#skilled reader

[start-with-words]

TRUISM (noun) - a statement that is obviously true and says nothing new or interesting.

It’s an anecdote that gets at one of the truisms of reading comprehension: Just as a skilled hitter spends time at the batting cages and a skilled pianist must tickle the ivories, a skilled reader needs to read.

Source: https://www.edweek.org/teaching-learning/how-to-build-students-reading-stamina/2024/01

[realmsb4rbie]

"si."

"doll."

"what's this flower called?"

simon looked at the billionth flower you showed in just twenty minutes, sighing. "im a soldier love, not a gardener." though he took the pink colored flower from your hands, and placed it in the small box you brought, just to turn them into a sticker later and put it in your notebook.

"makes sense," you murmured. "though i thought you'd knew since you guys are always on the forests or mountains."

"we don't really have time to search which flower is which doll." he said softly, moving everything that was sharp in front of you, in the small forest you two discovered in your hike. you liked getting lost in nature walks with your husband, who was as useful as a swiss army knife in your eyes.

"shame." you murmured, holding his hand when you felt like you were stumbling. though you liked to be a little dramatic sometimes. as you both continued to hike, and pick flowers, you occasionally liked to touch big tree's. "how fast you can climb this?" you asked curiously, looking up at the big oak tree.

"three minutes, max." he said with a casual confidence that made you remember why you falled for this man. he could do anything, and it was impressing you embaressingly enough.

"wanna test it out?" you asked with a mischief smirk on your face. simon mirrored.

"what do i get in return?"

"a big kiss."

he started climbing that moment, finding bumps to step on or using his big knife to help him climb, going all in for a kiss. you chuckled as he sat on one of the sticks, looking at the time. "two minutes and a half, lieutenant!"

as if it was nothing, he jumped down from that tree, landing on his feet with a loud thud. "my reward." his hands immediatly reached out and you happily hugged his neck, giving him the biggest smooch.

the next time he returns from a deployment, he has a bunch of squished mountain flowers on his gear pocket, a few of them losing their leaves but it mattered to you nonetheless. because he thought the weird and rare flowers would look great on your little notebook, and you felt special that he remembered that while fighting for his life.

[eggcromancer]

happy birthday to me! 🎉🎂

[bluvianna]

[pricetagged]

idk I just torturing simon and I love the idea of him—at some stage of his life, idk maybe immediately after he's declared dead— not having anywhere to stay.

His residence in Manchester got gutted and sold, greedy estate agents and solicitors picking it apart as soon as they got the death notice.

He could rent hotel rooms. Stay in the barracks. But sometimes he just needs—space. Familiarity. Simon Riley is dead and buried, but not buried deep enough.

So he goes back to his old house. He knows every nook and cranny. Knows which floorboards creak and which doors get stuck. He'll just cosy away in the attic and come out when the new tenant is at work, no problem. Barracks-living, only the other person won't know. It'll only be for a few weeks at a time—

—but he catches sight of you. The new tenant. Sweet little thing who saw the ugly, empty shell and decided it was for her.

Not a lot of money, no. But you've tried to make a home here. Decorated over the gouges and scars, filled the empty spaces with little signs of life.

You've taken such good care of the place. You're taking such good care of it, all by yourself. Off to work in the morning, and home late at night when it's far too dark and he knows the latch isn't as secure as it should be —kicked and shouldered too many times when his mum would work the courage to kick out his da—

So you need him. You're not saying it in words, but what is he meant to think when he sees how you leave the windows open all through the day and night? When you shuffle about on your weekends with only a playlist or podcast for company?

You need him. Good thing he's already there.

Go read this thing by gougie if u like the 'there's someone living here' thing - they do it sooooo much better

[dedfly]

hi hi!!!! i love your art aaogflkgmhc the way you draw shadow milk is so?!??! <333 /pos it makes me want to give him a big hug and a smooch on the cheek;;

So real sometimes you just want to

[householdcryptid]

thinking about being best friends with bob reynolds with a twist

thinking about how bob, when he gets comfortable, has like. zero boundaries. and reader who is the Same.

'normal' best friends don't eat off the same spoon, or cuddle with their head up your shirt because it's 'safe' in there. but you and rob do.

'normal' best friends don't casually walk into the bathroom while you're in the shower to ask what you want for lunch and "oh hey, i'll join, we should conserve water :)" but robby absolutely does, and so do you.

'normal' best friends don't share chapstick by one of them kissing it onto the others mouth, but you and rob do that shit all the time.

i can't stop thinking about this PLEASE tell me im not alone here

[deniable-masterpiece]

i just want a fic where peter gives off this vibe but he has the biggest AND I MEAN BIGGEST cock swinging between those legs and knows how to use it

[kxsagi]

can u do one where the blue lock boys try teaching u how to play soccer but they get too concentrated and score a point against u / make u fall LMFAO

"𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲"

a/n: YES THIS WOULD BE ME

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, otoya eita, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

he tries to be gentle. he really does. but the moment he sees an opening? muscle memory kicks in. 

"okay, just block me when i try to dribble –" 

ankle broken (not actually but nearly). you're on the ground. 

he gasps and runs to you like 😰 “waitwaitwait are you okay?! i didn’t mean to!!” 

you glare up at him. "you said this was a light lesson." 

"i blacked out," he says, genuinely remorseful. 

buys you snacks and offers to carry you for the rest of the day. 

itoshi rin

doesn't even register that you're a beginner. starts demo-ing a drill and asks you to copy it. 

you: tries and trips over the ball 

rin: "... are you doing that on purpose?" 

you: "no?!" 

ten minutes in, he accidentally sends a bullet of a pass straight into your stomach. 

you're folded over. he's staring. 

“… you said you wanted to learn,” he says, like that justifies it.

nagi seishiro

he means well. he even tries to make it fun. like, “here, try to get the ball from me.” 

you do. 

he doesn’t let you. 

he’s barely moving and you still can’t catch him. 

he yawns, juggles it over your head, and scores while scratching the back of his neck. 

you just stand there, blinking. 

“… was i not supposed to do that?” 

no, nagi. no you were not. 

mikage reo

is so excited to teach you. gives you a whole rundown. drills. stretches. strategies. 

then he forgets to dial it down and tackles you like it’s the world cup. 

you hit the grass and stare at the sky. 

reo’s above you like 😨 “OH MY GOSH I’M SO SORRY, ARE YOU OKAY??? YOU CAN HIT ME– WAIT NO DON'T ACTUALLY–" 

buys you an iced drink and carries you around all day to make it up to you. 

bachira meguru

turns it into a game. full of giggles and “try to catch meee~” 

you’re actually having fun until he does one spin move too many. 

you reach for the ball… 

slip… 

and face plant. 

bachira runs over like “you okay?? that was a sick fall tho!! wanna see it in slow-mo?” 

you consider using him as a goalpost. 

chigiri hyoma

says he'll go easy. he says that. 

but then he does one little sprint and forgets you’re not a track star. 

he’s halfway down the field when he turns around and realizes you’re on your knees, gasping. 

"oh… whoops." 

he jogs back with a sheepish grin. 

offers you water and piggybacks you home like “i’ll just be your personal uber from now on.” 

kunigami rensuke (pre-wild card)

really tries to be gentle. like he even speaks softer. explains things carefully. 

but the moment he takes a shot to demo proper form? 

it tears through the net. 

you just turn and look at him like: 👁️👄👁️ 

“… i'll, uh… use less strength next time,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

he does not use less strength next time. 

otoya eita

flirty coach energy. keeps touching your shoulders like “relax, baby ~ soccer’s all about the hips.” 

then immediately forgets himself and goes full striker mode the second you try to take the ball. 

you fall. again. 

he drops to the grass next to you like, “you okay? want mouth-to-mouth?” 

you smack his arm. 

he grins. “so you're not that injured.” 

itoshi sae 

you said you wanted to learn. he showed up in full gear. 

he watches you dribble once, tilts his head, and says, “that’s cute.” 

next thing you know, he casually flicks the ball past you, nutmegs you, and scores without blinking. 

you stare. 

he just shrugs. “maybe soccer’s not for you.” 

he does buy you lunch afterward, though. that’s his version of affection. 

shidou ryusei

you expected guidance. support. maybe a little flirting. 

“okay, stand there. try to block me,” he says, grinning. 

you take your stance. 

he charges at you like a bull. you immediately regret everything. 

he fakes left, spins right, throws in a random front flip for fun, and launches the ball straight into the net so hard it bounces back and hits you in the chest. 

you wheeze and drop to the ground. 

he laughs. laughs. 

“you okay, baby? that looked like it hurt. but hey, at least you looked cute dying.” 

you threaten to hit him with the ball. 

he tells you he’d let you, as long as you call him “coach” first. 

kaiser michael

you say “can you teach me soccer?” 

kaiser smirks. “only if you can handle greatness, schatz.” 

you should’ve known. 

he spends the first ten minutes making fun of your stance. mimics you with exaggerated arms and waddles like a penguin. 

you try to kick the ball. he sidesteps it like you’re in slow motion. 

you try to block him. he rainbow flicks over your head and pats your shoulder on the way past you. 

the disrespect. 

“that was cute,” he grins, brushing his hair back. “but maybe you should just watch me instead. it's safer for your pride.” 

you try to smack him. he dodges and winks. 

then he scores a goal, points at you, and says, “that one was dedicated to your downfall, liebe.”

ness alexis

"don’t worry, i’ll go easy on you," he says with the most patronizingly sweet smile you've ever seen. 

you blink. “you said that last time and i ended up face-first in the grass.” 

he giggles. “that was your balance issue, not my fault.” 

he insists on doing “basic footwork drills” with you. sounds safe, right? wrong. 

within five minutes, you’re dizzy. he’s doing little feints and twirls around you like it’s a figure skating routine. you can’t even tell where the ball is anymore. 

when you finally manage to poke the ball away from him, you celebrate – 

but he steals it back immediately, nutmegs you, and flicks it into the goal like it was nothing. 

“aww, almost!” he says, clapping like a soccer mom. “i believe in you! well, kind of…” 

you throw a cone at him. he ducks and giggles again. 

“was that an attempt at offense? cute!” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sugarwarachan]

kuroo x praise PLS AND TYYY MY LIEGE

YOU ART WELCOME MY HUMBLE SERVANT I HOPE I SERVE THEE WELL

18+

middle-aged dilf kuroo who cannot believe he bagged someone like you and constantly lets you know it.

does it at the worst possible times, too (on purpose). whenever you're in public, he loves to lean in and compliment you on something completely inappropriate "ass looks good enough to eat, baby" before kissing away the startled but pleased smile on your face.

the habit obviously follows its way into your bedroom.

he's eating your pussy from behind, moaning into your slick folds as your throat bobs up and down on his cock.

"you've really got the best pussy, baby, you know that?" two fingers, spread you open; kuroo smirks, watching your hole flutter and clench. "this wet just from sucking off some dude old enough to be your father."

he licks a stripe up your center, circling back to tongue at your asshole in the way that makes you grip the sheets and moan around his cock. he thrusts up into your throat at the sensation.

"so perfect," he breathes into your cunt, barely keeping himself from cumming all over your face. he pulls your ass back and stuffs his face into your pussy, slurping at your clit while his hands rock your hips forward.

when you pull off his cock, he knows you're close.

"tetsu," you pant, thighs trembling around his head. "it feels too tight, like something's coming. it's - ah! tetsu!"

he wishes you could see his fucked-out grin when your juices fill his mouth, but he'll tell you all about it later.

[itsmarsss]

Jason Todd gives me SUCH “you are so lucky you are hot” vibes lmao

like thankfully for him he’s so pretty and so hot that he can just say whatever and you (and everyone) will just nod in agreement and go “yeah whatever you say beautiful”

he’s self-aware enough to admit that if he were to rely solely on his flirting skills he would have neverrr pulled ur ass

he’s so awkward with itttt just outdated, awkwardly spat-out pick-up lines he cringes at himself for

Dick on the other hand? this man would flirt for a living if he could. actually he kinda does if you stop to think abt how that’s how he handles almost everything in life

he KNOWS perfectly well the effect he has on people. one smile from him and ur dead, gone, obliterated. you’d never even imagine the amount of fights he’s won by flirting as a distraction, it’s ridiculous

HUGE fan of making you flustered and then teasing you abt it some more. VERY forward. he is not one bit above using dirty tactics to throw you off your rhythm when sparring or arguing.

just getting by on pure charm

Tim CAN flirt but only through teasing. sometimes it works, most times however... well

it's the line between flirty teasing and just acting kinda... mean that's the issue. can you blame him? look who he grew up around, the banter at home is VIOLENTT. so no wonder sometimes he takes the whole teasing thing too far and it just comes out as straight-up insulting lmao

he'll have you thinking he just likes to pick on you which is so confusing cause you've never even done anything to this guy?

meanwhile he's so frustrated and confused as to how his brilliant and obvious attempts at flirting with you just? aren’t working? he's so confused when he realizes you're like actually mad and not just 'playing along'

[fbfh]

leo valdez with a breeding kink… i’d literally give that man anything he wants 😫

OHHHHHH FUCK ME. I WANNA KISS YOU ON BOTH CHEEKS FOR THIS ONE. Leo does not realize he has a breeding kink until it hits him like a fucking semitruck. you're with some family and friends at a little get together, and you end up looking after a baby cousin to give their parents a break. you have the kiddo on your lap while you chat with your friend, and when Leo gets back with drinks he nearly drops them. Boom. Light switch on, breeding kink in full force. He doesn't even realize what's happening, not quite yet, but all he knows is that it's going to take every ounce of self control he has to wait until the party's over. after a physically painful eternity that he suspects is his eternal punishment from the gods worse than pushing a boulder or being strapped to a boulder or holding up a planet sized boulder (it's maybe an hour and a half max) you're finally on your way home. He nearly pulls an irish goodbye just to get his beautiful beautiful hands on you sooner, and Leo is NOT the type to leave without at least a dozen hugs and cheek kisses and leftovers and plans to meet up next time, so you know something must be going on with him. the only reason he doesn't fuck you in the car (and he is this fucking close) is because he knows that he wants to take his time with you. Also, he can get pretty vocal. Also so can you. (anyone would with him jfc) so he keeps his hand on your thigh while he drives. He rubs it, inches it up higher and higher, higher than he ever has outside the bedroom until he's practically fingering you in the passenger seat. Honestly you wouldn't complain if he did. The sound of your flustered, surprised giggle when he pick you up and carries you into your house over his shoulder, all unga bunga like something primal has woken up inside him. And it has. When he lays you down on your bed which is still descheveled from the fun you'd had that morning, when he kisses you like he's hungry and strips you down like he's unwrapping a christmas present, neither of you know what's gotten into him yet. But he knows one thing for damn sure.

There's no way in hell he's pulling out tonight. Or ever again, if he's being honest.

So really, you'll both find out what's gotten into him (and you) in about nine months

[losermuse]

CW: 18+ (mdni), fem! reader, established relationship, traditional dynamic, cunnilingus, pet names (darling, sweetheart, good girl). AN: friend said she wanted this nanami to eat her out so I delivered. I think

Nanami Kento lazily eats you out, taking his sweet time as if he has all night. His thick fingers spread your folds apart, exposing you to the slow, teasing drag of his tongue as he traces a broad and unhurried path up your slit. His breath is warm against your skin, lips barely brushing before he circles your clit with the very tip of his tongue.

Flicking. Tasting. Savouring.

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t need to.

He takes his time, he knows how to make the pleasure build until it’s unbearable. Every stroke of his tongue is languid and every movement deliberate, as if he’s content to stay between your thighs forever. 

He doesn’t care that his glasses are fogging up or even the lenses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t care that exhaustion weighs heavy in his limbs after another tiring day of overtime. The only thing on his mind is you—his devoted wife, his good girl—whimpering beneath him, deserving every ounce of pleasure he has to give.

You worked so hard today. Cleaned the apartment until it sparkled, folded his freshly laundered shirts with care, and prepared his dinner just the way he liked it. Of course, he has to reward you.

Even as his cock throbs and strains against the confines of his briefs, his focus remains on you. He wants to feel you fall apart on his tongue, to taste the sweet juices of your pleasure coating his lips.

“Ken—hah…” you gasp, fingers tangling in his once-neat hair and gripping them tight, trying to get him to move faster.

He doesn’t.

“Yes, darling?” he murmurs against your cunt, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine. He hums in amusement, tongue lazily dragging over your clit in long strokes, slurping you up like he has all the time in the world.

Then, finally—finally—he pushes a long, thick finger inside your drenched cunt. He waits and lets you feel it, letting you squirm against the slow stretch before adding another to ease you open. His fingers curl just right, pressing into that sweet, sweet spot that makes your thighs tremble.

“F-fuck,” you choke out, your grip slipping from his hair to clutch at the pillow. Your hips shifting desperately against his face, craving more.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises, voice deep and lazy like he’s barely exerting himself. “Ride my face—take what you need.”

But the moment you try, his large hand presses down on your stomach to keep you exactly where he wants you. His glasses slip further down his nose, but he doesn’t bother fixing them. He just smirks against your pussy, pleased with how easily you melt under his touch.

The pressure in your core tightens, slow and overwhelming, his unhurried pace making every sensation sharper and more intense. Then, finally, it snaps.

“Kento—oh fuck—” you sob as your body trembles and comes undone on his tongue.

Nanami groans at the feeling, his fingers slowing but never stopping. Your essence drips down his chin, slick and glistening, trailing onto the sheets beneath you, but he doesn’t stop.

No—he licks you through it, slow and lazy, savouring every drop like he’s indulging in the finest meal.

“Good girl,” he rasps and presses soft, lingering kisses against your oversensitive clit. His free hand strokes your trembling thigh, keeping you in place as your body twitches from the aftershocks.

Your chest heaves as your limbs lose and spend, but Nanami just adjusts his glasses with the back of his wrist, the lenses still smudged and his lips still glistening.

He licks them clean with an indulgent hum before glancing up at you through the fogged-up glass, eyes dark, hooded and starving.

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his smirk widening as he watches you shiver in response.

His cock twitches, aching and neglected, a sticky mess against his briefs.

He’s given you all the time in the world. Now, it’s his turn.

[eraserbread]

ex-hubby!gojo for the sinners au next pls 🙏🏾 🙏🏾 i think he'd be a little unhinged ab needing to be w her again, but actually forever this time

it's just not in your nature to turn down your ex husband, gojo, when he shows up in the middle of the night ✧

→f!reader, relationsip angst, no curses vampire sinners!au, manipulation, sfw

yes, you're sleep deprived, but you're not crazy.

the tapping on your windows—rustling leaves outside of your bedroom—wasn't just a hallucination. now, that tapping and rustling have shifted towards the other side of the room, pausing every few seconds just to start again.

you ran and hid against the wall, tucked under the window where you heard the initial tapping. it yanked you from your sleep, now you're in pitiful pajamas, heart racing dangerously in your chest. it feels like you're about to have a heart attack—surely someone is scoping out the area to try and rob you... right?

a defenseless divorcee that wears her sorrow on her sleeve would surely be an easy grab, you don't even blame the assailant for trying.

"are you seriously hiding from me?"

the voice slaps you sideways—fucking satoru. the rustling stops, and the wind whistles against the cool glass. you're nearly shaking, fingers digging half-moons into your bare knees.

no, this couldn't be him... satoru is far too prideful to show up at your doorstep like this. after days of not answering messages or calls, he's back so entirely, it's like he never left.

you two haven't really talked more than a few words since he got the divorce papers. he's been hanging it over your head, telling you he'd sign them if you just give him a day... then another... next, he'd have to see you face-to-face. then a meeting forces him to cancel, and the papers go unsigned.

it's why you're so exhausted, and why he's so adamant.

"are you crazy? you scared the hell out of me." once you've gained your nerve, you're peeking up from your crumpled kneel, eyes just barely passing the jutting windowsill before you're seeing him.

towering over you, thin white hair ruffled like he ran all the way here. his eyes are bright, uncovered beams illuminating the darkness of your soul, but it's him.

unmistakably, satoru is standing outside your window—a flimsy pane of glass keeping you apart.

he doesn't answer you, instead he reaches straight-faced into the chest of his hoodie, pulling out a sickeningly familiar bundle of papers. you watch him flip through the drawn-out pages until he reaches the end, never once taking his eyes off those words. then, he holds the last page to the window, showing off the fresh signature he placed on the dotted line.

you heart drops... in a good way.

he lowers that paper and your gazes meet. he's not hiding emotion well, though he's not crying, his eyes are downturned. almost predatory in the way they're pulling you in for pity.

"why didn't you just call me?" you're trying to get anything out of him, at this point. why he's here when he could've just mailed it to you, or why he's knocking and tapping on every window in your space.

"you were asleep."

"then, just leave them right there. i'll get them in the morning."

gojo stares for a second, then glances down as if he's checking a watch. "sun won't rise for another five hours." he steps back, arm motioning to the tight squeeze he had to endure between trees just to get your attention. "and I don't have access to the building."

you sigh, fingers moving to open the locks on the window. he could walk all the way around to the front, but then so would you. you wish he'd just leave the papers and fuck off.

cold night air flushes forward as the window pulls open, making you step back and guard your warm skin. satoru's eyes take you in once nothing is keeping you apart, picking you down to the core. it's shameless, you're exposed.

"give me the papers." you bite, thrusting an empty hand into the night. satoru stands quietly for a second, looking down at your hand, then to your avoidant face and static appearance.

"just the papers? you don't want me to come in?"

"no." you decide, beckoning them into your grip with a curl of the fingers. you're staring stubbornly over your shoulder, completely blocking him out because you know how weak you are. just one turn of the mouth, and you'll be pulling him to your bed.

"i'm not giving you anything until you let me in." he's being strict—it's unlike him—but it's making you swallow down nerves, and your body temperature rises as danger sets in.

everything you see in front of you screams satoru gojo, but when he opens his mouth... god, it's so different.

"leave them outside." you're begging now, voice soft and nervous in your throat. still, you can't turn and look at him. you can see his bright reflection in the window glass, but you can't focus on it. your skin starts to break out in goosebumps.

when curiosity catches on, you flit your eyes towards him, pitching a surprised, little frightened whine when you see the stare he's giving you. his bright, blue eyes are opened twice as wide as they should be, reddened and exhausted in the corners, with pupils the size of saucers.

two hands pressed to the plastic of the sill, his muscles flex and bend like something is keeping him from jumping inside. his long fingers are red, dripping with craze as he grinds his nails down to stumps.

"you're tearing me apart, and you don't even care." he growls, manic reflection drawing closer as he kneels to your height. strangely, you feel safe behind this window. it's like he can't come in—he won't show you this unstable side of himself to your face, only through open windows.

"we settled on this divorce twice. you agreed." you're trying to be the calm voice of reason in this situation, taking a tentative step back. you don't want to look at him anymore, you just want him to go away.

"to have my money, property, and life stripped from me? did you even think about me once?"

"we aren't good together! how many times do we have to continue proving that?!"

"as many times as we need to, because this is a fucking marriage—

you're feeling brave enough to reach out and slam the window down on his sentence, not worried about his fingers or his uncanny reflexes. you wouldn't fight with him tonight, and you figure he must be strung out on something serious to show up at your door so maniacal.

it's like the slam lowers him back to earth, because he's fixing his posture, running a slow hand through his hair as he looks down on you. his stare has evened out into something more reminiscent of the one you studied so many years ago.

"go home, satoru." you finish, grabbing the curtain to yank it over his reflection.

you can't see him anymore, so you think that's it. you stand for a second, hands pressed to your hips as you try to come down from the ordeal. something's not right—your brain doesn't believe it, but your heart does.

as you turn around to leave him in the dust, a soft single thud falls onto the glass, then as soft as the night, you can hear him whisper, "all I need is one more night, and I think I can be okay without you."

you're peering over your shoulder like you heard a ghost, lips parted in utter shock. it's the first time in all of your years, that he's given you that tone. so pure—innocent right down to the bone.

"can't you see? i love you so much that I'm willing to let you go..."

he sits ignored for a few moments.

"i know nothing will ever be the same with us, but you're all I think about."

"our bodies don't deserve to suffer, lets give them what they need just one last time."

you're not sure which of his pleas hit you the hardest, but you're hesitating as you give in and pull the curtain back. he's still there, forehead pressed to the glass, splayed open palm kissing the surface.

in the moonlight, your satoru looks so pale and uncommon. he's glowing as he blinks up at you, porcelain reflection cracking at the edges when you're pushing attention onto him.

and that palm is twisting into a fist, his eyes bright like those of a happy puppy about to be reunited with his owner.

one last time couldn't hurt...

it's what you tell yourself to dull the feeling of your inescapable demise. you're pulling that window back open, biting over your bottom lip as you let him crawl inside, one long leg at a time.

when he's in your space, hunching over you like an entity, hands closed around your meek shoulders, you're warm. it's familiar, here, like it's where you want to take your last breath.

nobody can really blame you, after all. he knows just what you need— how to get you off so you can sleep the night away like a drunk. the shame in your bones has dissipated into steam, and the divorce papers are cold and lifeless as satoru fishes them out and presses them to your chest.

"i want to try something." his voice is deep, you can feel it reverberate through your body and into your soul. he's holding your chin at level, making sure you're not looking anywhere that wasn't where he needed.

right now his face is morphing into something that panned out so perfectly within his calculation that he was holding back a laugh.

mm—sweet mercy. now you're finally going to be together forever.

[whirlpool-blogs]

“I actually have fun in class because I’m sitting next to my two linemates in theater class…”

[littlemissaiko]

This thing has been picking away at my mind for I don't know how long and it's killing me inside that there isn't already a fic like this

Imagine spider!reader coming to the DCU after the events of no way home. Like, after they defeated everyone? reader asks strange to send them to another world without any spider-people AND making everyone in their og world forget who they are?

They got more trauma (✨️) and don't want to hurt the people around them anymore, so they land in Gotham.

Imagine spider!reader still having their suit along with Karen. Imagine the potential ANGST of spider!reader sitting on a rooftop eating a classic American cheeseburger while asking Karen to play videos of Tony?

Imagine this teenager, who has just kind of given up and only holds back for the sake of not killing people.

Imagine the reaction of the other vigilantes of Gotham when they see this meta(?)human who is going by the name of spider.

Imagine their reaction when it's a homeless teenager orphan 👌

Imagine spider!reader doesn't come with batfam because they don't trust anyone enough to share their identity because of what happened when they trusted Mysterio?

IMAGINE 😭