fast.” 

You roll your eyes, but you can’t contain your love-drunk grin. “Don’t pretend like yours isn’t beating just as fast.”

Ruggie snickers and leans down to press his forehead to yours. “The fastest it’s ever beaten before,” he murmurs.

And isn’t that just the sweetest, heartfelt truth?

[momotonescreaming]

❤️ for starbara

I had so much fun writing starbara again, you have no idea. So thank you anon, this one is just for you 💜

Prompt: ❤️ first kiss / realization

---

Barb never thought she’d one of those girls. The type of girl others were jealous of. The girls who attracted the popular guys. Boys who invited girls out to the movies, or to a party, or walked through the halls of Hawkins High with girls on their arm. Who’d wave at girls in the halls and smile as they passed. Barb always figured she’d coast through high school single, go off to college, and then date an equally nerdy boy who thought she was just kind of cute.

But here she was, with a note from Steve Harrington in her locker. Written in blue marker on lined paper, signed with a heart.

Meet me under the bleachers - Steve ❤️

So she went. She had the time, and Steve was waiting. It was like he had memorised her schedule or something, picking the perfect moment to slip it into her locker. Right when he knew she had time before her next class. She wasn’t the type to skip class, not for a boy — but if she had free time anyway…

It wasn’t against the rules, what she was doing. She wasn’t skipping class, but Barb felt her heart beat faster all the same. Apparently, she was the type of girl who snuck out of school to go and see the boy who’d been flirting with her in the halls. Barb was the type of girl Steve Harrington wanted. And she wanted him back. So she ignored her steadily racing pulse, her sweaty palms, and focused on the thought of Steve.

Ducking down around the back of the bleachers, it was secluded, shaded from the sun. The perfect place to go where no teachers would see them. And Steve invited her there. The dirt crunches underneath her shoes, and Steve looks up as soon as he hears her. Posture straightening up from where he’d been slouching on one of the posts, waiting for her arrival. Giving her his full attention, smiling the second he locks eyes with her.

It’s like her heart eases in his presence, calming her — before it traitorously speeds up again. He’s so handsome, in his well fitting polo and jeans, with hair that looks soft enough to touch. With the way he seems to melt in her presence, the mask fading away. King Steve fading into the background as it reveals the goofy guy he really is.

“Hey you,” he says, pushing off the post and making his way over to her. ”You came.”

“You invited me,” she teases back, not holding back her own smile as she moves further under the bleachers, almost closing the distance between them. They’re so close now their shoes are almost touching. Close enough for her to reach out and grab, close enough to smell him. His musk, his shampoo, the cologne he puts on in the morning.

“I did, yeah,” he says, smiling and biting his lip. He looks almost as giddy as she feels, her heart speeding up even more.

“Couldn’t get enough?” She teases, flirts, even though she’s not quite sure how. Barb’s never had to flirt with anyone before. But it appears to be working, as Steve laughs. She watches the bob of his throat, feels the exhale of air on her face.

“That obvious?” He asks, ducking his head. Almost shy, coy.

Barb giggles, the sound bubbling up her throat, light and airy. She feels positively girly. She loves it. “I didn’t say it was bad.”

“Well good,” Steve says, reaching out a hand to gently take hers in his. Calloused fingertips brushing along hers, before holding them tight. Anchoring them together. “Because I missed you.”

“Oh yeah?” She flirts, cheeks flushing, finding herself leaning in towards Steve. Drawing her in like a magnet, face tilted up to hers. The pair of them moving slowly, softly, and yet perfectly in sync. Squeezes his hand, ignores the temptation to grab on tight and tug. Pulling him in towards her, their bodies pressed together.

“Yeah. Wanna know something else?” He says, voice dropping slightly as he looks down at her. Lets his gaze drop down to her lips, and then back up to her eyes. The flush on her cheeks deepen, a burning red, she can feel it radiating between them.

“Yeah?” She repeats.

“I want to kiss you. Is that okay?” Barb inhales, sharp, air cool against the tightening of her throat. They haven’t kissed before. Haven’t even named this thing growing between them. Her all encompassing crush. Steve’s eyes soften, concerned, squeezing her hands gently. He’s got a reputation, sure, but Barb knows Steve. He isn’t going to push.

“More than okay,” she exhales, words tumbling out her mouth, falling off her tongue.

He doesn’t let go of her hand, and she’s grateful for it. Squeezes tighter, feels his thick hand in hers, warm and comforting. Brings his other hand up to her face, cradles her jaw, and Barb doesn’t think she’s ever felt a touch that tender. He tilts her head, just slightly, brushing across her cheek with his thumb.

She lets her eyes flutter shut, brings her own hand up to his waist, and then they’re kissing. Their first kiss.  She doesn’t think she’s ever going to forget it. He’s gentle with her, lips sliding against lips, moving soft and sweet. Holding her in his arms, keeping her close, Barb holding back.

Steve slowly pulls away, almost entirely too soon, and Barb finds herself chasing his lips with hers. Tilting herself back towards him. Eyes fluttering open, she looks over at Steve to find him looking back. Biting his lip and smiling.

Barb tries not to giggle, giddy and happy and desperately wanting to be kissed again.

---

send me a heart! prompt me!

[plzu]

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Plus-Size Reader

summary: boardwalk & amusement park date with peter (college-aged peter & reader) warnings: inaccurate depictions of what it's like if a ferris wheel gets struck by lightning idk, fluff & hurt/comfort (reader is insecure) a/n: end of summer fic that i decided to use to write a plus-size reader who will never be too heavy to be carried away by spider-man :] because why are characters with super strength always paired with dainty damsels? if they can lift cars they can carry my overweight ass ♡ wordcount: 4.3k

Peter Parker is a Boy and a Friend, but he is not your Boyfriend. Something that's usually pretty easy to remember, but then there are times where it's just the two of you, shoulders bumping against each other, when the sparks between you feel static and sweet and not-so-platonic.

This breezy summer afternoon has been one of those days, Peter's singular attention making your heart flutter up a storm. Unfortunately, it was clashing with the insecurity that had reared its ugly head the past week, and had kept you locked away in your bedroom, avoiding mirrors and people and watching mind-numbing television. Peter had shown up after one too many days of not seeing you, and successfully coaxed you out of your room with the unfairly intoxicating combination of his puppy-dog brown eyes and stupidly charming smile. You're almost embarrassed by how hard it is to say no to him.

“I’m not gonna let you let these last few weeks of summer go to waste.” He said, stepping through the threshold of your bedroom.

You'd let a hundred summers go to waste while waiting for sweater weather if it meant being able to hide your body from everyone. Instead of admitting this to Peter, of course, you just grumbled that Fall's better.

“True,” he agreed, but then crossed your bedroom to crack open the blinds, letting sunlight spill through. “But we shouldn’t wait for a whole other season to get some fresh air, Sunshine.”

Turns out the fresh air Peter was referring to was salt-licked and sweet, ice cream cones in hand as you strolled the creaky boardwalk of Coney Island. It really was a beautiful day out. The summer swelter had finally given way to delicious cool breezes that ruffled the loose hem of your t-shirt. The fattest, fluffiest clouds lazily drifted across the piercing blue sky, cotton white and lovely.

It's the kind of day that should be spent outside. Peter was absolutely unequivocally correct about that. It makes you grateful to him for once again dragging you out of your comfort zone. He’s good at that. Coming to the rescue when you start to disappear in on yourself. Usually, it melts away your insecurities, or at least pushes them to the back of your mind until they’re easy to forget. 

Today, though, this outing feels more like a date than your other hangouts with Pete, not helped by how nice he looks in his light and airy button down, buttons undone to reveal a casual white t-shirt underneath, nor by the massive crush you’ve had on him since pretty much the day you met, or the fact that you’ve secretly romanticized boardwalks and amusement parks and beaches (despite not being a fan of being at the beach, and despite this beach being in Brooklyn). So you keep shying away from eye contact, giggling nervously, tripping over your words or just keeping uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know what’ll put a smile on your face,” Peter says, leading you towards the section of the park with all the games and weaving between raucous children. 

“Am I- am I not smiling?” 

Peter makes a show of squinting back at you and your unsure mouth, head tilting left and right with uncertainty. “Hmm…” He pauses, sucks in air between his teeth. “I think we can do better, Sunshine.” The nickname is punctuated by a brief and gentle brush of his knuckle beneath your chin that surely would have set you aflame had a breeze not taken pity on you in that moment. 

Peter settles you both in front of some game that involves basketball hoops. Bright, colorful plushies both big and small line the walls inside the game booth, touted as potential prizes. 

Peter notices you eyeing them “‘M gonna win you the biggest one.”

“What?” You laugh. “Peter, no, we took the train here.”

He’s already giving the guy working the booth the ticket needed for playing. “If whole Mariachi bands with their instruments can stuff themselves into trains, I’m sure we can handle a giant teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Okay, fine then. I want the giant Spider-Man.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, eyes falling away from yours. “Thought you’d want something cuter.”

“Spider-Man’s cute,” you defend. “Like, when he does his little flips and shit?”

Still not making eye contact, he throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he readies the basketball in his hands. “If you say so.”

He makes every shot, because of course he does, and wins you one large Spider-Man plush. He also succeeds in putting a large smile on your face, all your anxieties effectively slipping away so you can fully enjoy yourself as you clutch the big soft toy to your body. Jokes and laughter peel out of you as Peter takes you to play more games, and it feels so easy being with Peter in a sea of people.

“Pete,” you say, watching him after leaving the game area. “It’s not fair how good at everything you are.”

“Whaddaya mean? I’m not good at everything.”

“You’re stupidly smart, and even good at basketball, apparently,” you explain, referencing the game that had won him the giant plush you’ve been dragging along. “And you make it all look so easy.” You don’t mention that he’s cute and possibly the kindest person you’ve ever met, because that would be veering dangerously into flirty territory, and you were not about to flirt with your best friend.

Peter studies your face as he leans over the boardwalk railing, propped up by his elbows. You mirror his pose, except the plush is squished between you and the railing, your cheek resting comfortably atop plush Spider-Man’s big adorable head. Something sad passes over Peter’s expression before he finally looks away, towards the beach, where the clouds rolling in from the horizon are darker. “Nah, ‘m not good at everything,” he repeats, quieter this time. 

You frown at the minute shift in mood. But just as you open your mouth to say something, he inhales a big breath and faces you again, smile back on his face. “Y’know, I wasn’t even popular in high school. Middle school too, matter of fact.”

You raised your head, disbelieving. “Shut up. Don’t lie to me, Peter.”

He laughs. “I swear! Girls barely knew I existed. I was bullied a lot.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he recalled his childhood. “Typical jock/nerd dynamic.”

You take in Peter’s tall, lean form. Standing at practically six-feet-tall with warm brown eyes, you can hardly imagine Peter going unnoticed by girls. All this time, you’ve been picturing a Peter from high school surrounded by giggling girls twirling their hair, fist-bumping boys in the halls. Not getting shoved into lockers or getting his head shoved into toilets.

Wait.

“Don’t tell me they gave you swirlies.”

“Once, actually, yeah.”

“Oh, Peter,” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Is that why your hair looks like that?”

Peter grins and lightly bumps your shoulder with his. “Hah, hah, very funny. I take it you were a bully, then? Insulting me like that?”

You continue like that, teasing and laughing and discussing the upcoming semester. The sunlight dwindles, sky becoming overcast as more clouds slowly roll in, becoming flat and gray. The temperature begins to cool as you make your way towards the rides, but you'd hardly notice with the warmth that surrounds you in Peter's presence.

The ferris wheel completely steals your attention from your conversation as you pass by it, head inclining to stare wistfully up at it. The green spindles and bright red lights outlining it illuminate splendidly against the backdrop of graying skies. You sigh, and then promptly come to a halt when you bump into Peter's chest.

“Oh! That's- I'm sorry,” you stammer, giggle, and then mentally chastise yourself for giggling as your cheeks fill with warmth.

“No, no, that's alright.” Peter brushes off your apology. “Ferris wheel's more interesting than me, I get it.” His playful tone eases away the sudden nervousness.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, “I just- well, I've never been on a ferris wheel.” You look back at it, longing. “Don't laugh, but... I always thought it'd be romantic.”

Maybe it's all the books you've read that made you a little bit hopeless in that regard, but you've always fantasized about this exact kind of date. A couple on the ferris wheel, in their own little world overlooking the rest of the park or the ocean or the city -- wherever ferris wheels tend to be, you weren't picky about the view.

Suddenly, Peter has your hand in his. You’re too caught up in the feelings of his fingers against your own before you realize he’s leading you towards the Wonder Wheel. 

“Peter..?”

“C’mon, before they kick everyone out of the park.”

You’re not sure what he means until you realize there’s no one in line. So caught up were you in your little bubble that you hadn’t noticed people had started to leave, the crowd from earlier dwindling to a few stubborn stragglers. 

Peter pays for the ride and marches you both up to the sole employee letting the last of the ride-goers off. The man looks up at you both, boredly chewing gum, then eyes the sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” he says. 

“C’man, man. We paid.” Peter replies, and his tone takes on the familiar puppy-dog pleading that usually gets him his way. “Jus’ one ride around? Please?”

You bite your lip as you watch this guy’s resolve start to waver. 

The man sighs. “That’s usually how it works, kid.” His shoulders are already starting to drop, though, but he’s still got some fight left in him, apparently, because he shocks you by saying, “I’m sure there’s other spots you can make out with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not-” you stammer, “-we’re not-”

“Please?” Peter cuts you off, more persistent, a little pathetic, and incredibly fucking cute. “They haven’t even announced that the rides are closing down. We can still go on.”

You feel your whole face heat up over the fact that he didn’t correct either the girlfriend thing or the making out thing.

The guy hesitates, as if hoping for a perfectly timed announcement at that moment. When nothing but the cawing of seagulls fills the silence, he finally gives in and lets you on the ride.

Peter helps you into one of the stationary carts, not wanting to risk swinging back and forth with the wind starting to pick up. You settle in with Little Spidey--the nickname you decided on for your new plush--while Peter takes the seat on the other side.

The incline to the top isn’t as slow as you thought it’d be, but it’s still a soothing pace. You watch, mesmerized, through the bars of the Ferris Wheel as it brings you up and up, higher over the park. When you go to swivel your head to see the other side, you catch Peter looking at you from his seat across, head cocked to the side, gentle smile gracing his face. 

His attention immediately makes butterflies lurch in your stomach. It dawns on you that you are trapped in a metal box with Peter, and the space feels snug and intimate but it makes you feel too big. You're all too aware of the way your thighs spread out beneath you, and all you want to do is shrink in on yourself.

Peter, perceptive, notices the nervousness creeping back in. “Hey, you alright? Not afraid of heights, are you?”

You glance up into his eyes, can see the dark brush of his eyelashes and count the stray freckle and moles that dot his face, and it immediately feels overwhelming. “No, 'm fine,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

You haven't felt this nervous around Peter since you first met nearly a year ago, his good looks and easy charm making his attention all too much to bear. It was very easy for feelings to develop when he kept talking to you, seeking you out for study sessions and pizza dates, consistently lifting you up whenever you felt down. Sure, he’d disappear sometimes or show up late others, but he still showed up. It’s what matters most to you.

“I don’t embarrass you, do I?” 

Despite the lighthearted tone, your eyes widen at the change in topic and you look back at him. “What? No, why would you say that?”

He’s grinning at you, but his hand comes up to his chest in mock pain. “Just that you were so quick to deny being my girlfriend down there. It kinda hurt.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “N-no, of course not! I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

The smile falls from his face, replaced by a confused knit of his brow. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

You snort. “Are you serious? Look at me.”

“I am lookin’ at you.” He’s frowning, utterly earnest.

“I’m jus’ not, like… girlfriend material, y’know? It’s happened before. Usually whatever guy I’m hangin’ out with gets all annoyed that anyone would even suggest such a thing.” You chuckle, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. It doesn’t hurt much now, anyway; Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can dull it some.

Something furious flashes across Peter’s face, darkening his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on him, the clench of his jaw, the quiet seething in the knit of his brow. He’s angry.

You’re about to apologize for upsetting him when he beats you to it. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. Sounds like they were lousy, didn’t appreciate what an amazing person you are. Smart and funny and beautiful.”

The ferris wheel slows to a stop, leaving you cradled at the top of the Wonder Wheel, finding it difficult to catch your breath under the weight of Peter’s earnest gaze. Sometimes, like right now, his attention makes you ache because of how badly you always want it, convincing yourself that you don’t deserve it, or that it’s some kind of joke, too good to be true. Having Peter as just a friend is already special, but that craving for something more always kicks in and it feels like drowning.

“Pete,” you breathe, “that’s not fair.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t- you can’t say stuff like that to me. It’s too nice.”

“But it’s true.”

When did he get so close? He’s leaning forward, forearms propped on his thighs, and you somehow find yourself pulled in by the gravity of his sincerity. You lose yourself in his eyes, chocolate quartz and tender. The scent of the sunscreen you made him wear fills the space between you, all warmed out by the day, baked into his skin. His lips are slightly parted, practically inviting…

Sudden bright light fills the sky, making the two of you rip away from each other. You look out and see the storm coming in heavy from out on the beach, rain pelting into the ocean and onto the now-empty shores. The clap of thunder that follows rattles you, making the ferris wheel shutter.

When you look back at Peter with wide-eyed terror, he’s attempting to peer down through the cage of the gondola. “Okay, he’s- he’s gonna get us down.” He looks back at you, attempts to soothe with a smile as the gondola jerks forward towards its unhurried descent. 

“Here.” Peter leans forward to grab Little Spidey and places him in your arms. “Jus’ hold on to that and we’ll be off this thing before y’know it.” He goes back to looking through the grate, fingers of one hand curled around the metal frame.

You automatically clutch the plush to your chest but then immediately feel overcome with flustered embarrassment. “Wh- I’m not a little girl, Peter!”

“What?” He glances away from the storm to look at you. “No, no I know,” he scrambles. “It’s just, you looked so scared-”

“I’m fine! I’m not scared-”

Lightning strikes down right then next to the ferris wheel, much too close for comfort, and you scream and flinch and bury your face against Little Spidey.

“Shit.” 

The ferris wheel shutters and moans to a stop. You peek up and notice the lights of the machine are no longer on. Peter looks agitated as he stares down through the grate. Your heart drops -- you’re stuck. You’re stuck in the middle of the storm, suspended however-many feet in the air -- at least a hundred -- and you don’t think you’ve ever been more scared in your life. 

Well, you think, looking out at the rest of the park, at the brutal skies, and then finally at Peter’s profile. At least the view’s not so bad.

Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead and around you, rain beating down mercilessly against your encasement. The ride creaks. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the change in Peter’s eyes. He may have been somewhat nervous this whole time, trying to put on a brave face for you, but there was a certain flash of fear that dashed across his eyes just now. You get the sense he’s realized something you haven’t yet. 

Maybe it’s that you were gonna die here. 

“No, we’re not dying here!”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud. 

The unmistakable sound of groaning metal makes your heart stop. The gondola lurches slightly, slowly starts to tilt to the side. Did it come loose?

You shout Peter’s name through the downpour.

Despite the little space, Peter positions himself to stand at a bit of a crouch between the seats of the cart. One hand holds onto the metal slats while the other presses against the ceiling above for leverage, and he starts to kick at the door of the gondola. Once, twice, and it flings open at the third impact and out into the wind. 

Each kick had shaken the whole cabin. You sat extremely still, watching the whole thing, terrified that any sudden movement on your end would speed up this thing's fall.

Peter perches at the new opening, body leaning halfway out so he can grab onto a part of the still-standing rim, which doesn't seem to be falling apart the way everything on this side of the cart seems to be.

Peter holds out his free hand to you, palm up. He calls your name. “C'mon! Take my hand!”

You look at him like he's out of his damned mind. There's no way Peter, with his gangly long limbs, had any hope of lifting you out of here. Fear is the only thing that stops a manic laugh from warbling out of your throat.

“You gotta trust me, Sunshine.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then glance up to his face, see the desperate plea in his eyes. It shatters your heart. He’s practically halfway out of the cart, can probably get down safely from here. But if you grabbed his hand, you’re worried you’d just weigh him down. Even if he could pull you to safety, wouldn’t it just slow him down? Turn the odds against your survival? You don’t want to be the reason Peter doesn’t make it. You couldn’t do that to sweet Aunt May. 

Yet you find yourself taking a trembling step forward. Because Peter told you to trust him, and before this you swear he was about to kiss you, and you decide then and there that you don’t want to die without getting a chance to kiss Peter.

Just as your hand raises to clasp Peter’s, the cabin lurches again, makes you wobble off balance. You gasp as Peter shouts, a wordless exclamation. When you find your footing again, realizing that you are not yet plummeting to certain death, you see Peter is somehow… he’s holding onto the cabin by the door frame with one hand, hanging onto the upright beam of the ferris wheel for leverage. Face contorted with strain. Arms trembling with effort. 

“Grab onto me!” He yells. “I can’t- can’t hold it for long, you gotta grab onto me!”

No longer wavering, you fling yourself at Peter and wrap your arms around his middle. That’s about as much bravery as you’re able to muster up with open eyes, so you squeeze them shut and quietly make sounds of teeth-clenched dread as rain and wind whip around you. 

Peter must let go of the cart because you feel his hands adjust you against him before one of them holds you closer and tighter to him, arm secure around your waist. It is the only thing that provides a small comfort as the windswept feeling of falling makes you bury your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The fall seems to last much longer than you think it should. Long enough to give way to something exhilarating in your belly, accompanying the fear and the cold. Long enough to feel a bit confused over the delayed impact, but you convince yourself it’s coming soon, maybe right this second, even, and nuzzle deeper into Peter’s hold for comfort.

Peter’s voice cuts through the wind and rain unexpectedly clear and close to your ear. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re fine now.”

You shiver, probably from the chill of the passing storm and not from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, and slowly blink your eyes open to the dark hair plastered at the back of Peter’s neck. It takes another few seconds to realize that you are no longer falling, and that the ground is firmly planted on your feet. Or, vice versa. Either way, it’s such a dizzying relief of a revelation that you only slowly peel back away from Peter, afraid you might stumble without his support. 

You draw back far enough to scan Peter’s face. “How- what?” You glance around, find yourself tucked away between two small buildings. The rain has lightened to a soft, considerate drizzle. Looking back into Peter’s eyes, you finish asking, “Peter, how are we alive right now? How did we get down from the ferris wheel? Where is the ferris wheel?”

Peter chuckles, something nervous underlying the laughter. His arm falls away from your waist. You miss it immediately, but then his hands are on your cheeks, cradling your face. “There’s probably somethin’ I should tell you.”

His dulcet tone makes your cheeks tingle. An overwhelming emotion fills his gaze, and it worsens the dizzying feeling of being alive. Peter’s face is so close to yours, water droplets hanging from the wet strands of hair sticking to his brow, one clinging to the tip of his nose. His mouth is parted slightly, and he is breathtaking and dreamy and quite possibly the reason you’re still alive. 

“Wh-what’re you..?” 

Peter answers your breathless and incomplete question by closing the distance between your mouths. His lips slot against yours. His nose pokes your left cheek. It all feels so tender and almost impossible. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I just-” he pulls back, but not very far, continues muttering against your mouth. “I thought I was gonna lose you, too-”

His lips trail upwards, brushes against your nose until they press against your forehead, and it somehow makes you feel more bashful than the kiss did. Something delicate and vulnerable bubbles up in the small space between you, makes the rain stop mattering.

“Pete,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion as you parrot his reassuring words from before. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You stand there for a few moments, letting time dissolve around you as you mutter reassurances to each other, hands not leaving the other, touches filled with solace and just a little bit of selfishness. As your mind accepts that you are no longer in danger, something starts to click into place as dots connect. The Spider-Plush is still firmly clenched in your right fist, now sodden from the weather but otherwise intact. 

An amused snort distracts Peter enough to pull away from you and give you a curious look. The space allows you to take a look at the plush, its familiar colors and big white eyes and webbed face. You raise it next to Peter’s head, shaking it slightly, for emphasis. “This- This is you.”

Peter’s head falls forward, keeping his eyes downcast and away from yours. It wasn’t a question, of course, but he nods anyway. 

“You… Spider-Manned us to safety.”

Peter’s shoulders move with silent laughter before he raises his head again, grinning. “See?” He says. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you die.”

The precious moment of reveling in each other’s safety finally gives way to bubbly amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me!”

“Aw, c’mon, where’s my vote of confidence?”

“Peter. Peter, look at you, you’re like a stringbean.” 

Peter throws his head back in laughter, revealing his lovely long neck and Adam’s apple that you stare at, deciding it’s a well-deserved treat for your eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d be able to bear my weight so easy?” You continue. “I’m not exactly light, Pete. I’m not… I’m not damsel-sized, y’know?”

Peter stops laughing. He looks at you, something smoldering and slightly mischievous darkening his gaze. His head drops just a bit, making his stare almost threatening as he walks towards you, starts backing you into the wall on your side of the alley. “Was easy for me. I’ll carry you anywhere.”

Heat floods your cheeks, the low tone and Peter’s closeness making your heart flutter. 

“C’mere.” His right hand falls to your waist again, pulling you towards him, making you gasp. He plants one more searing kiss against your lips, this one more certain and molten, before effortlessly whisking you away. 

You spend the evening huddled up in your bedroom, eating soup and fighting back a cold and sharing a blanket with Peter Parker, who is so much more than a Boy and a Friend.

[bokutosbabe]

Daylight

( bllk boys as dads )

a / n — please i love these men a little too much. PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME

content — aged up! characters, bllk characters x reader, fluff, children mentioned(obviously), character and reader are married, had randomized names given to me for the kids, went crazy with bachira- he's just so girl dad coded, let's act like the WC didnt FUCK kunigami up, idk what happened with the format on kunigamis sorry, isagi yoichi x reader, bachira meguru x reader , rensuke kunigami x reader

synopsis — just a few of the blue lock boys as dads :,)

✿.｡. “ and i can still see it all in my mind , ” .｡.✿

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ISAGI YOICHI

— have yall seen this mans dad? literally so supportive

— is at every single sporting event no matter what!

— has embarrassed both you and your son on many occasions

— doesn't understand this is a LITTLE LEAGUE soccer game

you didn't understand why children's soccer games had to be played in the middle of summer at the hottest time imaginable. while you were silently suffering from the heat, your husband was far too into the game going on. "Come on, Kazuki! Get in there!" Isagi's voice boomed across the field, startling some of the other parents. Your cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment as you gave him a gentle nudge. "Yoichi, they're just kids," you whispered, trying to temper his competitive spirit. "Let them have fun." every game day was like this. isagi would get so intense over kazuki, who was spectacular for his age, that he would forget where he was for a bit. there were literally other kids sitting down and picking flowers, it was never as serious as your pro soccer player husband believed. Kazuki, his eyes shining with determination, managed to dribble past an opponent and take a shot at the goal. The ball soared through the air and... missed. Isagi groaned loudly, drawing curious and amused glances from the other parents. "Come on, Kazuki! You can do better than that!" Isagi yelled, his fists clenched. You placed a hand on his arm, giving him a warning look. "Yoichi, relax. He's trying his best." with that, the game was over. kazuki's team had still won 3-2, but you could tell that your son was disappointed in himself over the last shot. Kazuki ran over to you both, his face flushed with something that looked like embarrassment and shame. "You did great, Kazuki!" you said, kneeling down to hug him. "We're so proud of you." Isagi crouched beside you, ruffling Kazuki's hair. "You were awesome out there, buddy. I just got a little carried away. Sorry if I embarrassed you." maybe isagi got a little too into the games, but he always apologized after, it had become somewhat of a ritual at this point. " it's fine! did you see my super cool dribbling? uncle bachira taught me!!" yeah, your husband's enthusiasm got the better of him sometimes, but if there was one thing you knew for certain: kazuki couldn't be prouder of his dad and isagi couldn't be prouder of kazuki.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ BACHIRA MEGURU

— girl dad, girl dad, GIRL FREAKING DAD

— constantly doing your daughters hair

— you come home from work to find the both of them with butterfly clips in their hair at least 3 days out of the week

You pushed open the front door, feeling the weight of the day’s stress clinging to your shoulders. It had been one of those days at work where everything seemed to go wrong, and all you wanted was to collapse on the couch and forget about it all. As you stepped into the living room, you were greeted by a heartwarming sight that instantly began to melt away the tension that you'd felt in your shoulders. There, sprawled out on the floor, were Bachira and your daughter, Sora, both fast asleep. The room was a delightful mess of colored markers, sketchbooks, and an array of hair accessories scattered around them. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of Bachira with his hair adorned in a myriad of butterfly clips and sparkly barrettes, clearly the result of a spirited father-daughter play session. Sora’s hair was similarly decorated, her small hand still clutching a purple clip. Carefully, you tiptoed closer, trying not to disturb their peaceful slumber. As you knelt beside them, you noticed the soft rise and fall of their chests, their expressions serene and content. You reached out to gently remove a clip from Bachira’s hair. making precautions so it wouldn't get tangled in, but as you did, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at you, a sleepy but mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Hey there,” he whispered, his face adorning his usual childish grin. “Rough day?” You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah, but seeing you two like this makes it so much better.” Bachira sat up slowly, careful not to wake Sora. He pulled you into a gentle hug, his warmth and the familiar scent of him providing a comforting balm to your frazzled nerves. “We had a lot of fun,” he murmured into your hair. “Sora wanted to have a ‘beauty salon’ day. I think I’m her favorite customer.” Sora stirred beside you, her eyes slowly opening. She blinked sleepily at you both, then broke into a wide smile. “Mommy, you’re home! Look at Daddy’s hair! I made him so pretty!” You leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You did an amazing job, sweetheart. I love it.” Sora giggled, sitting up and wrapping her small arms around your neck. “Can we do your hair next, Mommy?” You laughed, feeling the last of the day’s stress melt away completely. “Absolutely. But first, how about we clean up a little and get some dinner?” In that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most, you knew that no matter how stressful the days could be, you would always have this beautiful, chaotic sanctuary to come home to.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

— has always wanted to be a hero

— having his son made that dream become a reality

— will be playing in his pro games and points to the family section you and your son are sitting in

— plays his heart out for you two

The stadium was buzzing with excitement as fans filled the stands, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. You held your son's hand tightly as you made your way to the family section, both of you decked out in Kunigami's team colors. Your son, Haru, was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the massive stadium.

"Mom, look! There’s Dad!" Haru pointed eagerly towards the field, where Kunigami was warming up with his teammates. His hero, his dad, looked every bit the powerful and determined athlete he admired so much.

You smiled, giving Haru's hand a gentle squeeze. "Yes, there he is. Are you excited to watch him play?" Haru nodded vigorously, his face lit up with joy. "He's gonna score a goal today, I just know it!"

As the game began, you settled into your seats, Haru practically on the edge of his. The first half was intense, with both teams displaying incredible skill and determination. Kunigami was in top form, his presence on the field commanding and inspiring.

Then, in the second half, the moment you and Haru had been waiting for arrived. Kunigami received the ball, skillfully maneuvering past the defenders with a combination of strength and finesse. The crowd’s roar grew louder with each step he took towards the goal.

"Go, Dad! You can do it!" Haru shouted, his voice full of unbridled enthusiasm. Kunigami glanced towards the family section for just a moment, his eyes locking onto yours and Haru’s. You could see the fire and determination in his gaze, the unspoken promise he made to his son to always be his hero.

With a powerful kick, Kunigami sent the ball soaring past the goalkeeper and into the net. The stadium erupted in cheers, the sound nearly deafening. Kunigami's teammates rushed to him, celebrating the goal, but his eyes were fixed on you and Haru.

He pointed directly at you both, his expression a mixture of pride and love. You could almost hear the words in your mind: “This is for you. Your hero is here.”

Haru was beside himself with excitement, jumping up and down, waving his arms wildly. "Mom, did you see that? Dad scored! He did it!" You pulled Haru into a tight hug, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. "Yes, sweetheart, he did. Your dad is amazing."

As the game continued, Kunigami played with renewed vigor, his goal having given his team the boost they needed. When the final whistle blew, signaling their victory, the crowd’s cheers echoed around the stadium.

After the game, you and Haru were escorted down to the field to meet Kunigami. Haru ran ahead, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

"Dad, you were awesome! Just like a superhero!" Kunigami laughed, lifting Haru high into the air before bringing him back down for a tight hug. "Thanks, buddy. I told you I'd score a goal for you."

✿.｡. “ all of you, all of me, intertwined ” .｡.✿

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

i may write more parts for this, i really liked it!

[lovely-showtimes]

Hehe… silly request time… Can you do Tsukasa, Airi, and Haruka x a reader who is “self-aware” (self-aware in this instance meaning they know they’re in a game)? It’s okay if not (^_^)

♡ . self aware.

characters - haruka, airi.

type - scenario.

warnings - unreality.

a/n - i'm so sorry that this took so long T_T i wanted to get to this earlier because i think 'self aware characters' as a concept is very interesting !!! but my brain wouldnt let me write unfortunately... haruka might be ooc, despite how much i love them im very unfamiliar with mmj as characters & their stories </3 i'm also sorry for not doing tsukasa for this one, i wanted to include him and i originally did have an idea for his section, but i took so long to write this i forgot what it was ... i hope you enjoy anyway!

"Do you see anything you like?" You call over your shoulder, turning your attention away from the sweatshirts in front of you.

Airi stands by several dresses, scrutinising them. The two of you decided to go out shopping together, as you felt like your wardrobe was lacking. Airi was eager to help, confident in her sense of style that she can get you something nice, as well as something for herself.

Her brow creases in thought and she stops in front of one particular dress.

"C'mere for a sec," she calls back to you, and you walk over. Airi steps to the side, gesturing to the dress with a furrowed brow.

"Have I worn this before?" She asks. "I mean, I doubt you'd know, but still. It feels so familiar, but I also feel like I've never seen it before."

You squint at the dress. That's right... you recognise it, don't you?

"You wore that in the trained version of your Re-tie Friendship card, didn't you?" You comment quietly. "I liked that one, it was pretty."

Airi goes quiet for a few moments. You catch a befuddled look on her face out of the corner of your eye. "...Excuse me? What's a 'Re-tie Friendship card'...?"

You spin to face her, eyes wide. "Eh? It was your third focus event. Don't you remember it?"

Her confusion only grows. "What on earth are you saying? No, I don't remember it."

Your eyes lock for a brief period of time, the two of you studying each other for a single hint of what the other was talking about. Then, it hits you.

"Oh!" You gasp. "You didn't know about the whole game thing...? I thought everybody knew, but we weren't supposed to talk about it."

The fact of your entire life being a simple game was one you've always been aware of. You had never tried to bring it up to anyone else, or research it before. It had never occurred to you - it was as obvious a fact as saying "the sky is blue".

Airi shakes her head, placing a hand on her temples. "You're making no sense! What game thing?"

You open your mouth to respond, but you hesitate. Should you really elaborate on what you mean? Maybe it's for the best that you don't tell Airi about your shared existence within a game. It might be a bit much to take in all at once.

Maybe another time.

You smile brightly and shake your head. "Oh, you know what? I just realised, I was thinking of something else. Oopsies! Ignore me."

"...Right." Confusion and slight frustration still lingers on Airi's face, but she sighs and shakes her head. You're probably just referencing something from some game you like, right? Maybe she should look into it later, to understand what you just said to her.

Airi's gaze drifts back to the dress once more. That feeling of déjà vu still hovers in the recesses of her mind when she gazes at it, and it's unsettling. Maybe she should look for something different to wear.

"I had the strangest dream last night," Haruka comments, staring at the sandwich in her hands thoughtfully. The sun shines down on you both as you sit on a warm, grassy hill on a red-and-white checkered blanket.

You beam brightly, head tilted curiously. You swallow the bite of food in your mouth. "Oh? What happened?"

"I was dancing to a song I've never heard before. It was in a completely different style than we usually dance to as well, it was quite mellow and calm. I was dancing with a few other people too... Kohane, Ichika, and two other people I didn't recognise... a girl with grey-ish green hair, and a boy with ginger hair."

Haruka shakes her head. "How strange. And the weirdest part was, when I woke up, I remember thinking 'Ah, another one of those dreams'. I haven't dreamt of anything like that before."

She takes a thoughtful bite of her sandwich.

You can't help laughing a little at her bizarre dream. "I always have those dreams! The people who play this game like to make us dance with the other characters. It's quite fun, I like trying to think of what kind of person makes me dance to a certain song with certain people."

You tap your chin curiously. "Perhaps they like to think of me and the others in a romantic relationship? Perhaps they like to think of a different scenario where we are in a band together? Perhaps they feel romantically towards me? It's so interesting."

You chuckle to yourself once more, taking another bite of food. Goodness, it's so tasty. The work the two of you put together to create this whole picnic really paid off! You were especially looking forward to trying those cupcakes, you put a little extra love into each of them! In particular, you-

"Love, what game? What- What are you talking about?"

Haruka's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Her gaze is full of confusion and concern for you. Her grip on her sandwich has gotten just a little tighter.

You simply gaze back at her as if it's all perfectly normal. "The game we're in. You didn't know?"

Silence hangs in the air. Haruka's gaze shifts around, landing on you for a moment or two before looking away.

Eventually, she clears her throat and nods, deciding to play along. "Right! Of course, I remember now. How could I have forgotten?"

Your joke had unsettled her a little, but she decides to just shake it off. That's all it was, anyway. You're just joking, aren't you?

...Aren't you?

[jpitha]

Family Meeting

Family Meeting

This is another story from the off-Tumblr writing contest I entered.

Empress Isla walked from the palace grounds to the Memoriam with no guards; only her daughter, Purslane accompanied her. As they walked under the dome topping Imperial Station, Purslane stared up at the blue-green crescent of the planet below.

Isla’s emerald gown shone under the starlight, and the long train of the grown floated a few centimeters off the ground. Purslane wore a simpler version of the same gown. Once, Purslane asked how it floated; the Empress lifted the train and showed her the microcircuitry printed into it, so thin that it could be mistaken for threads. The circuitry led up to a small plug on her hip so that her own body could power the gown. An Empress didn’t need to wait for a breeze to have her clothes be dramatic.

As they approached the steps to the Memoriam, two guards in armored pressure suits bowed and stepped out of the way. Their black suits were polished to a mirror shine; the helmets were darkened such that their features could not be seen. Across the galaxy the faceless warriors of the Empress were known and feared, but here, now, they were a welcome sight.

The Empress nodded at each one as she passed into the Memoriam. Purslane trailed behind and waved at them, her reflection distorted in their helmets. The guard on Purslane’s right waved back slightly while still bowed down.

A respectful time after they had passed into the Memoriam, the doors were shut behind them with a muted boom. Isla walked across the floor, her heels clicking on the polished stone. She reached the base of a dais in the center of the building. Purslane caught up to her mother. This was her very first visit to the Memoriam.

The room was tall and airy. Brightly lit, it had a ceremonial air about it. Purslane looked down through the windows cut into the floor. Inside, she saw hundreds of niches built into the walls below her. At the very bottom was a mass of complex looking machinery.

Isla took a breath and held it. Breathing out through her nose, she turned and looked down at Purslane. “Are you ready, sunshine?”

Purslane looked up at her mother, her face serious. “Will it be scary?”

Isla bent low and locked eyes with her daughter. “It might be. Our grandmothers are in deep hibernation. When they wake, they can be confused. They can be angry. But we are their children. We have a right to ask them questions. Be strong with me and everything will be fine.”

Purslane nodded. “I am strong.”

“That’s my girl.” Isla stood up and faced the dais. She called out, “I will speak to the first Empress.”

The machinery at the bottom of the well came to life. A robotic arm reached into one of the niches at the bottom of the building and removed a white lozenge. With a reverence that was programmed long ago, it lifted the hibernation cabinet until it came out of an iris that opened at the rear of the dais. While the arm brought the cabinet out, a table silently slid up from the dais. The cabinet was laid upon the table, and dozens of cables slid out of the table and connected to the cabinet with a quiet click.

The assembly faced the Empress and her daughter. As it hummed, Purslane noticed a window near the top of the cabinet. Inside was a woman, old but not elderly, with her hair elegantly shorn in whorls and patterns, and a shock of long white hair on the top of her head.

After some time, the cabinet split down the middle, revealing the woman. She wore the same emerald color as the Empress and her Daughter, though hers was a much more practical jumpsuit.

Its work complete, the arm slid back into the depths; the three of them were alone. The woman in the cabinet took a shuddering breath and her eyes fluttered open. “Well?” Her voice came from a speaker built into the cabinet.

Empress Isla swallowed and pushed down her nerves. “Grandmother, I- “

“Why are you talking from a speaker?” Purslane’s voice was loud in the room.

“Purslane!” Nerves forgotten; Isla turned from an Empress back into a mother. “We don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry Mommy, but why isn’t she talking with her mouth?”

Laughter from the speaker. “Child, I have just awakened from deep hibernation. My brain is active, but my body lags. The speaker allows me to speak with you. If your mother has awoken me, then she needs my help. What is your name?”

Purslane looks up at the woman. “My name is Purslane, Empress Grandma. I’m five.”

A chuckle. “Empress Grandma. I like that. I will answer any questions you have Purslane – after I speak with your mother, all right?”

Purslane bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Empress Grandma. I will wait.”

The first Empress’ eyes flicked to Isla. “You have awakened me in a rush. This is serious. Which one are you?”

“Isla IX, Grandmother.”

“I remember you. Your mother spoke to me. Vivian VII, I recall.”

“Yes, that’s correct Grandmother. I was seven when we met.”

“What do you need, child? Why do you awaken me?”

“The Victory Gate has reactivated.”

“I do not know that name.”

“I apologize. I forgot that it was named after you went into hibernation. Gate 754 has been reactivated.”

The First Empress’ eyes widened. The longer she was awake the more of her body returned to her control. “The Yan’itar. You are sure?”

Empress Isla stood straight and tilted her head. It was difficult to look down on someone who was physically higher than you were, but Isla had been an Empress a long time. “I am the Empress. I am sure. They return.”

The first Empress nodded. “Wake the others.”

Isla blinked. “W-Which others, Grandmother?”

“All of them. Wake the Empresses. We need to convene.”

[dollycxre]

you'll see my face, in every place, but you can't catch me now.

-> "Make a wish."

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩

airi, she/her, minor, animal lvr, daydreamer, infp, multifandom writer, omniromantic bisexual, half-dead, half fairy, child of hades, always open to moots :3

-> rules

(a/n: im a minor so don't be freaky)

ps. fic ideas are appreciated, especially for fandoms that aren't pjo! (and you can just send me random thoughts about characters as well, I love that sorta thing)

-> PERCY JACKSON (BOOK SERIES)

magic in the making...

-> PERCY JACKSON (TV SHOW)

magic in the making...

->HEROES OF OLYMPUS

Yandere! Athena x Demigod! Darling - general hcs (fem reader)

yandere PJO! Hades x demigod! darling - general hcs

yandere! Hestia x fem! mortal! Reader - ♡ general hcs

yandere PJO! Percy Jackson x demigod! darling X yandere HOO! Jason Grace - general hcs

->TWILIGHT SAGA

magic in the making...

->TRIALS OF APOLLO

magic in the making...

->DORK DIARIES

magic in the making...

->MAGNUS CHASE

magic in the making...

->GREEK MYTHOLOGY

magic in the making...

->SEDUCE ME THE OTOME ( WOMEN ONLY)

magic in the making...

->HARRY POTTER HOGWARTS MYSTERY

magic in the making...

->CHALLENGERS

magic in the making...

->THE HUNGER GAMES

magic in the making...

->THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES

magic in the making...

->SCREAM (ALL 6 MOVIES)

magic in the making...

->TCOAAL (THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY)

magic in the making...

a/n: I don't support the incest part of this game so nothing for that!!

->JENNIFER'S BODY

magic in the making...

->PROJECT SEKAI

magic in the making...

->KPOP

A/N: I will only write for girl groups!!

magic in the making...

->PRETTY LITTLE LIARS

A/N: only the girlies!

magic in the making...

->HEATHERS

magic in the making...

->GIRL FROM NOWHERE

magic in the making...

->CARMEN SANDIEGO

magic in the making...

->AMERICAN HORROR STORY (coven, murder house, asylum, 1984 and apocalypse only!!)

magic in the making...

->MCU/MARVEL

A/N: once again, I will only be writing for the females!!

magic in the making...

->MIRACULOUS LADYBUG

magic in the making...

->BLUE LOCK

magic in the making...

->SPY X FAMILY

magic in the making...

->DDLC

magic in the making...

->EVER AFTER HIGH

magic in the making...

->HARRY POTTER

magic in the making...

->THE FOLK OF THE AIR

A/N: ask me about these after a couple of months, I still need to finish the series lol

magic in the making...

->ALL FOR THE GAME

magic in the making...

->MLP

magic in the making...

->FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S

magic in the making...

->OMORI

magic in the making...

->A GOOD GIRL'S GUIDE TO MURDER

magic in the making...

->DANGANRONPA 1, 2 AND 3

magic in the making...

->YANDERE SIMULATOR (maybe, I definitely don't support that pr3dator yand3v, so I probably won't write for this much or at all)

magic in the making...

->MANGA/MANHWA/MANHUA

A/N: please ask if I write for the specific one you want first!!

magic in progress...

!! IMPORTANT A/N: The fandoms listed below are the ones I won't write for very often or when I do, it'll probably not be reqs or asks ♥ !!

->GENSHIN IMPACT

magic in the making...

->HONKAI STAR RAIL

magic in the making...

A/N: The requests for Hoyoverse games are currently closed &lt;;3

->BROOKLYN-99

A/N: I'll write for everyone except Holt, Kevin, Sarge, Boyle, Hitchcock and Scully

magic in the making...

->MODERN FAMILY

A/N: I don't write for Luke, Manny and Jay

magic in the making...

->ENCANTO

magic in the making...

->WEDNESDAY (NETFLIX SHOW)

magic in the making...

->YOU (NETFLIX SHOW)

magic in the making...

a/n: I used to keep up with this show only from 2018-2022 so I still gotta watch the latest season, so no reqs for that yet!!

!PLEASE ASK IF THERE'S A PARTICULAR FANDOM YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR THAT ISN'T MENTIONED HERE!!

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We be Lonely together? Epilogue

a Homelander x Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a GN reader reader fic

Author's note: too self indulgent not to write an epilogue, thanks for reading and am looking forward to making more fics for this fandom, this is Bi Homelander content if y'all read this as fem or non male reader. prev. chapters in my blog under the my fic tag or can we be lonely together? tag will be making a masterlist fairly soon tho.

R18+ mild smut, exhibitionism kink, gore, murder, dub con, dirty talk, surprise butchlander, butcher x reader, 3-way?, amoral protagonist, unreality.

Epilogue

Breeze sang in the ample halls bringing whispers from the balearic sea, a top the mountain overseeing endless azure, greens and neighborhood roofs the world seemed so far away to him.

So many absent walls in this villa, the house was airy and open, blurring the idea of inside and outside with is design.

Cream coloured linen danced against the wind to the seas secret songs, the sun leaving no corner in the shadows, sandy granite warm under the sun, evergreens could be seen from all windows, cascades of green coloured the view, and a pair of cats slept in a guest room.

There was not a sight disturbed by ugly grey buildings, just mountains and sea– left him feeling as Zeus on the top of mount Olympus, inside the airy home only the dull sound of oak ceiling fans pushing the breeze disturbed the halls.

No longer did the steps of strangers disturbed the dull accismus of this temple by the hill, camera crews left most of the home untouched, it had been a busy and exhausting week for Homelander.

Walls had been sparsely decorated, remnants of a past life clung on smooth oatmeal walls and indigo blue wood beecher paneling accentuating one living room of three-- paintings he had grown attached to and the occasional marble statue laid around, but now there were photos of a man one could hardly recognize.

With each new image, time had eroded wounds off his face, there was a glimmer on his features that had never resided there.

Garden pots had been shuffled around for the perfect frame, now he would've had to move them much to his annoyance.

It was the most anticipated interview of the decade, it had gone smoothly, Oprah had been delightful, manly tears had been shed and hair raising stories were shared, she had found him approachable above all.

After a year of silence the whole world was kept on edge awaiting for his return.

The trial hadn’t even televised but they were plenty of updates by the hour circling around-- more than sufficient. Now he had a full schedule, he was to be in the cover of GQ magazine, had some big podcasts lined up for an appearance, and Vogue to model for… it would be so strange to do without his suit.

Homelander sat with his legs dipping into one of his infinity pools, his loosely fitted honeycomb shirt draped around his shoulders like a poor’s man cape, his hair had grown a tad longer, salty seas had turned his flaxen locks almost wavy and a dark thick stubble began adorning his face.

His tablet resting behind him buzzing with a new email, the wrinkles around his eyes sank as he squinted from the blinding wet mirror, distracting enough that your step barely registered.

“You looked quite handsome in the suit this morning…” You spoke gently– I think the people are gonna love your new look… between the tan and the beard you look… sumptuous.” 

“I should’ve shaved. They’ll think I look like a complete slob! I bet they’ll say I let myself go.”

You joined him by the pool as the hot Mediterranean sun stood above you, pulling his head closer to yours for a flurry of butterfly kisses.

“You look stunning, mi sol. Either way… lunch is ready… Ryan called and said him and Jaythaniel’s family just made it to Disneyland, don’t forget to pick him up tonite.” You said softly squeezing his thigh–  he said he’ll call after lunch.” 

He nodded absentmindedly.

“You don’t think Theodore is going to wake up?”

Worry clung to his tongue, his ears picking up the soft lull of his son’s snoring, Blender making biscuits on his sides but the child slept deeply, you could tell he had entered deep REM stage, you shook your head much to John’s relief.

“I can’t believe we are doing this… you spoil us too much.” He kissed your ear before lifting himself and dropping into the pool.

The sun sparkled harshly against the glass tiles, the sky more blue from below, your sinuous reflection watching him until he emerged, the tired breeze doing very little to dry him, you followed him giddy as his wet footprints led you to the wine cellar.

 It had been an expensive endeavor to have all of this installed… several 3x3 plastic acrylic panels of 32 mm thickness, a high tech locking mechanism plus humidity and temperature control systems had to be installed independently of a good enough contractor who could reinforce the flooring with a steel mesh and coat the cement flooring with resin just to make it impossible for their friends to dig, there had been many logistical nightmares from finding the right contractors to finding a spot for it, it was easy to sell the strange boxes as a sex thing– blaming having super-abled kids increasingly longer list of powers that made it hard for dear ol’ daddy to get off… especially when the word ‘soundproofing’ had been mentioned, or his super strengths which led to some nasty laughs and a bit of murder later down the track, the last thing that mattered had been costs.

No amount of sound ever escaped the wine cellar, the zinc plates coating the walls prevented Ryan and himself from seeing in or out, Theodore was young enough to listen to instructions, if not it was your turn to discipline the toddler.

Opening that door was always a surprise, bringing him almost as much joy as that first christmas day as a complete family.

As they took the stairs he could smell mullet wine and lebkuchen– the tension in his muscles still fresh as he entered a home that had only existed in childish fantasies, awkwardness that never seemed the fade as the strangers hounded him with questions, but he had had you, Ryan and now Theodore for much needed emotional support, it had been almost perfect as it had been intense, it had been strange to hear all these stories of a woman he had murdered, who had only suffered, it was stranger how her only sister had not blame him for the nature of his birth, still grateful that he had found her even if it took forty years, grateful that something more than a pristine corpse was left behind.

Her body refusing to decay inside that pine box.

The cellar door beeps, and cogs turn inside the heavy metal door, fluorescent lights sung awake by the entrance, bringing much needed light to the dark sub-basement, only the three small lights inside the boxes lighten the area for most of the day.

A woman shuddered, flinching as more light hit her eyes, hiding beneath the bolted desk, you walked past Homelander carrying today's menu, there was something enjoyable about the challenge of creating an ever changing menu that was nutritionally balance, delicious and required no cutlery. The disheveled woman approached eagerly at the floating box, awaiting for you to place her meal, intentionally keeping her starved, this had been his decision for this particular guest-- to see if she would go mad. Due to the lack of windows she had no concept of time after all while the lights were on a timer, they were programmed to be irregular enough to cause confusion. To visit at random intervals and feed her whenever he remembered.

Homelander and John wanted to watch her scoof down her meal, to see her choke and tear up as she filled her cheeks and swallowed greedily– but their attention was reserved for guest number two.

“If I knew I had you getting all wet and bothered for daddy, I would’ve worn something nicer” His voice dry, barely lifting his head from the bed.

Homelander helps himself to the mini bar cracking open some pale ale for the world’s largest paper cup, humming a tune as he prepped today's round of meds while you set his meal.

“Got you pale ale… unless you’d like some peach bellinis?” 

Homelander opened the cabinets, rows of neatly organized sex toys, booze and cleaning supplies were displayed– sex toys solely for decor, you both had committed to the bit, much of these had never been used nor did he want to, you had no need for vibrators when his hands did the job so perfectly. He took out a cattle prod, then pressed a code unto a small hidden panel making sure the guest couldn’t peek.

The inner latches came apart, the door hissed open.

There was no need to consider escaping, it was futile, the door upstairs was thicker than the glass, and no amount of yelling got anybody’s attention-- but he didn’t try killing himself either, for the last time he’d tried he had been here in no time, he had a chip monitoring his vitals at all times, and the camera on top of his room watched over him.

You also helped in that department.

Homelander entered first, you placed the food on the floor for Homelander to give Butcher his back.

Almost encouraging him to jump him.

“Would it kill you to wear pants?”

Homelander chuckled as he turned around with Butcher’s meal, wearing nothing but his wet shirt clinging to him tighter than his suit ever did, and black briefs.

“Would it kill you to agree to my offer?”

“Not going to play house with you, stupid cunt.”

Butcher didn’t argue with the meal, taking the food off his hand and sitting by the bolted table, the chair also bolted which made for an awkward fit.

“You got three months left William… these meds might get you one more… it's already been weeks… you want to spend the rest of your days here watching her starve to death or you want to be with Ryan? He wishes to see you. Be there for him… you just have to be with us.”

Butcher bared his teeth, mutterign curses under his breath as he gave him his back.

You entered the room taking the cattle prod  tucked under his arm, Butcher ate ignoring him, throwing the tray towards his face, forever amused as to how he never bothered to dodge it, John rolling his eyes as the plastic dropped around him.

“I’m being generous after what you did to Dolores… that was… well… you lived up to your name.” 

“Said I’ll get even.” 

He had made Dolores into the antithesis of her craft, it had stung, to witness her unrecognizable being-- a DNA test confirming its identity. Close casket was the only choice.

Homelander watched him eat as you prepared yourself, undressing in the corner, fresh bruises adorning your thighs, handprints where he had held you solidly against his mouth.

Closing the door behind, locking Homelander and Butcher inside one box, giddy he jumped into the thin futon.

“Here I thought we were having the world’s most disappointing threesome… all thirteen seconds of it.”

He took a sip of the ale, it was utterly delicious but he wouldn’t let Homelander hear it from his mouth, this his only joy while stuck in this box. He turned to you watching as you opened the door on guest number 1, then back at Homelander already squeezing himself, a wet suther escaped his lips as your nude frame approached her, Butcher buried his brow.

You had ignored her for weeks, fed her irregularly while feeding Butcher on schedule. She survived on saltines and peanut butter, only receiving proper meals on the occasion but never did either of you touched her, or spoke to her.

She squealed as the tip hit her breast, too weak to do more than just scream, he had been so distracted by Homelander he hadn’t noticed the crowbar by the entrance… he could’ve sworn it was his own.

“Families should always have a mommy and a daddy… grandpa and grandma… cousins… but I don’t have any uncles… nor does Ryan have uncles… ahhh” he tugged harder hand fondling the dripping tip of his hardened member– just like that pumpkin.”

His skin crawled at the sight of the awoken thick member as he pulled it out his tight underwear, with a wet snap.

He turned to you, watching her face split red as you smacked her face with the cattle prod, she clutched at her cheek, blood spilling from the sides of her fingers, a distressed mess tried escaping you. You grinned as you felt Homelander excitement, his chest flushed as you gave a parry of messy heavy swings, she cried and as she covered her face you shocked her hands off until your eyes met, turning limp while Butcher’s heart accelerated, craning her neck, she opened her mouth leaving it frozen mid-air as you took to the crowbar.

“Pick a number of teeth … or Pusher will take the whole jaw” he whispered as he laid long languid strokes on his cock, rubbing his thumb on the glistening tip– or you can say yes”

A curved tip pressed right behind her upper chompers.

“One…?” You muttered– that’s not going to excite you right, mi sol?” 

Homelander pouted, slowing down his hand, focusing on the base with short lived pumps.

“Break her jaw– let’s see how long she’ll last before she starves to death… she might dehydrate first, no?” He scoots patting the empty spot on the bed encouraging Butcher to join him— make it clean babe.”

You take the tip out her mouth and get in position to tap her jaw.

“We’ll visit in a week… hope you last my dear William.”

Butcher stood up, still with enough energy in him to fight, he might be dulled by the meds, exhaustion and his captor's cruel tactic.

“Kill her you wanker just bring some fucking fabreeze.”

You grinned mockingly, breaking more than her jaw, her body thud and her voice returned smashing her skull repeatedly caving into a pancake. Homelander groaned, edging himself as your vicious attacks drew your victim closer and closer to death, legs moving on their own, pressing his forehead against the wall, the sight of your bloody torso didn’t just titillate him, he craved the sight, knowing the glass stood between you two, knowing how far away you were and just how untouchable you were was better than any x-rated video, your ragged panting, the sweet sweat falling from the tip of your chin, blood specs bejeweled your body, was too much.

You had become more than he had ever imagined, you pressed your behind against the bloodied wall as you caught your breath.

Butcher could only try to ignore your sick kinks.

Homelander will bring as many innocent people he could and make him take part of their scenes, he whined as you got out the cage, walking painfully slow towards his– ignoring him in favor of the minibar, his hand stopped with a sneer, turning to see that Butcher had skulled down the last of his ale.

“You know he’s being nice asking you… I could just make you say yes…”

Butcher looked back at the mass, almost flinching as the woman was back on her feet, her face a torn mess but there she was still eating the last morsels of the chunky yiros with her torn jaws, for every bit of garlic sauce that dripped down her hands there was an equal amount of chunky blood spilling unto the ground.

Deepthroating the yiros more than eating it.

Her face just hanging by red ribbons, one eye swollen and bulging while the other just hung out of her socket, clumps of broken scalp swinging with the weight of her once straight hair, now dirty and matted.

She turned to see him sensing she had been watched and her face had no bruises.

He looked back at Homelander then back at the corpse now immobile, rotting, fluids escaping its bloated body, gangrenous pus seeping thru its sunken eyes while the skin darkened and dried, now his nose picked up on the revulsion, he looked at his drink and figure out that there was no drug in him– Homelander was back in his bed, his cock tucked in and not a sight that he had moved once, his toothy grin more real than the full cup fizzing in his hand, your breath warming Butcher’s ear.

Months, weeks, days, hours… he had no clue how long he actually been here, this was an illusion… some of it… tragically you two were disgustingly real.

“You want to break me into compliance?”

The white glow of your eyes not as menacing as Homelander's lasers, he took a short sip of his beer letting it dry his tongue, feeling the warm building in his stomach.

Hot fingers creep from around his hips, exploring the softened torso, he is still strong and firm under the weakened body, the illness making it hard to maintain his shape, hot water dampened his shirt, nails bruising trails as he trapped him, pressed tight against the leaner man, craning his neck to place his chin on the older man’s shoulder– no doubt floating to do so.

Before he could protest further, before he could do more than curse under his breath and wriggle, your teeth met the underside of his chin.

Intertwining your hands with his free one, no doubt he could snap your wrist but a little red light shone next to his head, telling it wouldn't be a good idea.

Homelander closed his iron grip around Butcher’s neck, leaving him gasping, feeling his pipe collapse slightly.

Your tongue licked his neck, your touch more gentle, more tender but to his shock Homelander only purred, you both stared at each other lovingly, Butcher’s neck nothing but a barrier between you two, you climbed to meet his lips, while your loved was manhandling Butcher lower so Homelander could give you wet, loud and messy kisses.

Arching him much to his displeasure, the beer spilling down his arm.

Squeezing harder on his neck, Homelander eyes are coloured a pretty dark pink, he grunts pressing Butcher into him, begging for friction.

You two kissed the older man missing his lips, feeling him shudder, kissing the blanket of goosebumps all over his body.

You loved him more than anything.

You would make him happy in all the ways that your body could.

And sometimes things are easier to do when he just communicated them, usually that would involve murder but now it was this.

Butcher had no idea what he had to say yes to. what exactly you two wanted out of him, and he had yet to spot the hidden vial of V in the cabinet.

John giggled as Butcher's hateful glare tried to burn him.

“Is okay… you’ll be the one fucking me…” he needily purrs– right, pumpkin?”

“Just let all that hatred out… make him cry…” you whispered into Butcher’s ear– make him your bitch.”

It had been his own mind that picture the blonde’s cock, that had been his own worst nightmare, but as he felt those needy kisses– be it the beer on an empty stomach, your powers or the tumor pressing on the smart sections of his brain he chortle at the thought, straining his neck to see the desperate flush on the blonde, his grip loosening, allowing him to turn just enough.

This could also be a part of this illusion.

“You just wanted to be daddy’s cute little slut?” he spat– my cum dump?”

Homelander let out the most obscene moan from within the depths of his core, you felt the heat rising from your own loins as you heard him.

Butcher tugged at your scalp, yanking you away from him.

“Both of you are such weird needy bitches… is okay… I’ll make you both into my good little whores.”

Breathy moans, both men eager to see this new game of yours play out, you would make him happy, please him, take care of all his needs… it was easier when you also felt just a tenth of that spark the first time you met William.

Unlike the last ones before these brother’s you would never grow out of love… you had so much to give after all… and he had so much to give you still.

What a bad thing you two were.