#it’s fucked up that like we live in a world where those are the lengths u feel u have to go to in order to not be sexualized. is that really

[shewroteaworld]

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

 “What I do?” You whined. 

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried. 

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 

Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn’t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

#apparently theres some kind of comment thing going on and people were making fic rec lists so i wanted to throw my hat in the ring #bc a few of these are very underrated #yes theyre all gen. i don't care for shipping. sorry #mine #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #taz: b #taz fanfic #taz balance fic #fic rec

[cookinguptales]

Can I ask you to do a post about Disney & disability please? You mentioned it and I’d love to know more!

Well, my notifications can't get any messier, so why not?

This post got very, very long because I ended up talking about a lot of the accessibility solutions in detail (and... ranting about how accessibility at Universal was so bad that I got physically injured there) so I'm putting it under a cut for you.

To preface this, I have mobility issues (as well as a lot of food intolerances/allergies) and general chronic illness, my sister is Deaf, and I have friends who regularly attend the park with autistic family members with high support needs. These are the disabilities I have experience with, so while I've heard a bit about others (such as portable descriptive devices for visitors with visual impairments) I can't speak as much about those accommodations.

I have also traveled quite a bit, mostly as a disabled adult. I can work from anywhere and my family enjoys traveling, so I've been very lucky in this regard. I also used to live in central Florida, not too far from Disney, and benefited from their FL resident rates.

So I'm coming at this from a person who has a lot of experience traveling while disabled and a fair amount of experience going to WDW, though I haven't been nearly as often since I moved out of Florida.

(Good fucking riddance.)

So know that I am speaking from experience when I say I have never, without exception, been to a single place half as accessible as Walt Disney World. It is literally the reason my family would go there; it was one of the only places we could all safely go together. One of the only places I've been on earth that even approached their level of thoughtful accommodations is Barcelona, which apparently did significant renovations throughout the city in order to prepare for the 1992 Paralympics.

(Hey, if anyone is reading this from Barcelona: I teared up the first time I used one of your curb cuts in my wheelchair, just so you know.)

Going through those parks in a wheelchair is a breeze, though you will probably have to fight a lot of clueless parents with strollers who are hellbent on using resources intended for wheelchair-users and then glaring at you when you try to use them yourself. Level ground, spacious sidewalks, accessible transportation, well-kept gradual ramps, roomy buildings, lots of accessible restrooms, alternate entrances at many rides for wheelchair users, special wheelchair rows in movie theaters that we're loaded into first, accessible queues in most rides designed or renovated in the last fifteen years, special viewing areas for shows/parades/fireworks so you don't end up staring at able-bodied butts for a half hour...

Like, structurally-speaking, the parks are very easy to get around in if you're a wheelchair user. That was built in and you can see a lot of very mindful design choices. As far as the rides go, most of their rides actually have special cars that you can load into while still in a wheelchair. They're pretty neat. I can transfer, but that means often leaving my wheelchair and/or cane with a cast member during the ride. They are always, without fail, waiting for me on the other side of the ride, no matter how far the exit is from the entrance. I have never once had a problem with this. A cast member will be there to put my assistive devices in my hand before I even have to think about getting up. Guaranteed.

Wheelchair users always used to be able to skip the line, but there was unfortunately a problem with able-bodied people pretending to be disabled to skip lines (because god forbid they not have access to a single thing we have to make our lives livable) so now there's a system where if you cannot wait in a line, they'll basically give you a special time to come back that's equivalent to the length of the line. Which feels fair to me as someone who often cannot be in even an accessible line for extended periods. (I have problems with sunlight, heat, and often need emergency food or restroom.)

More important than all this, though, is the fact that cast members are impeccably well-trained in all of this. Any disabled person can tell you that the most accessible design on earth isn't worth shit if the people working there aren't well-trained. (More on this later, when I take a giant shit on Universal Studios.) But Disney trains their employees, many of whom are disabled themselves, incredibly well.

Every employee will know where the accessible entrances are. Every employee will know the procedure for getting a return time. Every employee will know about first-aid centers, and every employee will know where the quiet areas are for people with sensory issues. Every time you make a reservation for a meal, hotel room, transportation, etc. they will ask for all accessibility needs and they'll be ready for you.

Every waiter you have will be incredibly careful and knowledgeable when it comes to special dietary needs, and chefs will often come out to discuss them with you. They often have specific menus for different dietary needs, and they are scrupulous when it comes to allergens. I have a few intolerances that suck and allergies that could kill me and I have always felt very safe in their hands. This ranges from fancy sit-down restaurants to quick service burger places.

And -- honestly, I have just always been treated with respect. I know that sounds like a low bar, but most people do fail to clear it. Disney has their employees very well-trained on how to interact with disabled guests. People speak directly to me, never to the able-bodied people over my head. They never treat me like I'm a child. They never ask invasive questions or make uncomfortable jokes. They never, ever get impatient with my accessibility needs.

The few times I have misjudged things and have injured myself or gotten extremely ill, they were professional and caring as they provided much-needed first-aid. It's kind of embarrassing to be doted on by a costumed character while you wait for a doctor to come help you sit up again, but also kind of endearing, I'll admit.

They also, in addition to captioning all videos in the park, have some of the best sign language interpreters in the world, bar none. They're very personal and professional, they're easy to reserve, they will always be in a visible place during shows, and they're incredible performers as well as being very technically proficient. In addition to the professional interpreters, many cast members, performers, and characters can sign as well.

In addition to that, and this brings me to my next point, you'll meet a lot of disabled employees throughout the park. In front-facing positions. Deaf employees, employees using mobility aids, etc. They're well-known to hire disabled people and treat them well. This is. Fuck, this is incredibly rare, I say as someone who was never able to find a job in Florida with my health conditions. It's the moral thing to do to hire disabled people, but also -- selfishly, there's something so heartening and normalizing about seeing people who look like you working at the park. I'm happy every single time.

I have a little less personal experience when it comes to accessibility for neurodivergence, despite being neurodivergent myself, but I've been told that Disney is very, very accommodating for people on the spectrum. A lot is done to lessen crowding, waiting, sensory overload, etc. for autistic guests. Cast members are usually super good at this; finding designated quiet areas, helping autistic guests avoid more crowded areas, keeping them out of long lines, making sure they have access to any particular experiences that are special to them, etc.

For folks who need help from their group, whether that's an autistic child who needs to be with a parent or a disabled adult who needs someone to push their wheelchair or anything else, Disney has a rider switch-off model. In other words, if you're there with both of your able-bodied parents, for example, and you need one of them to be with you at all times and you don't want to be on the ride yourself, Disney will allow one person to go on the ride while the other waits for them to finish, then will allow the second person to go on without any additional wait. This makes sure that everyone in the family gets equal access without leaving disabled people alone. (Which... can be a very shitty feeling, I assure you.)

I know that Disney has also pioneered a lot of assistive technology. The accessible rides, obviously, which can be ridiculously cool (like Toy Story Midway Mania has an accessible car with alternative "guns" for people with dexterity limitations so they can play the carnival games as well) but also handheld assistive devices for visually impaired guests, etc. Like they are literally inventing new forms of accessibility technology, which is so cool.

And honestly, I'm always learning about new ways they assist disabled guests. I've stayed in Disney's accessible hotel rooms before (they're very nice!) but I don't like to swim so I've never been in the pools. But even just this week, someone told me that Disney has pool lifts for disabled guests, which I had never even considered. That's so cool.

The best part about accessibility at Disney is that in some ways it's very casual. A lot of their design decisions are so intuitive that you never even notice how accessible the parks are until you go somewhere where that's... not the case.

Like -- just so you don't assume that any of these things are industry standard, let me tell you about the two times I went to Universal, a park very close to Disney. I went there once for an event and once with my family.

The first time I went was for an event at the opening of the Harry Potter park. (This was before JKR made her most appalling views public, to be clear.) It... was frustrating. Guests asked if there would be food and drink available for people with special dietary restrictions (such as sugar-free butterbeer) and were pretty much told that no, that was not something they were interested in pursuing. It became very obvious very quickly that the park itself was so narrow that it only barely fulfilled ADA standards -- when empty. We were told that JKR had actually specifically insisted that it feel "cramped". Which is a nice way to say that I couldn't actually get around in any of the stores while people were in them.

It was overall a frustrating experience, but it was like. One night. I figured it was probably a fluke and they were still ironing out all the details. So I ended up going back with my parents later.

Y'all, it was a shit show.

Broken elevators that prevented disabled guests from accessing rides. Performers being up on raised platforms/sidewalks so disabled guests couldn't get to them. Sidewalks being made inaccessible by putting movable signs directly in the middle of them. Stores (even outside of the HP part) that were so damn narrow that I actually ended up getting hurt trying to navigate one of them. And no -- it was not easy to get first aid.

And my god, was the training bad. We went to one of the new HP rides, asked if there was a specific entrance for disabled guests. We were told no. We waited for a very long time in a line that honestly I shouldn't have been waiting in, but I wanted to be a good sport. I was pretty sick by the time we got through it, and the line itself had some very dangerous inclines/turns for wheelchair users. We get to the front of the line -- and the employee asks why we didn't just use the accessible entrance. 🙃

(Side note: several of their rides are also just unrideable if you don't fit within a pretty narrow body type of thin and able-bodied, so... there's that.)

We'd asked repeatedly and gotten incorrect answers, and I'd been put in physical danger as a result. Wild. I started to notice that if you asked different employees, you'd get different answers about almost anything, really. Just exceptionally poor training. Even stuff that should've been a no-brainer, like loading wheelchair users into a stationary movie theater, ended up creating chaos when they did it incorrectly and we had a giant wheelchair pileup.

Like -- let me stress to you that many of the things that happened could have caused actual injury to people. Some of these situations were dangerous. And some of them were just alienating, like when I'd have to wait outside a store while my family could go in.

I never went back after that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ We just kept going to Disney.

One thing that'll probably show how good Disney is at accessibility is the whole Make-A-Wish thing. A lot of people know that it's a popular Make-A-Wish request, and you're likely to see at least a couple kids with Make-A-Wish buttons during your visit if you keep an eye out. One reason for this, is that, y'know, Disney World is fun. Kids want to go there. But more important, I think, is that Disney can accommodate people with at-times severe medical needs. Those kids can safely go anywhere and do anything in those parks that able-bodied kids can, and that's important.

All in all, the parks are just so accessible and you will never, ever be made to feel like you're lesser for needing those accommodations. You will be treated so well and you will not have to worry about accessibility because the cast members are always doing it for you. They'll usher you into the correct entrance as soon as they see a mobility device, and they'll do it with a very warm welcome. It's one of the very few places on earth where I have never felt like a burden.

Again, y'know, I know that Disney does not have a perfect track record on a lot of issues. I would never defend them from rightfully earned criticism. I strongly support labor action against them, and I do think they should be criticized whenever they fuck up. I have been uncomfortable with the sheer amount of power they have both in Florida and in the entertainment world just because no one should have that much power. But I am far more uncomfortable with that power being stripped away for blatantly discriminatory political reasons.

I do have some loyalty to Disney just because there is no other place on earth where I've been able to safely have fun with my friends with so little agony. That's... I mean, it's important, really. To be able to just exist in public without getting grief for it. And I have some loyalty to them because they were a safe space for me as a young, queer kid who was not safe being out in other areas of my life.

(Like, I am talking about actual literal safety. I kept seeing notes on my post saying that Disney didn't care about creating a "safe space for queer people" but as someone who lived in Florida for the entirety of my teenage years? It was the safest goddamn place there.)

I do not have enough loyalty to defend them when they do immoral bullshit, but I do have enough to make sure that people know the good that they do as well.

I want other businesses to follow Disney's model for disability. I will praise them forever for what they've done in that regard because if I don't, there's no reason for other companies to follow suit. I want to praise them for the good things they've done so they have incentive to keep doing it, and other companies have an incentive to do it as well.

Like bro, I just wanna be able to move around and be treated with some dignity, y'know? My bar is so low. lmao

But yeah. That's why you always see so many disabled guests at Disney. It's literally the only place some of us can go to have fun.

#disney #disability #ableism #replies #honestly I used to go to the parks a lot but I wouldn't presently consider myself a superfan of disney or anything #but goddamn it sometimes you just wanna be able to go out and do the same things as everybody else #and disney always let me do that

[tteokdoroki]

OCTOBER 8TH. HADES

“my sweet, deluded little minion. aren't we forgetting one teensy-weensy but ever-so-crucial tiny little detail? i own you.”

♱ — keigo takami + hate sex.

♱ — synopsis; as a naive little girl in love you make a deal that gets you stuck with the unrelenting god of the underworld, and no matter how sweet he may fuck you…you’ll spend all of eternity hating him if you have to.

♱ —length; 5.4K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, mentions of death, restraints, marking, branding, creampies, thigh riding, impact play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, possesive sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fem!reader, hades!hawks. not beta read !

♱ — notes; screee happy sinister saturday !! tonight i bring you hawks beloved besmooched as disney's hades!! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it. !! mwah !! - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

pity. 

you should not have pity for the weak because you are weak, yourself. 

you’re weak because you’re too kind; you hate to see a dying soul twisting through those who end up in the land of the undead, shackled to their fate of never returning where the living are. you feel their desperation, hear it in the woeful cries of lost lives as they make their trip down a stream of decay— to be damned for almost all of eternity and like them, you’re desperate too. the underworld is a place to be hated, you think, tying you down to the stench of death and you’re so desperate to feel the sun on your skin once more…to taste the juice of a ripened fruit and feel the warm breeze against your skin while you brush through locks of silvering hair. 

you miss the air in your lungs, you miss breathing him in like he was oxygen.

touya, was there name of the man you missed most about the world up above— his lips often tasted of sour grapes, his skin was rough from scratches and scrapes too but soft whenever you held a his hand. you thought that he adored you— touya would worship you like the gods had put your portrait in the stars up above and you’d do the same…spending your free time counting the flecks in cerulean eyes while soft white hair flows in the warm wind. he was brave, you knew that, a warrior who was strong and had promised you his hand once he returned from the battles his father had called him upon. 

you were promised, you were happy and more in love than you thought possible— until the day touya tells you that he loves you with his dying breath, a sickness sweeping over topaz fem eyes, and you know he’d take your heart to the underworld too.

“you still thinkin’ about him, doll?” 

the warmth of your day dreams slip away as the chill of his voice fills the stone cold lair. you dare to let your fingertips drift through the river of souls below the wall you lean against. “‘m not in the mood, hades.” the god of the underworld, keigo takami is a nuisance if you’d ever known one. a pain in your ass full of feathered flames— bright blue in all of their glory, they’re colder than most would expect, unbecoming of the colour that sprout’s from the king of the undead’s back. 

“hawks. keigo, baby. c’mon little bird…” his voice is tight with humour, surprisingly playful for someone doomed to be surrounded by lifelessness for all of eternity. all of the underworld is dreary and damp, worn arching mountains made of old bones, skulls and teeth— rocks as sharp as swords that end lives with the sickly green stream of whining dead mortals. you can’t breathe down here…there’s no space for you to escape nor breathe around him and you hate it. “oh sugarplum…don’t play sourpuss! we’re all friends here!” the blonde god that burns cold flames picks your dainty fingers from the acidic pool of death. 

he grinds your gears, and you have nowhere else to go. the thought of being stuck with a man who rules over ruined lives— infuriating you to no end. “i am not—“ you seethe, shoulders raised like a hissing cat or something akin to the three headed dog that guards this place. “your friend. far from it, hades.” the look on your face is far from impressed, discourteous with your lips turned into a nasty sneer and a sweltering spark to your usually pretty docile eyes. 

it’s such a shame, how ill behaved you are after everything the man has done for you. “it’s hawks, honey.” the man reminds you, and in a flash he’s on you in all the ways you despise. his slimey grip of death squeezes your cheeks, dragging you up to his mighty height with your face in the palm of his burning hand. hades…hawks, he’s mean when he’s unhappy— the flames that form the wings of a fallen angel flicker a brilliant red and the temperature of them skyrockets. “‘n this is no way to act after all i’ve done for you cupcake.” despite the fury that radiates from the god…he coos gently. 

“if i remember correctly… i’m the one who saved your little prick of a boyfriend… aren’t I?” even through all of the robes keigo wears, you can still feel the molten heat of his skin against yours as he pulls you in close— though you dangle from his hold, you’re practically chest to chest. you scramble to get away, but the god only digs his thumb further into your cheek. “we had a deal. your soul for his life.” with his free hand, he creates an apparition, tufts of smoke dancing to form people…one showing touya who bends at the knee to take the other’s hand— this one being you. 

at first, the two characters seem happy, and an emotion akin to fondness settles in your bones— but not before touya’s little smoke figure trails away from yours to follow another woman “s’not my fault he left you. don’t take it out on me, doll,” hawks drawls, snapping his fingers to make the apparition disappear, your heart rattled in its place after reliving the scene and you force your gaze away with a grunt directed at the god. “now, since you’re being oh so disrespectful, we’ll add…give or take, another five years to your sentence with me instead of taking away seven. how’s that sound?” 

“fuck you, hades.” turning your head, you spit directly between the god’s eyes, fuelled by your own hurtful rage.

your elevated, living pulse does nothing but serve to piss off the king of the underworld more— his blonde set of locks nearly exploding off of the top his head as he combusts into red hot flames once more. “still so bitter over a man who can’t love you like i do, huh?” keigo says your name, low and raspy, and you can’t remember the last time he’d uttered those syllables. it frightens you, after all you are a mortal in the grip of a man who takes lives for a living, but you’d never let him know that. “that’s almost pathetic.”

that hurts to hear, like a knife twisting in your fragile human gut… and so, kicking your feet, still high above the ground and suspended in the large god’s grip— you throw yourself about and claw at his temperate hand cupping your face harshly. “you do not love me, you wouldn’t know what that meant even if it kicked you in the face!” you yell, biting down on keigo’s hands in a futile attempt. “you’re just obsessed with me and would much rather me be a soulless corpse to keep you better company!” 

“you better watch your tone with me, little bird—“

“you’re vile. you’re disgusting— a fool if you think i could ever see the bright side of being stuck here with you,” you ramble in response, and foolishly so. “i hate you hades, i hate you. did you know that? i want to repeat it for you. i hate yo—“ 

your words are never finished, for a resounding strike echoes throughout the cave like atmosphere on the underworld and you already feel the invisible bruising form under your skin, falling to the floor to cup your wound.

no matter how many times you had tested the god of death, he had never hit you like this before.

and you’ve never looked into his golden irises , never seen them so clearly or seen his pupils like black slits— leaving the amber colour to take over, reminding you of the surface sun. hawks looks almost predatory, hungry red flames for wings willing to swallow and burn everything in their path, including you. 

“repeat yourself. what did you say?” keigo commands easily.

you gulp. “t-that i…”

“that you, what?” your name again, and you tremble. 

“that i hate you,” you breathe. “i hate you.” 

he seems to snap at this. 

hawks smiles, teeth as sharp as razors set on display. “another five years into your sentence, pretty.” with a snap of his talon clawed fingers, the god has fragments of grey smog binding your wrist together, slipping over your nose and mouth to shut you the hell up. “‘m disappointed, yanno. i do care so much for you, i’m so attentive… but this has happened far too long to go unnoticed, little bird.” 

the world around you rushes with air as you’re hauls into the god’s thick arms, you kick and scream muffled through the smoke in your mouth— watching as keigo conjures up a throne made of thorns, pain and bones, taking a comfortable seat into it despite the lost loved ones it might be made up of. “here we go again, darling.” the blonde sighs, not caring if you batter his back on the way down to taking his seat— dragging you into position to sit over the swell of his right thigh. “s’always the same old shit with you. so naughty.” keigo peers up at you through eyes like a bird of prey…watching, knowing the exact effect he has on you. 

hyper aware of how much control he has over you, right down to your soul. 

you squirm away and keigo let’s go of the smoke, letting you tilt your head back but still rooted in the god’s lap. “i hate you.” breathing deep, you try to ignore your body flushing with heat and the urge to buck down against keigo’s surprisingly muscular thigh. 

“behave yourself. sit still,” hades coos, his touch cascades up your body, slipping under your bodice and sending warmth down each of the neurons like a flickering flame until he reaches the swell of your breasts— thumbing over your pebbled nipples in an attempt to pull a whine from between your resistant lips. it’s so cute to watch you try and fail, pretend like your hips aren’t aching to slide back and forth, drag your clit back and forth…back and forth over the man like a desperate bitch in heat, like you don’t want to put your hands in the brightness of his fire and watch yourself burn with lust. you’re no good at acting, pretending you wouldn’t slut yourself out for him, the one who owns you for all of eternity. 

with a click of his fingers, all the power in the world between them pulls up the skirts of your robes, like wisps of a web until the fabric sits at your hips. “h-hate you… s’much,” you repeat though the venom to your voice is lost, shaky and falling into a pathetic moan instead as the god traces the fat at your hips, searing fingers sliding down to your fleshy ass before peeling you away from his thigh— amused at the stickiness that ties you to him. “f-fuck.” 

“yeah sweetheart? you hate me this much?” the amusement is evident in his voice too, a slender digit sliding out from the curve of your ass to touch at your oozing wetness. “oh…i don’t know, doesn’t seem like you don’t like me. you can’t spend forever hatin’ me either; not when i get you like this.” the finger spreads apart your swelling folds, and hawks shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit. “lover boy ever make ya this wet?” you despise the way the god talks down on you, as if you’re just a slave to his cock and thighs and whatever he can give you…dopamine and lust hormones flooding your cute little mortal brain and making you pliant for him. 

the beginnings of your arousal seeps warmly through the robes laying wrinkled against the fiery blonde’s thigh, sweet folds leaving a stain that betrays you in every way possible. touya could never… not like this, you’re soaked and you’ve barely been touched. only just, by feather light grazes against the supple fat at your waist. it’s the taunting pillowy cushion to hawks’ words too, they’re what’s gotten you so worked up— not too mean or too harsh, just enough to make you feel like you’re beneath him. 

with your nails digging to hades’ arm, you cry out his name at a volume barely above a whisper— bottom lip wobbling and face crumbling just like your resolve because it hurts so good not to use him to get off, the shame only adding fuel to the fire in your lower belly. “s-shut up,” you struggle to get out, to mean what you say as your needy hole clenches against the blistering skin of a god. “you don’t make me feel shit…y-you could never be h-him—oh,” keigo flexes his thigh beneath your unloyal pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips in hunger as your words taper off into a sinful little sigh at your pretty eyes roll back into your skull. “oh…oh fuck you.” 

“watch your mouth.” hades all but snarls, a cruel smirk beginning its horizon on his slightly chapped lips now that you’re finally playing his game, your hips falling into their own rhythm over his thigh—speeding up in their straddled dance over him. again, his hands explore all what your body has to offer and this time you let him, throwing your head back when hawks rips the fabric of your skirt to get a better view of your naked rosy cunt and how beads of glistening arousal pearl between perfect pussy lips. “don’t need to be your shitty little human to make you feel good, sweetheart. i know i’m better than him,” he makes a sick point of reminding you so, leaning back into his throne with a hazy look settling into the embers of his golden eyes, those of which are trained on the way your folds encapsulate his thigh as you get yourself off on him. “i’m your god, you’ll only ever feel the pinnacle of pleasure with me.”

you loath that this much is true, of all the times hawks has punished you for resenting him— talking back and being ungrateful, you’ve never cum as hard with anyone else as much as you have with him. when his flaming hands swallow your thighs, burn their hand prints into them until you can smell the scent of singeing flesh tangled with death, decay and your saccharine pussy you feel like you’re dying. you must be, with the waves of euphoria you’re drowning in, your lungs ache from the near screams of delight that rattle around in your throat with every grind against hawks— especially when he begins to bounce his thighs against your cunt that blossoms for him like a flower from the lands up above.

“you’re awful…” you say, teary eyed despite humping at keigo’s twitching thigh faster and faster with ragged breaths— giving him a front row seat to you losing your mind, to your slit drooling so delicately against him despite how roughly your body moves. his clawed hand reaches the back of your bodice, tearing it into two as if it were nothing and letting the fabric fall away from your bouncing chest.

his mouth is on your breasts within an instant, the heated pink tongue of the god rolling over your darkened areolas and rock hard nipples, standing on end from the cool death chilled air, before the sharpened edge of his teeth sink into your soft mounds. “only just now realising that, honey? when i’m literally the king of death?” hawks let’s go of you with a slick pop, his cheeks flushed red and lips in a state to match— cock and thigh twitching at the little simper you let out from the painful sting of his teeth biting at your skin. your state is no better than his, brows creased adorably in the centre of your forehead, mouth open in a raw ‘o’ shape and your eyes screwed shut while your skin shines with perspiration. a diamond in the rough. 

“fuck, you look so fucking good,” the god of the underworld curses, glowing yellow eyes torn between watching your face contort in lechery and your mound, gliding smoothly over his paled yet golden skin— leaving a trail of slick in her wake. “oh fucking hell,” he beefs, from deep within his chest licentiously, the words caught in his throat when you start to bounce up and down in the god’s lap by your own accord. “that’s right, ride it. ride my thigh like you fucking hate me.” he leers, goading you into lifting your hips and slamming your clit back down on his shaky thigh, eyes a dark and molten gold rolling back at the sight. 

you don’t have the energy to curse him out again, whimpering and mewling like a fallen angel as you reach out to grab keigo’s shoulder in order to steady yourself. your body is wracked with the shakes and trembles even as your nails dig into his shoulder blades, one hand on his hip, using him as leverage to ride him, throwing yourself down on him as the lewd pap of your sticky pussy fills the sex and death tainted air. hawks’ mouth is back on you, biting and marking your neck, licking a nasty trail from your collarbones and back to the swell of your breasts to suckle on them— only serving to make your cunt fish every time it’s lifted from his thigh, ruining his dark robes with slick and making his wings burn brighter like the ball of lust growing between you.

hawks plants his feet firmly on the floor, his hands smoothing over your ass so he can roughly pull your cheeks apart, slamming you back down on his quivering leg every time it juts up to meet your pretty, syrupy cunt. you squeak, the hood of your clit pulled back, blood rushing right too it carrying sex crazed hormones that make your whole body tingle. “oh, just look at your fucking pussy. so, wet. so nasty.” he laughs like the sight of you staining his leg, humping it like a bitch is ludicrous. “you sure you hate me?” you do, gods you fucking do but you can barely talk with the delight pain that sparks at your ass cheeks as keigo marks them with burns again. branding you with the hades name— making you property of the underworld. 

“how can you hate me when you belong to me?” he bleats sweet and soft despite how rough hades is with you, scattering your pretty body with scalding burn marks. “when i make you feel so good that you can’t even remember your own pathetic little mortal name?” he says it then, when he’s growling and smacking a blazing hand down against your bruising ass, making you cry out and howl and drag your nails down his skin. keigo did you a favour, saving your weak and loving soul above all else after your lover had cast you aside— he protected you, nurtured you and all you could do was look at him like he ruined the world for you. so in turn, every time you would act up like this, keigo would fuck you until you were literally an inch from losing your life, reminding you that you bound to him for all of eternity, no matter what you did. 

“you’re mine. remember?” he coos to you when your head starts to loll and you’re hiccuping so hard you can’t even think to breathe right. “my little queen of the underworld.” 

slumping forward, you don’t slow the roll of your hips, the gentle glide of your slippery cunt along hades’ blazing thigh and instead you shake your head, weakly, miserably to the point where he just finds your denial cute. “‘m not…i-i,” you gargle, words incoherent against the molten core of keigo’s chest. “i fucking hate you—uhuh, yeah…i do.” you moan.

like most humans, you’re fucking pitiful but your voice adorned with lust is enticing to a god who hears nothing but deathly wails all day. “keep tellin’ yourself that; baby but look at how you fall apart on my lap. uhuh…yeah?” keigo flashes you his pearly whites through his condescending smirk and tone, using you so bristfully that every time he pushes you back and forth over his thigh you go as far back as to grind your puffy clit against his knee. “that felt good, huh? yeah i know…you’re all mine.” 

you fucking hate him, and that voice of his and how he plays you for a fucking fool. 

you hate how his possession over you makes you needy, makes you melt and how you eagerly nod your head, sore and bruised by flames all over as you push it into keigo’s neck— the knot in your tummy nice and tight, so good that it hurts. “‘m close… don’t stop. please, o-oh fuck!” you cry, coated in your own essence as it splatters every time you slam your pretty pussy down on hawks, clenching around nothing, your sweet words soothing the ache in his rigid dick. “j-just like that. f-fuck! keigo!” 

the way you drawl out the syllables of his name makes a primal urge stir in the god— he circles your hips on him, let’s his calloused finger tips burn their mark against your hips and your thighs and your ass, knowing that the torment gets you off, makes your creamy cunt wetter. “you gonna cum for me? make a mess in my lap? paint your god with your pretty juices?” he teases, short for breath leaning up with a fond smile until your lips are just barely apart. he wonders how you’ll look when you cum this time; if your sweaty swollen lips with hungrily accept his, if you’ll cry with your eyes closed or look him in his own— your sparkling bambi eyes swirling with hatred and dread like they always do. “c’mon…come on. give it to me, sweetheart, lemme feel you come undone.” 

hot fingers, the ones that branded you push into your clit— pinching it as hades writes his signature against your throbbing pussy, moaning with you when you jolt. “yeah, you like that?” he growls, voice hoarse and your body betrays you once more, head nodding into his neck. “mhm, you’re gonna cum like this for me aren’t you? you’re gonna fucking cum for the god you hate. that’s it…oh gods, that’s fuckin’ it, doll.” 

“i-i’m! oh gods, keigo—!” you squeal as the knot of lust within you unravels all at once, your core gushing with release as hades makes you dive head first into a blinding orgasm. you violently shake and your thighs lock around his hand that works you through your high and releases the pressure in your pussy, sweet streams of clear arousal soaking his lap and dripping down your thighs. hawks can’t bring himself to stop, doesn’t know where to look as he draws tighter circles on your little nub, drawing out your orgasm for his own amusement, addicted to how your skin shines with your release. “s-stop! please… s’too much!” you squeak.

the world spins harder on its axis and you barely have time to register hawks flipping your positions, folding you with your back to the throne and legs thrown over the bend of his burly arms. he can’t wait any fucking longer, feeling as if his cock might explode without being inside of you, watching you cum like that having sent him into a throbbing frenzy. you haven’t even calmed down yet, still limp from your orgasm when keigo pushes his length through your seeping, glistening folds, red cockhead catching on the hood of your clit in desperation, poking at your fluttering hole, ready to fuck into you while he lets his dick slap along the length of you. 

“j-just because you’ve made me cum…doesn’t mean i like you, nor trust you.” you pant in denial, trying and failing to open your pretty eyes to the underworld. “it doesn’t mean anything.” 

but keigo, he’s too far gone to care at this point. he could care less if you hate him, if you adore him, worship him or fear him. the only thing on his mind right now is sinking his yearning, pulsating shaft into your slick, slit while you’re still coming down from heaven and back to him in the world below. “don’t give a fuck,” he says, a hankering feeling to fuck you now clouding his mind. “i don’t need your trust little bird, i already know your body fucking loves me.” 

he won’t last long and neither will you, you’re already only just hanging on by a thread. “i-i don’t,” you slur, spit on the pad of tongue feeling heavy, you still haven’t recovered from your orgasm, squeezing down on every inch that keigo pushes into you— even though you’re wet beyond belief, your pink little hole can’t help but resist him, as if your body is finally denying him after everything he put you through on his thigh. “n-no…no no!” you cry out, a mess of dry lips and crystal tears, lifting your ass from the seat of the throne to try and coax hawks back into you. “please…need it, y-your cock…p-please!”

“see look, you’re being so nice now… is that all it takes? play with your precious pussy a little bit and you stop pretending to hate me?” keigo laughs huskily, dragging a thumb over his seedy tip as his fat length sits on your tummy— before shoving the soiled digit against your clit, pressing it into your pleasure nub so loosen you up a bit to take him. “this pussy doesn’t hate me, does she? oh no…she belongs to me.” 

you shudder at his words despite the heat of his flames, and you’re not even given a second to respond or prepare before his ribbed and red hot cock is shoved into your unused hole, his practised hands lifting you higher from the throne to accommodate for all of his size. “oh…oh god, k-keigo,” you coo like a little angel, your gaze losing its focus while the king of death folds you in half against his royal seat, the forked and purpling veins decorating his shaft pressing up against new pulse points, pinging them with ecstasy the further he presses into you. 

hawks bends over your shaky frame, golden and carved abs pressed against the backs of your thighs, the god smothering you with his body once he reaches the hilt, your knees digging blissfully into your shoulders, his cock already nestled against your g-spot from the pure size of him and you feel so full, like keigo is everywhere around you, a pleasant pain thrumming as your squishy insides stretch over his cold. he’s in your guts, your senses, your heart though it’s blackened with hatred for him. 

you’re dizzy and your eyes droop, mind void of thought and you don’t have the effort to hate him anymore— not when he makes you feel like this. “nuh-uh, wake up sweetheart, want you to look at me as i fuck ya, kay?” keigo whispers to you sweetly, his blazen hand smacking down on your face, pulling the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard from between your lips. “that’s it, wake up f’me. listen to this cunt call my name,” he laments tapping your cheek once more and grins at the branded hand print before golden eyes lock themselves  away— taking away your sunshine from up above. you listen intently, the lewd squelch of your insides bouncing of stacks of bones and towers of skeletons, at a volume much higher than the cries of the undead. “my messy messy girl, so messy you might as well admit that you’re in love with me.” 

while that couldn’t have been further from the truth, you submit to the god who makes you a slave to his cock— slowly withdrawing from your snug walls, pulling out of your sticky selfish cunt. “ain’t it damned shame that lover boy took you for granted?” he growls with a voice tinged with possession. “such a shame that you’re sentenced to slutting yourself out on this cock for the rest of your days…oh fuck, you’re tight.” hips surging forwards, hawks sets a steady pace to rocking his dick into you, blunt cockhead pushing and pulling against sensitive spots that makes you see the stars in the night sky again. and maybe you do consider yourself lucky, without touya fucking you over, you wouldn’t be prisoner to the best dick you’ve ever had. 

you hate him, but hades is so, so good—teeth and tongue latching back onto your bouncing breasts as the heat from his flames spreads through you like a wildfire in a forest and the only thing capable putting it out is his precum sloshing in creamy, loose white against your gummy, syrupy walls. “m-my fucking god!” you manage through stuttered breathes, keening into the swipes of keigo’s tongue across your breasts that he’s burned, as if his saliva will soothe you. he ploughs into you at a god speed pace, skin slapping on skin as his balls slam into the curve of your ass and harmonise with your high pitched wails. 

“that’s right, baby.” he sounds so elated, moaning happily around your swollen nipples, moving to pant happily into your ear, pressing further and further into you until keigo is hardly pulling away from bullying your g-spot, your juices splashing about the places, running down the length of your slit and your ass to pool underneath you on the marble throne. “i’m yours and you’re fuckin’ mine, for the rest of forever…don’t, ah shit, care what you say. hate me all y’fuckin’ want.” 

hawks fucks you like he hates your guts, looking over you, throwing your legs over his shoulder and using his weight to canter into your abused cunt, rocking his throne with a dull thump to each of thrusts. he frees you from the grip that leaves burn marks across your body, to briefly run his hand through sweaty blonde locks, both of you are slick with perspiration, breathing ragged and you’re definitely too fucked out to even see at this point. the sun is keigo; despite the dreary underworld you live in, and the tears blur your vision too much for you to tell this isn’t the land of the living. 

“‘m g’na cum,” you tell hades eagerly, feeling like you’re alive the more he fills you up— sexes slotted together like a match made in heaven when you really feel like he’s your own personal hell. “gonna cum so fucking hard.” the pleasure is suffocating, deathly, but you don’t care, crying from every hole possible, locking down on keigo’s ravaging dick when he slaps your entrance to keep you awake— you jolt, sore from every joint and whine out pathetically. 

“can feel you cummin’ on me again, better give it all t’me little bird— want your fuckin’ mind, your body, your soul.” he sinks his teeth into the junction at your neck one last time, adding another delightfully painful mark to the rest that litter your body. he does it all to numb your pain of touya leaving you, fills you up with love which you mistake for hate because how can a merciless god who takes lives for fun be capable of loving you. it’s not long before your body does as he says, following keigo’s lead, tumbling down the highway to hell as the bright light of his flames flashes before your very eyes, your release staining his abdomen where it’s smooshed up against your clit.

“oh shit, fuck that’s it,” he’s right behind you too, abs rippling while the mighty god of death trembles above you and pours thick white from his angry red tip straight into your bruised womb, lewd clapping noises filling the air as he rocks into you through the last of your highs. keigo makes a pretty mess of you; creaming your insides as his last mark of possession over you. “my pretty little bird, mine eternally.” 

he hopes you’ll forget touya, that you’ll forgive him just this once— stop hating him for once. 

but with your foreheads pressed together, bodies limp and uncomfortable against the throne hawks— hades, has conjured up you quickly come to your senses with closed eyes and lost breath. 

“i hate you, hades.” you grunt, shame burning at you now instead of him, instead of lust. “get off me.” 

#𓆩♱𓆪. 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑'𝟐𝟐 #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x you #hawks imagine #hawks fanfic #hawks fic #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami smut #takami keigo smut #tteokdoroki #takami keigo x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #hawks thirst #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x you #hawks scenarios #tw: impact play #tw: flashing #tw: branding

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future In You | 2.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, requited love but they’re idiots your honour, smut, pinv, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications

…

A little past 1am, legs stretched out ahead of you, draped across Bradley’s legs. Some old straight to TV movie playing, giggling like a couple of teenagers. Bradley loudly voices his complaint as he picks up a m&m that had been thrown at his forehead.

He’s in just a pair of shorts, his hair dry now and his curls a little shorter than normal. Navy regulations. You kind of miss the length that he used to have on the back and sides, but this look suits him too.

“I’m just saying, you’re the one who fucked my roommate.” You shrug, mock-nonchalantly, and pretend to focus back on the movie in front of you. It’s some dumb story of a small town cowboy.

In the mood for dramatics tonight, Bradley throws his head back and groans.

“Before I even met you!” He chides, sitting forwards and snatching the candy from you before you have opportunity to turn any more of them into projectiles.

“Then you texted her after you’d already knocked me up.” You remind him, playfully calm.

“Ah, ah — She texted me, it’s not like I would’ve fucked her again — and let’s not forget that you had a whole boyfriend until you were in your second trimester.” Bradley points out.

“And stop saying knocked up. Makes me feel weird.” Grumbling like a discontented teenager, Bradley nudges your leg with his so that you have to look at his face and see his little frown.

All of that seems so far away now. Ryan. Your roommates, who you’ll probably never see again. Christmas with your family. You’ve barely even thought about it all since you got here.

“I’m sorry, Bradley — how should I be phrasing it?” You tease.

His lips tug at the corners, threatening to disrupt his dramatic frown and disarm his little act. A small shrug of those broad, tanned shoulders.

“All those couples at the parenting class keep saying ‘when we found out we were expecting’. That works.”

“Mm, but when I found out I was expecting I cried for three days and when you found out you implied that I was a whore and offered me money. Our story doesn’t really sound like theirs’.” You remind him. He presses his lips together in a line. That feels so far away now too.

He remembers the anger he felt towards you back then, which is a complicated thing in itself. He remembers why, and how — and everything about that first week, actually. He remembers being so furious at you for making that choice without him. A complete stranger, complicating his future when he had just stepped out of his complicated past.

The anger still makes sense to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore, he isn’t proud of the way he acted, but he can look back now and know that it was all just fear.

Going from being a scared little boy and looking after a sick mother, to being an adult and having nothing to care for but himself, to then meeting you. It hadn’t felt fair to have that all stripped away before he had started it.

But now, when he thinks of this living room being empty, or that small room being an office instead of a nursery, it makes this all seem so much more bleak.

The movie credits roll, leaving you even more confused about what the plot was supposed to be. Bradley sits up and pushes himself onto his knees, then parts your legs for him to dip between. You’re sighing softly now, contented as he presses his lips to yours.

“I don’t think you’re a whore,” He mumbles against your mouth, making you chuckle softly against him. “And I’m glad that I knocked you up, for the record.”

Another soft chuckle. He presses his lips warmly to your skin. Cheeks, jaw. A gentle tour of your face.

“You are?”

“Yeah, you’re hot pregnant,” Bradley beams at you, earning himself another little laugh. “And — y’know, I’m excited for the kid too.”

Looking up at him, your fingers circle over his smooth, freckled shoulders. A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before a commercial comes on and disturbs the bliss.

“Time to put the baby to bed, don’t you think?” He asks. You glance down at your swollen stomach and back up at your new boyfriend. Smiling at him, you give a defiant shake of your head.

“We aren’t tired.” You decide.

A soft groan and he cups your belly in his hands, feeling soft fluttering kicks to unfortunately support your claims. Smile growing into an embarrassingly amused beam, you watch Bradley as he pushes your shirt up and peppers kisses across your stomach.

“Tell him to give his old man a break, some of us have to be up in a couple hours,” Bradley murmurs into your skin, earning himself an applause of his new favourite sound. He looks up grinning at your laughter. “What?”

“You, being somebody’s old man,” A quick scrunch of your nose and a shake of your head, laughter still bubbling through you. “Weird to think about.”

His cheeks redden like the tops of his ears, then he grins. Sitting back on his heels, his hands slide along your stomach to rest at the very bottom. Again, he feels a soft little kick against his palm.

“Y’know, I think he’s nocturnal. I barely felt him this morning and now he’s wide awake.” You explain.

Another shrug, smiling as he leans down and kisses your stomach once more. “Wanted to stay up and watch a movie with his folks.” Bradley muses, making you smile. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his fluffy, air-dried curls. His lips press warmly to the underside of your belly, “No harm in that.”

Fingers trailing from his auburn curls, down over the tanned muscles in his shoulders as he peppers kisses across your stomach.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger already. Old man.” You tease, nudging at his leg with your foot. He chuckles softly, cool breath tickling your skin. Another kiss, then he looks up at you.

“Me? — Mama’s the one letting him stay up late.” Bradley prods, sitting up and bringing his mouth to yours once more. The kiss is slow, lazy, his hand cupping your hip. When he leans over you now, your stomach always bumps into his middle. He’s going to miss it when it isn’t there anymore.

Turning his head, he presses his face into your neck and nips softly at your skin. You hum, keening towards the feeling. It becomes growingly tender, lips replacing teeth, tongue soothing over the warm spots left behind.

Finally, he sits back up and kisses your lips chastely. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“You can go ahead, I won’t wake you up.” You promise.

“I know, but I like falling asleep with you.” He squeezes softly at your hips, remembering to be gentle with your sore joints these days. He sits forwards and kisses your mouth again, then again after that. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he isn’t going to stop until you agree.

Pushing against his bare chest, he sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows at you.

“Fine…” You huff, extending your arms for him. Slipping his hands into yours, he’s on his feat with an annoying level of ease that you can no longer manage. He tugs you up with him.

“I’ll lock up.” Ducking around you and kissing your neck, he leaves you with a gentle pat on the ass and then moves to make sure all of the doors and windows are locked and that the lights are off. You pad along the hallway to your shared bedroom and peel your shirt over your head.

Over the past month, you seem to have really popped. The kid is really making himself known in there. Enough so, that you’re well into the stage now of wearing exclusively maternity clothes or stretching out Bradley’s old gym clothes. Tonight, given the lingering heat, you opt for an old basketball shirt that Bradley hasn’t fit into since high school. Before he grew a foot and lost eighty pounds in his junior year.

It’s not huge on you at this stage of your pregnancy, but gives you the reprieve of a waistband pressing into your stomach.

Bradley’s chest hits your back before you even feel him approaching, turning his face into the crook of your neck, almost knocking you over with his weight.

His hands skim under the shirt and up over your stomach, making an all-too-familiar beeline for your breasts. He groans softly into your skin, growing half-hard against your back.

“Mm-mm,” You’re smiling and shaking your head at him all at once. “You need to go to bed, remember?”

“Fuck,” He breathes out, eyes closed, soft skin under his palms. If he pressed any harder into your back, he would knock you onto your front. “I do.”

Your palm slips between the two of you, reaching back to cup him over his shorts, stroking just loosely over the length of his hardening cock.

“Would be pretty difficult to sleep with that, though.”

“You’re such a tease.” He mumbles into your neck, kneading softly at your breasts. He rolls his hips forwards slightly, using your hand for friction on his increasingly hard cock.

“Are you flying tomorrow?” Your head falls back to rest against his shoulder, his lips sucking softly at the curve of your neck. His realization courses through him like relief, you can practically feel it.

His head shakes quickly. “In a classroom all day.”

Your palm squeezes softly around the tent in his shorts, a quiet hum, mock consideration, leaving your lips. His hands push at the shirt, slowly dragging it up your middle and tugging it over your head.

His eyes feel heavy on you, hands trailing featherlight along your sides. Bradley reached out slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he takes hold of the band in your hair. He’s especially gentle as he takes it down and turns his face towards your hair.

Illuminated by the soft light of the bedside table, Bradley’s becoming increasingly gentle with you — each time that you’ve slept with him recently, you can feel that he’s being more careful than he would normally be. He knows that you’re sore and more tired than you would normally be, but he never once declines the opportunity to have you.

Today is no exception as he turns you towards him, palms skimming along your back, squeezing at your ass as he holds you against him. Laying you down slowly on your shared bed, he notices your lips quirk softly as he covers your body with his.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You give a small shake of your head and lift to kiss him, still smiling when you pull back. He squints at you, studying the amusement on your features. It just makes you want to smile, is all. Him being so wordlessly soft; knowingly gentle. It doesn’t take a conversation or a warning. He knows your limits.

He knows you so well these days. The kind of shampoo or deodorant to pick up. Exactly which spots to press his fingers harder into when he’s giving you a foot rub. Exactly how to make you scowl at him and melt into his arms moments later when he’s being annoying. Your chest heaves with a particularly deep breath.

Bradley’s lips are on your chest, his hands skimming along your thighs, kneading at the flesh.

“Tell me you want me.” It’s a pant, really, just breathless. He rocks himself against your core, sitting back on his knees and squeezing at your hips. He takes that plush, pink bottom lip between his teeth and just stares down at you with the prettiest mahogany coloured eyes you’ve ever seen.

Teasing at an almost smile, you bite the inside of your cheek to contain it. A soft shake of your head and he smiles back at you. You glance down, watching him palm over the tent in his shorts. Finally, you meet his gaze once more. “I don’t think your ego can handle being any bigger than it already is.”

“It can take a little more,” Bradley hums. He exhales, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watches his ring and index fingers dip through your folds, gathering your excitement on the digits. “Tell me you want me.”

You do. So badly that it makes you hot. Makes your muscles go tense. Makes your chest tighten.

“I want you,” It’s an admission that you never would’ve given him months ago, weeks ago even. There’s a lot about you now isn’t the same as it was a few months ago. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. I love you. It’s insane — terrifying, actually. You swallow and stick to what you know, “I want you.”

It would slip so effortlessly off of your tongue. When he’s buried into you, breathing hard into your ear, your face buried into the curve of his neck and god — he still smells exactly like him, now mixed with your body wash that he’s adamant he doesn’t steal. So natural, just another breathless, meaningless exhale in the middle of sex.

“You feel so good,” Bradley groans out, his thick fingers sliding along the nape of your neck and up into your hair. He curls them into your roots and flexes his fist just softly. Just the right amount of tug, a gentle pull that has you moaning against his jugular. “Fuck, baby… you…”

He turns his head, lips grazing your jaw and working lazily along to your lips. When he gets there, finally, it feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. He kisses you slowly, his tongue in your mouth and his hand in your hair. In your shared bed.

The mattress is softer here and he never wakes up with a sore neck because of the shitty pillows. Sometimes he wakes up with a sore neck because of how his body is wound around yours, but he doesn’t mind that as much. Moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you slowly.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

A breath catches in your throat and you aren’t sure whether it’ll turn into a laugh or a cry. Ultimately, it settles into a soft moan, your breath tickling his earlobe and making him shiver. Then, it becomes a laugh. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at that grin on your face.

Stretching out his shoulders, he guides your thighs over the tops of his. He gives them a soft squeeze and slows down a little, giving a breathless nod. “I mean it. You’re so fucking perfect, just like this.”

He wets his lips with his tongue, eyes trailing ever so slowly along your body, rocking his hips forwards tenderly. Briefly, you think that he’s going to say it. It doesn’t happen. Just more expletives, shallow breaths, eager grunts. More kisses, his hands on your skin.

After, when you’re settled into his old basketball shirt, under your sheets, and he is wrapped around your body from behind, his big palm sprawled out over your stomach — you’re okay with it. The silent knowledge that he must be on the same page.

The next morning, he has to be up before the sun is even halfway risen. He’s growing proficient at doing it without waking you. Showering silently and dressing in the bathroom, laying his clothes out the night before. It always makes you stir when he slips back into the room and leaves you with a chaste kiss on the lips, and a soft peck at the top of your rounded stomach. Still, you’re okay with that too.

You squirm a little, laying back against that perpetually uncomfortable plastic-leather mix exam chair. The gel is a lot more uncomfortable when you’re still hot from the mid-day Florida heat than it had been on those snowy mornings back in Virginia. Still, it’s all routine by this point. The cold jelly on your stomach, comfy pants that can easily be pushed down a little, warm sweater to combat the always high air conditioning.

You’re missing the part of your routine that has always made you comfiest: Jake sitting outside in the waiting room. He’s states away, Bradley’s stuck in work, you’re all on your own. It’s just a routine check up — just to check if he’s breach. You’ve been telling yourself that all morning. It hasn’t stopped you from sitting on the carpeted floor of his nursery and staring at his crib, still in the box.

Your heart swells at the idea of meeting him. You’ve been picturing him a lot recently. Your nose, Bradley’s lips. Soft morning cuddles, sleepless nights, constant diaper changes — it’s easy enough to tell yourself that you’re ready, it’s just more of a complicated thing to be certain that you are. Even if you’re not ready, he’ll be here in a few short weeks. You need to remind Bradley to pick up screws for his crib.

The doctor’s brows knit together, she adjusts her glasses and wiggles the wand a little bit, then looks back to you. “Hm, have you been experiencing reduced movement at all, Miss Seresin?”

The question throws you. Blinking at her, chilled from the whir of the air conditioning, you shake your head. Your throat squeezes. “No, not at all. He was kicking a lot last night.”

Both of you look back to the screen. He’s moving now. Little legs just kicking softly in that familiar black and white hue. A quick glance across, you stare at your sweater on the chair where Bradley should be sitting. It’s too cold in here. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to move to get the sweater.

“Hm,” She nods her head slowly. Her face is calm enough, her tone doesn’t give you any clues. The thought that crosses your mind hits you like a speeding semi. Blunt force, speeding — out of left field. Six and a half months of no contact and all of a sudden, sitting alone in this exam room, too cold, you want your Mom.

It’s clear that you’re panicking, and the doctor continues with as much caution as she can. She speaks to you like she’s trying to soothe a crying child, but it isn’t patronising. Her neatly groomed brows raise at you, “Any fatigue, bleeding, stomach pains?”

“I’ve been tired, I guess.” You squeak. She softens, reaching out and placing her hand into yours. Your throat tightens. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s just looking a little bit smaller than we would have expected for this stage in the pregnancy,” Your heart sinks, and the side of the exam table suddenly feels especially empty without Bradley there. The doctor continues on as comfortingly as she can. “I’d just like to run a few tests while you’re here — just to make sure that we’re prepared to make the end of your pregnancy as safe and comfortable as possible.”

As she turns and leaves you trapped in that little grey room with the closed blinds, shutting out any semblance of sunlight, all that you can think about is the first appointment that Bradley ever came to with you. Everything going on back then and how badly you had wanted him to not even show up. How confusingly nice it had felt to have him holding your hand through it. Your head falls back against the exam chair and your eyes burn with tears.

You leave the office with a pamphlet on fetal growth restriction, potential causes and side-effects. It might not be that, she tells you, some babies are just smaller and that’s just fine. They just want to keep a close eye on you these last few weeks. Early delivery is a possibility.

You’re dialing the number out of pure instinct. Flowing tears, running to Mommy — there’s a natural link there. Some kind of hardwired impulse, probably. Chest heaving, blinking back searingly hot tears, you listen to it ring and ring. It’s just a Wednesday morning, maybe she’s at the office. It just keeps on ringing.

Bradley frowns as he listens to the busy dial tone, pulling back and checking his phone. You’d promised to call him when you got out of the appointment. He checks down at his watch. Maybe Jake got a couple of minutes to call you. He has to be back in class. He texts you that he’ll catch you at home and turns.

If his mind were clearer, he might have noticed the stare on him as he turned. The familiar blue eyes, blown wide open. Maverick pales at the sight of the boy at the end of the hallway. Familiar sandy brown curls, a brief look at Bradley’s face. The mustache he had been trying to grow when Mav saw him last has grown in now. Maverick swallows.

He hasn’t seen this kid in almost two years. Not a single phone call or text. He hadn’t even known where Bradley was living after he moved out of the house in Norfolk. And now he’s here, standing at the end of a hallway in a random Navy base that Mav wasn’t even supposed to be at this week. Dressed in his khakis, he’s a kind of familiar that makes Pete Mitchell’s stomach churn.

“Bradley?”

…

@chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @marvel-f1-and-more @heli991113 @pauv-0414 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm334 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlovq @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutfordw

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #my future in you #top gun: maverick #top gun smut

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

so i keep referencing the What Broke Delirium essay i plan to write but never actually writing it, so let's dig into that one!

because. sandman does not spoonfeed information. neil gaiman even said this in regards to the tv show, most shows are written these days under the assumption that audiences aren't really paying attention and need things spelled out for them - but sandman is not one of those shows. you gotta notice everything to get the full story

which honestly i love in many ways because it's part of why i'm never gonna run out of sandman essays to write - every time i reread the comics or rewatch the show i catch something new

and this is one of the first hidden bits of info i caught - remember this spread from overture?

it's a fucking gorgeous page and one of my favourite in the entire sandman run, both for the pretty art and the content itself (i love delirium SO much)

but let's just zoom in on the center of those flowers for a sec

because there's tiny tiny text written inside them

(for anyone who can't parse that, the first says "delight was sad", the second says "delight went mad")

now i've mentioned in many of my posts before that the endless all struggle to experience their own aspect, they are that thing, it exists for the most part out of their reach, and that causes problems for all of them

but i usually leave delirium out of these explanations

and that's because, for whatever reason, delirium is the opposite. and delight was too. i don't know what it is that makes her different, but while her older siblings all seem to be barred from their own domain by nature (or have to go to great lengths to experience it), del is too much of it. she's utterly absorbed by it. and while i think she's learned over the centuries how to be a bit more flexible (she understands the coins have two sides thing better than any of them, and can be lucid when she needs to), she didn't start out that way

we don't know what it is exactly that broke her. but we know why.

she had spent all of her life as the personification of happiness and joy, and someone who embodied those emotions. she appeared most as a little kid as delight, because kids definitely find it a lot easier to stay in that perpetually excited, happy mindset

but nothing stays that way forever. and this is where she is like her siblings, and why she's so familiar with the coin metaphor - when you're missing a fundamental piece of being human (either by being barred from your aspect or by being absorbed by it), that's not sustainable. it will tear you apart. dream refuses to accept that this is the case, and that breaks him. desire is equally stubborn about it, and they've outright admitted (in narration) that they're hanging on by a fucking thread

but death figured it out, when she realised she couldn't fulfill her function properly without learning what it was like to live. destruction figured it out when he ran away to go create. and delirium figured it out the hard way, because as soon as the world got a little too big for her singular aspect to make sense, it shattered

and it shattered slowly

there may have been some form of inciting incident, but she didn't become delirium overnight. i think a lot about her describing it as "growing up, or at least growing older", because that's both a very mature way to look at it and also an extremely tragic way to look at it, the idea that she knows too much, is never going to see the world the same way again, and that means delight is never coming back

(and that realisation is when she stopped presenting as a child and started presenting as a teenager)

and i think for a while, early days of being delirium, not delight, she didn't know what to do with that. delight broke into scattered pieces and the more fell away the harder it became to connect them

but she's also the only one of her siblings who's picked herself up from that. and it's why she's the wisest of them. because from there she learned

okay, so her innocence is gone. so delight isn't coming back. but there's still parts of her around, if delirium ever needs them. and the more she observes about the world, the more she experiences, the more different pieces she gets to add to the puzzle. they don't fit together, but that's del's real strength - they're not supposed to. she could have tried to reassemble herself piece by piece, like gluing together a broken statue, but why would she do that? then she'd be exactly as breakable as before, if not more so

instead she's more of a floating amalgamation of pieces, or rather, she's the ties between them. and because there's no set puzzle, she can put those pieces together in any order. she's no longer susceptible to the same problems as her siblings, because she's not missing anything anymore. she didn't lose parts of herself when becoming delirium, she gained some

and yes, no one is entirely without flaw - her downside is she's still susceptible to strong emotion, and when that overwhelms her mind she stops being any kind of person, we just see that floating amalgamation, until she can calm down. but that's the worst of it. her siblings may see her as broken, but she's more whole than she ever was as delight. and she's never going to break again

#hi have i mentioned i love her i love her #sandman comic spoilers #delirium of the endless #mine #meta #the sandman

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello,

Is there any way you could translate Samatoki's newest solo, Rinka/Blue Flame? I've been looking for a translation everywhere, but cannot seem to find one.

Best regards and thank you very much.

Oh my God I am desperate slug-san, please please pleaaasee tell me you know where to find a translation of Samatoki's Rinka/Blue Flame!! OTL I was so surprised a translator wasn't already linked in the wiki which is where I usually look first & then I couldn't find anything by searching on twitter or google or tumblr and I just really wanna know what his song is about!! T°T I can't believe I found a translation of Honobono's song but not of Samatoki's song?? I must be doing sth wrong.. Help :')

Hey slug-san! A follow-up of the Rinka/Blue Flame message. I've searched some more, and I think there's actually no translation of it so far anywhere.. T~T Would you be willing to translate it? A standard/literal translation with a lil clean-up like you did with Akuma no Hana would be totally alright!! Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to engage with Hypmic in a way the official creators haven't made possible yet! :D <3

Sure. Under a cut for length.

I'm running at a speed faster than grief, going so fast I leave even the smallest bad feelings behind me. I spit on my dead-end future, spit in the dirty puddles. Now I'm clinging to the guardrail, tears tracing scribbled lines down my cheeks. I bet it looks pretty comical. C'mon, laugh at me, why don't you? Let's start somewhere around the unhappy ending. Why not? Works for me. The clear, blue sky waits for sunset; but to hell with that. I don't need that crap! Let's do whatever we damn well please, here in this vacant city. Just the thought of them makes me light up a cigarette. Look, I don't wanna tell people we gotta fight each other to get what we want. I just think we have to, because there's things out there that're worth keeping safe. There's a stray dog baying at the rain streaking down the glass, and that SOB won't shut up. Hey, fuck your umbrella. Who needs that kinda crap? Throw it away and let the rain drench you too. The beat's entrenched in my soul, a stupid requiem for this unfair world we live in, lying on its sickbed. C'mon, get in there and pay your respects to it. You don't have the time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You know lashing out's the answer, right? You'll be okay. And I'm not gonna tell you you're running from your responsibilities. So c'mon. Quit your sniveling and come ride with me. The brakes don't work; those emotions never get any slower. And we're burning ourselves out, but don't let that stop you from coming along with me for the ride. Ride with me through thick and thin. Ride with me all the way to the grave.

A few final notes:

Sunset is a metaphor for melancholy. When Samatoki rejects that in the third verse, he's rejecting sitting through his feelings of loss. He uses this image again later in the line I wrote as "sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The gender and plurality of the "them" Samatoki thinks about isn't specified. While it's most likely referring to his family, the verse immediately afterward sounds like a direct reference to Ichirou and Samatoki battling to save their siblings in the TDD breakup.

"We're burning ourselves out" could also be written like "We're burning ourselves down to ash" which connects with the cigarette image.

Given the prevalence of stray dogs in hardboiled/yakuza fiction and their recurrence as an image in Samatoki's other raps, the stray dog should be understood to be Samatoki himself.

#hypmic translations

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 26

26. Tentacles, Demons/Angels, Crying

You love it when they get their wings out.

It’s such a quiet affectionate thing, a little secret only the three of you share. Especially because both of them go absolutely feral when you dig your hands in their feathers. It’s so delicious to know what drives them wild, and be allowed to touch them so intimately.

At the moment you’re between them on the bed. You’re kneeling, cushioned by the soft duvet, and they’ve enclosed around either side of you. Their wings are out in a deferential and protective cocoon. Here, trapped between their gorgeous bodies, it feels like you’re the only three people in the world.

You kiss Aziraphale as Crowley lines up and presses inside of you. You hum against your angel’s lips as your demon begins to thrust, the head of his cock grazing over and over against that sweet spot delicious nestled in your velvety walls. He drops his lips to your shoulder; you can feel him mouthing ‘fuck’ and ‘i love you’ without him even having to raise his voice.

You reach out and caress one of his primaries. You feel his breath hitch, his Adam's apple bob against your skin. The feather is silky against your fingertips. You skim up and down it and watch the way his wings bristle in anticipation as you get a little higher with each stroke. Finally you touch his alula, and his knees threaten to give out.

“Oh, fuck me, nightingale–”

It seems like a funny pet name to have at this precise moment, but you’ve come to love it all the same. Aziraphale smiles adoringly at the two of you, as you slowly creep Crowley towards the edge. He cups your face in one of his hands, uses his other to guide the blunt head of his cock towards your hole too. It takes a bit of shifting and a delicious stretch to fit both of them inside but god is it worth it.

“There we are, darling,” he mutters, voice thick with lust as he starts to give gentle thrusts inside you. His cock nudges Crowley’s and, between your fingers in his wing and the feeling of his lovers against and around him, you feel your demon release in hot spurts inside you. You feel it dripping out of you, sinfully, onto the bedsheets.

Aziraphale keeps fucking you from where he has you held as Crowley collapses against your back, boneless and spent - you move your caressing touch to the angel’s wings now. He gasps and groans as you walk them across his shoulder blade and along to his scapula.

“There we go,” you chuckle, gently scratching the little downy feathers there. They’re so fluffy and sweet - a stark contrast to the rest of his wing which is solidly built and powerful. You scratch affectionately until you feel the soft skin beneath. 

“Oh gosh, oh…” he moans, fucking up inside you in time with your strokes. His wings begin to shudder involuntarily as you massage them and then, suddenly, flip out to their full length as he comes. He knocks a couple of lamps off their shelves but, honestly, you can fix those later. The feeling of their combined orgasms is enough to beckon your own and the three of you collapse into the bed, sated, interlocked, and loving.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #avo’s kt 23

[abbyromanoff]

Hi love <3 how are you?

Can I request gp Nat x pregnant R where they are both so horny for each other all the time. Like, nat having a huge breeding kink and loving to see her wife pregnant and r getting turned on any time she sees nat (because of the hormones) and nat absolutely loving to please r so they end up fucking all the time. They live in the compound with the others, tho, so the rest of the team hasn't had a peaceful night of sleep in so long and they're all so grumpy while r is always the most cheerful and peaceful person in the world because she gets pleased so well by nat (whose needs are certainly satisfied but who's still so physically tired from all the sex)

Horny

Pairings: g!p Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: You and Nat have been insatiable for one another ever since your pregnancy, everyone hates it.

Word count: 1696

Warnings: smut, mentions of blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v sex, Nat has a dick, reader is pregnant, slight voureyism

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

When you awoke out of your peaceful slumber you were immediately greeted with the sight of your beloved wife. Her hair was slightly messy and her hand rested upon your stomach still, something she liked to do as she stated it would help build a better bond with the baby. Light snores came out of her kissable mouth and you leaned in to cuddle up against her, the same position you two fell asleep in that night.

When you felt something poking you, you looked down only to see her morning wood strained against her boxers, you wondered if she was dreaming about you. An idea popped into your head as you slowly lowered yourself near her crotch, leaving light kisses on the way. The two of you were fine with taking the other in their sleep, in fact you guys often surprised the other with it, this was one of those times.

When you pulled down her undergarments you were met with her length leaking pre-cum, you could’ve moaned at the sight. Using your tongue you licked up from her base to the tip, wrapping your mouth around the head. When you heard a groan it only encouraged you to go down further, taking her down halfway. It wasn’t exactly easy to suck her off considering that she was about seven inches and pretty girthy, but you still managed. You were obsessed with her cock, you always wanted it in you. Whether it was in your mouth, pussy, ass, on your tits, really anywhere you adored. Due to your hormones you were unbelievably horny, of course you were obviously often horny before your pregnancy but it’s outrageous at this point. There wasn’t a single day that went by when you guys weren’t fucking. The team was sick of it, they haven’t had good sleep since then. Sometimes they’d even walk in on you two in the kitchen or the living room, it wasn’t even shocking at this point. Even though you’d feel bad for them, you couldn’t help your addiction to your wife’s cock. The thought of it alone made you wet.

She muttered your name in her sleep before finally opening her eyes, looking only to find you under the covers. She relaxed as she let the pleasure overtake her.

“Good morning guys, how are you?” Your pitchy self wasn’t a shocker to them, most people who are pregnant are moody but having Nat to always fulfill your needs made it impossible for you to be upset.

“Horrible thanks to you two, again.” The last words were whispered under his breath, but you could still hear it. You frowned until Nat walked up behind you, surprising you with a large hug that lifted you off the floor. Resting her head on your shoulder she rubbed your belly and kissed up your neck to your ear, whispering something that made you blush. The others groaned once again, they were sick of seeing you two being all lovey dovey, especially since it made most of them realize how single they were.

“Do you have to do that in front of us? It’s bad enough we have to hear it every night, and morning, and usually afternoon.” Nat laughed before grabbing the coffee you made for her, giving a peck to your lips before responding.

“You know what Bucky, how about you go find someone to love for once. It’s not like any of you have what we have anyways, jealous motherfuckers.” Her last two words were muttered into her black coffee but you could still hear it. The man scoffed before heading to the gym as Nat wrapped your arms around her neck and put hers on your hips. She danced slowly with you even with no music, neither of you cared that the others could see you clearly.

“Love you so much baby and baby junior.” “And I love you too, mommy.” She bit her lip at the title and you laughed at her actions. The others rolled their eyes while some even fake gagged, Nat flipped them off as you two were leaving.

“So I was thinking, what if I went to work out with you today?” You asked once you two got back to your shared room, Nat in the walk in closet picking out her clothing.

“I thought I told you after the first trimester you weren’t allowed to lift anything heavy or do any working out, you’re in your third trimester babe.” “I don’t mean to actually lift or do anything like that but I want to watch you. You know how much I love seeing your sexy body all sweaty and hot.” The woman walked up to you and grabbed your chin, leaning in to give you a kiss that slowly escalated. She pushed you onto the bed lightly and rested her hands next to your head.

“How about we go to the gym after I fuck you?” You giggled at her words before undid your pants, rubbing your stomach before going down on you.

“Look who finally showed up.” Steve said when noticing you and Nat walk into the gym, a half an hour late.

“Sorry we had a bit of a…detour.” You hid your face in embarrassment and Steve grimaced not wanting to picture what you both were doing.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Nat gave you a kiss goodbye and you sat watching her, getting even more turned on seeing her muscles flexing.

By the time she finished Steve was on the ground as Nat was holding him down, he finally tapped out. When she graciously walked over to you she grabbed your face and leaned in to kiss you, obviously knowing the effect she had over you the whole time.

“Come join me in the showers.” She whispered against your lips and grabbed your arms, rushing to the locker room to turn on the water. She pushed you against the wall, being careful not to hurt you or the baby. You arched into her as her lips went down your chest, ripping your shirt in half to suck on your hard nipples. When the water was warm enough she brought you in the curtain covered square, stripping the both of you quickly. She bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood and moaned at the taste, kinky bitch. You felt her cock prodding at your hole, she didn’t even have to put it in for you to feel her throbbing pink tip wanting your warmth.

“Can I just slip inside you baby? I want to feel you clenching around me.” You nodded quickly, you’re surprised your head didn’t fall off. She smiled and slammed herself inside, your earlier events making it easy to slide in. You threw your head back as the water dripped down the two of you, if anyone were to see you guys they’d question if they’re in a porno.

She started with a brutal pace knowing you could take it, you loved it when she was rough with you. After you found out about the baby she quickly started being soft with you, it took four months before she could actually start fucking you normally again.

She focused on giving you pleasure, using one hand to rub your clit and using her mouth on your tits. You were a moaning mess, pushing her face more into your chest. She sucked your hardened nipples as you grasped her biceps in your hands.

“Oh baby, you feel so good. I wish I could just be inside you forever.” Everything became too much, her cock pounding into you mercisly, her hand stimulating your swollen clit, her mouth on your sensitive nipples, you couldn’t hold back anymore and came all over her, coating her throbbing cock with your release.

“Such a good girl you are, cumming all over me. I’m gonna fill you up real good and watch as my cum just trickles down your thigh.” The moment she finished speaking her load shot inside of you, her body stilling for a moment as her mouth is left wide open in a silent moan. She rested her head on your shoulder, clearly becoming exhausted.

When she slowly started to pull out she kneeled on the shower floor and kissed from your inner thighs to your heat. She licked the juices that had trailed down your thigh and moved all the way up to your wet folds. You quickly realized what she was going to do and threw your head back, feeling her lick a long stripe up your cunt. She moaned into you as she could taste your juices combined with her own. Moving from your tight hole she sucked on your clit, holding down your legs as they shook.

“Natty! ‘M sensitive.” You whimpered out, already feeling that heat in your lower stomach.

“It’s okay baby, you can take it, I know you can.” She attached herself back to your clit as you let go, coating her tongue with your cum. You yelled out her name as she licked you up. Trying to push her head away she refused, not wanting to waste a drop of you. Although, she finally gave in and let you have a break, turning off the water she rushed you both back into clothes before anyone could see you. You both heard footsteps coming towards you and turned to see Wanda blocking her eyes quickly.

“Oh! Oh my god! Put some fucking clothes on! Were you guys seriously having sex in the showers again?” You both ran out before giving a response, heading up to your room and laying on the bed the moment you entered. After a few minutes of giggles being shared you turned hearing slight snores.

“Nat? Are you awake?” When you didn’t receive a response you grabbed her a blanket, wrapping her up before giving a kiss to her forehead. She was probably tired from all the ‘activities’ today, you didn’t blame her, you were just as tired. You cuddled up to the redhead and felt her arm instinctively wrap around your stomach, something she always did to protect you and the baby.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natahsa romanoff #natasha smut #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fluff #anon request #anonymous #black widow fluff #black widow smut #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #black widow

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 15

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca. 

AN: This story lives!!! Lol I'll try to be more consistent about finishing the last few chapters on this story for those who are still following it.

ASIG Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Warnings: 18+ for some spiciness, angst.

15: Schemes & Lies

Three months after Butcher and Helena each accepted job offers, they had developed a kind of rhythm. On days like today, when he was home and actually woke beside her in bed, their mornings could afford to be lazy.

She woke to his hand slipping under her shirt as he moved in closer behind her. His bare chest met her back, and she felt his warmth. She had to stifle a smile, though her eyes remained closed while another hand brushed her dark hair away from her neck and pressed a nipping kiss just under her ear. His beard prickled along her skin.

“You can stop pretending you’re asleep,” he rumbled.

A real smile crept across her face as his fingers danced tantalizingly between her breasts. She breathed in deep and hummed with a little stretch, as if she were just waking up.

She gave herself away by purposefully rubbing her ass against his growing length. It earned a grunt from him, followed by a chuckle.

“All right, you fucking asked for it,” said Butcher.

Helena giggled and turned her head to accept a kiss. But before the morning could well and truly kick off, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

They paused. She was the first to sigh and let her hand fall away from where it had begun to sift through his short hair.

“That’s you, babe,” she said.

“I know,” came his surly reply. Her amused smile returned while she watched him twist away to reach for the phone. He answered it without getting out of bed.

Predictably, it was Hughie. Supe Affairs had another case for him, Kimiko, and Frenchie. Some telekinetic supe was robbing stores without even entering the building.

By the time he hung up, Helena was ready for what her boyfriend was about to say when he sat up in bed and turned to her.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

She nodded and laid a hand on his chest. “Be safe.”

He briefly covered her hand and nodded. He hesitated for a moment, but he leaned over and pressed a parting kiss to her hairline.

Then, they each got out of bed to start the day. Butcher eventually left after freshening up and getting dressed, with a to-go mug filled with a fresh batch of Cuban coffee. When his car peeled out of the driveway, heading for the city, Helena saw that the coast was clear.

She got dressed for “work,” and she drove in the opposite direction—a couple of hours upstate. She sent a text each to both Grace and Ryan. By the time Helena got to the safe house, Ryan was already hanging out in the front yard waiting for her.

He ran up to her with a solid hug that almost bowled her over, but she accepted it with a laugh.

“Hey, buddy,” she greeted, carding her fingers warmly through his hair. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ but the rent,” Ryan joked. She’d taught him that one when they were jamming out to ‘90s music while cooking dinner together last week.

“Damn right,” Helena grinned. She walked him inside, where Grace had been watching her charge from the front windows.  

“I need to run some errands. Are you all right here with him?” Grace asked. Helena nodded.

“Yeah, for sure,” she replied, before looking over at Ryan. “What’re we doing today? Trivial Pursuit, Sudoku, a movie?”

Ryan thought about it. Then he gave a smile that was all Becca.

“All three?” he suggested, and also implored with those big blue eyes.

Helena chuckled. This time, she ruffled his hair. “Okay, Sudoku and a movie first. Let’s pick one out.”

An hour later, they were nearly done with Jurassic Park: The Lost World when Ryan turned to Helena on the couch. A big bowl of popcorn was nestled between them, and their Sudoku booklets were long ago filled out. She’d have to bring more challenging ones next time.

“Can I ask you something?” said Ryan.

Helena nodded and paused the movie. “Shoot.”

“If you’re…together, why don’t you just come with Billy when he visits?” he asked.

She sighed; she’d thought she went over this already. “It’s not because I don’t want him to know I’m hanging out with you. It’s because this is important to me. The work I do with Grace is also important to me, but he’d rather I do something else… Billy wants me to be safe, but sometimes, I have to take risks in order to make a difference. Just like he’s doing with Supe Affairs.”

This was her conviction, and she couldn’t feel guilty about what she was doing, only that she was lying to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ryan said, his brows furrowing. “Are you doing something wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I’m keeping it from him. But I don’t regret spending time with you, or working with Grace,” Helena replied. “Ryan, it’s natural to want to protect the people you care about. Like your mom. She made a lot of sacrifices to protect you, and that wasn’t wrong either.”

Ryan seemed to digest that, while Helena’s mind continued to churn. It had taken her a while to understand Becca’s choices, but if Helena could already feel this much of a desire to watch over Ryan and protect him, then she could only imagine what Becca had felt. Every day Helena spent with her best friend’s son was both a blessing and a curse: it reminded her of Becca, in the best and worst of ways.

She could also see him thinking, with that sad frown of his. It broke Helena’s heart, if she was honest. So she scooted over on the couch and tugged him into her side. He went willingly, resting against her when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his back.

“But just so you know, I don’t come to see you because I have to,” she said. “I think we’ve got a good thing going here, don’t you?”

Ryan smiled, and he nodded before glancing up at her. “Can you tell me another story about her?”

“Hmm.” Helena searched through the archives of her brain. “Okay, we were in high school—”

A knock at the door interrupted her. Her entire body tensed.

“Ryan, go to your room. Don’t come out unless I tell you to, okay?” she said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but seeing her serious gaze, he nodded and got up to heed her instruction. Helena grabbed the gun Grace had told her was hidden under the coffee table, and cautiously she went to the front door and looked through the peephole.

She relaxed, expelling a breath. Fuck.

“It’s okay, Ryan!” she called back, and she opened the door to one Billy Butcher.

His dark brows rose a fraction, the surprise evident in his eyes. He nearly dropped the new Connect 4 game he held.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked.

Helena sighed and pushed the door open. “Nice greeting. Come in.”

Butcher grasped her arm and leaned in. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryan coming, but he still made a point to say lowly in her ear.

“You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do, Hel.” His tone was cheeky, but it held an undercurrent of serious that she recognized well.

“We’ll hash it out at home. Don’t make a scene in front of Ryan,” she replied. She caught sight of Grace’s car pulling back into the driveway. “I’ll head out first.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Ryan with a hug (all the while ignoring Butcher’s eyes on her), Helena took her leave and started the long drive back home.

Butcher watched her go through the window. And when Grace entered the house, his grouch look let her know that they’d be having words.

He spent the better part of the afternoon catching up with Ryan and playing their new game. But when the kid finally went upstairs for a shower before the dinner Grace was cooking, Butcher cornered her in the kitchen.

“You’ve got some mighty fucking nerve, don’tcha?” he said.

Grace shot him a roll of her eyes. “Come off it, Butcher.”

“You should’ve fucking told me,” he said hotly. “You didn’t just let her back into the game. You pushed her right into the bloody center.”

Grace stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce to level him with a glare.

“Your actions have consequences,” she said coolly. “You could’ve left Helena well enough alone, and let her put Homelander, and all of Vought out of her mind. You are the one who can’t let go.” 

Butcher later found Helena back at her house. She had showered and dressed into one of her old college shirts, faded and rung smaller in the wash, and some skimpy shorts. If she was trying to distract him, she’d have to work a bit harder than that. (Though the sight of her, bare legs and braless, did catch his eye.)  

He turned off the TV while she was watching the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off and looked down on her with a face of stone. She curbed her inclination to spark off first.

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you—”

“That’s the least of it,” Butcher snapped. “I don’t need you stepping into my business—”

“Excuse me,” she said tersely, and she pushed off the couch to meet his tense stance. “Ryan isn’t just your business. Becca was like a sister to me. You and I both know that she wanted her son taken care of.”

“Grace and I have it covered,” Butcher argued.

“Ryan would be lucky to see you once a month,” she countered. “And Grace can’t watch him every second of the day. Besides, he needs more than that. He needs as many friends and socialization as we can give him—”

“And what happens if Homelander finds him someday,” he reminded. “What the fuck happened to laying low?”

Helena made a sound of frustration and threw up her hands.

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just can’t do some stupid fucking data entry job,” she said. “I’ve been in this too long. And apparently, so have you.”  

Butcher didn’t have an answer for her.

So he left, and slammed the door behind him.

Helena didn’t know this, because Butcher screened his calls for the next two days. But he drove back into the city after seeing a text from Queen Maeve, of all people, on his latest burner phone.

He rented a by-the-hour motel for the express purpose of doing business. She had been giving him intel on rogue supes for months, acting as his undisclosed informant.

Tonight, she met him there with a few samples of Vought’s latest R&D project: V24. Supposedly, it gave someone superpowers for just 24 hours.

Why? Well, maybe it would give Butcher the edge he needed to end Homelander, once and for all.

But the pièce de resistance of that conversation was her latest tip: a weapon that could possibly kill Homelander, like it killed America’s first superhero.

Soldier Boy.

Helena was in a silently simmering rage when she got ahold of Frenchie over the phone. She paced the length of her living room. 

“I’m only going to ask this once, and I don’t want any bullshit, Frenchie,” she said. “Where is he?”

The other man gave a nervous chuckle. “Why’re you trying so hard to find Monsieur Charcutier?”

She paused; no one on the team, not even M.M. knew that she and Butcher were together. She made up an excuse on the fly.

“It’s about Ryan,” she said. “I’ve been helping Grace with a few projects, including his safety detail.”

“Truth be told, I haven’t seen him in a few days,” Frenchie admitted. “But, the last time he was here, he mentioned something about finding a supe named Gunpowder.”

Gunpowder? The name rung a bell, but not much of one.

“Why?” she asked. Frenchie heaved a sigh, but he eventually told her about Butcher’s latest plan (obsession)—finding the weapon that might’ve killed Soldier Boy forty years ago.

Helena hung up with Frenchie and made yet another call.

“Yes?” Grace answered.

“What do you know about Soldier Boy’s death?” Helena asked, in a tone that said she had no time and patience for any runaround.

There was a pause on the line.

Soon enough, however, Grace’s shrewd voice returned.

“I know he’s dead,” she said. “Whatever Butcher’s after this time, he’s chasing a ghost story.”

Helena wanted to believe that was true, but she had spent her entire career reading people. Reading a room, hearing the unspoken in what they said. And she had an inkling that her new boss was lying her ass off. 

Not even 24 hours after that conversation, Grace called Helena to ask for her help…and to drop a bomb.

“What the fuck? Victoria Neuman’s a supe?” she exclaimed, but soon covered her mouth, as if anyone could hear her in the privacy of her big empty house.

“It’s worse than that,” Grace sighed. She then explained that Hughie had seen her explode a man who knew her before she became Victoria Neuman. She’d been adopted from an orphanage as a child…by Stan Edgar, of all people.

Helena sat down hard on the living room couch and rubbed at her already aching head.

“And I fucking made her head of Supe Affairs,” Grace said. In her tone, Helena knew the woman was kicking herself.

“She knows where Ryan is?” Helena asked.

“Yes. I’ve already organized his relocation. Meet me at the following address, but don’t write it down.” 

Helena had a better photographic memory than she did an audible one, but she still remembered the numbers and street to the letter.

As always, Ryan was happy to see her. He came bounding to her when she got out of her car. Grace came out as well.

This house was old and situated on the verge of forest, virtually in the middle of nowhere, and cold and dreary with large gray clouds looming above.

“What’s the plan?” Helena asked Grace, after the three of them headed inside. Ryan showed Helena where the kitchen was so she could start making some tea; she needed something to calm her nerves.

“This is safe, for now, but we’ll need to keep moving,” said Grace. “It’s up to you whether you want to come with us.”

The unspoken second choice was staying at home, where Helena was most likely safer. At this point, if she were to keep visiting Grace and Ryan, she could potentially put his safety in jeopardy.

They had to assume Victoria had told Stan Edgar what she knew about Ryan’s first safe house. The fact that Homelander hadn’t come barging in for a year told them that either Victoria or Stan had kept the information to themselves (a small blessing). But Ryan had been even more exposed than they thought.

Helena watched Ryan carefully pour the hot water from the kettle into each of the mugs. She spoke lowly with Grace, even though they both knew that the child’s superior hearing would likely pick up on whatever they said.

“I don’t want to leave him,” Helena whispered.

“You have to think of what’s best for him,” Grace replied.

“I am,” Helena returned. “He needs us. All of us. Even Billy.”

Especially Billy, she thought.

Helena and Grace continued to go over the pros and cons of her continuing to make her visits to Ryan, but Helena was surprised when Grace answered a text with a frustrated sigh.

“Butcher’s coming,” she said.

“What? Now?” Helena said. Both hope and anger trilled through her. She hadn’t heard from him in a week, and now he was swooping in?

Well, she doubted he knew she would be here, to be fair.

An hour or so later, she was proven right. Butcher drove up with Kimiko, Hughie (who strangely had his right arm in a cast), and even M.M. They were just as surprised to see Helena, though they watched the scene unfolding between her and Butcher as they stared at one another with tension.

It didn’t break, even when Ryan came to all but tackle Butcher with a hug.

“Ooh,” Butcher grunted, hiding a frisson of pain as he hugged the kid back. “Easy does it, lad. Bloody death grip you got there.”

Ryan backed off slightly with concern. He’d noticed the same thing Helena did, apparently.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Butcher said with an easy smile. He patted the kid’s shoulder and began to lead him inside. Though his eyes met Helena’s as he passed her. They both knew they didn’t want to make a scene in front of Ryan.

But pulled him aside into the hall before he could have whatever tete-a-tete he wanted to have with Grace. Helena smacked him on the chest, making him flinch.

“Ey!” he protested, but she leveled a finger at him.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” Helena hissed. “You go radio silence on me for a week. I have to find out from Frenchie about your latest batshit crazy fucking scheme to end Homelander.”

Butcher’s teeth clenched in frustration, but he grasped her arm gently.

“Look, we can hash this out all you want later. But we’ve both got some fucking work to do here,” he said.

Helena shrugged his hand off her arm. “That’s no apology. Until you’re ready for that, I guess we have nothing to discuss.”

She turned on her heel and went into the room where Grace and the others were waiting, save for Kimiko, who was keeping an eye on Ryan in the backyard.

Butcher sighed and followed Helena into the large study. Helena stood by Grace with her arms crossed. Hughie stood opposite with M.M., who looked between Butcher and Helena shrewdly.

“Aw, hell nah,” he said.

Hughie’s brows drew together in confusion. “What?”

M.M. sighed and cast a finger between the simmering Helena and the tense shoulders of Butcher.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “How long’ve you two been fucking?”

Helena’s eyes widened, while Butcher’s went heavenward.

“Here we fuckin’ go,” he muttered.

“It’s not,” Helena tried to speak, with stops and false starts that had her blushing. “It’s not exactly like that.”

M.M. tilted his head and crossed his arms. “Yeah? What’s it like?”

“For Christ’s sake,” Butcher said.

“Whoa, what?” Hughie interjected.

“Can we please just,” Grace tried, but Helena finally raised her voice to cut over everyone.

“It’s a thing, okay! We’re together,” she said, though she sent Butcher a glare. “Though at the moment, that remains to be seen.”

A pregnant pause filled the room.

Hughie managed to utter, “Uh...how long’s this been going on?”

Helena sighed. “About a year.”

M.M. blinked in surprise, though it didn’t shock him to see that Grace clearly knew. He shook his head.

“Interesting.”

“Right, can we get back to the matter at hand?” Grace said. “Victoria Neuman. I’d very much like to hear the plan to eliminate her.”

“Well, that depends,” Butcher said. His hands slid into his pockets as he turned to her. “On what you can tell us about your holiday, down in Nicaragua.”

What? Helena thought. She turned to Grace with a frown.

“I’ve never been to Nicaragua,” said the agent.

“Oh really? ‘Cause a little birdy told me you were Payback’s case officer down there, on a classified job that Soldier Boy never came back from.”

The other woman tried to deny she knew anything about what Butcher was talking about…but after he threatened to expose all of her contacts and agents in the CIA, both active and inactive. Helena looked at Butcher incredulously, wondering where his soul had gone to.

He avoided her gaze and remained steady on Grace. This was how he got results.

“It was part of Operation Charly,” Grace eventually admitted, though through her disgust at Butcher.

To Helena’s further surprise, Grace admitted to participating in a secret CIA operation in 1984 for the Cold War efforts against the Russians. In which the CIA trafficked cocaine into the U.S. to fund the government’s efforts.

And Vought American, led by a young Stan Edgar, leveraged enough political power to try partnering their team of supes with American soldiers. Their team was Payback, led by Soldier Boy, Vought’s first superhero.

Helena had been a records keeper, among other things. She knew Soldier Boy’s story all too well. His backstory had been carefully crafted: a “rags to riches” story that framed a poor young kid from hard knocks into taking the world’s first super serum in 1944. He’d led his own unit in World War II, fighting against the Nazis and for the American dream.

His entire career had been tickertape parades, shitty movies, and even a few cheesy music videos that had been chart toppers in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Helena had seen them all. And she’d come to learn, just as well, that they’d been completely fabricated.

Now, she had to listen to Grace tell her story. About how the cast of Payback had fucked up the entire mission.

But Butcher paused her story halfway through, looking pale and almost green as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. Helena frowned. She held a waiting hand up at Grace and went to follow him.

She heard the flush of a toilet, more than once, after the sounds of his upheaval. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed when Butcher finally emerged. He stopped short, meeting her gaze. In his, she saw that his eyes were red and glossy. His skin was ashen and dewy with sweat. She could faintly smell chemicals on him. Her head tilted.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“‘M fine, Hel.”

“Nope. Try again.” She stepped into his orbit and looked up at his face. This didn’t look like a bad burrito or a stomach bug. This looked worse. Like withdrawal. “Oh my God. Are you on something?”

Butcher looked away from her. She grasped his trench coat and made him look at her.

“What the hell is going on with you? Jesus, Billy. Talk to me,” she pleaded. “When were you going to tell me about this Soldier Boy thing?”

Again, he didn’t want to seem to answer her. Her lips pursed.

“Look, I know you’ve got M.M. and the rest of the guys. But weren’t you and I in this together?” she asked.

Butcher made the mistake of looking into her eyes. There, he couldn’t lie.

“It’s temp. V. Or uh…V24,” he said.

Helena’s eyes went wide as her mouth fell open. “Oh my fucking…Billy.”

V24 was the last R&D project she heard about before she quit her job at Vought. She knew all too well what it was.

“Finally gives me the chance to level the fucking playing field,” he said. She grasped at his shirt.

“How the fuck did you get that? When I left, it was still in preliminary testing,” she said.

“Well, the mockups are a bit hairy, but it gets the fucking job done,” he said.

She let out an incredulous scoff, resting a hand on his pale cheek. “Clearly it isn’t without side effects.”

Butcher’s face was grim. “Small price to pay.”

Helena paused. Her expression dimmed from concern to shock, and then sadness. Her hand slowly fell from his cheek.

“You’re not going to stop,” she said shakily. “This vendetta you have against Homelander. You’re not gonna stop until you’re dead. Which means you’re giving up on us. On everything we have…or would’ve had.”

“Hel,” Butcher sighed. He tried to hold her, but she slipped away from his would-be embrace.

She shook her head, and tears welled up in her eyes. 

“You don’t really love me,” Helena realized, her lower lip trembling. “Either that, or you hate Homelander more.”

She didn’t give him a chance to touch her again. She walked away from him, down the hall and back into the room where Grace and the others were waiting. She scrubbed at her tears along the way.

Grace’s story culminated in Swatto giving away the CIA’s position. The cartel they were trying to avoid brought Russian special forces in as their allies.

A mass shootout ensued, in which all of Grace’s unit were massacred, and Soldier Boy had somehow been killed, his body taken far beyond the Iron Wall, along with whatever mystery weapon that could possibly kill an invulnerable supe.

Helena couldn’t help but see Grace in a new, more sour light. Yes, she’d been the sole survivor of a mass grave. But she had led an operation that had ruined the lives of thousands.

When Grace asked to speak to Butcher alone for a moment, Helena easily agreed. She needed a break from both of them. She left the room in disgust and joined M.M. on the porch outside. They watched Hughie join Kimiko in playing Connect 4 with Ryan.

“I’m sorry,” M.M. said. It earned her curious gaze. “I can’t even judge you for hooking up with Butcher, because I’m here now too.” 

She smiled faintly. Though a few minutes later, she frowned with a jolt as the front door slammed open. Out came Butcher, roiling mad. Grace was on his heels.

“What happened?” Hughie asked. He and Kimiko walked over with Ryan.

“We’re off,” Butcher snapped. He headed for his car without even looking their way. Ryan ran over to meet him.

“Butcher, wait up! Where-where’re you going?” he asked.

“The city,” Butcher spoke shortly. Helena got up to follow them. Worry churned in her gut, for both of them.

“When will I see you again?” asked Ryan.

“You won’t. Ain’t safe for you.” Butcher’s words were clipped, and none too gentle.

“Billy,” Helena tried to stop him. It took Ryan pushing at the man, showing a fraction of his super strength. It was clearly instinctual, born of desperation. But Helena saw the hint of wariness behind Butcher’s eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Ryan asked. Pleaded really, for an explanation, for some compassion. Butcher had seemed to be rung dry.

“I got to go,” he said.

That was when Ryan grabbed the man’s arm, with intentional strength. He huffed and puffed like he was on the verge of losing control.

“Ryan,” Helena warned, with worry in her eyes. She stepped up behind Butcher, who held out a protective hand against her coming closer.

“Ryan, let go,” Butcher said, with authority.

“No! You said you’d always watch out for me,” Ryan cried. “You promised!”

Butcher repeated himself, more firm, but still, the kid didn’t relent.

“I won’t let you!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look at ya, after what you done to my Becca. Did you ever think of that?” Butcher snapped.

Helena gaped. Her shock was almost as visceral as Ryan’s dismay. He let go of Butcher with tears already welling up in his eyes.

His eyes that flashed red.

Helena gasped this time. It led Butcher to subtly shift his stance, so he was standing directly in front of her. He already regretted his words, but his anger and his pride wouldn’t allow him to do anything more than watch for what Ryan would do.

With a blink, the red haze was gone, but he reached for the chain of the Christopher’s medal around his neck and yanked it off. He threw it at Butcher’s feet.

“I hate you,” he said, in a trembling voice. He ran back into the house.

 Butcher turned around to find that Helena also had tears unshed in her eyes. She trembled with both shock and a thread of wary fear. Before he could ask if she was all right, she looked up at him like she didn’t know him.

“How could you do that?” she asked. “He’s just a kid, Billy!”

He glanced down at the ground. His face told her that he knew she was right, but out of his mouth came more resigned assholery.

“Yeah, well, what else is fucking new,” he said. Helena scoffed angrily.  

“You’re more than this,” she said. “I don’t care what the hell Grace told you. You don’t have to be this man.”

He tilted his head at her.

“And what would you have me be? Prince bloody fucking Charming?” Butcher shot back. “You can babysit that kid all you want, but you ain’t his fuckin’ mum! You ain’t Becca.”

A shaking breath fell from Helena’s lips. She flinched as if he’d slapped her.

Butcher saw it all play out across her face: shock, dismay, and deep hurt. Her tears welled up once more and slid down her cheeks. Behind her, he saw M.M., Grace, Hughie, and Kimiko. All of them saw a monster in human clothing.

Rather than torture himself further by staring at her face, he looked away. And like a coward, he began to turn from her to head for his car.

“If you walk away from me, I’m done,” Helena said. She watched him halt in his steps. “I’ll be fucking done with you for real.”

His steps halted for a moment.

She saw that it wasn’t enough to hold him, however. Her tears continued to fall as she watched him walk away from her, and she glared at his back all the while.

She accepted murmured apologies from M.M. and Hughie, and a sad look from Kimiko as they left to continue their mission: their hunt for Soldier Boy.

Helena felt rooted to where she stood, until Grace laid a hand on her shoulder.

Both women eventually turned back to the house. Helena wiped at her tears and went upstairs to find Ryan’s door. She leaned against it and let out a breath.

“You want to talk?” she offered.

“Leave me alone!” came the angry reply. But she knew he was crying, that his heart was shattered.  

She knew the feeling.

AN: 😬 Sorry for ending on angst, but we're headed into the meat of S3 now...

Next Time:

Butcher makes a deal, and Helena finally meets Soldier Boy! 😜

Soldier Boy distracted Helena from her thoughts, however, when he reached out to thumb at her chin, raising her face up to his. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked. His head quirked slightly. 

“Helena.” She guided his hand away with her own, but in one smooth motion, he’d taken her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“The face that launched a thousand ships,” he teased. “I like it.”

“That was Helen,” she replied, subtly tugging her hand out of his. “You know, of Troy.”

But the bitch of the bunch was, she was actually blushing.

Keep Reading: PART 16

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@lauraaan182 @homielander @calizmor @haibara-ai-tsii @brujaporfavor @sleepyqueerenergy @adoringanakin @skyesthebomb @lunaticgurly @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso

@xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @emily-winchester @xxlaynaxx

#Schemes & Lies #and so it goes #part 15 #the boys #billy butcher #billy butcher x oc #butcher x oc #billy butcher x ofc #poc!oc #billy butcher x reader #Butcher x Latina!OC #karl urban #poc oc #latina!oc #mother's milk #hughie campbell #kimiko #zepskies writes

[perryavenue]

rainjoy Has A New Post. It's Personal

rainjoy is one of my favorite Klaine fanfic authors. Their first Klaine fanfic was published on LiveJournal in 2011, their last in 2021. Health issues have become more intense over time. Their most famous works, All The Other Ghosts and Grey, were published in 2012 and 2013. So those who've joined the fandom fairly recently may not even know about their other fics, the most recent one being from 2021. rainjoy has written Klaine in every genre: high school!Klaine, college!Klaine, married!Klaine, supernatural!Klaine, fantasy!Klaine, and even superhero!Klaine.

Here is a link to rainjoy's works on Live Journal

Here's a link for Dreamwidth

I hope that you'll help boost it by re-blogging. Thanks in advance, @klaineccfanficlibrary and @todaydreambelieversfic

This is rainjoy's post from today (October 27, 2023).

"Hello, I’m still alive.

Hello, I do mean it, hello anybody around to see this, I really hope you’ve been well, I’m sorry I haven’t been around, I *haven’t* been well. But I have, over a course of fucking months, actually written something, so I’m writing *this* here so I don’t need to leave a novel-length author’s note on it, as some kind of explanation of where I’ve been.

Largely, I’ve been in bed, I’m likely going there again after posting this, they need to invent new words for how tired I am so much of the time, my upgraded wheelchair is worth about as much as my *laptop*, my life revolves around Can I? Probably not. and lots and lots and lots of ‘resting’. I’ve not been well, but please don’t worry, I’ve not been unhappy. This is the golden age of being ill, the sheer quantity of stuff out there to amuse the bedbound – I have books and podcasts, all of Netflix, I practically live on Sky: Children of the Light, when I’m too dopey even for that I have Animal Crossing, when I am genuinely such a puddle of not-human lethargy that all I need is for time to pass until I feel just slightly better again I have videos of other people playing video games on YouTube and I’m sorry my darling baby moths I will pick you up and help you every single time but it will never not be funny watching someone go through Eden for the first time on YouTube, it just never will not make me laugh, oh my gods I’m so *sorry* my loves <3

So anyway, there’s all that, that’s where I’ve been, life really does not work out the way you planned it to, huh? Because outside of my bed, I know I have messages and emails and someone got a tattoo?? You got a tattoo and I’m just really sorry I haven’t been in touch, my energy has to be paid out like a miser, if I want to wash my hair then wow the world is really not getting anything else out of me, you know? But I am still here, and I do still love the things I love. I still think all of it is worth it. I think the world is a *lot* of fun, though I bear in mind that still, and always, we live through very frightening and distressing times. Which actually makes me think we need to cling to the things we love *more*, not less, love makes better people of us, when we let it.

So I did watch the new season of Good Omens when it came out, and safe to say I was not impressed, but it did jog in me the memory that didn’t I write a sequel to it? Yes I did, and it involved *all* that blood. But I reread it – it’s like reading a stranger’s writing after so long – and that jogged the memory: Didn’t you start a sequel to *this*?

Yes I did! Two thirds written, actually, hurrah for my past self. The last third took, I don’t know, when did the new season come out, it took that long. I used to sneeze out this sort of thing. This, now, is getting at my arms, it’ll be another lie down soon. But anyway, the point of all this: I live yet. In the next few days I *hope* I will be formatting and posting a sequel to But Thou Readst Black because of course everyone wants *that* back in their heads again, my gods. And I hope hope hope you’ve been well, I do think of people while I’m stuck doing nothing but pooling my brain out of my ears on YouTube. Look after yourselves, take care of each other, my gods you tattooed yourself I mean more power to you but it alarms me when things I make turn out to be *permanent*, you know? It feels like I barely touch the world anymore, my circumference has become so small, but it makes the world seem only more precious. Take good care of it, and of yourself as part of it. And very, very much love, to anyone remaining to see this, much love <3"

#rainjoy #klaine fanfic #rainjoys writing

[bahja-blix]

😐💀 A Dumbass Appeared (Ask Edition) A post regarding Viv Stans (Part 2)

Before we begin I want to say that I will absolutely not be censoring the person in this for valid reasons. I'll however censor the people who are just regular visitors.

What brilliance unfolds in my ask box? They put themselves out there on purpose "because reason"... I guess?

Reminder This is the Internet, you put yourself out there, your out there forever and if you do something stupid or say something stupid, your idiocy might go viral enough where you get called out so don't expect people to cover you up when YOU did this To Yourself

When I changed my bio to say "Bored ASF, Ask a Goth" I didn't mean be a god damn loser and make up shit on purpose for Bait reasons.

Yes this is real and Yes these were sent by a Viv Stan and it's OBVIOUSLY Bait but I still wanted to review it just for fun because I was literally laughing my ass off and I ain't even high!! 🤣 that And the actual person was Serious about deleting their profile along with taking the time to remove one by one every like and post from their profile which is hilarious. I didn't even make a post at the time and they disappear Anyway 😂. So I had absolutely no option to respond regardless. Lol you didn't think I'd see that but I did LMAO. You took the time to send me this but couldn't take a couple seconds to block me right after so I don't see your profile disappear but I guess you're just that stupid. What stopped you from just deleting your account without going through lengths to type this shit up?

We start with Kona, a boot lickin Viv stan living in denial over the fact that their obviously a Viv Stan. I said I wasn't going to answer this but this is HORRIBLE 😂 How could I Not share!

I love how you literally sat here and took the time to go ""Anonymous"" on the first ask you sent me showing your name and profile only to turn around and send me Another ask and Then another begging to me down on your knees basically telling me to forget I saw your ass 🤣🤣🤣

Omfgfgfggg🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely applaud how you "went out of your way to ALL these critics" like your some kinda Big Dawg white knighting for Viv telling us to "Listen up" because God Damnit "This town ain't Big Enough for the two of us" only to completely disappear off the face of the earth because you knew I saw your ass and you got scared.

I'm assuming you saw my last post where I said "Stick it" when referring to someone else that didn't agree with the helluva boss and hazbin hotel critical community...so you took it to heart and used it in the ask!? Did my post offend you 🥺🥺🥺? Omg I'm terribly sorry that I'm not a boot licking Viv Stan... I truly am (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

So... you attack Showtoonz for no reason other than *Double Checks Notes* ahh here we go "Having valid opinions" fresh off the table *chef kiss excuse* lol

LMAO they really said "Ass takes" omg no wayyy 😂

I also applaud how you basically said that the entirety of the helluva boss and hazbin hotel critical community an "embarrassment to our democracy" lol where that come from? and that the best argument you can come up with is that "*ughhh* your all "cOnSeRvAtIvEs" like did you travel across time and space through the Internet, see my page, and pretend to get triggered over the fact that I'm p***tically balanced in every direction?? Open minded if you will!? What does critiquing a show have to do with what's going on outside in the world? You do realize a lot of these people critiquing Viv Are in fact Democrats (me included in that spectrum) that Were fans of Viv and don't agree with Viv because she messes shit up on purpose 😂

Love how your one of those people that's obviously too far on the edge who are an actual embarrassment to society because this is the shit you put out there along with the

"YoUr NoT oNe Of Us" argument because what else would you pull out of your ass like legit your literally the type of person that likes to sniff your own fucking farts... Geez

I can't stop laughing 🤣

"One of Us! One of Us! Gooble gobble, Gooble gobble, One of Us! One of Us!" Like I can't. We Dems ain't gonna bow down to you and kiss your ass like your some kind of King so you might as well get over it buttercup

Regarding the last one for Bait reasons you decided to bring janky brained Joe into this... What a legend! You really showed us Dems the middle finger and went "Fuck ALL of You" 😂 Hey pal I'm NGL, but all I'm saying is that maybe you shouldn't be so into your own p***tical fart clouds so much because all that methane n shit will clog up your thinking.

"OMG I've been exposed by my own "Brilliance" in taking down these critics, please don't expose me"

W H E E Z E !!!

this last bits my favorite part

"*Clears throat* "If you disagree with me I'm going to "delete my account"

(Welp I guess I disagree with you :D, have a nice day ^^ Adios!! 🤣) Wait? You were actually Serious??? 🤣🤣🤣

"run to Twitter" with all my problems (because of course your one of those losers) and "bitch" to my two followers that "Will raise all hell" down onto those "Antis" who are so Mean and Negative where my post is sure to go viral enough to take down the entire critical community and reap their rights away from them"

Without any proof, but instead your tail tucked between your legs as you run and hide.

PA THETIC

Managed to get this on the way out. A Viv Stan in denial who's also a hypocrite. Oh but we "anti Viv Stan critics" have "ass takes" and "no valid criticism" You blindly support woomy... The same person who attacked multiple people in our communities for having valid opinions!

Fucking Cringe dude

#vivziepop #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivienne medrano #anti vivziepop #helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluvaboss #hazbin #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel fandom #toxic fandom #toxic people #toxic fans #idc #dumbass shit #goth #asks #anon ask #anonymous #ask

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

After hours

February Filth Fest : Day Seventeen

Choi San x fem reader

a/n: okay so we alllllll know mommy seonghwa but today?? today i offer you mommy san 🙈 y'all have bare with me on this one because ever since i saw this photo the mommy san brain rot has been beyond real. — lowkey thinking of expanding this one to a short story

"Do you think you can cum quick for Mommy?"

✫彡wordcount: 1.1k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, crime au

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents: not edited, mommy&praise, established relationship, clothed, unprotected( c'mon, don't do that), getting 'caught', pet names(baby,angel & mommy, sannie)

FFF tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

San made it very clear that when the door to his office was shut, that business hours were over. Any thing and any one could wait. Any updates could be sent in an email for all he cared. But no one was to even touch the door to his soundproof office- and there was one simple reason.

You.

He knew you didn't like the violence of his world, so he shut it all out when you brought him dinner and sat with him for a few hours. He knew you hated the fact you even lived in a place where such illegal activities went down, so he separated you as much as he could.

Admittedly, he loved the time he spent with you in his office. Forgetting the world outside of the safe walls of his work space. Focusing on his wife,hearing all about her and her day.

So after business hours were over, he shut down that part of his life unless unbelievably important.

When either of you had a rough day, the door stayed shut tight for longer. And today was one of those. You sat on his lap as he ate instead of your chair next to him, letting him eat in peace before you jumped his bones.

That was half an hour ago, and neither of you are even close to done with each other yet.

"Sannie! Fuck!" You moan as he fucks you into the couch. Both of you laying across its length, and his big arms wrapping around your legs as they rest up on one of his shoulders together.

"Doing so good, Baby. Take my cock so well."

"Th-fuck! Fuck! Thank you, Mommy!" How this kink started? Neither of you knew. What you did know is that it makes him pound into you all the harder and the words that fall past your lips make your pussy gush, "love your cock, Mommy!"

"Love it?"

"Yeah, love it so much! You fuck me so good, Sannie. So good, so good, love it, can't get enough, Mommy." You grab onto his fancy clothing as you ramble on and on, tugging at his top, eyes screwing shut as you try to hold back your orgasm.

"Let me see those pretty eyes," he lifts your head gently, a rough contrast to how he hammers into you. "So fucking beautiful." He moans as you pull your eyes away from his chest: awash form the way his muscles peek out from his jacket. "So beautiful, even when I'm fucking you dumb. How do you do it, Baby?" You can only whine in response as he squishes your cheeks together, "you've got me wrapped around your little finger, Angel. I fucking love you."

"I love you, San... Love you so much." You grab onto his top tighter as he pulls away, leaving you empty and begging. "Mommy, please! Why'd you stop, come back, come back." You follow his face, just inches away as he backs up and slides down the couch.

You all but fall off to chase him and cage him under you as he lays on his back. He pulls your flowing skirt back up as it falls, folding it up over your naked back. Your panties and shirt have long been abandoned on his desk, and your bra is crooked from how he continuously pulls it down to get at your breasts.

"Can I ride it, Mommy?"

"Yes, Angel. Fuckin' ride it."

You slid down onto him, falling into his hold as his girth fills you up."You feel so good, Baby." Your walls twitch around him as he speaks. He's known since the first time, praise makes you feel like you're on cloud nine. And he doesn't mind giving it to you. You fuck him so well, he loves you so much- he would sing your praises to the entire world.

"You take Mommy's cock so good... you were made for this, huh?"

"Yeah," you whine quickly, holding onto his shoulders as you push yourself up and begins bouncing on his cock. "Made for your cock, Sannie. Fills me up so good," you could almost cry: how good his bare cock feels rubbing against your walls.

He smiles as he lays completely flat on the shiny floor, looking up at you with all the love possible in his cold,cold world. "G- damn! You're gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that."

"Can't help it! You're so pretty, Mommy." The makeup he applied that morning is starting to fade with sweat, eyeliner smudged around his eyes and concealer faded into nothingness. He looks so blissed out, so content with you riding him like there's no such thing as tomorrow.

Your wet cunt is starting to fill the room with lewd, squelching noises as you fuck yourself over him. Your movements slow as you unbutton the first few clasps on his shirt. Just enough to give you access to his pecs. Your thrust return full force when your lips meet his skin, making his moan out.

"Oh, Baby, that's it. Just like that," he whispers, one hand resting on the back of your head and the other holding onto your hip for dear life. "So good for me, so good!"

Both of you still completely when a knock comes at the door. You simply roll your eyes and go to move off of him, knowing it must be important for someone to risk their head to come here after hours. He pulls you back down and slams himself back into you, "stay there."

He pulls your skirt down past your ass as reaches over to grab one of your discarded shoes. He chucks it at the door, and after a few seconds- it opens slowly.

"Make it quick, Jeeves."

The poor man, bless his soul, doesn't know what to do. Staring at his boss as he has his wife barely decent, clearly in the middle of an inmate moment.

San places one of your ears on his shoulder and covers the other to muffle his vocie a bit as he screams, "I said quickly, dimwit! What is it?"

He clears his throat and straightens his posture, turning his face away as he speaks nervously. "Sir, yes, the- uhem- the shipment of-"

"If you say some dumb shit, I swear to God-" He sneers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek to calm his own nerves.

"The shipment was picked up, Boss... But it seems to have been intercepted on the way to the warehouse. Mr. Par-"

"Get out."

"Sir?"

San picks up your other shoe from beside you, throwing it at the man: who has to duck just to avoid it. "Beat it, Jeeves! I'm trying to fuck my wife!"

"Oh, uhm, yes, Sir. But what should I tel-"

"If I open my eyes, and you're still there, you'd better pray you don't get any blood on her favorite skirt. Then, I'll be even more mad."

The door clicks shut in a second flat and San opens his eyes, smiling gently up at you.

" 'M sorry, Baby."

"It's okay, Sannie." You kiss him softly and again, go to move away when you're stopped.

"Do you think you can cum quick for Mommy?"

—

#february filth fest #choi san #san #ateez san #ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #choi san smut #san smut

[ishouldgetadiary]

there are definitely cleverer people to discuss this at length than me and there are probably people who already have and come to the same or better conclusions, but i do just want to say that an aspect of kim kitsuragi i can't get over is his disconnect from being seolite (outside of the racism). i don't know, it's very important to have asian characters with strong cultural ties who have that culture accurately expressed through their character/stories and i do love those characters, but it's somewhat rarer to see the alternative (at least, when race and culture is acknowledged at all), let alone it being a point of pride for them, the same way it is for kim. all of this to say, i feel haunted by what he says when you ask him about his heritage.

i didnt ask him about it on my first run (because i found the way the question is initially asked to be kinda rude and i was afraid of if it'd make him like me less, lol) but i did in my current replay and the way he dances around the topic, 'i'm half seolite, well technically, my parents were both quarter, i guess you could also say im quarter, i don't know the language or culture and i've only lived in revachol', it fucks me up so bad! first is how you can tell it's mostly a defensive tactic for him, at least when he starts the rant— somebody asks about the race thing? deflect. i'm only half. i don't even know the language. i'm not one of those seolites. second is how he loosens into pride when he realises/remembers that harry isn't asking to be racist, he is genuinely having trouble remembering that the concept of race exists, but also because it lets kim kinda show that it is something to be prideful about in revachol.

dont get me wrong— i think kim kitsuragi is genuinely proud of being as revacholian as anyone else. he loves revachol. i dont think he’d go along with harry so easily on random side quests or have opinions on if harry helps or hinders the people of martinaise if he actually didnt care. i dont even know he’d still be a cop or (more accurately) be one for as long as he has been, especially when he’s spent most of it as a juvie officer, if he didnt believe in revachol. it’s people, what it is, and what the country could be. people like to take his position as a police officer as just his way of feeling a sense of power in a post revolutionary (khm. and racist) world that has never had the space for him or his dreams, but kim is more three dimensional than that. ESPECIALLY when there are ways that being a cop gives him less power than regular citizens in revachol. he likes, wants, and believes in both, and that’s not necessarily hypocritical. in the same way, i dont think it’s at all hypocritical that his pride is rooted in both his love for revachol AND the way white supremacy has impacted him. because yk, when he’s proud about his lack of connection to his heritage, it’s not just his love for revachol speaking, it’s also the disdain that we, the player, hear for seolite people (at least what we hear from or related to kim).

that all being said, i dont consider that to be a terribly complex thought at all— real life people are complicated and multifaceted, so kim kitsuragi is written to also be complicated and multifaceted. in disco elysium, the writers are never worried about presenting the world in a better or worse way than it already is. yes, it is definitely a heightened version of our reality, but it also presents everything as direct as possible. case example would be the racist lorry driver in what he says versus how he’s presented. in that very first interaction when kim confronts him and harry catches up on what just happened, he denies and hides in the same way a lot of people deny and hide that they are being racist, but you, the player, cannot avoid or pretend he isnt being racist, because it is literally in his name. you are not given the grace of real life where there is the option of either the benefit of the doubt or genuinely questioning your own assessment. despite all of that, ultimately, it is still haunting for that early kim question to be so reminiscent of what i see in real life.

in the example of a shorter ramble, kim's own ramble weirdly reminds me of myself, but in the opposite direction. i very easily and quickly tumble into word vomit and over-detail my heritage just to make it make sense that my name isnt white. and i'm not gonna boohoo over my own personal situation at all when i know i benefit from white supremacy, but i hate that ultimately, white supremacy ‘won’ when it comes to 'me'. because just like kim kitsuragi, i don't know a language that isn't english, i dont know a different culture, and i've only lived in my predominantly white country.

but a more apt comparison is my own father. a man who’s internalised shame cant even allow him to comprehend why somebody white would want a tan, because he’s always been at least a little tan, and that’s part of what ‘clocks’ him as not fully white, who does try to connect with his mother’s culture, but just kind of ended up with only odd bits and pieces of it and the language, because it was something that would’ve just made life harder than it should be, and despite everything, he’ll still do things like dunk on chinese people. there may be more to say, but you get the gist. and yet somehow none of it has quite reaches the point where he can recognise it in himself. because he knows racism and white supremacy is bad and he’s obviously against it, but it is hard to acknowledge that it is greater than just the lorry drivers and measureheads of the world. because we live with the consequences and the rot of white supremacy within us. assimilation has done it's job to it's logical conclusion.

… and yet it is a limbo, and a hollow one at that. regardless of how white i am, i still dont fully relate to my fully white peers, because there are ways in which i dont share in their accepted shared experiences. my father has never felt accepted in either club, ‘too japanese for white australians and too australian for japanese people’ (can you believe that disco elysium was almost banned from my country)! our fully white peers will never know what it’s like to be able to look at the face of a complete stranger of a different race and see family. to see their aunts, or grandparents, or parents.

but kim kitsuragi talks of that limbo with pride. he may never feel a true sense of community with either white people or other seolites, and this is something his brain seems to choose not to fully acknowledge, even though he definitely feels it. and really, it’s haunting in the same way i find both my father’s and my involvement in society disconcerting. the truth that, in spite of where white supremacy and assimilation can get you, you will never truly achieve the community or peace of mind there is in ignorance.

despite all that, on a brighter note, i do think that in terms of what kim truly likes harry for and what gains his trust in him is the choice for harry to be that sense of community he needs. (if i am remembering right) kim will only really trust you if you chose to defend him from the several racists you’ll encounter and make jokes at their expense with him, because it’s highly HIGHLY unlikely that barely anybody goes through that effort for him. even when it’s pretty clear that the writers were going for humorous ‘haha, white guy trying his best to be an ally’ dialogue choices, kim himself doesnt really show that he finds it obnoxious or unwanted, it’s genuinely something he would rarely get other rcm members even though that is the community he’s definitely and wholly part of.

anyways i have no idea if this post made any sense or if im really wrong (i could be!) because it came from a more personal place than maybe typical character analysis but whatever

#rambles #long post #whoops #disco elysium #harrykim if you squint i guess #too personal #kim kitsuragi

[satrs]

Can’t feel my face - bllk x fem!Reader N°12

TAGS; 1.9k NSFW CONTENT! MDNI. oral(male receiving).

"SO,"

You seated yourself to the opposite to him, adjusting the expensive silk robe as you threw one leg over the other, a teasing smirk decorating your face as you looked at the man in front of you expectingly. "What are we doing here?"

His eyes subtly looked at the sewed on your chest, the Name 'Mikage' visible in crimson color. His gaze went back to your pure face, taking a sip of the expensive champagne he served the both of you, a sly smirk creeping up his lips. You didn't even notice his name imprinted on the robe. But he must say, the name Mikage really suits you.

"Nothing, nothing." You looked at him confused, leaning forward in your chair after you took a sip of your glass, arms on the table as your head rested in both of your hands. "Just wanted to talk to you, that's all. This is our date."

Your eyes slit in suspicion, humming as a response. This caught Reo's attention, placing down his glass as he slightly pointed his chin in your direction. "How's your new job?"

You let out a low laugh, "Seriously, Reo, I'm not dumb. What is it?" His facade broke, leaning in near you as he took your hand in his, eyes lingering on your ring finger, finger gently stroking it. "I want to help you."

Your face twisted in skepticism, looking down at your intertwined hands. "I know how you're struggling with your rent getting higher and," How the hell? "And I just feel like-" "How'd you know?" His eyes widened as you removed your hand, placing it in your lap, sitting upright.

He let out a huff before explaining himself. "It's my property." It was silent until you let out a huff in disbelief. You lived in there, paying rent to one of the richest men in the country, while you were barely holding yourself above water? What a fucking joke. "Oh wow."

His lips formed a thin line, knowing what thoughts rush through your head. "I know that this is surprising and all, but that's business. I'm sorry I just told you. I was just trying to explain it to you and prevent any misunderstandings."

Business. Fuck that shit. Was that the reason he brought you here? To tell you to move out? Well, at least he got a bite out of you, right? Damn those rich bastards.

"So what you're saying is-" Your lips closed at the sound of keys jiggling, Reo's hand presenting a key to you, confusion clouding your mind. Is this?-

"It's what you think it is. A house key. Your house key." you looked at him, perplexed and unable to understand what he was getting at. He chuckled, shoving the key in your direction along the table, purple orbs starring at yours. "I'll arrange everything, you don't need to think about anything else but your new apartment." Your what?

"Reo, I can't possibly-" He hushed you, shaking his head in disagreement. "It's in the city center, near your working place. It's bigger than where you're living at right now, big floor-length windows, luxury built-in kitchen, and much more. It's all yours."

"Are you crazy? How am I supposed to afford that? And don't tell me you already bought it or something." He looked at you, a nervous smile decorating his handsome face as he let out a nervous chuckle. "Well about that..."

"You, Reo Mikage, are unbelievable." He laughed at that, amused by your expression. Your smile soon turned into a soft expression, looking at him in a serious manner. "But why?"

"Why?" He waved your question off. "It's not like it cost the world for me. Also," His hand took yours again, causing you to look at him as his gaze wandered between your face. "Y/N, I-" He what? Loved you? He didn't quite know himself.

He had never felt like this, so normal. Once, someone talked with him because he is Reo, not because he is the billionaire heir Mikage. It was different. "You're dear to me. I know, we don't know each other for that long, but-" I know you're the one, Y/N. "But I just wanted to give you a little treat for working so well. You really do a great job at Blue lock, and I couldn't imagine anyone else in your place." Great Reo. Talk about business again, that's how you let her know your feelings, you Idiot.

"I'm really flattered, boss." Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, flashing you a genuine smile, only for it to fall flat at the sound of his phone ringing. He flashed you an apologetic look. "I know. Business." He bit back a smile at that, answering the phone.

"Hello?" You couldn't catch anything but slight fragments the person on the other line was saying, something about an important meeting' and 'now'. "It's almost four in the morning, and you expect me to catch a flight to Norway? Now?"

You fidget with your fingers as you listened to the conversation, a small pout on your lips as you realized you might have to go home now.

He ended the call with a defeated sigh, spitting out curses under his breath. You restored your comprehension, earning tons of apologies in return as he got up from his seat.

"You can stay the night. I'll get someone to drive you to your new apartment tomorrow. Your stuff will be there by evening at the latest. You can stay off work that day." You nodded, still in a daze about everything, as Reo approached you, planting a kiss on your temple.

"We'll probably not see each other for a while. I'll drop by and see how you settled into your new home, alright?" You nodded, heat rising up your face at his action, bidding him goodbye.

"I'll miss you." This made the man in a hurry stop his movements, head snapping back to where you sat. He quickly moved back to you in a hurry, capturing your mouth in a heartfelt kiss, his eyes squinted together.

"Me too." He said in a low whisper after letting go of you, leaving you in your seat perplexed as he hurried to his flight.

【☆】★【☆】

"Nagi?" You looked at the man who stood before the entrance of the mansion perplexed, slight traces of sleep still visible on your face. He lightly laughed at the sight, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Good morning, doll."

He was quick to clear up your confusion, explaining how close Reo and him are, so close even that Reo entrusted him with you. He leads you to the car, telling you that all your stuff already got moved to the apartment, waiting for you to be unpacked.

"Is anyone else there or just you? Maybe Ryusei?"

He huffed at that, turning around the corner to drive to the apartment, brushing off the fact that you call his rival by his first name. "God no. I wouldn't have picked you up then. Sorry, doll. Nothing personal."

You were curious about Nagi's and Shidou's relationship and how it turned out that way. Did they have a fight once? You couldn't help but ask. "He's the biggest pain in the ass you could ask for." You chuckled at that, his eyes swiftly moving to take a quick look at your smile, his lips threatening to smile too. "That guy is just hellaaaa jealous I get to chill all day. He's probably working a 9 to 5 right now."

Another laugh came from you, biting your lip in an attempt to stop it. "Don't be so mean to him now." His head turned at that. "Oh? So he already got to your head, huh?" His voice was meant to come out sarcastic, but a tint of jealousy was noticeable.

You shrugged playfully, looking out the window. "You should look at the road, you know." His eyes slightly widened, gaze flickering back onto the road as he took one hand from his lap to wipe it across his face.

He was trying to play everything off and act cool, but he can't lie, the memories with you were still heavy on his mind. He thought about you all day and almost fell from his bed in excitement when he got a call from Reo that night, telling him to pick you up. If it was up to him, he would've driven to Reo's place at the moment he rang him up.

"You alright there?" He cleared his throat, heart beating in his chest as he reassured you he was fine. You were still suspicious, and it really pleased you to tease the young man, his reactions were always hilarious.

"You're still thinking about yesterday? Getting all worked up over a hand job is crazy." A choked-out laugh was heard from him at your question, car stopping at a red light. "Are you trying to do something, doll?"

Your innocent act made his body fill with excitement, snapping out of his mind once he heard someone honk behind him, urging him to continue driving.

" I'm crazy over you, that's for sure." You let a shit-eating grin creep up your features, turning your head to look out the window.

Those past weeks were exciting and something you never thought you would experience. It's something else to get so much attention from so many different but handsome men. You couldn't complain, you were about to have a stable, no- a fucking great income and a perfect home. And men drooling over you.

And Sae? It's done. This is your time now to enjoy. And you sure as heck would. Of course, your feelings for him were still there and there was no denying that you loved him but, some distraction wouldn't hurt.

Or would it?

"Say, do you want to inaugurate my new apartment with me?" He grinned at that, sparing you a quick glance before turning back to the road. "Just the two of us? Don't you usually do that with more people present? Or do you got something planned already?"

You chuckled at his suspicion, your hand resting on top of his thigh in a teasing manner, his change in demeanor not going unnoticed by you. "I want to thank you for helping me, that's all."

【☆】★【☆】

"Fuckkk." Nagi's head flew back, hitting the headrest of the covered couch, crinkling of the plastic barely drowning out the sinful gagging sounds from you, your head bopping at a steady pace, hand fondling his balls.

"Just like that- shittt, gonna cum, doll." You hummed around his length, tongue swirling around his tip, grin adoring your features as you look up at him, taking in his pent-up form.

His fingers brushed through your hair, taking hold of your head as he stuttered up into your mouth, a strangled moan leaving his lips as his abs tensed up, cum threatening to spurt out in mere seconds.

Your other hand clawed into his clothed thigh as your throat clamped down on his length, brows furrowed in concentration as you choked around his thick cock.

The grip of his hand tightened as his thighs tensed up. "shitshitshit." He reached his climax with one more flick of your tongue, hips bucking up and holding your head down as he bit his lip in pure ecstasy, deep growl flying past his lips.

His cum shot out in strings and down your throat, as you swallowed it whole, tongue lapping up remnants of it from his slit, flashing him an innocent look up right after.

His hand flew to his face while he caught his breath, hodded eyes, eyeing your form, breathy laugh escaping him.

"Home sweet home."

🏷️; @seiamor

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

#my work 𓆩⟡𓆪 #k azus cfmf series*+:｡.｡ #blue lock smut #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x you

[stardustprompts]

the cabin in the woods  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ;   death ,  drugs ,  violence ,  language ,  alcohol mention

‘that’s never been a stable scenario.’ 

‘it’s not the first time it’s come down to that.’ 

‘are you even listening to me?’ 

‘I’m getting insecure about it now.’ 

‘we have a lake, and a keg. no more learning!’

‘I learned it from you, okay? I learned it from watching you!’

‘you have no pants.’ 

‘I’m shutting right up.’ 

‘what are you, stoned?’ 

‘I hope this is the right road. it doesn’t even show up on gps. it is unworthy of global positioning.’ 

‘that’s the whole point. get off the grid, right?’ 

‘society needs to crumble. we’re all just too chickenshit to let it.’ 

‘I’ve missed your rants.’ 

‘you will come to see things my way.’ 

‘you were rude to my friend.’ 

‘I didn’t even like hearing that.’ 

‘am I on speakerphone?’ 

‘come on, (name). life is risk.’

‘hey, what is that? in the lake, right there.’

‘there’s something else in the lake. it’s a gorgeous man!’ 

‘don’t kill the gorgeous man, we’re endangered!’ 

‘more than anything I just want this moment to end.’ 

‘truth or dare?’

‘what the hell was that?’ 

‘uh, that makes what kind of sense?’ 

‘what do you think is down there?’ 

‘I’m not sure it’s awesome to be down here.’ 

‘I’m drawing a line in the fucking sand here. do not read the latin.’ 

‘stop being a fucking baby.’ 

‘can we not talk about people in pieces anymore tonight?’ 

‘I have a theory about all this.’ 

‘you seriously believe nothing weird is going on?’ 

‘you’re not seeing what you don’t wanna see.’ 

‘we are not who we are.’

‘I’m the boss of my own brain, so give it up!’

‘I thought there’d be stars.’ 

‘we are abandoned.’ 

‘I’m not leaving here without (name)!’

‘we gotta play it safe. no matter what happens, we have to stay together.’

‘we should split up. we can cover more ground that way.’ 

‘my parents are gonna think I’m such a burnout.’ 

‘I’ll get help.’

‘I’ll fucking limp for help.’ 

‘I’m coming back here. I’m coming back here with cops, and choppers and large fucking guns and those things are gonna pay.’ 

‘you’re missing the point.’ 

‘please, do not go nuts on me, okay, (name)? you’re all I’ve got now.’ 

‘tequila is my lady!’

‘you figured everything.’ 

‘where else are we gonna go?’ 

‘we chose. they made us choose.’

‘they made us choose how we die.’ 

‘why are you trying to kill us?’ 

‘you shouldn’t be here.’ 

‘what’s happening to you is part of something bigger.’ 

‘you’ve seen horrible things.’

‘it’s our task to placate the ancient ones. as it’s yours to be offered up to them.’

‘kill him.’

‘this is part of a ritual.’ 

‘the sun is coming up in eight minutes. if you live to see it, the world will end.’ 

‘maybe that’s the way it should be. if you’ve gotta kill all my friends to survive, maybe it’s time for a change.’ 

‘you can die with them, or you can die for them.’

‘there is no other way.’ 

‘you have to be strong.’ 

‘I’m so sorry I almost shot you.’

‘I’m sorry I let you get attacked by a werewolf.’

‘I’m sorry I let you get attacked by a werewolf and then ended the world.’

‘I think you were right ... humanity ... it’s time to give someone else a chance.’ 

#rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #horror prompts #horror sentence starters #the cabin in the woods sentence starters #the cabin in the woods prompts #halloween prompts #anna's 31 days of halloween #31 days of halloween: 1 #I know I'm early but if I don't start now it won't happen so c: