#WHO BTW. ATTACKED ME LAST WEEK

[strawbabycowboy]

my daughter has fleas and im so disgusted and upset, i know she got them from my roommates cat

[sqrkyclean]

yeah thats. what i thought. traumadumping i guess in the tags abt it.

[sapsolais]

sometimes you have a shitty day but there are things that make it easier to keep going like:

- being silly with basically strangers

- hugs when you really need them

- quiet 3 am phone calls with people you really love

[klaus-littlestwolf]

would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰

love your fics btw💕

Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end

‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.

‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.

‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘

‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘

‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.

A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.

Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.

Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.

‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘

‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.

‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.

‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’

I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.

The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.

‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.

‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.

‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.

‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.

‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’

‘Klaus, I can’t-‘

‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.

‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘

‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’

‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.

‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’

‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.

‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.

‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘

‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.

‘That’s the spell talking-‘

‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.

‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘

‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.

‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘

‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’

‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.

‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.

‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘

‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.

Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’

‘T-Too much-Never-‘

‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.

‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’

Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.

It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.

He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.

Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.

He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!

Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.

The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.

The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.

He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[angel-sweets666]

stuck together

Barbarian bakugo x princess! Reader

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. CHAPTER TWO HERE

warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff.

THE FULL VERSION IS OUTTT, truely ask and you shall receive. Anyways this is the full edited and lengthened part one I hope it’s better then the sneak peak I gave you guys

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Flamoria had a habit of attacking your home kingdom, however in recent years the bakugos have managed to not only defeat the todorokis but make their kingdom subservient to them.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper which already had both mitsuki and masarus names written down. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own squeaky wooden chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me. Brutally, he’s gonna hack off my head just you watch”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, faked illness, and came up elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were stubborn, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes gloomy with pity . "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk to the carriage by the gate as your mother sobbed into your fathers chest.

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy but covered in tall trees landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls. You swore that if you listened close enough you could hear peoples screams in the dungeons below. Fuck was this hell with its 7 rings?

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. He was busy looking at a sheet of paper, the one oddly similar to the ones your parents shown you when they first announced your betrothal to bakugo. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. He looked almost angry at you, furious even. Which was confusing because you’ve known this man for a whole 10 seconds

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and piercings on his ears and lip.

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance. Katsuki had a deep voice that you couldn’t tell if you found attractive or if you wanted to run away and hide.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady but it ended up sounding shaky.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors. His steps much louder then yours due to his much larger frame

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way or else," he said, theblonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids, you even went the effort to fire atleast 4 of them to keep their grotty hands to themselves.

“you done firing my staff now?” Bakugo grumbled as he caught up with you in the stone candle lit halls “your staff? You mean my staff? My staff who you seem to love flirting with” you corrected him, looking over your shoulder at him. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed “I pay for them there for their my staff.” He growled, asking faster in an attempt to intimate you “actually, your parents pay for the staff.” “Hah?” “Your parent pay for the staff so their not your staff, their the palaces staff.” You said ignorantly as you played with the lace of your dress. “You gonna get out of that frill fest you call a gown?” He asked, again trying to insult you “if I do I’m gonna shove it up your ass” “excuse me?”

“Want me to say it slower? I—WILL—SHOVE—MY—GOW”

“OKAY OKAY SHUT UP WOMAN” he growled at you and walked off in spite “THATS WHAT WHAT I THOUGHT. THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.” You angrily yelled back to him, which in real aspect you were yelling at the back of his ignorant head. You huffed and stormed away in the opposite direction as you wanted nothing more then to get away from that man. As you stomped down the halls, footsteps echoing with each step; you heard a male voice call out to you

“Princess.”

you looked over, a certain brown haired man similar looking to katsuki stared back at you. It was king Masaru “I was looking for you” he says, walking towards you. You quickly curtsied to the king “About what?” You asked “we have a wedding date for you and my son” he smiled warmly as if this was a good thing “o-oh.. and when may that be..?” Your eyebrows furrowed with frustration “a month from now, they will date you to get your gown fitted this week” he seemed overly happy about something neither you or his temperamental son wanted.

“Will I wear a wedding dress from my country or your country?” You asked softly, trying to keep your cool “uh.. our country.” He informed you “I’d rather wear my own wedding gown though, your majesty” “well.. you belong to our kingdom now. We can give you a dress that’s a mix of the two if you’d rather” he compromised, trying to keep with both your and his kingdom. Letting out a sigh your shoulders dropped “I suppose that be okay…” a look of mild disappointment on your face “wonderful, I’m glad we could come to a compromise” he smiled and walked off, an electric blonde guard following close behind him who you earlier learned his name was kaminari. The blonde goofily smiled to you, he seemed like a character. The two men walked off as they chatted, rolling your eyes you too began to walk in the direction of your bedroom chambers.

you couldn’t sleep that night, you tried changing your nightgown, exercising, reading a book, meditating, everything! nothing would help you sleep this night, you wondered if it was the weird interaction with king Masaru or the fact your own fiance was when you think about it was cheating on you with your own staff members. you slowly slid out of bed and out of your silk sheets, rubbing your face up and down with your hands with frustration. Looking down at your feet you sighed, looking out of the window. the night sky was so peaceful unlike your mind which was running with less the pleasant thoughts. How could you get Katsuki to like you? or at least tolerate you in some way so he wouldn't be the most annoying little shit.

The creak of the door hinges squeaks as you pushed the heavy wooden door open, wincing at the high pitch noise. Slowly but quietly gou walked towards the chambers of your future husband. As you approached the door you hear two voices come from the inside

“you’ll need to learn to cherish and care for her eventually”

“why would I do that?” “She is your fiancé! Your future wife! Future mother of your heirs!”

“you except me to fuck her too? Shit.”

“Yes obviously! Your gonna need heirs for our kingdom!”

“fine. Before or after this whole wedding?”

“well In her kingdom, you two do that on the wedding night but to be honest I don’t really care when you do her”

“Too easy”

safe to say your whole face was pink, with either anger or arousal but you couldn’t tell

Tag list!

@sagejin @teeesthings @hiimsaraandyou

@peachysuguru @luvgumii

@v3n7s @iangeeluv

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

��Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the Great War, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[reiderwriter]

hii!! can you do 49 and 68 please??? i love ur writing so much btw

prompts: #49 - "I'm so fucking obsessed with you." #68 - "Sit on my face."

A/N: Thank you for much for requesting! Munch Spencer for the win once again! Not to sound like a broken record, but I think I'm physically incapable of writing a smut that I dont somehow become obsessive over 🫡 I hope you like it!!

Warnings: possessive Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, alight come play, penetrative sex, creampie, just some very obsessive writing ngl. 18+ MINORS DNI (that means do not interact for those of you who still don't understand!!)

You weren't sure if you were going to give into him.

You know it'd taken a lot of courage for the man to ask you out, you'd seen first hand that he threw himself head first into relationships, and that meant he was entirely careful about kindling them.

But you'd been so shocked by Spencer Reid's admission that he was romantically interested in you that you'd all but gaped at him the entire time he stood there talking you through it.

After he'd finished, you still didn't know what to say, you just knew that your entire body was aflame with the words he'd dropped in the space between you, and you were vaguely aware that your phone had clattered to the floor, forgotten.

“Y/N, what do you say? Will you let me take you on a date? Please?”

He stood fidgeting in front of you and you almost apologised but your tongue still wouldn't move accurately.

You swallowed, and calmed your heart from the tempest it was running through in your chest to answer him.

“I need some time to think. We work together, it's going to be complicated and I want to make sure I think this through.” He'd politely agreed to that and seen himself out of your apartment, having appeared on your doorstep at near midnight on a work night.

And two weeks later, you were no closer to your answer.

But Spencer seemed to have grown bolder in his advances. He seemed to have taken your entire plight of never realising he was into you to heart, though. Because you sure as hell knew where he stood now.

He used every excuse to put his hands on you.

He came up behind you, putting his hands on your waist as he slid past you, moving you this way and that to arrive at his intended destination.

You'd found that a most annoying male trait in the past, but when Spencer attempted it, you practically leaned into his heat, shivering each time his hands brushed you.

He'd taken to brushing your hair out of your eyes as well, tucking it behind your ear in front of others, and, embarrassingly enough, tying it up for you with one of his own hair elastics.

You'd frozen in the moment as you leaned down to examine some footprints on a case, complaining your hair was in your face as he immediately came up behind you and began gently pulling it up himself.

His fingers moved skillfully, and felt soothing on your scalp as he made sure to get every hair.

You couldn't even say a word of thanks as you sat there wondering what the fuck had just happened, and if anyone else had been witness to it.

Luckily, no one had, and you could only contemplate it alone.

And contemplate it you did. In bed. In the shower. In your sleep. You couldn't stop contemplating it.

You couldn't seem to step over the boundary of professional working relationship to more, though.

So you weren't exactly surprised when he showed back up on your doorstep a month later.

“Spencer. Did something happen?” you breathed a slow sigh as you opened the door to see him standing there, still and tense, as if he was ready to spring an attack at any second.

“I'm obsessed with you.” His voice was low as he took a slow step forward, letting his gaze rest on your lips, and not moving it as he continued his path forward.

“I'm obsessed with you and I've tried to show you that for the last month, and god, please you have to please release me from this if you can't accept it.” He took another step closer and then he was in your apartment and closing the door behind him, blocking out the cold that had your nipples hardening. You assumed it was the cold.

“I think about how you would taste daily, how you would smell, how you would feel wrapped around me, the sounds you would make. I think about any other man getting close to you and I feel angry and sad and my chest physically aches.”

“I think about how I could make you happy, how you'd smile at me every morning,” his hand hesitantly reached up to tuck another stray hair behind your ear as he stuttered through yet another confession.

He was close now, so close your back was pressed against a wall as you resisted your chest meeting his.

“I will leave and never mention this or touch you again if you can't take that on, but if even one part of you thinks this is an experience you want…”

You finally looked into his eyes as your fingertips rushed forward to touch him, darting out to feel his chest and press yourself further into his warmth.

The physical confirmation must have been enough, as in moments his lips were dropping to meet your own in a sweet, but still strong kiss.

He moved achingly slowly as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you further in to his atmosphere, taking each small caress as an indulgence, each run of your lips across his as a blessing coated in lust.

He went so luxuriously slow, that you had to be the one to pull him in closer, to give into the passion threatening to throttle you from inside out.

You tugged him back through your apartment to your bed, making sure to rid him of his coat as you went, lips still exploring each other as you did. His hands held you firmly, wrapping you up in a strong embrace even as you needed him to move faster, to touch, caress, tease, and pleasure you.

You pushed him away when your back hit another wall, only so you could get some air between you as you waited for the next logical step in the direction you were headed.

“Spencer, I want you to make love to me.” You always hated that phrase, feeling it was so cheesy and overly sentimental, and yet that was the only way you could describe what you wanted from him.

He looked at you and suddenly, it was as if a flip had switched inside him. His slow, discovering kisses became bruising and hot as he marked his way down your neck, eager to please and desperate to know all of you. Your body was another book Spencer needed to read, more knowledge for him to acquire and never forget, never let go of.

Gently raising you off the ground, he pinned you against the wall, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his notable arousal through his clothes. He began divesting you of yours, the casual t-shirt you'd slipped into after work being easy work for his hands, sweatpants following suit as he memorised every inch of flesh visible to him.

With two hands firmly cradling your ass, he made his way into your bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, you in hand. Your core rubbed over his cock, and a deep dissatisfaction crept up your body. You were empty and you wanted so badly for him to fill you.

Your need became a great force clawing at his clothes, rocking your hips into him needing as you scrambled button after button, wishing your hands would obey your mind.

He groaned under you, the sound catching you off-guard and flooding your panties even more. He caught your hips and steadied your pace as you worked yourself up to a high without ever having fully touched him.

“Y/N…” He breathed it out like a prayer and a curse combined, pushing your hips down tighter as he tried to put an end to your elicit movements.

“Y/N stop, I want…” His lips finally left your neck as he took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look directly into yours.

“Sit on my face.��� It was a demand, one that wouldn't be ignored, and honestly, you weren't sure you wanted to ignore it.

He laid himself down more comfortably on the bed, pulling you down with him as he stroked small circles into your lower back.

His hands worked down until they reached the waistband of your panties, hooked a finger under them and slowly dragged them off your ass, forcing your hips up to get them further away from his prize.

“Please, Y/N. Please sit on my face.” You moaned at the request again, dropping one final messy kiss to his lips before climbing up and over his head.

You completed the job he started with your underwear, deciding to go the extra mile and discard your bra as well. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and shifted your cunt to better suit his own position, and you braced yourself as he pulled you closer to his devilish tongue.

The first swipe of it was so foreign that you almost bolted upright like a cat dropped into a bathtub. But he held you fast and pulled you right back down as he began his meal. He'd said his prayers, and now he was ready to indulge himself in the taste he'd been craving for the last month.

You braced your hands on the metal headboard of your bed, thankful that you lived alone as you knew there was no way of muffling the noises that were beginning to toll off your tongue.

Head thrown back in pleasure, it was all you could do to not beg him to never stop, to keep up your pleausure for eternity, even as he left himself unsatisfied and rock hard.

Everytike you pulled slightly back from the stimulation, he pulled you even further in, until you were sure he couldn't breath, his mouth and nose so lost in your heat and so intent on your pleasure.

You almost forgot it was his face below you, and started desperately riding him, grinding your clit into anything that would allow for some friction.

Every few minutes he came up for a larger breath, letting his fingers slip inside you as he explored your every reaction.

There was only so much you could take, and apparently tongue and fingers was just that step too far, as you let your body convulse over him.

He let you ride it out, drinking in every drop of juice that escaped you, finally getting that taste he'd become so obsessed with discovering.

When you finally pulled away, his lips and chin were slick with your arousal, and his face was awash with desire.

A tiny push had you on your back as he crawled up between your legs again, taking the time to unclassified his pants and pull them off, discarding them along eith the shirt you'd so painstakingly unbuttoned for him.

“I am going to make love to you, Y/N, and you are going to be mine. You'll always be mine.” His forehead rested against your own as he finally slid inside of you, sheathing his whole cock inside of you as it expanded with his intrusion, trying to find room for him.

He fit like a glove, provided the glove felt this fucking good, so warm and comforting to know he was filling you completely.

His thrusts began and you were almost overwhelmed by the sheer arousal he inspired in each heartbeat.

Wanton moans left your mouth as words failed you, tongue lolling about as you desperately wished he'd slip his head down to let you taste yourself on him.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said, tightening his grip on your hips so much you were sure his nails were going to leave tiny crescents carved into your very bones.

Your second orgasm snuck up on you, hips suddenly jolting up as if they'd a mind of their own, milking his cock as he whimpered at the sudden tightness.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you, I love you I love you so much,” the words were overwhelming as you struggled to speak through the after shocks of your climax, legs still twitching even as he spilled his seed inside of you.

“Now you're mine,” he whispered into your ear as he again found a stray lock of your hair and tugged it right back behind your ear, as if it would help you to see him that much clearer.

Your vision was already so filled with him though, that you were sure it would not matter how far he was or how obstructed your view, he would be the only thing you saw for the rest of your life.

Maybe you were a little obsessed with him as well.

[jjsmaybank20]

Heyy could I please request a Maddy Perez x fem!reader and they are both dating, but the reader is really shy but like also the sweetest person ever and would never hurt a fly, but she also hates like drama or other people fighting/yelling, so the reader gets a but uncomfortable at the intervention when everyone is yelling and fighting. So like the reader and Maddy are both comforting each other, it would be like hurt/comfort with fluff at the end. If you don’t want to do it then no pressure at all 😭😭 (btw I’m 18+)

Intervention

Maddy Perez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were the calm to Maddy's storm, the only person who could talk her down after finding out about Cassie and Nate.

Warnings: Lots of language, intervention shit, mentions of Nate (🤮)

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Look at me go, y'all! I cranked this out, and it's not half bad. Took me over a month, though. Sorry about that.

navigation euphoria masterlist

---

You and Maddy were complete opposites, which is why you worked so well together as a couple. She was bold and outgoing, while you were more reserved and shy. To give you some credit, you could most definitely fight for yourself if needed, but Maddy tended to fight for you first. The two of you had only been together for a few weeks, but you knew that you would last a long time.

You hated confrontation, and you avoided it as much as possible, but you would do anything to help your friends. This was how you ended up in the Howard household, preparing to stage an intervention for Rue Bennett. 

You nervously watch as the girl of the hour comes around the bend, before groaning when she catches sight of the group standing at the bottom of the stairs. She sits down, practically collapsing, and bangs her head on the wall behind her while muttering, “Oh, fuck.”

Maddy slips her hand into yours, knowing that this could get messy really fast. As if it wasn’t already. You squeeze her hand gratefully, using the physical contact as a grounding method. You watch as Rue’s mom begins to talk to her daughter.

“This can’t make you feel good, Rue. Living like this, lying to the people you love, being mean to the people you love,” At this, you glance over at Lexi, trying to shoot her comforting look. “This can’t make you feel good about yourself.”

Rue sighs, dragging her hands down her face. “I don’t care, just fucking leave me alone please.” She sounds on the verge of tears, and her mother takes a step towards the staircase. “I know you’re in pain.” 

Rue begins to get angry, quietly exclaiming, “You have no fucking idea, mom.” Her mom continues to talk to her calmly, trying to convince her to go to the hospital. Cassie walks forward slightly, in front of the area where you were standing with Maddy, Kat, and Lexi. 

“I can’t get clean, I can’t do that shit forever.” You can hear the pain in Rue’s voice, and it makes your heart ache for your friend. Cassie takes another step forward, and you realize that she’s about to throw a wrench in this whole operation.

She swings her arms before over encouragingly saying, “You don’t have to. Just, take it one day at a time.” You wince slightly, knowing that she basically opened herself up for anything Rue wants to attack her with.

When Cassie glances around, you see Maddy gesture to her that it was a little too much, letting you know that the two of you were on the same page. 

“Hey, Cass?” You wince when you hear Rue’s voice again, knowing that whatever comes next isn’t going to be pretty. Cassie responds innocently, and Rue follows up with, “I have a quick question for you.” 

Cassie seems confused, responding, “What?” Rue sighs before answering, “How long have you been fucking Nate Jacobs?” You inhale sharply, not expecting that to come from the brunette girl. You feel Maddy tense up beside you, which sets you even more on edge.

Cassie is silent for a moment, before she starts nervously laughing. “Wh-What are you talking about?” Rue doesn’t hesitate before asking her question again, and this is when you know that all hell is about to break loose.

Cassie begins to stutter out denials, but Maddy ignores her in favor of questioning Rue. “What are you talking about?” Rue begins to play the innocent victim, turning all attention away from the actual intervention. 

“Oh, I just- I saw her get in his truck and then kiss him and drive off, that was like, what, like uh… like a month ago?” You let out a slow exhale, realizing that was before you and Maddy had gotten together. So… Nate had cheated on Maddy with Cassie, Maddy’s best friend. Holy shit. 

Maddy gives Cassie a dangerous look before dropping your hand and exclaiming, “Are you kidding me?” Cassie can’t even defend herself anymore as she just lets out whimpers and tries to hold back her tears. From behind you, Kat states, “Cass, that’s like, really bad.” 

“You’re fucking Nate. Are you kidding me?!” You want to try to calm Maddy down, but she has a right to be angry. You know that she’s over Nate, but her best friend slept with her ex-boyfriend while they were still together. She trusted Cassie, and she fucked her over.

Cassie continues to try to stutter out denials, but Maddy exclaims, “You’re lying!” Ms. Howard tries to break up the argument by focusing back on the actual reason why everyone was here, but Maddy refuses. You take a step back as she explodes.

“No. No! You expect me to stand here next to my best friend who's been lying to me about fucking my ex-boyfriend? I’m literally going to get violent!” Ms. Howard tries to stop her again, but when Maddy sees that Cassie is crying, she storms forward. 

Kat tries to grab her, but when she misses, she whisper-yells, “Y/N! Fucking do something! You’re the only person she’ll listen to.” You nod and sigh, getting ready to step into the fray where you were the most uncomfortable.

 “You’re the one who’s hurt? You’re the most self-centered, idiotic person I have ever fucking met. You fuck my ex? And you’re fucking crying? Are you fucking kidding me?” You step up to her and place your hand on her arm. She goes to shrug you off, but when she realizes it’s you, she leans into your body. 

You hold her, moving away from Cassie as Ms. Bennett yells at the rest of you. As she yells, you whisper to Maddy, “I’ve got you, baby. She’s not fucking worth it. Please, we came here for Rue. You can finish this later. Please.” She nods into your chest and you kiss her head. As you lead her to the door, you shoot everyone apologetic looks. 

When you catch Cassie's gaze, you give her the most murderous look you can muster. Right before you walk out the door, you mouth, “You’re fucking dead.”

---

You drive Maddy to your house before guiding her up the stairs and into your room. She seems less mad and more shellshocked now, but you know at any moment she would break and the tears would come running. 

You quickly grab some ice cream from your mini fridge and grab one of your hoodies for Maddy. As soon as you sit down next to her on your bed, she falls into you and begins sobbing. You let her cry as you lay the two of you back and stroke her hair. 

She cries for a long time before she quietly asks, “How could she do this? She was my best friend.” You take note of the was, and instead of answering, you just pull the latina woman closer. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while before she speaks up again.

“Thank you for talking me out of fighting her there. Not saying I won’t fight her somewhere else, but that wasn’t the time, or the place.” You let out a soft snort at her confession, quietly answering, “Of course. I needed to get out of there, anyway. Was starting to feel claustrophobic.” 

Maddy snuggles even deeper into your bed, tired out from everything that went down. As she drifts off to sleep, you hear her mumble, “I love you, Y/N.” You smile gently down at the girl snuggled into you, turning off your light.

You press a kiss to her head and quietly answer, “I love you, too.”

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme

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[bitstitchbitch]

*spoilers for the dragon prince seasons 1-7 ahead*

okay, but in runaan’s pov (and forgive me if I get anything wrong here),

he goes off to kill a king and prince and… brings his daughter along. His daughter gives them away so he makes her stay behind (probably to save her life tbh) but she goes anyway and tries to convince him it’s a big mistake while protecting the adopted son of the king he’s there to kill. So then Runaan fights his own daughter but she gets away with the adopted son.

So, runaan goes back to his job and kills the king, and the only weird thing is that the king kind of squawked at him in the end? People do strange things when they are about to die though so he doesn’t think too much of it. but because his daughter betrayed them he gets captured and then trapped in a coin by an evil mage. And he gets stuck in an in-between state of unfinished business for two years before his daughter comes and saves him.

and when he’s finally free, the adopted son of the king he killed is there, and also dating his daughter? And he can’t be mad about it because the adopted son is a mage (but somehow not a dark mage despite being human) and helped his daughter save him.

So while runaan is healing up, he has to watch his daughter date this ridiculous human (who actually doesn’t show much of a grudge towards runaan for murdering the king). But soon enough the boy goes to help his brother - who runaan was also supposed to kill.

and at this point, runaan just wants to go back to his lover, but when he’s finally well enough to travel, his daughter is like “actually I’m very sorry but we have to go back to the place where you were captured and trapped in a magic coin because I promised”

so runaan goes only to be yelled at by the prince, now king, that he failed to murder and is arrested for murdering the original king because unlike adopted son this son is very angry. A few days later, his daughter saves him with the eventual help of the adopted son / annoying human with the nerve to date his daughter. But it’s fine, he finally gets back to his lover. It’s a bit of a process to get his daughter unbanished, but after that everything should go back to how it was

except because adopted son went against his king brother to help runaan escape, he is now hanging around and make inane comments about how pretty the silver grove is and making out with runaan’s daughter. And, apparently, planning on having ten kids with said daughter. Yuck

but after only two weeks of the boy’s interloping, suddenly they find out that the world is at risk of ending. And now runaan is going on a road trip with the adopted son of man he murdered / potential son-in-law only to find that the person they were searching for is already murdered and then runaan has to save the boy’s life from an evil mage (different one, btw)

and then once the evil mage leaves, the boy (who runaan has really only known for a few weeks) declares his intent to commit dark magic to trap the evil elf trying to destroy the world, but makes runaan promise to assassinate him as soon as he does dark magic so that the evil elf can’t control him. Runaan agrees to this despite probably knowing that it would break his daughter’s heart

so they go back and the adopted son is standing there ready to cast the spell and runaan is standing there ready to shoot him when Runaan gets attacked by the dark mage and thrown to the ground. Thankfully things still work out and the people who runaan care about (including the adopted son, who unfortunately wasn’t spared from using dark magic but isn’t at risk of being controlled anymore) make it out alive

so anyways, after things calm down and wanting to clear his name, runaan goes to the young king and submits to his justice. The young king forgives him, with difficulty, then asks a reasonable question. “Did my father have any last words?”

and runaan has to tell this young, twelve year old king that the last sound his father made was a squawk. Only this seems to have real significance for the people in the room and now there’s a very real chance that the person you assassinated isn’t actually dead but, somehow, swapped bodies with a… bird???

but we don’t actually know because the next season isn’t renewed.

anyways, runaan had a rough time of it

[destinygoldenstar]

THIS is very small, but it's so well done.

The way the colors FADE as we zoom in. EDITING. LOVE IT.

As someone who HAD a panic attack last week at work, I can talk about this from what that felt like. First it was my brain screaming irrational thoughts and unable to shout them out, then I started to breathe like a manic, and then everything started to fade and go dark as I could only hear that breathing. Colors faded, and I blacked out (didn't go unconscious, just lost vision) until someone touched me and carried me out of the room. I could BARELY walk btw.

Now, Pomni WAS able to pull herself together before she could have those last parts happen to her. So I'm inclined to believe that this is NOT a panic attack, but rather an anxiety attack.

And YES, panic and anxiety attacks are two different things. Just with similarities, which is why they get confused.

I have anxiety attacks all the time. And in my anxiety attack instances, I COULD snap out of it like Pomni did and I didn't fall over and black out.

They suck though. Both suck.

Animation is OBSESSED with panic attacks and anxiety attacks and as someone who suffers both a lot, idk how I feel about that. But I'm okay with it here cause it's not as in your face as some of these others.

(Even if 'these others' are technically better moments because the attack is the focus, whereas here it isn't.)

[daddymus-mamatron]

Thank you MegOP week I can finally unleash all the brain rot about one thing from TFE that I wish they had kept.

day 5; scars

this one was a very easy pick between the two prompts and it's something I've been stewing over since the first season. so much so that I have references for it, made some art for it and I even got a fic.

this is the rant part

hey remember that.

I do.

I think about it a lot.

In this episode, the first time we see Megatron, he’s been arguing with Karen and OP about how dangerous Starscream is, and how capturing him is a priority. The next scene is MegOP by the hole where the seekers escaped. Just before he goes in, OP almost begged Megatron to: 'Just promise me you'll return him without excessive force.' 

When Megatron does find Starscream, they fall right back into their fighting pattern, triggering some PTDS on Starscream's side.

the receipts btw

I see this and go feral, I am staunchly in the camp; this is not an animation error, i will bite!!! The Decepticon brand is only there when the pov is from Starscream. *feral gremlin moment over*

This is also an important detail. 

Hashtags intervenes, trying to warn Megatron about the Dweller. 'Lol, nice troll' is basically his answer, dismissing her, juuuust a few seconds before he gets energon siphoned. 

Scars appear on his face, the Dweller is having a very nice energon caprisun over there. Megatron, now a good Autobot, probably uses the last of his energy to fire his fusion cannon. In a very bad ass way, really cool move. Noble move to protect the Terran, the next generation. 

But it’s not his sacrifice that saves Hashtag. It’s Starscream that jumps and gets dragged away by the Dweller, leaving behind a rather dumbfounded Megatron. Seeing Starscream scream ‘NO!’ and dash toward danger to save someone, has probably blown a fuse or two in his processor. 

At the end of the episode, when he proposes ‘somewhere safe’ for Starscream, I see this scene as Megatron realizing he’s not the only one who changed. Earth had an impact on both the ‘Cons and the ‘Bots. He should feel bad for attacking Starscream right away, especially with Hashtag right there who could have easily got hit in the crossfire. He let rage consumed him and went down the dark path. All it got him was scars and Hashtag distrusting him.

So when it’s time to get fixed, the scars are the first thing the medic worries about.

I'd like to propose that Megatron keeps them. I HC so hard that the scars stay on his faceplate as a reminder. Like the scar on his shoulder, those streaks are a reminder that he would lay down his life for the next generation and that letting his rage control him again has consequences that would hurt him. Rage and solitude versus love and family. 

I could go on and on about this, let the old man be battered lmao

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I hope you're well :)

Would you so kindly be able to do an Emily Prentiss x victim child!reader where reader is kind of young, maybe like between 6-10 and they've been held captive by the UnSub for weeks now and when the team finally finds the location, reader has gone mute and very cautious/scared of everyone and only allows (to an extent) Emily near them? Since she's the one who first finds them? Emily is very patient and comforts reader even if they don't speak and such. But reader eventually becomes comfortable enough to speak again, using short sentences and few words with Emily (maybe even some other team members, too).

Emily could possibly take them in but that part can be up to you!

I can't wait to see more of your work btw, you're so good!! Thx! Xoxo 💘

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topics of abuse, trauma, child neglecting, punishments and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: I have tried my best to accommodate this request. I have to say that I changed the request a little because I didn't want to write a 6 year old child being kidnapped by a stranger, so I just had to do it with the father who has a criminal record. I also had to shorten it and basically skip a period of time in order to fulfill the second part of the request. I hope it is still okay. Also had to split it into two parts, Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

Walls. Excessive tightness.

You did not know how long you had been in that closet, and you did not want to know either. Far too exhausted from all the panic attacks and the walls threatening to crush you. Your stomach was growling like it had been ever since your father decided to punish you for everything you did.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were glassy, but you were long past crying. That only made things worse. Your father knew no mercy, and certainly not for his scared and crying little daughter.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if you actually suffocated in that closet. Better to suffocate from the reducing air than to be suffocated by your own father. You would not grow old, you would not reach the age of 10. You were sure of that. You were convinced that something would happen to you before your next birthday. But so far you had gotten older every year and every birthday you were sure that it would be your last.

Your father would not let you sleep in your bed anymore, but at least today it was in the closet and not in the gazebo that you had to sleep in. It was late autumn and in the arbor, the roof of which had tiny holes, there was a risk of hypothermia and finally freezing to death. Your hand, which was squeezed between the closet door and your thigh, had now fallen asleep and despite your constant shaking, you felt immensely hot. You noticed your face starting to glow again- you had a fever from the cold that blew through the room at night. You carefully pulled your hand out from under your leg, hitting your head on one of the wooden insert panels of the shelves, causing a dull thud as it came loose and fell onto your body.

Your heart skipped a beat before stopping briefly, you squinted for a moment, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed and that your father had disappeared from his guarding position in front of the closet and was downstairs in front of the TV. But then you heard footsteps, quiet and muffled through the ajar door and the wood that surrounded you. It sounded nothing like your father and his firm, jagged steps and you begged that you had not misheard and were now in for a lot of trouble.

The door creaked and your breathing became increasingly quicker. You did not mishear. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and prepare yourself for what was to come. If your father saw you so upset, he might keep you here longer or deny you food for the next few days.

The key turned in the lock that locked the two doors together and you heard them slowly open, but did not dare to look outside. The fear of provoking your father when you greedily gasped for fresh air and light was too great. You felt a slight breeze on your bare shoulders and cheeks. Still, you kept your eyes closed, hoping to avoid your fate.

Instead of your father's disapproving shouts and rough hands that would normally drag you out of the closet, there was only a careful, barely noticeable touch on your shoulder. When you raised your eyes, you saw a strange woman with black hair. "Hey, sweetie. I am from the police, you are safe now," the older woman's eyes were glassy. She seemed unsettled, as if she was afraid of breaking you with one wrong move, as if you were made of delicate mass. "You can come out now, your father can not hurt you anymore."

You nodded and a few moments later she had pulled you out of the closet, carefully and slowly so as not to hurt you, and immediately drawn you into her arms. You just let it happen, completely unable to understand that this was a foreign woman you were clinging to.

Your father had forbidden you from speaking to strangers and your fear of upsetting your dad was huge. But something about her voice made you give in. "I am Emily. What is your name?" she asked and rubbed your back soothingly, your courage to speak failing you. When the rest of her team stormed into the room a moment later and looked down at you in front of the open door, you panicked and shook yourself away from her before returning to the closet where you felt safe.

A hand signal directed to Derek and Hotch, they disappeared silently from the bare room with the remaining SWAT workers and left her alone with you. It took some time for you to gain confidence and crawl out of the wooden wardrobe again. The young woman had talked her head off with various topics in order to give you a feeling of reassurance.

You followed Emily's hand movements carefully, and at the sight of the little package of gummy bears, your mouth watered and your stomach began to make itself known. "Someone is really hungry!" She whispered and smiled softly before opening the small package and holding it out to you.

You carefully sat up, occasionally glancing at the door so that you could move back into the closet as quickly as possible in case of an emergency. But nothing happened. The black-haired woman pointed uncertainly but grinning at the package. "The green ones are my favorite. And what are yours?" you rummaged through the tiny package with your fingers until you held a red gummy bear between your fingers and showed it to her. "The red ones? Uhh, they are yummy!"

You jumped away while the first bite, she had raised her hand too quickly. She shook her head, swallowing hard. Emily had not thought for a split second. “Can I feel your forehead?”she asked after a short hesitation and you nodded, afraid of upsetting her like your father, granting her permission.

She gently placed her hand on your sweat-covered forehead. You were feverish. She slowly lowered her hand carefully again and watched you as you hesitantly gnawed on a gummy bear. Your father did not like it when you just wolfed down your food and often had taken it away when fell into a deep hunger.

Emily continued to watch you, her eyes sad and exhausted. You cocked your head, wondering if you had done something wrong. When your eyes met for a moment, you hesitantly reached for her free hand and placed her favorite gummy bear in her palm.

You found a kind of care and hope in her presence. Hope that you can still lead a normal life and never be locked in the closet by your father again. Emily caught the very first smile you gave her before you stood up and carefully fell into her arms. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she giggled softly, her heart swelling and beginning to pound wildly.

"No,"

Surprisingly, she widened her eyes while keeping her mouth wide open. After hours spent in this cold room with only forensics downstairs doing their work, she had finally managed to hear your gentle and childlike voice.

[mcyt-trios]

SEMI-FINALS

PROPAGANDA:

3 Heart Trio:

theyre soo silly theyre just silly little guys who do things like mining an entire chunk in the center of the server's spawn for their own entertainment and to annoy everyone else

They are PATHETIC. They are ANNOYING. They are PERFECT. They are playing on three hearts and they die so much. They have a specialized raid platform that is NOT a raid farm. They are a team against exploits! Their base has 3 hearts above it representing them

these guys decided to put love and fun above all on the killing-lying server. while watching other teams betray and fall apart they have stuck with each other till the very last day of the server and never doubted one another. they worked like a clockwork, they knew they could only rely on themselves and at the end of the day, they didnt mind that it was that way

these guys got the short end of the stick time and time again throughout all of lifesteal s4, they were the targets of so many traps and attacks for no reason other than they were weak and always around. and despite it all they never wanted revenge and never held grudges! they cared about fun and friendship more than anything else, and while all the other teams ended up falling apart or betraying each other, these three stuck together from start to end. they didn't care about how many hearts they had, how much gear they had, or how powerful they were, because in the end all they needed was each other <3 i miss them so bad btw

Soup Group:

I love them sm. They go raid a woodland mansion together with stone tools on day 1. They go end-busting with only soup a few days later. They all based practically on top of each other and send messages under the river (or through the ceiling/basement in Gem and Impulse's case). Pearl and Impulse got mad at the king so the three of them started a revolution. Every single meetup involves them drinking suspicious stew that more often than not causes someone to go blind. They share a nether tunnel. Gem got bored and they all had wooden sword fights. They put their faces all over each other's bases. Gem still uses the "Behind You Gem! 2.0" sword that Impulse made her at the beginning of the season. There's so many inside jokes between them. Please, they mean so so so much to me <3

They're neighbours. They're going on soup adventures. They're watching each other die in comedic ways. They're slaying each other with wooden swords. They're teasing each other. They have an elaborate messaging system they never use. Pearl keeps making them blindness soup and then the others complain that she's blinded them again and then they'll do it all again next week. They're silly and goofy and so much fun. I love them.

[transfemme-shelterdog]

More transandrophobia experiences:

Had an ex-friend repeatedly talk us having kids in detail, how dating/having sex with him would fix me and he was told in a vision that he had to marry and "nurture" me (when I was in the middle of a panic attack) or I was going to hell. When I finally cut him off, he spent a few weeks wait in the common room outside my dorm. Eventually he left me alone.

My ex-partner's friends were just generally rude to me. Once when she wasn't around, they carried on about how much they hate men and how all men should die etc. When I asked them to maybe not have that conversation in front of me, on account of me being a man, they said "oh well, you don't really count!" and I was on my last nerves with them so I said "so you don't consider me a man then? You're just misgendering me now?" to which they said if I wanted to me a man that badly, sure, I should die too, I should kill myself like every other man. That was the worst of a number of little comments.

This ex-partner herself was abusive, routinely very infantilizing, comparing me to a little kid, etc. At one point (this was a non-sexual qpp, both of us open to date others) when I offered for us to watch a show together I thought she'd like since we hadn't spent much time together recently, she said she'd rather go to her boyfriend's place, "since he actually has a dick."

(I am not in contact with any of these people anymore btw!! I have much better friends now!!)

My oldest sister called me "it" and "that thing" for about a year, and asked me why I would want to be disgusting and hairy and sweaty all the time, along with number of other rude comments and still constantly reminds me that I don't "look like a man" and she's "just saying it for your own good. So you're aware of how other people perceive you" as if I don't know????? The first thing she said when I came out was "does this mean you're a lesbian now?" My mom started snapping at me if I got upset about misgendering or rude comments, told me if I wanted to be a boy then I wasn't allowed to get upset about things like that because it was my own fault. They've both improved (and now deny saying any of those things, conveniently).

One of my professors told me I'd never be able to play anything more than a little boy on stage without years of hormones and surgery, so I really shouldn't bother with theatre. She was also caught specifically saying she only wanted one trans guy in the musical theatre department so she could work with someone who's on T to see what their voice was like (she got fired! For a number of reasons, discrimination included). I had a classmate who, before coming out as nb, was super careful about being respectful to me. After coming out? Got drunk and said "all men should die" and when I said "maybe just the shitty ones" (trying to at least soften the statement) they leaned in and said "all men are shit, and you're a shitty man too." They had also previously rubbed their finger on my tongue with no warning or anything. Not necessarily connected to me being transmasc, but wildly uncomfortable.

Work-related: one supervisor who would go out of her way to misgender me (young lady was most common) and misspell my name (differently. on every schedule). Some other older coworkers (middle-aged cishet women) also going out of their way to ask which bathroom I use, if I'm getting "those surgeries" (with a disgusted fascination sort of tone), if I want to get pregnant/"be a mother", if I had been assaulted, if I want a penis, etc. All while on the clock!

.

[possessionisamyth]

People making Mia an abusive spouse fail to realize it would take three notch turns to make Ethan the abusive controlling husband who won't let his wife go even in death.

"But in RE7 Eveline wants him cause he's nice and her dips into Mia's mind hyped him up."

Make it where Eveline wants Ethan because he's the only one who can control Mia better than her.

"But her last message to Ethan-"

Never sent, but intended to do the job of getting her an actual funeral for other friends and family she might want to know of her passing.

"But her secret double life-"

An escape more intensive than her turbulent marriage with the hope the job might kill her before Ethan does.

"But at the beginning of RE8-"

That was fucking Mother Miranda in disguise for weeks. Stop using that as an example Mia is toxic. It doesn't fucking work.

"But in House Beneviento in RE8 she's keeping some big secret from him."

She knows her husband is now mold, but the patterns of abuse are the same. Her reactions could stem from fear for when the honeymoon phase ends now that there's a baby involved.

"But Ethan mentions they're arguing a lot."

Abusive men turning the narrative to frame the wife as hysterical in order to better control them and how others interact with them.

"But why else would he go through all that effort to save Rosemary?"

Same reason he went through all that effort to get Mia back. They're his property.

Attacking Ethan with a chainsaw and not killing him could be all her pent up complex emotions coming to the surface via Eveline and the mold. Imagine the sick and horrid relief she'd feel seeing Jack kill Ethan. Think of the bile rising in her throat seeing him walking around again desperately calling out for her with the promise he'd take her back home. A monster you can't kill. Literally and figuratively. Not being able to tell Chris because her double life puts her in the negatives for trust, and Ethan capitalizing on it. Her learning Ethan is getting military training and now there's more ways he can harm her without leaving visible physical evidence. Holding Rosemary over her as a threat and another tether she can't cut.

This took me five minutes to come up with btw.

[infinite-orangepeel]

So consider this… It’s two weeks after the end of S4, Poor Steve is trying to unwind at home as best he can so he’s taken to jerking off regularly and letting himself be as loud as he wants ‘cause who the fuck still lives in Hawkins these days? And then the lights start flickering, the camera does a full 360 sideways and there is a very much alive very red-faced Eddie Munson in the upside-down version of Steve’s house, rapidly flickering the lights and shouting “I CAN HEAR YOU HARRINGTON, GODDAMN IT!”

ANON ! i'm in love with you and kissing you on the forehead for this one. 1) because it made me cackle out loud and i was in need of a good laugh, so thank you my angel 😇 and 2) because i'm now convinced that this has to be a scene in s5 or i'll simply pass away ! too good !!

!! PLEASE READ BELOW BEFORE CLICKING THE READ MORE !!

before we continue and get onto the prompt, this post is very much scandalous/nsft (minors close your eyes and scroll away).

ficlet contains: monsterfucking, breeding, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, kas!eddie/steve harrington, and general filth. if that’s not your thing, no problem, i’d just suggest skipping this one :)

now, i'm imagining eddie's in kind of a clusterfuck, here. he's trapped in the UD. and he's scared out of his mind, hungry, exhausted, drained of all hope, losing it, etc. steve's UD house was the closest place he could find to take shelter after waking up from the whole demobat attack (and let's face it, subconsciously or not, eddie takes comfort in the fact that the house obviously reminds him of steve).

and the first few times he hears steve jerking off, eddie thinks he's genuinely imaging it. because, like, there's just no way steve 'the hair' harrington--former king steve of hawkins high--is making noises that breathy, sinful, and sweet. there's just no way ! what with the high pitched whines, bratty little moans, and out of character babbling about wanting his pussy fucked hard--there's just NO FUCKING WAY.

however, it does do something to eddie's dick (which has grown considerably, btw, since he started transforming into...well...he's not entirely sure what he is anymore, but he's definitely something other than human...he knows that).

his cock aches and throbs obscenely as he tries to drown out steve's cries of pleasure from above.

but he can't help it. eddie really, really can't. he's got it bad. he feels absolutely sick with want. and he's simply overtaken by the glorious sounds of this beautiful boy. newly sensitive ears burning from listening to steve's wet, sloppy, cock fucking into his veiny hand or against the sheets (which eddie can tell he's doing because he can smell the waft of linen and hear the painful drag of skin on fabric).

and the thing is, the more it happens, the more possessive eddie's hind brain gets about steve harrington.

the more he finds himself taking out his own enormous, barbed dick and milking himself over steve's UD bed. closing his eyes as he does so, he imagines mounting the boy, shoving his face into the pillows, taking him from behind and stuffing him full with load after load of cum.

eddie wants steve to carry his babies--even though it's not technically biologically possible (to his knowledge, shhh). he wants to watch his belly bulge and stretch; on the verge of bursting from how huge eddie's cock is inside him. he wants to use steve as his own personal cock warmer, employ the barbs, and lock himself into place. he wants to brush up against steve's untouched prostate relentlessly, draw moan after moan out of him, make steve scream out those sweet sounds just for him. draining ever last ounce of his cum into this perfect boy as he makes him writhe and undulate from the magnitude of his pleasure. pleasure only eddie munson--this new version of himself, enhanced and engorged with desire--can give him.

then the day comes where eddie's convinced he's going to bite his own arm off if he doesn't get his hands on steve soon. steve, who, can't seem to stop jacking off. constantly moaning and whining and crying out eddie's name as he cums so sweetly. never brining another human into the room. always by himself, always touching his cock so carefully. treating it like something delicate, teasing himself, and taking his time.

and eddie's hind brain is growing irritable. he's frigid, desperate, and heart-broken over the fact that he can't protect and serve his human directly. that he can't be the one to give steve comfort. he's constantly growling, rutting against anything that smells even faintly of steve in the UD version of his house, and builds a proper nest for him (despite knowing they're in two separate worlds, he can dream. just in case).

as eddie puts the finishing touches on the nest and groans in satisfaction, he hears steve performing his daily ritual up above. and as usual, he sounds heavenly. eddie can smell the boy's precum, can practically taste his skin, pictures the angelic slide of his measly human hand on that pretty pink cock (it's what he imagines, he's never seen it). he's certain this will finally send his monster over the edge, make him spontaneously combust if he has to hear steve sucking on his own fingers and crying about eddie one more time; so without thinking his hind brain starts flickering all of the lights in steve's house and he shouts:

"“I CAN HEAR YOU HARRINGTON, GODDAMN IT! YOU'RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE! JESUS CHRIST! YOU HAVE TO STOP!"

steve pauses. there are tears in his eyes, a huge smile on his face, and he’s laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world. and god, that's a beautiful sound, too. the sound of his happy chirping human.

"munson? munson, is that really you? oh my god, oh my god! you're alive?" he smells of salty cheeks and lavender; soft and pleasant.

"yeah, it's me," eddie fights to sound normal--doesn't want to accidentally growl and scare him away, "and i've been listening to your 24-hour cum fest for the past three weeks straight. you got something to say for yourself, pretty boy? or just 'oh eddie, oh eddie, right there! feels so good'?" he mimics in a nasaly interpretation of steve’s voice.

steve's laughter rings out through the darkness of the upside down, blows back the tattered curtains on the warped bedroom window, and travels back to eddie's perked ears in a gorgeous tune. sonorous hymn written just for his bleak, forlorn heart. giving it every reason to keep beating.

"okay, okay. quit it. give a guy a damn break," he says, "grief looks different for everyone and mine just happens to look particularly horny when it comes to you."

eddie feels more human than he has in a long time. despite the changes to his body, despite his uncontrollable urges, despite the fucking breeding nest sitting in the corner--steve makes him whole, steve makes him alive, steve makes him feel safe and that's all that matters.

"so you gonna come pick me up from the upside down or what, big boy?" he gazes up at the roof, as if he can actually meet eyes with steve, because maybe--just maybe--some day soon he will, again.

thanks for reading and supporting ! lmk what you think of this one in the comments and feel free to send in a scandalous steddie thought/prompt for me to respond to, of your own.

my inbox is always open and anon asks are more than welcome if that's more comfortable for you :) xoxo !!

oh and if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist at any time for any reason, i'm happy to do so ! just send me a dm or toss it in the comments <3

taglist: @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @shrimply-a-menace, @lordrrascal, @jjoesjonas, @malachitedevil, @anxiouseds