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flemingology · 26 days ago

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L is for the way you look at me ─ alexia putellas x reader

part 1 of my l-o-v-e miniseries. full masterlist here!

in which: you meet Alexia through your work, but things take an unexpected turn

warnings: nothing i can think of, but there must be something with this being 9k words. so let me know if there's anything worth mentioning lol. fluffy though!

wc: 8.8k

an: put my whole writerussy in this series. it'll come out on a weekly basis, every sunday for the next 4 weeks. will run simultaneously with the rest of my christmas series! i hope you enjoy <3

Your tires kicked up some gravel as your car came to a halt on the parking spot next to the sports complex. You leaned your head back against the headrest and let out a deep sigh, letting the silence overcome you for a second. You bathed in the comfort of your own car and tried to come to your senses, before what would be one of the biggest moments in your professional career as an interior architect so far. Scratch that. Biggest moment, for sure. Nothing had ever been bigger or more important than this.

It was early January when you initially got the call from your boss. You were at home, working on some 3D blueprints for a new apartment complex that was being built in the city centre. Not your most exciting project, but that’s the price you paid for working in a metropolis like Barcelona. Deadlines coming thick and fast, it meant that you were severely overworked, but clients weren’t waiting. Residents weren’t waiting, either. So you worked. You worked early, worked late, worked at home, worked in the office. You’d always been career-oriented, though, so you were never going to complain, not with the opportunities your perseverance had given you already. But you wouldn’t have dared to dream about this next one, even in your wildest dreams.

Your phone shook you up from your thoughts, head deep in a few finishing touches on an elevator blueprint when your ringtone sounded through your apartment. You rolled and stretched your neck in a futile attempt to release some of the tension there, before picking up the device and bringing it to your ear.

“Y/n, I’m gonna get right down to business. I’ve got an opportunity for you that you’re not going to want to turn down.”

A combination of words you’d normally be very excited about, but with the amount of work you already had on your plate, you weren’t quite sure about that. Endless to-do lists were scattered around your apartment and you were already struggling to meet all the deadlines set, so taking something else up would definitely set you back for a good couple months on multiple projects. You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before you replied, solely a hum.

“Look, I know you’re busy. You have a whole load on your plate right now, but if you take this, I’ll take care of the rest. We will redistribute the work. But this is once in a lifetime. And I want my best employee on it.”

You were taken aback by his words, your boss never one to willingly move work around from employee to employee once a project had been started. Your interest was piqued, so you decided to bite.

“Alright, you got me. Shoot.”

“We’ve been asked to design a new training complex for the Barcelona Women’s team.”

The best part of 8 months later, here you finally were. Sat outside the complex, in your car, taking a couple more moments before throwing yourself in the deep end. You had worked relentlessly on this project. If you thought you were working hard before, you’d found a new gear that left all your previous years in your professional career in the dust. You were the only designer on the project, meaning that a lot of the work fell on your shoulders and yours only in the initial phases of the process.

You were fatigued, from a lack of sleep as much as physically. You couldn’t remember how many all-nighters you pulled in trying to get the design over the line by the deadline. You experienced heightened anxiety and stress over the course of multiple months, only adding to the already overbearingly heavy weight on your shoulders. You got obsessive with it, as you always did, danced on the brink of a burn-out at some points, but you promised yourself it would pay off. Nothing would ever come close to the feeling of professional success. And you hoped, for the love of God, that you could deliver tonight. That everyone was happy with the complex, that your tour would go seamlessly, and that you had another thing to tick off in your long bucket-list of working as an interior architect. You took a couple more composing breaths in the driver seat of your car, checking your appearance a final time and attempted yourself at a pep-talk before you opened the door of your car and stepped out into the heat of the Spanish capital.

You’d seen it before, given the tour to your imaginary guests more often than you could count, but now, in Barcelona’s glistening afternoon sun, it really came into its own. The complex stands tall, but it exudes a sense of openness. It’s large, commanding, but not intimidating. Towering windows scratch across its surface, a feature that you’d grown to love across your visits to the facility. It allows plenty of natural light to pour in, the building strategically positioned so it would catch most of the afternoon sun. The entrance is wide, inviting, but nothing short of impressive. A set of smooth, glass doors that reach high, transparent so they give you a view of the lobby. The first feeling that comes over you is relief. You had seen the structure plenty of times, but with the prospect of having to guide the clients around later, it’s reassuring that you still feel excited and accomplished about your work. You approach the building, deciding to wait for the rest of your clients by the entrance.

You didn’t have to wait long, two black Cupras soon arriving at the facility after you made your way over. You weren’t fully aware how many people of the club were going to be present, but you’d tried to prepare yourself. Nine people though, that was kind of cutting it. Five people exited the first vehicle, another four quickly following short out of the other. Nine. If you weren’t nervous before, you surely were then.

The introductions went by in a flurry, but you tried your absolute best to remember the name and functions of every suited or dressed man or woman that had just shook your hand. Joan, president of the club. Pere, head coach. Marc, financial director. Lucia, facilities manager. There was one amongst them, though, that didn’t need an introduction. Not to you. Not to anyone. And really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you that they brought a player. If anyone has to approve of the facilities, it’s the players themselves.

“Alexia. Nice to meet you.” “Y/n. Likewise.”

She gave you a firm handshake, her eyes holding yours just a second too long, and you swear, you could feel it—that spark, that something. But before you could question it, she’d already let go of your hand and joined the rest of her people. You were well aware who she was, well aware of what she meant in the world of football, but you weren’t taken aback. It was nothing more than a crossover between two people doing their jobs, and you weren’t gonna have someone like her intimidate you and throw you off your path for the rest of the afternoon. Not with the importance of this project for the future of your career.

You clapped your hands when everyone seemed to have taken their first looks at the building from the inside. “Okay! Shall we?” You mustered up the brightest smile you had in your locker, silently wishing that the nerves would settle down as soon as you got into your element inside.

“Okay, so, the main entrance. I didn’t want to have too much going on in here, more going for a calm atmosphere. Reception in the middle, and then there’s really only one hall here, leading you towards the rest of the facility.”

The entrance was, as you described, calm. It had some lounge seats here and there but you couldn’t imagine many people spending lots of time here, so you kept the extras limited. A few acknowledging and appreciating hums from your tiny crowd sent you on your way, your nerves slowly but surely ebbing away.

You slowly guided your guests towards the hallway, letting them take in the interior and space for as long as they wanted until they seemed ready to continue the tour. “On the left, first and foremost, the changing room. I thought it was handy for it to be near the entrance, as most of the players probably come straight here after arriving.”

You push open the double doors to the room, stepping aside and allowing the others to step in first. “As you can see, a large and accordingly illuminated space with rows of lockers, personalized for each player. Each locker has a charging station, storage for gear, and adjustable lighting, because who doesn’t hate bad lighting when trying to focus before a game?”

For the first time during the tour, someone spoke up then, and it wasn’t who you’d expect to take the floor first. “I’ll admit, I’m guilty of using mine as a mini closet sometimes. Good call with the extra storage.” Alexia’s admission caused some lighthearted laughs and chatter to rise from the small group of people, and you almost felt grateful for her comment. “I’m glad.” You mustered up a small but sincere smile, before turning back around and continuing your work.

You gestured towards the wall that wasn’t adorned with lockers. “The screens on here are meant for displaying tactics, team news, and whatever else you guys get up to on a day-to-day basis.” You were really coming into yourself and started to forget about the nerves of the moment. You were in your element, you were doing what you liked, what you had been doing for the past 7 years of your life. You weren’t gonna mess this up.

“Of course, showers are tucked around the corner. Communal shower room, as I’m sure you’re all familiar with. Physio beds, and everything else you would need for pre-activation before training are around the other corner. To integrate some options for relaxation, there are also some sofas in that room. I don’t know to which extent they will be used, but they’re there.”

Right as you were about to lead the group back out towards the next room, Pere spoke up. “I like the adjustable lighting. I think it’s something we struggled with at our previous facility. It was quite bright, and sometimes that’s not the vibe you want to create for your players. They need calm, especially after a training session. Good work on that one.” The man offered you a sincere smile and rested his hand on your shoulder for a split second, and you felt all warm inside at the acknowledgement of your work. You took it in your stride and continued the tour.

“Taking a left outside the locker room and moving down the hallway, it’ll take you into the tactical room. Meeting room, briefing room, whatever you want to call it. This room is more dimly lit, with one singular big screen on the wall for video analysis, powerpoint presentations, and so on. I think there’s about 30 seats, but I wasn’t quite sure on how many there would need to be, so if you need any more I can take care of those too.”

Pere and Alexia shared a look, before letting you know that 30 would be enough. “Now, moving on through the room, I designed a second section with more of a discussion place in mind. I opted for a round table, rather than a rectangular shape, because I feel like it invites more participation. A couple whiteboards here and there, but I’m sure you guys will find your own ways to use this room to your own liking.”

“There’s one thing, though, and I’m quite proud of that, if I may say so myself. One of these walls,” you started, tapping your finger on the back wall of the discussion room, “is a writable wall. You can write, pin notes, whatever you might need to brainstorm about your tactics.”

Pere’s voice sounded through the room as you finished your explanation. “So, Ale, no more scribbling on napkins during tactical meetings, huh?” You finally realized why one of your colleagues on the project was adamant about a certain type of soundproof walls for the room, because you were now grateful for the great acoustics as Alexia’s laugh sounded through the place. Suddenly, you noticed that one of the chairs around the table was slightly out of place. Your need for perfectionism rose up and as much as you wanted to leave it, to not fuss about a small detail like that, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Sorry, this chair is bothering me. Details matter, especially in places like these. Athletes notice more than they think they do.” You didn’t direct your statement towards anyone, but weren’t exactly surprised either when you heard Alexia’s voice in response. “We do? I just thought we used these rooms to throw our stuff around,” the Spaniard said with an amused, infuriatingly attractive smirk on her face. It was your turn to laugh now, and you weren’t the only one grateful anymore for the acoustics of the room.

You answered a couple questions and scribbled down a couple more suggestions from the rest of the staff, before making your way out of the discussion room and moving back towards the hallway. “Now, crossing the hallway, this is the treatment room.” There’s a calm atmosphere in the room, the soft hum of the lights the only sound as your clients take in their surroundings. “Plenty of massage tables in the middle of the room, some more space for pre-activation, shelves stretched across the walls with recovery tools. Around the corner, there’s a multifunctional hydrotherapy pool and an ice bath. These adjustable lights mimic natural daylight to help with recovery. I wanted to create a space where your body and mind can unwind together.”

“I imagine you will spend lots of your time here,” you smiled, gesturing towards one of the women that presented herself as one of the club’s physiotherapists.

“Yeah, this will be my safe haven. It’s great, honestly, better than I ever imagined. I was thinking whether there was something missing, but I can’t think of anything. You did great work.” You shot the woman, whose name you’d already forgotten, a bright smile and thanked her for the compliment. The moment was soon lost on you as you heard someone clear their throat.

“Yes, Alexia?” It was the first time you’d called the Barcelona captain by her first name that afternoon, and you were surprised at the ease it rolled off your tongue with. If Alexia was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “I’m gonna be annoying for a second. Wouldn’t it be tough for someone injured to reach that?” She pointed at the top shelves, where some of the recovery tools were stacked. You took a moment to yourself to think about her comment, before giving her a slight smile and nodding. “You’re right, thank you for noticing that.” You took out your notepad and scribbled something down, adding an exclamation mark or 5 to convey the importance of the task. The rest of the group had already moved back to the hallway, leaving you and Alexia to yourself for a little moment. You didn’t know where the flurry of confidence came from, but you grabbed it with both hands before it could slip away, leading to your next comment. “Good catch, captain.” Alexia grinned, a twinkle in her eyes as she met yours.

“You’re the expert, not me.” “Well, you’re the professional footballer amongst the two of us, so I think I could learn a thing or two still about the design of team facilities.” “You’re doing more than a good job so far. I’m positively surprised.”

You got pulled back to reality when you heard a laugh coming through the door from the hallway, reminding you of the fact that you were still working, still having to uphold a professional persona and make sure that the tour went well. This wasn’t the time and place to be making much small talk, let alone flirting. Could you even call it that? “Let’s move on, yeah?”

You lead your clients down the hall, opening the double doors that would lead to the gym. The space was just as you’d imagined it, and hearing the noises of appreciation from the people behind you, you knew you’d done a good job.

“I think this speaks for itself, really. Not entirely my area of expertise, not really one for dumbbells or barbells, but I think I got everything covered here,” you chuckled. “Resistance machines, cardio equipment, dumbbells, barbells and kettlebells. There’s also an area for stretching and functional training near the back of the room. I wanted this to be big, spacious, allowing lots of natural light in, because I know half of the training days are spent here. People tend to forget that.”

“Dios mio, Pere, if I’m ever missing, just come find me in here. This place is a dream come true,” you heard Alexia say from across the room, letting her eyes rake over the abundance of equipment that was scattered all around the gym. You crossed the room and joined her, following her movements with your eyes as she explored more of the gym. “I think this wall here needs some more Barca colors, no?” You scoffed and shook your head slightly, but pulled out your notepad nonetheless. “Noted, but I think you’re biased. Lucky for you, I like your bias.” Alexia tilted her head at that. “Does that mean I get to say in the rest of the design too?” You knew what she was doing. And it was so wrong for you to be giving into it in this professional context, but the woman across from you was enticing and you couldn’t help but be flattered at the way she seemed to be flirting with you. “Now, don’t push your luck, Putellas.” With that, you turned on your heels and made your way back towards the front of the room, not wanting to give Alexia the satisfaction of seeing the crimson red color your cheeks had turned at the small interaction.

“Well, I think we’ve got one final room, then.” You lead your guests back through the doors of the gym. “Taking a right here, you’ll end up in the team lounge. A cozy space for bonding, relaxing, whatever you guys want to do here. There’s a coffee station, entertainment options like games and a big screen, beanbags scattered around the room, but you can fill it in the way you want, really. There’s lots of flexibility with this space.”

“A coffee station? That’s going to make you a lot of friends around here,” the ever-familiar voice behind you commented. “Honestly, the caffeine might be the most important design element in this building.”

You pointed at the seating arrangement. “I went for modular sofas so you can switch between team bonding sessions and personal space. As I said, I went for flexibility here.” Pere caught up to where you were walking and put his hand on your shoulder, just as he did earlier during the tour. “You thought of all the details, huh? Most people wouldn’t notice things like that.” You shrugged off the compliment. “It’s all in the details, I bet you know that just as well as I do.” The coach let out a warm laugh and you couldn’t help but feel accomplished, it meant the world to you that him and one of the most important players in his team felt right within the facility and were impressed with your designs.

“As for different rooms, that was it for the tour. The pitches are outside, but there’s nothing special about those. Feel free to check them out if you want. I’m gonna let you all wander around a bit now, and if you have any questions or remarks, please come to me. I’m all ears and I’m very open to feedback. I hope you’re all satisfied, though, because this project meant a lot to me and I can’t begin to express how grateful I am to have received this opportunity.”

What happened next, was the last thing you’d expected. The room went silent for a second, until you could hear a couple slow claps sounding through the room. They came from Alexia, who was ushering the other people in the room to give you an applause. Her colleagues followed shortly, and soon the room was filled with the sound of their clapping, all smiling brightly at you and sharing laughs with one another. You felt grateful, overwhelmed by your emotions, but you felt a huge weight fall off your shoulders at the acknowledgement.

It wasn’t until a couple minutes later, that Alexia found herself next to you again. Most of the people had wandered back through the corridors, checking out the rooms at their own pace. “So, how long did it take you to design this?” Alexia fell in step with you as you walked through the gym, mustering up ideas for the remark the Spaniard gave you earlier. “Uh, about 4 months for the main sections, and then a few extra weeks for the final touches. And then, a waiting game while it was being built. It’s a bit of a balancing act, you know?” Alexia smiled faintly at you before responding. “I imagine. It sounds like a lot, but it seems like you’ve got everything under control.” “I try to.”

It was about half an hour later, when you all found yourself back at the entrance. You received another couple compliments from several staff members that had come along, and it felt like every single one bolstered your outside a bit more and more, upping your confidence with each one, taking them all in your stride. You’d been nervous for this, had worked countless hours, days, weeks on this project, but it all felt worth it. It was the biggest project you’d ever worked on, but it turned out perfectly and you couldn’t have wished for a better outcome.

The sun had started to set over Barcelona now, golden hour casting the building in rays of orange. It felt symbolic, a perfect ending to what had been a greatly successful afternoon. Alexia had noticed your passion for your work throughout the tour, and it was safe to say that she admired it. “You care a lot about getting things right, don’t you?” “Of course. It’s important.” “It feels right… you being here. You doing this. I feel like you understand this place.”

Alexia’s words came right from the heart, her voice growing soft as she uttered the final couple words, and you felt a fuzzy feeling coursing through your body at the admission. You raised your eyes at her, curious where the sudden comment had come from. Alexia picked up on this, explaining herself further.

“Your dedication to your work, it just resonates with my dedication to mine. The team’s dedication. It feels good, this.” You weren’t sure what she was talking about anymore, whether that be the building, your commitment, or just this–– the situation you two found yourself in at the moment. You’d tried to keep up your professional demeanor throughout the tour, but the more heartfelt comments Alexia threw your way, the harder you found it to keep up the snarky remarks or shrugging off whatever she said.

“I don’t know the word… it’s like when you do something that makes sense, like…” “Purpose?” “Yeah, purpose.”

Alexia grew bashful quickly, a shy smile covering her face. “Sorry, my English isn’t quite there yet.” You waved away her apology and were grateful for the change of tone in the conversation, not quite sure you would be able to keep up your persona had she gotten much more open with you.

“Look, I have to go now. I can sense Pero is growing impatient in the car. But, look, uhm, I like how you understand this place. Would you maybe,” she clears her throat and looks down to the ground before finishing her sentence, “want to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

You should’ve expected it, really. The way she was throwing not-so-subtle flirty remarks at you throughout the tour, her demeanor growing in confidence the longer time went on, you should’ve known this was coming. Still, it swept you completely off your feet, and quite frankly, speechless. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that thought of denying her request. But somewhere, in the back of your mind, a little rational voice sounded, saying that you had to be professional. This was your work, her work, and mixing work and dates was never a good idea. So you took a deep breath, meeting her eyes again before you gave her the answer she probably wouldn’t have expected.

“Alexia, I’d love to. But, this is a professional work context.” Alexia cocked an eyebrow at you, a small smile hinting on one corner of her mouth, and you couldn’t help the confusion that came across you. “Guapa, you are the one assuming that we are going on a date. I proposed it just to, you know, discuss insights about the building.” Your cheeks burned bright red at her words, and there was no way to escape the situation now. The taller woman in front of you let out a laugh, throwing her head back and if it weren’t for the twinkle of adoration in her eyes when her gaze met yours again, you would’ve thought she was laughing at you. “No, I get you. But look, I’ll make it worth your while. Just give me one chance, okay? You can’t deny the… how do you say, chemistry?” You nodded bashfully at the Spaniard, knowing she was completely right. You had tried your hardest to remain professional, but it grew harder and harder not to open up more of yourself to the footballer. “Look, if you don’t want a coffee, how about you come to the game tomorrow? You’ve done so much for us, you should come see what you’ve worked for these past couple months. My family can’t make it this week, so I’ve got plenty of tickets for you and anyone else you want to bring.”

That sounded like a better suggestion, all in all. If anything, you could now paint it down as just a friendly invitation to thank you for your work, and you didn’t have to think of it as a date. Although, even with what you said, you weren’t opposed to that idea either. “That sounds fair. You owe me a good performance, though” you quipped back, not letting her off the hook that easily. She had made you blush, but you weren’t gonna let her walk over you like that. “Only if you come to dinner after.” And just like that, she’d turned the whole situation around again. Infuriating. Infuriatingly attractive. “We’ll see.”

You struggle on deciding what to wear that day. Torn between trying to look put-together and not wanting to look like you’re trying too hard, you eventually settle on something practical but nice– enough to look professional, but not too casual. Because in the end, it’s just a game, right? Just Alexia Putellas casually inviting you to see her in her element, no big deal. And dinner. Maybe.

The journey to the stadium went smoother than expected. You’d left more than early enough, and had just about beat the flurry of afternoon traffic, as you arrived at Estadi Johan Cruyff. This is as far as outsides of comfort zones went. This was not your usual surroundings. You were a homebody, either working or relaxing, you weren’t one for the big events. Let alone sporting events. You weren’t at home in this setting, but you couldn’t help but feel an excitement bubbling up inside you as you noticed the heaps of fans dressed in blaugrana jerseys, waving flags and scarves, all coming to see their idols on a sunbathed afternoon in the Spanish capital. Nerves bubble up the closer you get to the stadium, and you tried to ground yourself by taking a couple deep breaths before taking the plunge.

You’d remembered the instructions Alexia sent you over text on how to get to her friends and family box. She asked for your number at some point that day before, and brushed it off as practicality for today’s game, but you knew somewhere that that wasn’t the last time you’d hear of her. The moment you arrive in her box overwhelms you. There’s a couple other people, and you get a sudden burst of nerves thinking about having to introduce you as… well, as what? The interior architect of her new team facilities? You were well aware of how weird that sounded. But they paid you no mind, so you thanked your lucky stars when you found your seat without all too much fuss and settled down for the next couple hours.

The crowd, the noise, there was a buzzing atmosphere around the stadium and it was such a stark contrast to the environment you’d been in yesterday. The stadium felt alive. As much as you weren’t a football or sports fan in general, you finally understood why people liked going to games. You took in your environment, scanning the crowd. A man singing at the top of his lungs, seemingly the person that needed to get the chants going. A little girl in a jersey three sizes too big, on her father’s shoulders, holding a sign that said: “Alexia, mi heroina”. A group of teenagers finding their seats right underneath the box, faces painted with stripes, yelling things you didn’t quite understand, because God forbid you were consistent with your Spanish classes. A mixed smell of popcorn, churros and questionable hotdogs suddenly hit you like a wall. It was chaos, but it seemed like the people here thrived on it. Suddenly, you couldn’t believe having missed out on this element of the city for so long. Of course, you were well aware that Barcelona had two successful, thriving first teams. You just couldn’t be bothered. Now, though, it felt like your whole world had turned upside down at the revelation of how fun this was.

As much as Alexia insisted on you bringing someone, for your own company, you didn’t. It felt too much like using her, not wanting to overstep boundaries on this first meeting. Second, in theory. But now, as you were sat here in the stadium, crowd so loud their hum vibrated in your chest, maybe you wouldn’t have minded someone else here to share the experience with. Then again, bringing someone would’ve made this feel more like a… thing. And you didn’t know whether you were ready to accept this being a thing, yet. Your thoughts circled back to Alexia, the woman you were here for in the first place. Would she be nervous now? Of course not. She was in the locker room right now, already zoned in and focused. Professional. Unlike you, who was sitting here, overthinking what a stupid invitation to a game might mean. Still, there was something about being here– her stadium, her world, that made you feel closer to her. Like it was a glimpse into the pieces of herself she didn’t give away so easily. They were all here for her, but you were invited by her. It felt different.

What you didn’t expect, at all, was your phone to chime with a message from her.

From: Alexia You here yet?

You quickly typed back a response, figuring she didn’t have much time to be on her phone. They were due for warm-ups anytime soon now.

To: Alexia: Yeah, just found my seat. Thank you :) It’s chaos out here, damn

From: Alexia Good chaos. You’ll see. Enjoy it, I’ll find you after

It’s as if Alexia’s words had a soothing effect on you, because as soon as you tucked your phone back away you relaxed, sitting back against your seat and letting the experience roll over you.

The Barca girls came out for warm-ups, and you couldn’t help but admire them. The players moved across the pitch with this kind of effortless precision that made it all look simple, though you knew it wasn’t. You couldn’t tell who was who at first, not even you lack of football knowledge, but there were so many of them, a blur of navy shorts and bright orange bibs weaving in and out of each other as the ball zipped between them.

You weren’t looking for her. At least, you told yourself you weren’t. But somehow, your eyes kept finding her anyway. You caught a flash of blonde hair and noticed the distinctive way she carried herself on the pitch. She wasn’t doing anything else than the others– passing, moving, stretching. But she stood out. There was something about her, even from a distance, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. It was like your eyes gravitated towards her naturally, without you guiding them.

The Alexia you’d walked the tour with, who’d thrown you teasing smiles and leaned a little too close when you said goodbye, was gone. Out here, she was something entirely different– serious, focused, untouchable. She hadn’t looked up once, her eyes not searching yours, and you would feel apprehensive about it if you didn’t remember the look she had in her eyes when she invited you. After all, why would she? She had a job to do. This was her thing, as much as yesterday was yours.

You weren’t the only one watching her, obviously. You could hear little bursts of her name from the fans sitting nearby, the occasional shriek of excitement when she touched the ball during a drill. She was theirs and they were hers in a way I couldn’t quite wrap my head around, but it was beautiful. Alexia is Barca and Barca is Alexia, right?

It wasn’t long then until the game started, you got lost in your own thoughts a little bit and you were now mere seconds away from kick-off. The pitch looked impossibly green under the floodlights– that were turned on way too early, but you guessed it was better to be safe than sorry. Players were scattered around it, waiting for the signal from the referee that they could get their game going. The energy of the crowd built like a wave, rolling through the stands. People were on their feet, clapping, yelling. You didn’t know the chants, but you felt a tingle inside of you urging you to clap along, the energy of the crowd too enticing not to.

As the whistle blew to signal kick-off, the energy in the stadium shifted. You didn’t expect it to hit you like that, the way the crowd seemed to breathe, shift, move as one organism. It was overwhelming in the best way. You weren’t here to watch anyone in particular, you told yourself. You were just going to enjoy the experience, the place, to see it all in action. But once again, as soon as the ball was in play, you found yourself watching her. Tracking the way she moved, the way she gracefully handled the ball, the way she always seemed two steps ahead of everyone else.

Out here, she was undeniable. There was a precision to the way she played, a quiet authority that made it impossible to look away. It wasn’t just that she was good– and realistically, that played a huge part, it was the way she made everything look so effortless, like she’d orchestrated the entire game in her head before anyone else knew what was happening.

You were deep into the first half when the play stalled, and for the first time all game, the noise of the crowd dulled in your ears. Alexia was in the middle of the action, barking instructions to her teammates– sharp, no-nonsense commands you couldn’t hear from up there but you could feel all the same. Her gestures were deliberate, decisive, and when she pointed towards the flank, her teammates took off without hesitation.

There was something magnetic about it, about the way she owned the field without ever raising her voice too much, the way her team fell in line like clockwork because she was the one pulling the strings. Captain’s armband snug around her bicep, confidence looked good on her. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but it was undeniable.

Your eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should have, when play resumed. The way her jersey clung to her shoulders and arms wasn’t helping either. You shifted in your seat, tearing your gaze away, but the thought was already there, uninvited and impossible to ignore. You’d listen to whatever she told you to do too.

Heat rushed to your face at the realization so quickly it nearly made you feel dizzy. Nope. Absolutely not. You took a deep breath and focused back on the game, on the fluid football that was being portrayed by the girls in blaugrana. Professional. You are professional. And you are definitely not thinking about what it would be like to hear that voice closer. Louder. DIrected at you.

Saved by the bell. Or the half-time whistle. Saved by something, thank God. That’s what you thought. As the players made their way toward the tunnel, your eyes found her again. She was talking to one of her teammates, gesturing animatedly about something, but just before she disappeared into the tunnel, she glanced towards her box. It was quick, so quick you almost missed it, but your heart skipped a beat anyway. You told yourself she wasn’t looking for you. Why would she?

During half-time, a kid sitting a couple rows in front of you caught your eye. He was shouting all of the players names, his little voice full of excitement. He was waving a jersey, one with the number 4 on the back, and even though they couldn’t hear him right now, tucked away in the building, it struck you how loved they all were. How much they all meant to these people. You caught yourself smiling at the kid’s enthusiasm. At the player’s impact. It was hard not to feel drawn into it.

The second half went by quicker than the first. You’d settled, and you were starting to feel more like yourself the more time went on. Barcelona scored thrice in the second half, effectively beating their opponents 3-0. Alexia hadn’t scored, but she’d assisted the final goal and you felt a weird sense of pride overcome you as her cross was headed in by one of her teammates. The final whistle pierced the air, and with it came an eruption of cheers from the stands. Another win, another three points, and they deserved every ounce of the applause raining down on them.

Alexia didn’t jump into the celebration like some of her teammates did, instead staying composed as she clapped for the fans along with her friends, her captain’s demeanor shining through even in victory. For a second, she looked toward the family box, her gaze skimming across the seats. You thought to yourself that she might be looking for you, but as soon as it arose, you brushed it away, even though your stomach fluttered at the thought.

And then, like she’d heard your internal thoughts, answering the unspoken question, she lifted a hand in a small wave. Subtle, unnoticeable for anyone that wasn’t watching, but it was definitely there. You gave her a small wave back, and you wondered if anyone had noticed the small interaction between the two of you. This wasn’t the time to raise any suspicions, and even though no one’s eyes were on you, you felt like a spotlight had just been shone directly on you. You thought that was gonna be it, but then she stepped away from the group of her teammates for a second, and made a phonecall motion with her hands. You gave her a thumbs up in response, in hindsight probably not the most flattering thing, but it would do the job.

It wasn’t long after the team disappeared back into the tunnel that your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jacket.

From: Alexia I’m gonna get a quick shower, but I want to see you :) Meet me outside by the parking lot in 20 minutes?

A bashful smile grew on your face as you read her text, the casual tone doing little to mask the effect it had on you.

To: Alexia Yes, of course! Just gotta tell me how to get there

Alexia sent you on your way with a couple directions and off you went, not bothering to wait another 20 minutes in your seat, trying to avoid any possibility of you being late in the parking lot. The chill of the evening air hit you as you stepped outside of the stadium, as if inside there was a personal bubble of warmth created for the team. You crossed the main parking lot, that was surprisingly quiet. Most fans still lingering inside or making their way out through the main exits.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the meeting spot, a secluded parking are for the players. It was even quieter there, and every little sound seemed amplified in your ears.

Alexia took 17 minutes after sending you her post-match text. Not that you had been counting, or anything. She stepped out of the building, freshly showered and dressed in a Barca tracksuit. Her confident and vibrant energy from the pitch faltered slightly, but you still warmed up at the sight of her. Her hair still damp from her shower, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, walking over to you with an easy stride, as if she’d done this a thousand times before. She broke out in a wide smile as she approached you.

“Hey,” she started, her voice low and warm, “thanks for waiting.” You chuckled and waved away her comment, a little awkward silence forming between the two of you that you tried not to get in your head about, before making a remark about the game. “You played well. All of you, really. It was… impressive to watch. Thank you for the ticket.”

“Are you saying that because you mean it, or because I’m standing here?” Alexia teased. She hadn’t changed a single thing from her demeanor yesterday, still as flirty and making teasing remarks. “Maybe both.” Alexia let out a soft laugh, and even without soundproof walls and good acoustics, it still wrapped around you like a warm blanket in the chilly evening air.

She grew sincere then, her eyes softening a bit. “Hey, thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.” You were taken aback a little by her words, a little sense of insecurity creeping through her voice. “Honestly, for a long time I wasn’t sure either, but I’m glad I did. It just… didn’t know if I should.” The Barcelona captain frowned at that, tilting her head slightly. “Why not?” You knew the question was coming, so you shrugged and gave her your response with a small smile on your face.

“Maybe because this feels… I don’t know, different? You’re… you.” “I’m me?” “You’re Alexia Putellas. Everyone in that stadium was looking at you tonight. And now here I am, standing in a parking lot with you, wondering why you’d want to see me of all people.” “And yet, here you are. Doesn’t that say something?”

You locked eyes for a moment, a brief pause in the conversation and the air between you both changed with unspoken words. Alexia’s expression softens further, her confident demeanor giving way for something vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen about her yet.

“Maybe I don’t want to be Alexia Putellas all the time, you know? It gets quite tiring.” Alexia said quietly. You were caught off guard, but composed yourself quickly. “That’s not an easy thing to ask with your career, captain.” You chuckled quietly, but grew quiet as you noticed the sincerity in her voice. “Look, I know we barely know each other. But I think you’re the kind of person who could see me for who I am, not just the name, the number or the captain’s armband. I feel drawn to you, and that doesn’t happen often. And I know you feel it too. I can tell by the way you look at me.”

“That’s… a lot, Alexia.” You hesitated, meeting her eyes again. “Thank you for being so open and honest with me. You’re right, I feel it too. But I don’t know if I’m the kind of person you think I am. I mean… you’re you, and…” you trailed off, but you were sure she understood what you were trying to say.

“And you’re you. That’s exactly why I’m standing here right now. Why I invited you today. Why I asked you to come to the parking lot.” Her words helped you ease a little further, but not all the apprehension had worn off and she could tell. “Tell you what, let me prove it to you. Dinner? No pressure. Just food, conversation, and maybe some embarrassing stories about my teammates.” A hopeful smile grew on her face after her words and you couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped your lips as you listened to her. “You know how to sell an offer, don’t you?”

“I’ve got plenty. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” “Hmm, I don’t know. Feels like you’re trying too hard to convince me.” “Trying too hard? I thought I was being charming!” “Debatable.” “Come on, let me in tonight. That’s all I’m asking for.” “Fine. But only because I’m curious about these embarrassing stories.” “Fair enough.”

The restaurant is small but elegant, tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Twinkling string lights frame the windows, and a gold sign with cursive lettering displays the name. It was perfect, really, and you could see why Alexia liked coming here, especially after busy days like today.

The warm lighting inside created the perfect cozy atmosphere that would allow you both to unwind from the day. There were candles on every table, casting soft shadows on the walls, and there was a tinge of jazz to be heard in the background. It’s intimate but not overly formal, just right for a dinner that was toeing the line between casual and romantic.

“You’ve got good taste in restaurants,” you said, after hanging your jacket over your chair and sitting down. “Good food is one of the few indulgences I allow myself during the season. Though I have to be careful not to overdo it.” You smirked, deciding that you could tease her a little further. “You mean you don’t carb-load on patatas bravas before every match?” Alexia laughed at that, throwing her head back slightly. “I wish. I’d run for ten minutes and then need a sub.”

You indulge yourself in the menu for a second, eventually settling on and ordering a seafood risotto and a glass of white wine. Alexia ordered grilled chicken with roasted vegetables, paired with a glass of red.

You feel hyper-aware of every small detail about Alexia while you wait for your food. The way she leans forward when she speaks, the gestures she makes with her hands, the warmth in her eyes. You’re overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

“So, Putellas, do you always bring strangers here, or should I feel special?” You challenged, taking a sip from the glass of wine that was just brought to you by one of the waiters. Alexia feigned annoyance, placing a hand over her chest where her heart was. Nonetheless, her face turned into a grin soon.

“Special. But don’t let it get to your head. I needed to bribe you into liking me somehow.” “Oh, so this is a bribe?” “What can I say? I’m better with my feet than my words”

Dinner goes by smoothly, and your conversation flows easily from one topic to the other. You cover your family, Alexia’s way into football, what she’s thinking of doing after football, your hobbies, your youth, but it’s when the topic of your work is being brought up that you grow apprehensive. Alexia noticed the unease that came from you after she brought it up, and tried to reassure you.

“You know, I like hearing about your work. It’s part of who you are,” she tried. If there was one thing that you’d not gotten over yet, it’s that you met Alexia through a work context. Deep down, there were more than rational thoughts telling you that that was completely okay, it happened all the time, but with how focused you are on your image and your professional career, you had a hard time dropping the apprehension. So you paused for a second, and then spoke up softly. “But that’s the thing. I feel like I need to keep it separate. Like if I start talking too much about it, I’ll ruin this… whatever this is.” Alexia leant forward at that, like she had the tendency to do quite often you’d grown to learn. “And what do you think this is?” You met her eyes, trying to feign indifference by shrugging. “I don’t know. Something new, something unexpected.”

“Well, maybe unexpected is good. You don’t have to keep everything separate, you know. I like knowing more about you. All of you.” “Careful, I might start talking about zoning laws and blueprints.” “I’ll risk it. Besides, more fuel for me to tease you with.”

There’s a little more hesitance in your eyes, and Alexia wants to get rid of it. “Tonight, I’m not Alexia Putellas. I’m Alexia, Ale. That’s all I want to be now.” And really, how could you stay professional with someone who looked at you like that, as if they’re seeing something no one else ever had?

“I don’t usually do this either, you know? Going for dinner with someone I barely know.” Alexia speaks up after a while of comfortable silence. “Then why now?” You asked, not sure whether you really wanted to hear the answer, knowing it would only put your further into a pit of unfamiliar feelings that was growing deeper and deeper with each passing minute of sitting across the infatuating Spanish captain. “Because you feel different. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I feel like you see me. Not the player, just me.”

The night went on without too many hiccups from then on. It was only when the time came to pay, that some more teasing was thrown around. “You’ve got that look on your face. You’re going to pay, aren’t you.” You cocked an eyebrow at the women across you who was sporting a bright smile. “You caught me.” You sighed, rolling your eyes briefly. “At least let me cover dessert.”

“How about this; you get dessert next time.” “Next time? You’re confident.” “Maybe. But I’m not doubting anything.”

As you step out the restaurant, Alexia offers you her jacket when she notices you shivering in the chilly air of Barcelona. Your fingers brush as she helps you into it, and for a moment, they linger. “This was nice. I’m glad you said yes.” Her voice barely above a whisper, as if the intimacy of the evening had softened her voice. “Me too. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but… I had a really great time. Sorry for my apprehension.” “Don’t apologise. And good, because I’d like to do this again. Soon.”

For a moment, Alexia looked at you, her eyes lingering on yours like she was memorizing something important. And then she leaned in, so slowly that you could feel your heart pound in anticipation. Her lips brushed your cheek, featherlight and warm, lingering just enough to make your breath hitch. It wasn’t hurried, it was deliberate, full of quiet meaning.

Your skin tingled where she’d kissed you, and a rush of warmth spread from your chest all the way to your fingertips. It was a simple gesture, nothing more than a small brush of her lips against your cheek, but it left you feeling all kinds of ways. Ways that you weren’t prepared for, and your growing adoration for her hit you in the face once more.

When she pulled back, Alexia’s eyes searched yours for a reaction, her own cheeks tinged pink in the glow of the streetlight. Your voice felt caught in your throat, but your heart spoke louder. You knew then, without a doubt, that this was more than just a fleeting connection.

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barca femení x reader #barca femení

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bubblegumgothglados · 4 months ago

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This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

#lessons in kink

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auroreliis · 3 months ago

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what if reader had k*lled someone before and the batfam (yandere) dis not know like «I dont need your damn protection» reader said to the batfam «but the world is so dangerous out there and your just a baby» the batfam said to reader « B!TCH I have k*lled someone the f you mean im a baby?!?» the batfam with horrified expresion «WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!»

That last little part is a funny little over dramatic way it might go.

Oh, you are COOKED. (Do pardon my use of brainrot language...)

CW: mentions of murder...obviously

The first thing they do is isolate you in a room and keep you there for a while until they figure out what to do with you (and so you can think about what you've done).

What happens next? Therapy sessions, which they all agreed on.

Don't worry, you will tell them everything, specifically Bruce, since he's the one carrying out the therapy sessions.

"Why did you kill that person?"

"How do you feel about it now?"

"Do you regret it?"

"How do you feel after our conversation?"

He pities the person you ended up killing and feels a little disappointed. A life was taken by you, an innocent person's life. He didn't raise you like this, did he...?

However, he also pities you. Unless you are trained to kill someone, it breaks you. He's seen it so many times, people commiting murders and then panicking, breaking down, because they couldn't live with the consequences of their actions.

You're a mere civilian, how could you ever have been exposed to that kind of environment? How could he let this happen? No, it is his fault for waiting so long before saving you from the world. He will teach you why it's wrong. He will make sure you heal and never take another life again. After all, it is his job as your father to guide you in life.

That's right, the only reason you could've done it is because you didn't know any better. You are a mere child in this old, cruel world, after all.

In the end, he holds himself accountable. He should've done better. He should've protected you better from the cruel world you live in.

Dick would be shocked. His little birdie, his angel, killed someone? Impossible. You're so innocent, like a baby, so how could this be true? He would take some time off to come to terms with the fact that you're not the kind of person he expected. When he comes back, after a week, he seems slightly distant.

With time, following your therapy sessions, he will return to his normal, clingy, annoying self. However, you can't help but wonder why he was acting so weird that one week.

Despite the fact that he also kills people, Jason is incredibly suprised and disappointed after hearing that you killed someone. Unlike everyone else, he feels anger. You're so young, so innocent, you grew up in a place where murdering someone was not necessary, so why would you do it? He doesn't kill people because he wants to, he only does it because he needs to. But you didn't need to do it.

That's what upsets him most. You chose to do it. You willingly took a life.

Despite being so hurt, so broken, he still feels an ounce hesitation when killing people, so how come you, someone who didn't go through what he did, could kill someone in a situation that wasn't even self-defense? Nothing could possibly justify it! And here you are, proudly announcing it to them. You should be ashamed.

He kills murderers, so what should he do with you? Does that make you as bad as the criminals he kills? God, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Jason won't get over it for at least a month. He'll be very distant around you and won't be seen smiling for a long time. Towards you exclusively, his behaviour becomes incredibly bitter. In fact, he's the one who most strongly encourages Bruce to carry out the long, grueling therapy sessions. He really thinks it'll do you good...

Tim's reaction would be more mild than expected. He would certainly feel uncomfortable with the fact that you seemingly feel not an ounce of guilt or regret. However, he wouldn't change his behaviour too much for too long.

During the first week, he'd be a bit more careful with his affection towards you. No, it's not because he's scared. He simply wants to observe you and see how effective the therapy sessions are. If he feels that your attitude towards murder hasn't changed, he would encourage Bruce to be more intense during the therapy sessions.

He would be more careful with the activities he offers you, since Bruce called a meeting with everyone to establish more rules, those being directed at Tim mostly. Tim's "cool, lenient older brother"-act needs to change.

From now on, no crime films or shows (especially not any violent ones), no crime documentaries, no crime or detective books, no vular language, no threats towards anyone or anything and for at least 14 months, no leaving the manor.

This change will probably be permanent.

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simpee9000 · 4 months ago

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Not Just Friends - 10 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Words 3.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

It was a turn back to normal after the long conversation between the two of you. Tears sliding down your faces, majority yours but you saw a couple fall from his. It was a necessary conversation. He opened up about his quirk and apologized for ditching you. You apologize for the same.

Easily enough, the two of you moved on from it quickly. Talking about the past two months when all the overwhelming emotions passed. You blabbed about how many new offers you were getting and he talked about how he was hiring more and more people to his agency.

Despite not being able to ignore the last two months, it was easy to move past.

Growing past it within the night, having everything off your chest. It still didn't make things go back to normal.

You continued to share a bed, but changed your schedules around again to see more of each other. Flipping back into your old routine as much as possible. Not without a few changes though. Lunches would only be once a week rather than daily, and you'd be working for another hour or two after he got home. Since you wanted to sleep in still.

But it still improved your relationship again. Building it back up slowly. You were able to eat a late dinner together each night and share an off day. Sharing your off day made it easier for you anyway. After the break-in it was hard to be home without him, so the last two months were rough. Your therapist said you were doing great though, so that helped.

The first days of going back to normal was rough, having to adjust to seeing each other daily again. Conversations between the two of you felt awkward, mainly on your side. You grew so much in those two months, no longer relying on him. It shifted the dynamic.

"Y'good?" Katsuki's gruff voice broke your train of thought. Your eyes flickered up to him.

"Huh?"

"Been fuckin' playin' with your food," he points his fork at your plate, "Don't like it or some shit?"

"No, I like it," you looked back down. It was definitely not your favorite meal he made, but it was good.

His silverware claddered roughly against his plate, his arms crossing, "The fuck has been wrong with you?"

"Do you have to swear with every sentence?" you avoided, taking a bite of your food instead.

You could feel him roll his eyes along with his heavy sigh, "You've been off since."

"A relationship doesn't heal just like that," you pointed out.

"Will you look at me?" he asked annoyed. A glance up at his expression made you cut your attitude. He was trying, that much was obvious. And after all your talk of communication, you were doing nothing.

"Sorry," you set your fork down, engaging in the conversation, "I'm just lost? I guess. Hard to place it. I've changed a lot in the past two months-"

"How?"

You glared at him for interrupting you. "I've stopped prioritizing you. I'm more focused on myself now. It's hard to go back to normal when the 'normal,' was me running circles around you."

He shuffled in his seat, "That's fine. I'm glad you've moved on in that sense, done you good."

"You're not worried how it'll change us?" you asked softly, it's been all you were thinking of for the past few weeks.

"I'm always fuckin' worried," he admitted, eyes drifting to look at the wall instead of you, "But we'll work it out."

You were glad he still viewed the two of you as a 'we,' heart melting slightly as you reached your hand across the table. "I'm not going to tip-toe around you anymore, Kats."

"Good," he gruffed out, uncrossing his arms and grabbing onto your hand. Changing his focus onto that, "I don't want you to."

"Good," you agreed, smiling at how he let his thumb trace over your knuckles.

"You, um," he fumbled for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, "You're still okay with us not doing shit right?"

"I'd never push that," you confirmed, shocked he even thought you would complain about that.

"Don't get me wrong, I would, just-" he pulled his hands back wiping them on his pants before running them down his face, "my dumb fuckin' quirk."

"You love your quirk," you pointed out.

"Yeah and I'd fuckin' love to touch my girlfriend but no, I gotta be a horny virgin 'cause of it," he groaned, crossing his arms again.

Stifling a laugh was difficult, but you managed, "Maybe we can just work up to it? Get you used to the baseline first before, that."

His quirk went off suddenly, "Can't even fuckin' think of it," he groaned, standing up to go wash his hands off.

"It's cute." You followed behind him to place dishes in the skin, having cleared your plates a while ago.

"Fuck you."

"Hey," you laughed, "At least you can tell Denki and Sero that you beat them at No Nut November. And have for the past 19 years."

He shot you a glare from the sink, "The one challenge I wouldn't want to beat, great."

"It's what makes you number one to me, baby," you teased, kissing his shoulder as you moved past him, wanting to pester him while the mood was light and he was already flustered. It was nice how easy it was to move past something with him. But you wanted to test how much he'd react to you not tiptoeing around him anymore.

With success, his quirk popped off again.

"Fuck off."

You let out a crackle of laughter, "You're too easy."

"Die."

He finally stopped washing his hands, turning to dry them off. You watched from the counter, plotting. "Your back looks nice," you commented, his muscles have been more defined lately and you only got to appreciate it now. His tank top showcases his shoulders nicely.

He froze for a moment, side-eyeing you. "Do you want to get blown up or something?"

"No, do you want to get blown?" you asked back, letting Denki's crude humor influence you.

Like a charm, his quirk sparked off. "Quit it."

"Nah, it's too much fun," you smiled at him, kicking off the counter you were leaning on and moving to leave the kitchen. Hand squeezing his bicep when you walked by.

He didn't let you get even a step away before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His hands grabbing at your hips and moving to push you into the counter. "Where do y'think you're goin'?" he smirked down at you.

Your face bloomed a deep shade, blushing harshly at how close he was. He hasn't been that close since you argued two months ago.

"Nothin' to say?"

You blinked up at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart with the way he was tracing circles onto your hips.

"Might like you but that doesn't mean I'll let you say shit and get away with it," he crowded you closer to the counter.

"What happened to your quirk?" you whispered, losing your voice at the proximity.

"You offered to work up to it, right?" he brushed his hands clean on his shirt briefly before going back to your hips.

"Yeah," you looked down at his hands, trying to make sure the watch was off.

"It's off," he confirmed, twisting his wrist so you could see. When you looked back up at him, he held his gaze deeply, "What happened to that smart mouth?"

"Want me to show you?" you placed your hands on his chest, running over the span of his shoulders. Your body was on fire, the two of you flirted, sure, but this was different. His quirk was fully there. He was fully there.

His eyes lidded slightly, zeroing in his focus on your lips, "Fuck yeah I do."

Your lips closed the gap between the two of you. It wasn't as soft and nervous as all the past kisses, it was something you just threw yourself in. Stomach crazy with butterflies as your mind started buzzing. His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he stepped even closer to you.

Bodies curled into each other to get closer. Your hands digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you deepened the kiss. Full of passion and sexual tension. There was hardly any innocence to the kiss, and if there was, it faded within seconds.

A sigh of relief falling from your lips when his hands slipped under your shirt, brushing over your skin roughly. Fingers being callused and dry from work.

As soon as his hands met your skin he pulled away frantically. Pulling his body from yours completely before his quirk started popping off.

"Fuck me," he groaned in frustration, grabbing a dish towel and wiping his hands off.

"I wish I could," you teased.

He shot you a glare, blush flaring all over his face and coating his neck with a red. "Stop," he grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," he shied away, washing his hands in water for a moment.

You paused for a moment, considering how you looked. With how flushed his face was you could tell you were no better. Lips plumped and freshly kissed red as your shirt was ruffled up from his hands as you leaned back into the counter. "Why would I? You clearly like what you see?"

The confidence within you came from nowhere. There has been sexual tension between the two of you before, many times before. Even before he had the watch. But normally you had to be drunk as hell to make such obvious jokes towards him, especially ones about sex. Maybe it was the fact that it was on the table, when before it wasn't. You knew he wanted it as much as you did.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Come on, Kats," you pushed your luck.

"I love you, but please stop whatever the fuck you're doing before we need a new apartment," he spoke without thought, freezing the second he realized what he said.

You barked out a laugh, he spoke so plainly. You didn't want him to get wrapped up in his head, so you ignored the rushing butterflies over his admissions. "Fine, fine," you gave in, smiling happily at him, "Hug?"

He looked at you, untrusting of you before he opened his arms, gesturing you near.

Taking the moment, you threw yourself in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his waist he pulled you in fully. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he rested his on yours.

Everything felt secure in your relationship, you'd move one step at a time together. With a lot of teasing between, but that was common between you and him, despite the lack of it lately.

"I love you too, by the way," you mumbled into his chest, having a happy feeling travel through your body at the small number of times he's actually said it.

"I know."

You moved slightly to look up at him, his eyes fell on yours before you spoke, "Are you hard?"

He glared sharply, embarrassment covering his features as you felt him grow hot. You were going to ignore the feeling of him pressing into your lower stomach, but decided you wanted the chance to rub it in his face that you have the upper hand here. He tried to pull away, only for you to keep your grip.

"Stop," he warned, his hands raised away from you.

"It's only a little spark, Kats," you tried to comfort.

With a roll of his eyes he smiled evilly down at you, "You asked for it," before you could protest, he wiped his sweaty hands on your face before rubbing the rest of it off on your sweater, down your chest.

"Katsuki! That's gross," you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe away the damp residue of his sweat off your cheek before you pulled the bottom of your shirt out, seeing if he got sweat marks on it. "You just used that as an excuse to touch my tits," you glared at him, seeing the faint marks of his handprint on your shirt, right over your tits. It surprised you that he sweat enough to leave a mark.

He laughed sharply, walking out of the kitchen, "Got no proof, Brains."

"I literally have the proof of your hands on my tits," you called out to him.

He looked over you, "How do I know those are mine?"

"Really? Cause I'd let a random guy grope me and he'd be sweaty enough to leave a mark like you do," you snarked.

"No way to know," he shrugged.

"You're such an ass," you groaned.

His phone buzzing loudly cut off his laughter.

"This late?" you asked as you eyed his work phone.

"It's PR," he said as he furrowed his brows, answering the phone, "Dynamight."

You heard mumbling for a moment before he huffed and put his phone on speaker. "Can she hear me now?" the lady's voice rang through, the same manager you've spoken with before.

"Hello," you answered for him, "What can I do?"

"You've done quite enough," she spoke abruptly. It took a lot to get her mad, so to have pissed her off five words was a record. "People are spreading pictures of you crying in the middle of the street."

Katsuki's eyes shot to you, concerned.

"They also claim to of heard you talking to Deku, saying you said his name several times."

His concerned look turned to a glare quickly.

"I can explain that," you said quickly before Katsuki added his two cents, "I was having a rough time and decided to call a friend, simple."

She laughed, "It's not the simple. It was the night of your party. And with the lack of social outings between Dynamight and you, people are saying the two of you broken up."

"Why does this matter?" you asked annoyed. It was still a sore subject.

"It matters because bad things are being said about the two of you. It's not just Dynamight's image anymore, but yours too. They're saying he's abusive while also saying that you're sleeping your way to the top."

You've heard that said too many times to count. Both things. So filled with anger, you grabbed the phone from Katsuki's hand and hung up.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know! I'm annoyed," you huffed, tossing his phone onto the couch before pacing, "I'm sick of people talking."

"I get it's annoying but you're gonna hear it-"

"Not helping," you glared at him.

"PR helps get them to knock it off," he pushed.

"She hardly says anything but the obvious," you rolled your eyes, "We can just post a picture of us or something."

"How does that prove I don't hit you?"

You paused your pacing, "Under a truth quirk I said the worst thing about you was your socks. I think if you abused me I would have said that."

He gave up his fight with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch instead.

"Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that they say that. There is just no way to prove otherwise. Nothing is ever enough for them," you corrected, not wanting him to get the idea that you were only concerned for yourself.

"If you think that, why are you so pissed right now?" he crossed his arms.

You shook your eyes off the flex of his arms, throwing your hands up in frustration, "Because everyone says that, I hate hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone thinks you hit me or some bullshit," you huff.

"Everyone?"

"Like people that don't know you," you changed, "you're a softy and they ignore it.

"Who you callin soft?" he sat up straight.

You smiled at him, "Kats, you can't even look mad at me."

He glared at you, eyebrows being the only thing supporting it. His eyes were soft. "Die."

"Let's just forget about it," you sighed, not wanting to talk about the press or your relationship. Nothing stressful.

"Why were you even cryin' to Deku?"

"You," you admitted shamefully, looking away. Talking about this would be stressful.

When he said nothing, you turned back to him. He was staring out the window. The view was filled with city lights.

"I only called him 'cause I couldn't call you," you comforted, stepping closer to him.

"Could always call me," he spoke softly.

"Kats," at this point you were standing right in front of him

"Yeah?"

You swallowed quickly, "We don't need to do everything together."

He took a deep breath, "I know, just want you to know you can call me, no matter what."

"I already know that," you smiled fondly at him. It was one of the best things about him. No matter how mad he was at a friend or family, he would never ignore them if they needed anything, even a random call. He might ignore a stupid text, but he never missed a call from someone close to him.

"Good."

"Maybe," he looked up at you, "We don't do anything publically? If they think I'm dating you then good, if they think I'm not, I don't care."

"If you want," he shrugged.

"You don't mind?" you step closer to him, him making space for you by manspreading further.

"Not really, just don't go making 'em think you're dating that damn nerd."

"Okay."

"Want somethin'?" he looked at you with a brow up. His eyes flickering from your chest to your face.

"Seems like you do," you smiled, inviting yourself more into his personal space by straddling him, both knees by his side.

"What are you doing?" his hands were pushed outwards, far from you.

"It's fine," you hushed him, sitting your weight on his lap.

"We didn't even do this stuff with the watch," he hissed at you, face flushed.

"Yes we did," you looked at him confused, "I made you cum y-"

"Shut it," he huffed, hands popping with the sound of his quirk, "Get off."

"Look, if you really want to, I will, but I don't think you want me to," you didn't want to force him into anything.

"What even put you in this mood?" he glared at you.

"You looked at my tits," you shrugged.

"Cause you still have my handprint on em," he smirked proudly.

You looked down at them quickly, "Bakugo."

"What? It's how it should be."

"Will it stain?"

"Shouldn't."

"I hate you," you glared at him.

"Sure, cause one glance at your tits makes you wanna jump me, cause you hate me," he was too cocky.

"Shut up you can hardly kiss me without losing your mind," you fought back.

"Kissed ya earlier didn't I?"

"Barely, come on, kiss me like a man-"

Forgetting his prior reluctance, he pulled you into him. Connecting your lips in a messy kiss as his hand held you to him by the back of your neck. Slowly losing its grip before sliding down to your waist. Losing himself into the kiss just as you were.

You were shocked he was even kissing you, cherishing the win regardless. Moving more onto him. Wrapping your arms around him, scratching at his scalp as you pulled on his hair.

The groan that left his lips encouraged you to push down more in his lap, wanting something more. You could never get enough of him. Anything he'd give, you'd take.

A rough push of yourself onto him caused his quirk to go off, not just a small spark either.

It singed your top, burning your skin.

You jumped off his lap once he let go, holding your sides.

His hand was placed right over your old scar.

Posted late cause I forgot to finish the chapter, and the tag list is being a bitch rn. (phone is glitching and laptop is weird) if it's fucked up mb.

---

-Next Part-

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whowantshota · 11 months ago

Text

DADDY'S HOME —— kim mingyu

in which your husband comes home late on valentines. but it's okay, he has his ways of making it up to you.

warnings ☆ MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. smut, husband!mingyu, somno, gyu is pussy whipped, kim mingyu x afab!reader

i get off work late today :/

c u ltr, ok?

You frown at the texts, irritability rubbing your thumb against your temples.

This is not the first time your husband has texted you that he’d be late from work, oh of course not. You understand—-sometimes, his schedule is tight and that makes work the temporary number one priority. You obviously mean more to Mingyu than his paycheck.

Or so you thought. You groan, flopping back onto the couch miserably. Mingyu has come late at night at least twice a week for the past month now, so it should be a normal occurrence. At least, if tonight wasn’t Valentine's.

Yes, today was the commercial holiday that pisses about off half the world. And funnily enough, Mingyu had only sworn to you three major things in his life. One, good dick. Two loving you. And three, that he’d never miss Valentine's day.

While the last one was mostly a long inside joke from before you got married, you’re still glancing worriedly at the clock. 9:30 and you’re still holed up alone in your apartment, a box of chocolates with his name on it set on top of the kitchen table.

Mingyu hadn’t promised you a dinner date at a restaurant tonight —you both knew that wouldn't fit with his schedule. But he had promised to cook you something romantic, pour you a glass of wine, and then fuck you till you see stars.

And being very honest, you think you would’ve loved that much more than a night out. Loved it so much, by the way you’re sneaking your hand into your panties. Pushing one, two fingers in; but it's never good enough—it'll never be Mingyu.

So you quit early, stand up because you're tired of waiting around. He’ll be home tomorrow. You can wash up now, clean up and see him later. It’ll be fine. You can celebrate then, right?

★ . *- .

Mingyu didn’t think he’d be making up Valentines like this. When he thought about it on the way home, he had pictured at dinner out at your favorite restaurant, or flowers and an even bigger gift basket than the ones he had already bought for you.

But, you didn’t hear the crack of the door, or the creek of the apartment floors when he walked in. You didn’t even hear when the loud thunk! when his work bag hit the floor. Or when he sets down the heart shaped pendant Joshua had picked out on top of a pink gift basket he had planned to give you much earlier.

He realized then, that you would not be waking up for a while. You were tired, basically passed out. He does feel bad for making you wait so long, but shit, he swears his cock never throbbed as hard as it did when he caught the sight of your sleeping figure curled up in bed. Only in a small tee and new pair of panties he got you a couple of weeks ago. Fuck, you look perfect.

So he went, took a shower and got dressed before laying next to you in bed. You murmur something when his arm wraps around you, snuggling into him. But you don’t wake up.

“Pretty,” he mumbles, slowly running his thumb over the skin of your cheek. He pokes you a couple of times with a finger. You look so cute—eyes shut with your mouth partially open. You might’ve been drooling even.

His hand dips down to your torso, rests on your hip. He was nearly starting to fall asleep too, blinking in a poor attempt to keep himself up too. And right then, you just had to shuffle, pushing back against him. A small noise slips past his lips when the curve of your ass pressed against his clothed, semi-hard cock.

Poor Gyu, stuck in bed while you’re sound asleep. How’s he supposed to take care of that? He feels his cock twitch again, grip on your hip tightening just barely.

It wouldn’t be a problem if he just helped himself, right? Inhaling, his hand moves a bit further, hooking around the bottom of your panties. He prods against the warmth of your entrance pushing a finger in.

Fuck, you’re so wet. He can hear the sound of your slick when he presses another finger inside. It’s almost as if your cunt is begging for him to fuck you. And it’s only right that what his lovely wife and her pretty cunt wants, they get.

Mingyu pulls his fingers out, sucks on it. Moving slowly, he climbs until he’s hovering over your still figure. There’s a tight feeling in his core, dick hard as pulls the crotch of your panties to the side. He pulls the waistband of his sweats down, groaning when cold air hits his cock. He spreads your legs a little wider, teases himself against your pussy.

Mingyu sees Heaven when the tip slips past your entrance. Swears he could cum on the spot. You’re so warm, so soft. It’s not his fault, you’re the one who lured him into this trap.

He can do a little more than the tip. You haven’t moved yet, still partially twisted one way with your legs spread wide for him. You were just made to take his cock, weren’t you?

He should have been making up Valentines with a picnic date in the park. Should have been thinking about what he’ll cook you for breakfast tomorrow morning, if he’ll deliver it to you with a card and a rose.

Instead, he’s got you trapped under him on the mattress, seemingly so passive and docile as you sleep, not conscious of the fact that he’s got you stuffed with his fat cock. He wonders if you’re dreaming about it now. You’re not necessarily a deep sleeper, so he’s surprised you don’t wake up when he bottoms out.

He doesn’t know what to say, can’t even speak. You feel so good, too good. Cunt wrapped around him, clenching. He’d kiss you if you were awake right now, but you’re not so he’ll settle with what he has. He fucks a soft thrust into you, watching for your reaction. Your breath catches, but you don’t do more than that.

“Perfect. You’re just perfect, baby.” He groans, pulling out until the tip before he forces himself back in. You let out a moan, arching so slightly. Mingyu thumbs your nipple through your shirt, speeding up the pace of his strokes.

He dips his head to press a kiss to your sternum, lips skimming and peppering kisses along your collarbone next.

You twist just barely under his hold, eyes fluttering open. You’re still coming to, blurry eyes barely making out the sight of Mingyu’s body caging over you. Whining, you bite your down on your lip when you feel the stupidly fat cock slowly fucking into your cunt.

“Hey baby,” Mingyu murmurs, now kissing the side of your neck. Your whimpers get louder, and you move one arm and snake your it over his shoulder. He groans when you clench on him, sucking harder on your skin. “Don’t worry baby, daddy’s home.”

Tiredly, you rub your eyes with your free hand. There’s pleasure building in your stomach rapidly, and you start to force yourself to sink deeper onto his cock. “Gyu– daddy, please.” You cry, fucking back on him.

You hear him hum in response, but you can’t answer. Not when he’s picking up the pace of his strokes, pushing hard, deep thrusts into your tight cunt. “Yeah baby? Come on, tell daddy what you need.” He teases, pushing your legs back before moving to grope your ass cheeks with his big hands.

Now that you’re awake, Mingyu tightens his grip, fucking into you harder. “Need Daddy to help you cum, hm?” He says, voice playful. As if he wasn’t the one whimpering and fucking himself into your pussy moments ago.

“Couldn’t help it, you looked so good.” He murmurs. His hips are starting to buck into your sloppily, You mewl, nodding. Pretty sure you might even be drooling but you couldn’t give a fuck. Everything feels too good, and you’ve got no idea what’s going on. Mingyu says something you can’t hear, kisses along your jawline before he presses his lips to yours.

You can barely make out the “Happy Valentines.” he whispers, cumming too hard. Your cunt clenching around his dick, mouth falling open. He wants to spit in it, call you a slut, but he can’t when he feels you pulse around his cock.

Gyu’s eyes roll back, and he lets out a low hiss, warm cum filling up your cunt. His body flops over yours, sweaty chest pressing to the front of your shirt. You run a hand through his hair, kiss his nape softly. “Someones late,” you joke, voice breathy.

“I know. ‘M sorry.” he says, moving down so that his head lies on your chest. He loves the feeling of you tugging on his hair slightly, ruffling his hair.

He looks up suddenly, disheveled but handsome as ever. “I’ll make it up. Wine and spa?”

You laugh, seeing the way he pouts. He looks like a giant puppy, cuddled up into you. You love it, love it so much you’re not even remotely bothered by the mess on cum or the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out. Pushing his hair back with a hand, you kiss him on the forehead once more. “Sure. Happy Valentines.”

didn't realize that even tho it's still valentines in my country, it's late in other places :( happy valentines! not beta read

#LMAOOO THE DADDYS HOME LINE #kpop hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kpop smut

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audliminal · 4 months ago

Text

It's just a game, right? Pt 1

Masterpost

"I just don't see how sitting around is gonna do anything!" Dash argues, face to face with Sam.

"Well, if you have other ideas you're more than welcome to offer them, but we can't just take out the giw. They have more manpower than us, more equipment, and the new agents actually seem to be competent in fights! And we are a bunch of high school students!"

They are all, ostensibly in English Class right now, but even Mr. lancer has forgone the illusion of normal classwork. He assigns books and hands out reading assignments every week, but nobody really cares whether they get turned in or not. The city, after all, has a much bigger problem.

"I don't know! But sitting here-"

"He's not entirely wrong, the longer we wait the more likely they figure it out, just like we all did." As Valerie finishes speaking, the room temperature drops noticeably, and the kids all glance nervously over at Danny who's head hasn't moved from it's spot on his desk. He almost seems dead with how still he is. Beside him Tucker stares at his PDA, the only one who hasn't reacted to the temperature change.

"Should I even ask what you're messing with?" Sam asks, walking over while the others stare nervously at Danny.

"Actually, yeah." Tucker easily shifts so they can both see the webpage displayed on the handmade tech. "I got something through."

"I thought getting stuff through wasn't really the problem?"

"I mean, yeah, they're letting Everything Is Normal posts through, but this wasn't. That. I was, um, kind of fucking around with ciphers and shit? Not saying anything relevant, but just seeing whether they'd flag any old weird shit, you know? And um. I got a video out."

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Valerie asks.

"It helps because if they let a cipher through then means if I encode shit well enough, then it'll also get through."

"But if it's, like, that hard to figure out what it says, then won't it be useless on the outside?"

"The chances of it getting into the hands of someone who could crack it do seem, uh, improbable."

"Not if we stack the deck."

"Wes-"

"No, listen, I know you're all still mad at me, but like. If you can attract a community of codebreakers? Then eventually someone will crack the code on what you need them to!"

"If you have an idea then just fucking say it, Wes," Sam snaps.

"Make an ARG. We can even have like, the base level be completely United to anything real, just make up a story about, i dunno, space travel? And then bury the actual info beneath that. Eventually somebody will crack into the real stuff, and if it's popular enough by then, and the GIW tries to suppress it? That'll be even more suspicious-looking, and just make them dig harder."

"What the fuck is a ARG?" Dash asks, pulling his gaze away from their definitely-just-sleeping classmate.

"Augmented reality game. It's like an unfiction thing. Make a story but the story is interactive and people have to decode shit to figure out what's going on." Tucker glances over to Wes. "And actually not a bad idea. If we all work together, we could probably make something cool."

"You could treat it as a class-wide project." Mr. Lancer says, making everyone jump. "That way I can back you up if anyone starts asking questions."

"Make it about black holes," Danny says, finally pulling himself up from his desk. "We can base it in wormhole theory, and distract the GIW with all the theoretical science."

"What, so like we make videos that seem like they're being sent through a black hole?"

"Fuckin. Sure, why not? As if shit couldn't get any weirder around here."

"Star, please try to refrain from swearing in front of me. I know the situation is - difficult - but I am officially still your teacher."

"Sorry, Lancer."

#im trying the thing where you write very rough drafts for tumblr and then edit it for ao3....#dpxdc #next up: bernard drags tim into the hottest new internet mystery!#the one where the amity parkers make an arg

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rotthepoet · 4 months ago

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Theo likes to appear to be so nonchalant, so cool, so unbothered, as if he got everything under control. Like nothing can get under his skin but that's EXACTLY why it's so fun to tease him n test how much it'll take to watch his restraint snaps (which isn't much tbh) 😼🤞

Going in for a hug? We're just hugging him extra tightly, pressing our lower half against his lower region extra harder, n inhaling his scent and he KNOWS

Sitting on his lap? Well of course it just so happens that we're wearing one of his big sweater w nothing underneath and batting our lashes up at him 🌚 totally accidental and a silly innocent mistake on our part

Hours, days, weeks, I DONT CARE IM GOING TO TEASE THAT MAN AND WATCH HIS RESTRAINTS CRACK

Anyways, have a beautiful day pookie 💋

- 🎹

Queen. I wrote like half of this and then i accidentally deleted it all. Lets have a moment of silence 😔 … now that its passed THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME I LOVE YOU AND I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU WAIT THIS LONG AGAIN

The Quidditch team had a very, no, outrageously stupid idea. Each and every one of them would practice celibacy for the week of the upcoming championship game. Seven whole days without sex. This included your amazing, wonderful, slightly pretentious boyfriend Theodore.

This did not sit right with you.

In fact, it sat so not right with you that you couldn’t help but… sabotage this game.

At first it was small things, your touch lingering too long on his bicep or thigh. Shifting your hips a little too much when he spooned you. Licking stray cream from your fingers at dinner.

But that didnt seem to work, no, it seemed like Theodore Nott hadnt been affected at all!(and you don’t know this, but he is DYING inside trying to not fuck you then and there)

So on day three you amp it up a little. You caught him right after quidditch practice, sweat dripping down his nose, and eyes wide as you practically throw yourself at him. Normally you wouldn’t touch him before a shower, but fuck has 3 days without sex made you a mess. Plus. You had to win this game.

You throw your arms around his neck, and his eyes glance down just enough to see the lowcut top youre wearing as your tits press against his chest. He suppresses a groan as you jump into his arm, forcing him to grab the plush skin of your thighs to support you. You, being extra bold today, kissed the side of his neck, tasting his salty skin beneath your lips as you take a deep breath and shiver. Maybe you were horny, but he didnt smell nearly as bad as he usually did after practice. Thats the point he put you down, kissing your forehead. “Four more days, bella…” he mumbled against your skin, before he grabbed your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at his dead eyes. “Knock it off or it’s going to be longer.”

“You wouldn’t last.”

“Oh, no. I’ll still be cumming. You just won’t be.”

His smirk as he walked off sent shivers down your spine and to the heat pooling in your panties.

On day five, you’ve had enough. You walked around your room, wearing nothing but a black, lacy thong and Theodores quidditch jersey. His name was proudly printed on the back, and you wore it like a badge of honor. And really, it was just too cute to not show off.

One text to Theo, asking for help on your DADA homework, and he was at your door in moments.

His face went a stark white the moment he saw you, his body shaking slightly from the overwhelming urge to take you right there.

You kissed his cheek in greeting, pulling him to a chair at your desk and sitting right down in his lap as usual.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice raw and cracking slightly as he forced his gaze away.

You only shift slightly, your ass pressed against his groin while he stifles a groan. “This is where I always sit. Everything okay, teddy?” You ask.

“Fuck this.”

And within a second, your cheek is being pressed against the wood of your desk as Theodore leans over you, rutting his clothed hips against your plush ass. You win the game, by the way, you win it for SEVERAL hours.

Theodore loses his shit when he learns that no one else participated in the game, and he could have been balls deep in his girl on day one.

#rot says so #🎹 anon #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #theodore nott x reader smut #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x reader smut

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pboogerswbb · 20 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 1

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, drinking Wordcount: 5.4K A/C: another pregame treat!! need my girls to deliver tonight!! anyways, here is chapter one, this one is about to start a little slower and i'm sorry about that but i promise it'll pick up and get more interesting, i got big plans for this one y'all!! anyway please leave feedback/thoughts/reviews whatever for me, i love them :)

Before London

The Dallas roads are busy, stretching out for miles out into the horizon as I stare out the window. My lungs craved fresh air, itching to open it. But I knew the air outside would bring no such relief, the humidity of this time of year already bringing me one step closer to packing my bags and making my way back to Connecticut. Everyone told me to turn the AC on, but I was much too stubborn and stuck in my ways. My dad would have come over himself and turn it off if he knew I was considering turning it on in April - much too early for his liking.

I had been here for a week now, seven long days. Each one making me more homesick. I missed my girls. I missed my team. I missed the normal weather and the East Coast. It was so bad I was on the phone with my dad every night, complaining. I knew as much as he loved me, he was getting sick of it.

“Paige, let’s figure this out,” Britt’s voice comes through the speaker phone, five garment bags sent by her laid out on the bed, ready to be opened.

“What do you even wear to this sorta thing?” I ask, speaking into the phone. My hands are opening one bag after another.

“Baby I dunno, you just gotta pick something. What kinda vibe do you wanna give off?” Brittany asks sweetly as I place my phone on the bed in front of me, pulling my shirt off over my head.

“I can’t think, it’s too hot,” I complain, rubbing my face. “I hate it here, wanna come back.”

“Paige, you gotta push through this. Try and look at it differently, at least you like your teammates!”

I whine and lie down, my back hitting the soft cotton of the sheets. “Do you think they’d let me take my sixth year?”

“Oh my gosh girl you gotta pull yourself together,” Brittany laughs, which in turn makes me laugh too. I knew I was being dramatic, my team was great, the coaching staff seemed amazing. But it was my first time living alone, I didn’t know what to do with myself and all this energy I had. I felt like I was two days away from jumping off the walls.

Lou and Arike had both taken me under their wing, and the few joint practices we’d had with the team the past week seemed promising. Not good, but like there might be potential for something with hard work. I was well taken care of and grateful for it, but the thing is at Uconn I was spoiled. I got to live with my best friends. To spend every moment with them, get on their nerves and not worry because in the end they were my sisters.

“Where are you going?” Britt asks.

“Some sorta steakhouse,” I answer, rubbing my eyes.

“Boujee or like… Texas?”

I snort, grabbing the phone from beside me.

“It’s a nice place I heard. But Rike been here for so long she mighta forgot what nice is,” I joke sitting back up.

“Then go with the blue bag.”

Unzipping it, I find a pair of black shorts, and an oversized dark green crewneck sweatshirt.

“Ion know about this Britt it’s a lil… boring,” I mumble looking over the outfit. When did I last wear dark green anyway.

“That’s why you dress it up girl! Wear a collared shirt under it, put on some chains, some nice shoes, trust it’ll fit the vibe, you don’t wanna be doing too much. Have I ever let you down?”

I sigh. I could see the vision the moment she started talking. “No you have not,” I reply. “I gotta start getting ready. Thanks again.”

“Anytime Paige,” she answers and we hang up. I know silence can’t echo, but it’s so overwhelming it almost feels like that’s exactly what it’s doing. Storrs was always loud, lively. Now I had it so bad I was even missing KK’s neverending rambling.

Quickly putting on a playlist to get rid of the aching pressure on my chest, I begin to get ready, rapping along to a Drake song loudly - but who cares I live alone now. I sleek back my hair, pinning it into a bun - the one hairstyle I knew how to do. I put on some diamond studs, and take my time picking accessories, choosing just the right silver rings to match the chain on my neck, a cross hanging from it. Of course, Brittany had been right. The outfit was great, not too much for a nice restaurant but still totally me.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself when I check the time, realising Lou must be waiting on me downstairs. Grabbing a white cross-body bag I run out the door, quickly making my way down where, just like I thought, the brunette was waiting, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently.

“Sorry I’m late,” I yelp climbing into the passenger seat. Since I barely knew Dallas, Lou had decided it was best if she drove both of us.

Shaking her head, the girl driving merges onto the road swiftly. “Not gonna be making a good impression if we bring our rookie to the party late,” Lou complains.

I scoff, leaning back against the seat and tapping on the back of my phone, feeling butterflies grow in my abdomen. I knew I made good first impressions, that people seemed to like me. I wasn’t called the ultimate rizzler for nothing. But it was still daunting, I was about to meet all the people who worked behind the team, behind me just so we could do what we do.

The past week had been so strange.The change in dynamic was drastic. I had become so used to being the older one, the one to call the shots, to have so much wisdom to give. Almost naively so. All of a sudden I was back to being the baby - the one who didn’t know anything, who had to depend on others. I thought I was prepared. But the transition was hard to navigate. I didn’t quite know how to act, if I was honest.

“Yo chill, I’m not even that late,” I chuckle lightheartedly, looking out the car window, my eyes trying to find something worth changing my mind about Dallas for.

“Ten minutes is too much, we gotta pick up Rike too,” Lou complains, hands on the wheel. It was only April but the humidity made it feel like summer. “Were you late talking to that girl?”

“What girl?” I ask.

“That girl from last night!” Lou laughs, elbowing me.

I shrug, like I had no clue what she was talking about. A complete lie. I hadn’t been thinking straight ever since I saw her.

“Ohh you mean that girl downstairs!” I say sarcastically. The brunette next to me sees right through it though.

“Never heard your voice get so quiet and shaky I swear,” Lou says, a blush setting on the apples of my cheeks thinking back to last evening. “You were fully stuttering.”

“No way bro!” I groan, biting my lower lip so as to not laugh. Though I knew better. I was definitely stuttering.

I hadn’t seen much of the girl, just her face poking through the door into the hallway. But something about her took my breath away, I couldn’t look anywhere else. It was Lou finally elbowing me that made me realise I had been staring at the dark haired girl. She was so beautiful it physically pained me to look away, but with a struggle, I had done so.

But then she spoke. And if I wasn’t trembling before, the lilt of her voice had me weak in the knees immediately. It was deep, yet simultaneously sweet. Nevermind the accent that hadn’t left my head all night. Lou made fun of me relentlessly all night because apparently, my voice was shaking when I talked to her. I think she was full of shit.

“You were, I don’t blame you,” the brunette murmurs. “She was hot.”

I kiss my teeth, looking out the window. “Don’t matter, she could be Zendaya and I still wouldn’t get into all that.”

Lou looks bewildered, eyes flickering between me and the road.

I grin at her, shaking my head. “Nah I’m staying celibate. Scout’s honor. Got me that Natty last season.”

It was true. For the first time last season I had not been involved with any girl - and it worked out pretty well in the end. It got me the ring. Adapting to a new team, new city, new life was already hard enough without fucking around. Girls had a way of making everything complicated.

“You? Celibate?” Lou asks, her tone skeptical. I suppose she remembers a different Paige from when we were both Huskies. I had changed a lot though, grown up.

“Trust,” I nod as we park in front of a nice apartment building, Arike making her way out and into the car.

“Yo,” she greets us, and I nod into the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze.

“Sup my rookie!” Arike grins and squeezes my shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Aren’t we just gonna eat and go home?” I ask but Lou and Rike are quick to shake their heads.

“Nah these things don’t end till late, we know how to party here you know what I’m sayin?” The girl in the back grins.

“Don’t blame you, nothing else to do here,” I complain half-jokingly.

“Yooo not too much. You’ll grow to like it,” Arike laughs, grabbing her phone. “Just don’t drink everything people offer you today, got it?”

“Yeah, everyone’s gonna be trying to get you drunk,” Lou chuckles. “My rookie year they had me almost blacked out.”

“Almost? You were blacked out. We had to carry you to bed.”

I laugh and sigh, rubbing my jaw, my nerves stirring within my abdomen. “Great.”

The restaurant is buzzing with people, an entire second floor reserved just for the Dallas Wings employees. Arike, Lou and I show up fashionably late, but to my pleasant surprise everyone’s too busy huddling around the bar, lining up for drinks. I smooth over my green sweatshirt, already feeling the heat get to me. How the hell was I supposed to dress for weather like this? It wasn’t even summer yet.

I walk over to Satou, who’s grinning widely at me.

“Look at you, our baby rookie. Let’s get you a drink!” She smiles convincingly. I glance at Arike and Lou behind me, snickering amongst themselves already. So it begins.

“Feels wrong to drink at a team event like this,” I tell the taller girl, guiding me towards the bar. I was more used to sneaking drinks into hotel rooms, doing our best to hide them from the coaching staff. Guess this is what growing up feels like.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everyone’s chill here,” Satou laughs and orders us two beers before I have the opportunity to interrupt and ask for a Shirley. Reluctantly I grab the beer, cheering with the girl next to me.

“To the saviour of the Wings!!” She jokes and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

“Sorry, but could you check if they are Manzanilla olives?”

The accent. I immediately turn my back on Satou, my body working before my mind can as my eyes scan the room. And then I see her. The girl from the apartment underneath mine.

She’s standing at the other end of the bar, holding a black clutch in her hand as she talks with the bartender. Her dark hair is down, in perfect waves, not one strand out of order. The dress she’s wearing isn’t red, but more maroon, shade matching the red of her lipstick to the hilt. The one-shoulder dress leaves her left one completely bare, and the golden jewelry sitting against her light brown skin makes her sparkle in the moody lighting. No words would do justice, I know that much. My knees nearly buckle at the sight of her. This strange girl whose name I didn’t even know, yet kept haunting my existence here in Dallas.

“Oh they’re not? Then nevermind the martini, could I just get a glass of Chardonnay please?”

If I had been nervous before, then it was nothing compared to the way my stomach was stirring now. Which is insane considering I didn’t even know this girl’s name. Hell, I better just avoid her tonight. I’m not on my a game. I should just keep my distance.

“Paige! That’s the girl!” Lou is half whispering, half screaming over the crowd, incredibly obviously pointing at the dark haired girl. To my relief she doesn’t notice, too busy swirling the wine in her glass around and sniffing it.

“Shut up,” I mouth to Lou as she walks up to me, Arike on her tail.

“What girl?” Arike whispers, already eyeing every woman over my shoulder.

I give Lou a look, widening my eyes and telling her to keep her mouth shut. But of course, it fails. I had no power here.

“We ran into this hot girl in Paige’s building yesterday and Paigey here got all shy and nervous.”

Arike bursts out laughing, and I’m pretty sure my face was going completely pink at this point. So I sip half of my beer quickly, letting the girls get over their laughing fit.

“You done?” I ask in annoyed, eyeing the girls.

Gasping for air, Arike nods and grins at me. “Well go get her.”

“She can’t, she’s celibate,” Lou answers. The shorter girl standing next to her scoffs, clearly finding amusement in that.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re the new hooper in town, gon’ be drowning in pussy. I was,” she says, sipping her beer. “The rookie year is crazy.”

“Oh trust, she was drowning in it at Uconn too-”

“Okay okay, chill guys,” I interrupt the conversation, Satou standing next to us quietly and chuckling to herself.

“So which one is it?” Arike asks. Glancing over my shoulder I see the girl from downstairs talking to some guy around the same age as her. Just as I’m about to point her out, Satou and Arike are waving that exact guy over.

“Yo Trey!! My guy!!”

All of a sudden he’s walking over with her. I feel my face going red, my breathing growing ragged, my eyes quickly flicking to the floor. She was like the sun, as much as I wanted to I couldn’t look directly at her - it might blind me.

“What’s up, my favourite girls!” The guy - Trey, apparently - says brightly and dabs all of them up.

“Ahh and the prodigy!” He grins, turning to me. I lick my lower lip and smile back, offering my hand. “I’m the guy with the camera, you’ll see me around. Trey.”

I dab him up, ignoring the tingling on the left side of my body where the dark haired girl is standing, evidently feeling as awkward as I was. Except she was better at hiding it, looking around the room with an air of confidence.

“Well I’m the one with the basketball, you’ll know where to find me. I’m Paige,” I flash him my most charming smile. Everyone laughs at my joke, except the girl beside me. I quickly decide that perhaps getting drunk wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Oh this is Zari, she’s new from England, Linda finally hired someone to work on the social media shit,” Trey explains, pointing to the girl between me and him. I blink stupidly when I look at her. Somehow she was more beautiful up close which made my throat feel tighter. I quickly sip my beer again, looking to the ceiling. Fuck, pull yourself together. I wasn’t this superficial - feeling like this just because someone was hot. Who knows, she might be the worst person you’ve ever met.

“That would be me, hi!” She says when I realise I was barely listening to Trey before, completely not making note of her name. She shakes everyone’s hand, smiling kindly. Fuck, are my hands sweaty? Better wipe them on my shorts first. I gotta make eye contact - I’m sure a couple seconds will be enough. It might be all I can bear.

The girl turns to me, her right hand extended. I glance at it, gripping it gently. Her hand shake is surprisingly firm, but I barely notice, feeling as if my skin is on fire. The moment our eyes meet I look away, knowing that everyone and their mothers could tell I was blushing right now.

“I forgot your name,” is all that comes out of my mouth, so clumsily I wanna hide behind the bar and never come out when I realise how rude it sounded.

To my shock she’s not taken aback at all by my bluntness, instead holding herself with an almost regal air. I wasn’t sure if I was intimated or turned on - either way I was overcome with a desperate need to make her like me. Surely I was off to a horrible start.

Our eyes meet again. Hers are dark green, deep and rich like the pine trees back home. I can feel myself wanting to sink in deeper, to bask in their familiarity. To feel the sting of cold air and smell the snow falling from the sky and to bask in the scent of pine all over me. Before I know it I notice her glossed lips move, but my ears barely pick anything up. An I? And I think there was an A at the end? You gotta be kidding me.

“I- Ivanna?” I stutter. She chuckles softly, as the others around us snicker amongst themselves. Bitches.

“No, darling, let’s try again,” she smiles, her tone so sweet it’s bordering on condescending. I fucking swoon at it. “Izara.”

I nod, not sure if the heat on my face is from how hot and humid it was inside the restaurant, or from the public humiliation in front of this gorgeous girl. I chuckle mostly to myself, rubbing my jaw and looking around to break eye contact finally. Far too distracting.

“Izara,” I repeat, noticing Satou, Arike, Lou and some of the others laughing at my clumsy behaviour. I was just begging Izara didn’t make note of why I was acting a fool.

“Zari is better,” the brunette says, a slight teasing tone to her voice. I breathe heavily out my nose, trying to get the blush to settle from my cheeks.

“Zari, got it.”

“Took you long enough,” Arike teases, making everyone laugh, except Zari who just smiles at me.

“Guys, not all of us are used to the Texas heat. It messes with your head,” she says with enough authority in her voice to make everyone around us stop laughing and give me sympathetic looks.

“Uhh yeah, it’s hot,” I answer bluntly, my voice shaking a little as I rub my neck. On top of the mess I was, I could feel myself sweating. I have to get home as fast as possible. Or not home. But back to the apartment I was staying in for now, until the moment I could go back home to the East Coast.

“Shit, I’m Paige by the way,” I say, realising I never introduced myself to Zari. She scoffs, waving me off.

“Paige, it’s my job to know who you are,” she points out. It’s funny, and I want to laugh. But nothing comes out of my mouth, I’m simply unable to, her proximity leaving me completely discombobulated. So I just sip my beer.

“Right.”

Paige Bueckers hates me. The moment she met me I could tell. Maybe she was offended by the fact I didn’t recognise her last night. Figures, a star like her would have a huge ego. Still, I had one job tonight. To make her like me. And I had done the exact opposite. I could tell by the way she avoided my gaze, the way she barely wanted to shake my hand, abruptly pulling it away from my grip. She barely talked to me, wrapped up in a conversation with everyone besides me. I couldn’t afford to disappoint my boss, if I did it would be bye bye Dallas and hello London.

I’m sitting between Trey and another colleague, Ava, both caught up in a lively conversation as I cut a piece of my steak, wrapping my lips around the fork and chewing on it. Glancing up from my plate, I see Paige throwing her head back as she laughs with her teammates, her entire demeanor so much more lively now that I wasn’t close to her. A slight irritation was growing in me, watching the carefree way she’s joking around with the people around her part of the long table. Who was she to make up her mind on whether she liked me so fast. I was the kind of person you grew to love. I’m sure she would as well.

“Okay everybody!” Curt Miller stands up clinking his glass with the cutlery. Suddenly everyone goes quiet, including the blonde. For a second our eyes meet, sending a strange jolt around my body. Blinking, I shift my gaze to the man, clearly ready to give a speech.

“Alright alright,” he laughs, “I just wanna thank everyone for coming here tonight. I was never good at these so let me keep it short. This is gonna be a big, exciting year and I’m so grateful to the Wings for giving me this opportunity. I know I’m a new face to some of you, but I’m in great company,” he grins and points to Paige. “And Linda here mentioned something about a new media employee too!”

Like on cue Linda stands up a few chairs to the right of me, nodding. “Yes Curt, we’ve got some young blood to help this year all the way from England. Izara here, should help us grow our social media reach.”

I smile, trying to focus on appearing together and poised, some people glancing towards me.

“Awesome news!” Curt grins as Linda sits back down. “With two young talents I’m sure we’re gonna have a hell of a year,” he says, glancing at both me and Paige. I see Arike rub Paige’s shoulder, clearly excited and happy about how the lottery turned out for the Wings this year.

“Now since I’m boring everyone out of their minds why don’t you two say a few words.”

Pause. I feel a panic rise from somewhere deep in my abdomen. Don’t get me wrong, I had no issue with public speaking, no issue with performing. What I did have an issue with was improvising. I was the girl who planned, who made lists, who used to finish her essays the day before a deadline. With a plan I was golden, but to expect me to say anything, planless, was causing jitters. I was just hoping it didn’t show on my face.

Mine and Paige’s eyes meet, and I immediately know that I wasn’t as composed as I wanted to be. That she knew I was panicking. Bet this is just gonna make her hate me more.

Instead, to my surprise, she clears her throat and begins speaking with an easy confidence.

“Uh well, way to throw us under the bus Curt,” she jokes, immediately making everyone chuckle, including me. “Guess I know what kinda season this is about to be.” Another round of laughs around the table giving her time to scratch the back of her neck as she thinks. With a slight smirk on her face she continues.

“This is a big moment for me. I grew up with the sport, already knew I had a chance to go pro when I was eight. I’ve been waiting for a while to get to the league and to finally be here… It’s surreal. I feel really blessed, really grateful,” she says looking at her plate and then letting out a sly, quiet laugh. “Crazy that I’m drinking with the coaching staff right there, I’m so used to having to hide it.”

I chuckle with the rest of the group. There’s something about her, a smoothness, a charm that makes it impossible not to like her. Even improvising like this she seems completely in control, like she knows she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. It’s impressive. I can’t look away.

“Geno didn’t let you drink?” Curt asks lightheartedly, making Paige’s blue eyes widen.

“He would’ve put belt to ass, lemme just say that.”

More laughter. Paige looks around meeting my gaze.

“Zari, I know you got that cold right? So maybe I should just speak for you so you have a voice tomorrow?”

Huh? I furrow my brows looking at her confused, but her eyes won’t budge, boring into mine. And then I realise. She’s trying to let me off the hook.

“Yes please,” I smile back, looking down to my lap. Something about the way she did that all for me, picked up on my nerves, found a way to get me out of it, was making my insides flip. You wouldn’t do that for someone you hate I suppose.

“I gotchu,” Paige grins, looking back to everyone around the table. “I think we’re both just really grateful for the opportunity and really excited for the season. Anyway, thanks guys.”

Everyone claps and I do too, my heart warming at the way Paige Bueckers had just saved me.

“Wait, you're sick?” Trey whispers.

“Uh, a little.”

“Hope you feel better Zari!” Ava says as I wave bye, walking towards the exit.

“Thanks guys, I’m sure I will,” I say, knowing I felt just fine. Great even, after a few glasses of wine. As I step out into the evening, I hold my fur coat in my hands, too hot to put it on. To my surprise I see Paige standing right outside the restaurant, scrolling on her phone. Interrupted by the tapping of my heels, she lifts her gaze, the intensity of her blue eyes surprising.

“Hey,” she smiles, avoiding looking at my face again. She was really giving me mixed signals.

“Hi there,” I say, walking closer. “Thanks for rescuing me earlier.”

She looks at the parking lot, a sly smirk spreading across her face.

“Nah, you’re good,” the blonde grins, diamond studs in her ears sparkling. “Not a fan of speeches?”

I shrug, taking that as an invite for conversation. “No I can certainly be… If you give me approximately two weeks to prepare. Minimum.”

Paige chuckles, nodding to herself. “You’re that kinda girl huh?”

“Desperately so.”

She shifts on her feet, looking for something to say.

“That’s a good trait to have, I try to plan too but usually doesn’t last for longer than a week or two,” she explains. I nod knowingly.

“My brother’s a bit like that,” I sigh. I was already missing him.

Paige turns to me, looking for my gaze.

“You got a brother?”

I nod, “Yeah, he’s younger. Your age.”

She’s taken aback. “Hollup how old are you?”

“Turned 25 last month.”

“Damn,” she says before thinking. I scoff, my eyes widening, though finding amusement in her reaction

”Are you calling me old?” I ask with a serious tone, her face immediately going bright red.

”No, no no, not at all. You look… great. Amazing, and like. That’s not even old, I'm just trippin’. I just assumed you were my age but like a year is nothin-” she rambles, tripping over her words.

”Paige I’m taking the piss,” I laugh. She stops, looking at me confused.

”You’re what?”

Oh right, Americans. ”I’m joking around.”

She laughs. ”Taking the piss?”

I laugh too, the air immediately easing between us.

”I’mma start using that,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me.

”You’re welcome,” I grin.

She scoffs. ”I didn’t say thank you.”

”You should,” I demand, more seriously, meeting her blue eyes. She immediately folds, blinking her long lashes.

”Thank you.”

I suddenly feel hot, warmth rising to my cheeks. I quickly look back to the ground, the intensity of her gaze too much right now.

”Hey, uh… I think we live in the same building,” she murmurs, watching the sky. Shit, she had recognised me, of course.

”Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. I really should have,” I quickly explain, feeling a little abashed but trying not to let it show.

”No, I just meant, I ordered an Uber. You need a ride?”

Oh. So she wasn’t mad. She was offering me a ride.

”I’d love one. Are you sure?”

”Totally,” Paige answers, smiling at me softly. She fans her own face, trying to find any relief for the heat.

”Shit it’s hot,” the blonde groans. ”Do you mind if I take this off? I got a shirt underneath.”

”Oh, no go ahead darling,” I tell her.

With a sigh, Paige’s hands grip the back of her green sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. As she does my eyes can’t help it, flickering over her lower abdomen where both shirts have hiked up, showing a sliver of pale skin and black boxers peeking out of her shorts. Something about it makes my throat go dry. I’m not exactly sure what. The feeling almost unfamiliar to me.

”That’s so much better,” Paige groans with relief, fixing the white oversized button up, chains resting against her chest. I feel my ears growing hot, quickly averting her gaze.

She’s not horrible, on top of being gorgeous she’s fucking great - funny, sweet, charismatic. Would be so much easier if Zari was an asshole like I had hoped earlier. I could feel butterflies in my stomach every time she looked at me. That familiar warmth that I knew too well.

We walk to the Uber together, and I make sure I open the door for her - I didn’t know her that well, but I could tell she was classy. On a whole different level than me.

I climb in after her, unbuttoning more of my shirt for some airflow. For a second I think I catch her staring, but I knew it was unlikely. She was definitely giving me straight girl vibes. Of course my stupid ass was ogling after a straight girl - nothing new to me. My eyes immediately land on her thighs, her legs crossed and pressing together as she sits next to me. Okay, get a grip Paige.

”So… How you liking Dallas?” I ask, unable to take the silence in the car.

”I haven’t seen much of it, just moved the other day,” she answers, her voice low but smooth, I could’ve listened to her talk all night. ”It’s very humid.”

”Damn that jetlag gotta be hitting hard huh?” I ask, looking at her.

”I look tired?” She asks, offended. An immediate panic takes over, my hands gripping the sweater in my hands. Shit.

”No you look fucking great. I would’ve never th-”

”Paige. I’m joking.”

Oh. I let out a sigh of relief, chuckling awkwardly. I look out the window, shaking my head at myself. I really needed to chill.

”Taking the piss?”

She lets out a loud, bright laugh, grabbing my forearm. The gold rings on her digits sparkle as her long, manicured nails dig into the white shirt. Immediate goosebumps rising underneath on my skin tell me I’m completely fucked.

“Exactly!” She gleams, her smile wide. “You did so good.”

That. I need to hear her say that again. I clear my throat to interrupt the bad thoughts, feeling Zari’s hand move off me, skin tingling as the weight of her touch lifts.

We pull up to our apartment building, both of us climbing out.

“I can transfer you some money for the ride,” Zari suggests as I let her into the building, eyes falling on her ass just for a second. Okay, no. Look away.

“No, Ion need you to,” I tell her sternly as we begin to climb up the flights of steps, her heels tapping against the tile of the floor. The sound echoes off the walls until we stop by her front door, silence draping over us, making me painfully aware of the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Well,” Zari smiles, turning to me, her green eyes even more prominent with the dark makeup surrounding them. Only then I notice how catlike they are, sharp and alert. Challenging almost.

I wanna say something smart, something witty. Something to make her laugh, or blush. I’m rummaging through my brain for anything coherent at least.

“I’ll see you at work,” she says, opening her door. I was running out of time.

“You’ll know where to find me,” I stupidly let out. Zari turns to look at me one more time and nods.

“Don’t stomp too loud please.”

With that she gets in, leaving me there with nothing to do but blink at the closed door and notice the flutters around my stomach. Rubbing my jaw, I slowly climb up one more flight of stairs, mind spinning around the girl. Completely, utterly out of my league. It only made me want her more.

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

#paige bueckers #so it goes #lilas writing #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #wnba x oc

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chlix · 14 days ago

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treatment resistant

bf! chan x fem! reader: he comforts you during a mental health episode

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ANGST like seriously, turns into comfort at the end tho 🙏🏾

word count: 4.7k

warnings: graphic depictions of depression, anxiety/anxiety attacks, and psychosis (paranoia); self worth issues; general self-loathing

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting about six months ago and deliberated posting it, but it's almost the end of the year so i feel like i should release it. i used to feel so validated by fics where reader is depressed and gets comforted, but she was never as depressed as i sometimes was, so i drew a bit from life for this one. everyone please be safe and read the warnings <3

It doesn't start with the dishes. In fact, you think your therapist might tell you that it's not about the dishes at all, but about your own poor self-image, or lack of emotional regulation, or about a thousand other things that are wrong with the way you perceive yourself and the world.

The truth is that lately you've been sleeping way too late and waking up too early, and you're so tired that you can't eat, which makes you so hungry that you can't take naps. You're between jobs and the outlook hasn't been great, your best friend keeps blowing you off in favor of her new boyfriend, and just this week you found out that your favorite bakery is no longer making the souffles that you've been using as a pick me up since you moved into this building.

You don't do well with change, or rejection, or honestly anything, lately. You wake up stressed and you go to sleep stressed. You keep your phone on Do Not Disturb because you can't bear receiving notifications. Just today you've talked yourself out of taking showers twice, only to have a meltdown when you tried to sit on your bed because you felt too dirty to touch your own sheets. You sit on the floor instead. You eat a singular banana for lunch, just to make your headache go away. Your headache does not go away. You feel both unreal and painfully solid, sinking into the ground and on the verge of floating away.

Your boyfriend, Chan, keeps texting you updates about his day, and answering them feels like an exercise in performance art. You scroll through your previous texts to make sure you're adding the right amount of exclamation points, that you're using the same recent emojis. It's like cosplaying a happier version of yourself. A better version, a version that he could love, as opposed to how you are now: greasy and gross and plastered to the floor in your hallway. The idea of him seeing you like this fills you terror, or at least it would if you hadn't burned out your capacity for feeling things already.

A new message pops up.

Chan: Hey baby ❤️ Was thinking of swinging by tonight after work? I can bring dinner with me

Just the thought of eating threatens to make you vomit. You suck in a breath and hold it as you type,

You: If you want something specific go for it! I already started cooking but we could have it another time

Chan: I don't want to waste all your hard work. We can have what you're making. I'm sure it'll be delicious :)

You: I can promise edible. Delicious is up in the air rn 😭

Chan: I have faith in you even if you don't ❤️. I'll be there around seven today

You: Okay! I love you sm, see you then! ❤️❤️❤️

You lock your phone and throw it across the room. Why do you do this to yourself? "Already started cooking?" You haven't showered today. Normally you try to deter Chan from coming over when you're having a freakazoid episode, but now you've basically invited him in? You have to be normal for an entire evening?

You fall on your back on the ground and put your hands over your face, blocking out the sunshine that insists on steaming through the cracks in the drapes. Your heart is beating so hard you worry you're going into cardiac arrest.

Get off the fucking ground, y/n, you tell yourself. You have to go cook dinner for your boyfriend.

"There is something very wrong with me," you say out loud, very quietly. The silence of your apartment swallows the words. They vanish, as if never said.

You get up.

It takes you two tries to make something even passing as edible. Your head is all over the place, and you burn batches of oil and veggies before you manage to stay in your body long enough to finish making anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of pans and spoons and bowls to make something that should be simple, and as dishes pile up in the sink you feel stupider and stupider. Why are you acting like you don't know how to cook? It's not hard to make some vegetables in stew. You don't know why it's taking every appliance in your kitchen and all of your concentration to execute such a simple task.

By the time you're done cooking, you've stressed yourself out enough that you're getting a tension headache. You close your eyes and brace yourself against the sink, rallying yourself.

Just do these dishes and then you can sit down, you think. Just one more thing.

You pick up a sponge.

You put the sponge down.

There is no way you can do these dishes.

It doesn't so much hit you like a train as the realization slowly creeps up on you. It's not that many dishes, really. It looks like a lot, because the pots and bowls are so large, but numerically there's very few items in your sink. It wouldn't even take 30 minutes to clean everything and leave it in the rack for later.

But that's not happening. The idea fills you with a cold and genuine dread, just as strong and perverse as when you'd tried to shower earlier, or sit on your bed. You can't turn on the tap because then the water will touch you, and it will feel Wrong, and then your whole body will feel Wrong, and then you'll die of Sudden Onset Wrongness. And now that you think about it, a lot of your anxiety today has revolved around water, and isn't that a symptom of rabies? Hydrophobia? Did you get rabies somehow? Would you know if you had rabies? Maybe that's the thing that's wrong with you- you're not depressed or insane or just a terrible person living a terrible life. You're just rabid. There's something eating your brain, and that's what's making you into such a fucking failure of a person.

While you're debating the possibility of brain-eating viruses, Chan comes home from work. You automatically turn towards him, a bright smile on your face, and rush to greet him.

"Hey, Channie!" you say, bouncing over to him with a pep you do not feel. "I'm so happy you're here!"

And you are, mostly. You love your boyfriend, really you do. He's loving and attentive, and he's never made you feel like anything less than the number one priority in his life. You have similar values and work ethics, which keeps you on the same page through most difficult periods in either of your lives and careers. You haven't been together long, but your bond is solid, and you really believe you're going to make it far together.

You also really believe you won't if he ever finds out what a complete nutcase you are. So you hide it. You grin at him and you appear light and joyful and easygoing and you brush off his concerns with adages and placations, and you redirect the conversation back to him, because you're a good listener and you love the sound of his voice and you much prefer that activity to any activity that involves you explaining how you laid on the floor for five hours and had an emotional breakdown while slicing cabbage. He has other things to worry about, other problems to solve without adding yourself to the list. You're supposed to be his respite, not another draining task. He doesn't need to know how hard it's been lately. You shouldn't have to say it.

So he doesn't. And you don't.

"Hey baby," he says. He sets his stuff down and kisses you in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Okay," you say. The answer feels curt, but you don't want to ruminate any more on your absolutely fruitless afternoon.

Chan doesn't comment on your strange answer. He takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat, and as he's about to walk past you he spots the mountain of dishes in the kitchen.

"Oh, were you about to do the dishes? I can do them if you'd like."

"You just got home," you protest. "You should go sit down."

"But you've been standing just as long cooking dinner, right? I should do my part."

His insistence is making something terrible expand in your gut. Instead of being flattered at his offer to help, his words feel like a violent condemnation. You should've done the dishes before he got home. You should've finished cleaning the kitchen altogether, so that he can relax in a clean environment. What kind of stupid fucking girlfriend are you, where you can't even do basic chores around the house?

"No, it's okay. I already psyched myself up to do them, so I'll do them."

Chan hums in a tone that's either playful or mocking, you genuinely can't tell which. "Okay, if you say so. Don't be afraid to tap out if the dishes get the better of you."

Great. He thinks you're so stupid you couldn't do the dishes if you tried.

You subtly regulate your breathing as you turn towards the sink. Chan disappears into the apartment out of view, and you give yourself thirty seconds to push your freak-out as far down inside you as you can.

"You're not an idiot, y/n," you tell yourself. "You can do some fucking dishes."

You reach under the sink and pull out some disposable plastic gloves. They make your hands look weirdly swollen and unfamiliar, as if they aren't your hands anymore. For a bizarre moment, you're convinced that they're genuinely not, that someone else's hands have been put on your body. You close your eyes so hard sparks fly in front of you.

Stop being crazy. Do the fucking dishes.

You turn on the water and pick up a bowl.

Chan reappears. You flash him a smile, but say nothing. Chan grins back, all dimples and crescent eyes. He's so handsome it makes you want to rip your own skin off. You thank God every day that you were born beautiful, because you could never have caught his attention with your personality alone. He'd be completely out of your league, and honestly, maybe he still is.

That thought gets shut down and pushed away. One crisis at a time. You don't have hands and you might have rabies, but you definitely have a boyfriend who loves you. There's no point in kicking yourself while you're down.

You turn back to the sink.

You cannot do these fucking dishes.

"Work was funny today," Chan says as he moves over to the stove and opens the pot.

"Mm?"

"Just some technical issues in the studio. Nothing serious, but it gave us some good bloopers."

You pick up a glass cup. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in the curve, and your eyes are so wide. Have they always been that wide? Are your eyes drier these days than they normally are? You can't tell, because every part of you feels both dehydrated and submerged under water.

"This is really good, babe," Chan says.

You blink. "What?"

Chan holds up his bowl. "The stew. It's great. I told you it would be delicious."

You let out a pleased sound. "Thank you baby. Your encouragement really motivated me."

It was the wrong thing to say. You have no idea how, but from the way Chan's expression changes slightly as he looks at you, you know he's caught on to you acting weird.

"Is everything alright?"

Shit.

"With me? Yeah, I guess so. I've just been really tired lately."

"On the job hunt?" he asks sympathetically. It's like a stake in your heart.

"As always."

He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your hair. "Don't worry, baby. You're super qualified in your field. You'll find something soon."

You need him to stop touching you or you'll start throwing pans at the wall.

"I hope so," is all you say.

"I know so. Just keep faith."

You hum again, noncommittal. It's like you're slowly losing the ability to speak. And the gloves are too tight and the water is so loud and you're nauseous and your head still hurts and it's probably not even the stress, it's probably the rabies, it's turning your brain into swiss cheese as you speak.

After another tight squeeze, Chan lets you go and retrieves his bowl from where he'd set it down. You hope he might leave you to go eat in the living room, but instead he hovers on the opposite side of the island, and continues telling you about his day. Normally, you'd love to hear the play by play of every crazy thing that happened with his group members and managers. Today, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The story is endless, keeps weaving around other anecdotes and tangents and you wish he would just shut up for one second so you can pull yourself together but you can't say that, because he isn't doing anything wrong, you're just being crazy, you're a bad and lazy girlfriend and you can't even put your own issues on hold long enough to listen to your boyfriend talk about his day. Everything is wrong wrong wrong, and you're Wrong and something is Wrong With You and it just keeps going it never stopswhy can't it all just stop-

"Y/N?"

Your name sounds like it's coming from a thousand miles away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turn to look at Chan, see his eyebrows pinched together in concern. You have no idea how long he's been saying your name.

Very calmly, you strip your gloves off and lay them to the side. You turn off the water.

"Sorry," you say. "Give me one moment, please."

You walk past him and down the hall to your bedroom, where you very calmly and gently close the door behind yourself. You climb on to your bed, filthy clothes and all, and pull two of the pillows from the end to rest on top of each other. You tie your hair back with a hair tie, press your face into the stack of pillows below you so that your whole face is covered.

And you just start screaming.

Screaming is therapeutic, apparently. Or at least, it's on the approved list of emotional regulation activities your therapist had given you. As long as you aren't screaming at anyone, it can be an effective form of release. It helps you release the tension from your core and focus that nervous energy into sound and action.

You scream into the pillow as loud as you can. You aren't sure how much it's doing to muffle your sound, but the belief that it's helping allows you to let go. It's tearing at your throat, the intensity of it. Once you start it's hard to stop, you just keep going and going and going, as if you're expelling demons.

When you finally peter out, you pause for a moment, then push yourself onto your knees. You're dizzy. Blood is rushing in your ears. It's oddly hard to breathe, as if you can't get enough air in your lungs. Even the fact of your own body is too much for you. You wish you could abandon it, just for a moment. You wish you could observe this from the outside so that you would better know how to fix it.

Eventually, your breaths calm. The buzzing recedes, leaving room for rational thought. And your chest feels....lighter. No longer is there a bomb sitting in your sternum, waiting to explode. The pressure has equalized. You look down at your hands, fisted in your bedsheets, and they look like your hands.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

You think you can probably do the dishes now.

Gingerly, you climb out of bed and make your way to the door. You open it, prepared to put your smile back on and apologize for your rude exit.

Chan is outside your door.

His eyes are wide with alarm. He looks stiff, hesitant. One of his hands is outstretched towards the door, as if about to knock.

Your face goes blank, wiring short-circuiting as you try to figure out what to say.

"Hey, y/n," Chan says, slow, testing. "Are you okay?"

Your script restarts, and a big smile automatically draws itself on your face. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though. Come on, you can finish telling me your story."

You grab his hand and try to pull him away from the bedroom. He doesn't budge.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

You turn back to look at him. "Nothing's going on."

"Baby, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it yet. But you don't need to pretend there's nothing wrong. You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I heard you screaming in there."

Ice flushes through your body.

"Ah. Well, it's like I said. I got a little overwhelmed. I'm not hurt or anything. Sorry if I worried you."

"A little overwhelmed?" He's getting frustrated now, put off by your blase tone. "You look like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"No, I don't," you say, because you don't. You know what you look like when you get like this. You've trained your expressions so well that your face doesn't flush. Your eyes don't tear up. You have to look put together, because if you don't look put together then you can't convince yourself that you are put together.

"Y/n. I know you. I can tell when something's up." He sighs. "I've thought you were a bit distant for the past couple of weeks but I figured you would come to me eventually. But here we are, and you're having an anxiety attack right in front of me and you won't even admit it."

"I'm not having an anxiety attack."

"Love, I know what anxiety looks like. If you'd just let me help-"

"I'm not having an anxiety attack. I don't have anxiety. I would know if I did."

"Everyone has bad days and hard times, baby. You don't have to be defensive. I'm not accusing you of anything."

"You say you're not accusing me of anything after unilaterally diagnosing me with anxiety?"

Chan lets out a long breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I just mean-"

"You can't just assign me disorders when you decide I'm acting irrationally. You don't know my medical history. You don't even know me that well. You don't know if my behavior is normal or not."

"You can't be getting upset at me for 'not knowing you' when it's clear you're actively hiding things from me," Chan says, patience thinning. "I see you're in distress and you're picking apart my wording? I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't say I wanted your help."

"You're my partner! Of course I'm going to help you!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" You choke on it and slam your lips shut.

Chan's face is drawn in irritation. He makes a go on gesture. But you can't go on. It's like the words are trapped in bubbling tar.

Your silence stretches. Chan sighs and drags a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd gone out of his way to come visit you and now he regrets it. You've wasted his evening and ruined his mood. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you ruin everything. Hell realize he's drowning in all your mess and decide to save himself, and then you'll be alone again.

You draw in a breath of your own, but you're still lightheaded.

"Why did you invite me over if you didn't want me to see you like this?" he asks finally. "You don't have to see me every day if that's not what you want."

All the anger is gone from his voice. He's being so patient that your own stubbornness is acrid in comparison. You swallow, hard. Every muscle in your body is tense. You have the pull the words out of your throat with hooks, one syllable at a time.

"I wanted to see you," you explain, stilted and pathetic. "I thought I could pretend for long enough."

"Pretend what?"

That I'm not crazy. That I'm not falling apart. That I'm normal and easygoing and a joy to be around and definitely not rabid.

It's impossible to say. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know that something is. You can't do the dishes. And you can't do this.

Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor of the hallway.

"Y/n?"

You don't respond. You're just staring straight ahead, all your thoughts whirring so fast that you're having trouble parsing any of them.

"Y/n? Hey, baby, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

You blink, and he's in front of you, on your level. He's trying to look calm but you can see the panic in his eyes. It only makes your chest tighter. You're dragging him down, you're cursing him. He needs to get out or you'll have his blood on your hands.

"We need to break up," you whisper.

Chan reels back like he's been slapped. "What?"

"We can't- we need to break up. I shouldn't have invited you over. I'm sorry."

"I..." Chan is at a loss for words. "You don't mean that."

But you do mean it. With everything in your body. "We can't be together."

"Baby, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have to break up if you don't want to. I don't want to break up."

You feel sick with his sureness. How can he claim to know you better than you know yourself?

"You don't get it," you say. Your tone is unnatural, words strange on your tongue. "We just can't be together."

"Can you tell me why you feel that way?"

"Just look at me."

"I am looking at you. And all I see is my beautiful, wonderful, perfect girlfriend who is having a very bad day and might be making some hasty decisions."

"Not a bad day. A bad life. I'm fucked up, Chan." The words come out with such a quiet malice that it shocks even yourself. "I can't even do the fucking dishes."

"I can do the dishes, love. I said it wasn't a big deal."

"No no no. It's not about the dishes." You're struggling to explain- the words are getting twisted, the thoughts all merge together- "I can't do anything. It's not about the fucking dishes. It's about- I can't-"

And you burst into tears

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm really sorry. I just-"

"It's okay," he soothes. "It's okay. I understand now."

He doesn't. He can't, and you know that full well. You shake your head, vision blurring from your tears. You're so embarassed and it's making you cry worse. You think you must look so ugly right now. He must be repulsed by you. You're repulsed by yourself, your own misery making your skin crawl.

"Can I touch you, baby? I want to hold you."

You shouldn't. You'll infect him. You'll ruin him and take away everything that makes him good. Why is he even still talking to you? Why doesn't he leave?

"You don't have to-to feel obligated. I can just- if you give me a second-"

"I don't feel obligated," he says, patient but firm. "I love you. I want to hold you all the time."

Something in your chest cracks. You're so weak. It's pathetic. But you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please," you whisper, defeated.

Chan reaches out and pulls you into his arm. You're both still on the ground, but he rearranges you so you can hide your face in his shoulder, and you do, too humiliated by your tears to be able to look at his face. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and your traitorous body relaxes without your permission.

"You've been struggling for a long time haven't you?" he asks. "You didn't want me to pity you."

You don't say anything. You can't bear to.

"Well, I don't pity you. I think you're very strong, trying to deal with this on your own. You made me dinner today even though you didn't really want to, right? That was very kind of you to do. You take such good care of me, baby. You light up my life. Isn't it fair that I should get to take care of you too? Can't I return the favor by helping you now?"

"It's not the same," you mumble into his shirt, because the magnitude of the two asks isn't comparable. You chopped up some vegetables and threw them in a pot. He is witnessing you have a mental breakdown in your hallway. You're not equally yoked. It's too much to ask of anyone.

"Whether it's the same or not doesn't matter. Love isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be equal effort every single time. This isn't a favor I'm returning. I'm comforting you because you're upset, and I hate to see you cry. Do you believe me when I say I want to see you happy and smiling? That I would do anything to ensure it?"

You finally pull away from him, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. "You might have to go find a new girlfriend then," you say, voice cracking from the tears and the weight of your despair.

"I don't want a new girlfriend. I want you." He's hesitant, but he continues. "There are ways of getting help, you know. We can try some things, like therapy, or medication. I can help you. You don't have to feel this way all the time."

You shake your head. "I'm in therapy and on meds already. None of it really....works on me. I have fewer bad days than I used to but they still leave me like...like this. And they just drag on....it turns to weeks and months, and I can't....I can't do anything." You let out a shaky breath and make yourself stop talking. Even after all this, the urge to hold back is engrained in you. "You deserve better."

"I think I decide what I deserve," Chan says. "I know it's hard to open up about things like this, but what's worse than you being depressed is you hiding it from me. How can we work on this if you're pretending it's not real?"

"I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be...to be easy."

Chan leans forward and cups your face in his hands. He looks you right in the eyes, and you see that they're glossy with their own unshed tears. "I don't need you to be easy. No one is. I just want you to be you. And I want you to let me be there for you. In everything. Including this. I want all of you. Do you think you can do that? Can you try?" He wipes away your tears with his thumb.

You swallow harshly. It goes against everything in you, everything you've taught yourself. Chan loves you. He wants to stay. Even though it may all crash and burn later, even though he might still turn on you or reject you or give up on you and declare this all a lost cause, right now he wants to stay. He believes in you. And you want to hold on to that belief as long as it lasts.

"Okay. I'll try."

A relieved smile stretches across his face.

"That's my girl," he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It makes something like pride settle in your chest, as if the part of you that cracked earlier might not stay jagged forever.

"Let's get off the floor, hmm? I feel like you might've spent enough time down here today."

You definitely hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he really does understand more than you'd thought possible. You don't know exactly how to feel about that, but you allow a bit of gratefulness to come through as he stands up on his own and reaches a hand down to pull you up. You wipe your eyes one last time, let out a breath, and take his hand.

#skz x reader #skz angst #skz x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst

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luvymelody · 9 months ago

Text

NAME : katsuki bakugou , boku no hero academia

SONG : apple cider , beabadoobee

SUMMARY : y/n gets hit with a quirk, making their mostly stoic facade disappear, turning into a more clingy, more flirty in a way? wc : 1.8k

(y/ns quirk is practically earth-bending. its not really important tho so like dont worry)

(set around the time where they have dorms and hero license)

y/n smiled in the chair as they sat, patiently waiting as they tapped their feet on the floor and recovery girl looked around their figure, looking for any injuries.

"so, i don't see any injuries. i only see the personality change."

"they are okay though, right?"

bakugou asked, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall near the door of the nurse's office as he looked down to the ground, his eyes gazing up to the smiling y/n.

"yeah they are. i believe it's made them the opposite personality they are, simple thing really- it'll last for about a week. for now, i think it's best you act like everything's normal. say yes to whatever they say. i also don't believe they'll remember anything the next week-"

"katsuki!"

"yeah i know, idiot!"

bakugou yelled out, using his quirk to jump up into the air to avoid the villains running to tackle him, using his explosions on the villain coming his way. y/n stomped the ground as the ground made a crumbled path towards a group of villains, sending them into the air and todoroki froze them in air using his ice.

there was a villain hiding in the alleyway near the fight, watching his group being beaten by just three measly high schoolers. yeah they might be in the hero course but they were still teenagers!

"i think.. we're done.."

y/n breathed out, their hands resting on their hips as the two other guys went to stand with y/n, walking towards them.

"god, i did most of the work."

bakugou said, panting slowly as todoroki breathed out ice. y/n glanced around the area, seeing civilians taking photos of them on the sidelines of the streets.

"katsuki, your turn to take photos with civilians."

"hah? no way."

"me and shoto did it yesterday, your turn."

"argh, you're useless!"

bakugou yelled out, begrudgingly stomping his way to the civilians as they squealed, hitting each other and fixing themselves up in their phone cameras.

y/n watched as bakugou walked away, admiring him in a way. y/n's class saw them as the quiet, but powerful and strong person. y/n didn't mind it as todoroki was the same. but rather, y/n admired bakugou. even if they were friends and seemed to be considered 'close'. it's not like you can't admire your friends, right?

y/n's eyes glided back towards todoroki, but then suddenly a dash of colour came into their view, as they looked towards it and turns out, there was a villain aiming for bakugou, who didn't see, still walking towards the civilians as they didn't notice the villain either, too focused on bakugou.

without thinking, y/n's feet dashed towards bakugou, pushing him out of the way as the villain's hand latched onto their face, their eyes fluttering shut as y/n passed out on the ground.

bakugou stumbled forward, turning around and seeing y/n on the floor, their eyes closed and the villain standing over them. bakugou respected y/n in a way, they were strong, stronger than the whole class, even bakugou could admit. there was admiration that bakugou felt for y/n, he was also fearful of possible feelings that he felt for y/n, pushing them down.

"..who do you think you are, you villain?!"

bakugou yelled, his hands behind him as he launched himself towards the villain, his hands latching onto the villain's shoulder as bakugou sent him tumbling to the ground.

"what did you do to them, hah?"

todoroki ran to y/n, crouching down and checking their pulse.

"they're just passed out."

todoroki said to bakugou, who looked back at him and then bakugou looked back down to the villain on the floor, his knee digging into the villain's back.

"what's your quirk? and you better tell me straight or else."

y/n walked down the hall with bakugou by their side, y/n linking their arm as they held bakugou's arm who's hands were in his pockets.

"katsuki! are you hungry?"

"mhm yeah. do you want me to make you something?"

"oh yeah please!"

y/n became nicer, more clingy with everyone, but mostly bakugou. bakugou felt his chest warm up at the tone of voice y/n used to call his name, 'katsuki!' .

they made their way together to the kitchen, as bakugou made his way to the fridge and cabinets, taking some ingredients and setting them on the counter.

"do you want me to help, katsuki?"

"just sit there and look pretty."

bakugou said, setting down the egg carton on the counter, before walking over to y/n, picking them up by the waist, both hands firmly on the side of their waist as he lifted them up to sit on the counter next to the stove.

y/n payed no mind to bakugou's touch, smiling wide as they swung their feet, their feet not touching the ground.

a good thing about this quirk effect was how sweet y/n was. bakugou was used to the nonchalantly y/n, pretty y/n sitting there like no one was bothered by how pretty they were, even if they acted so stoic all the damn time.

another good thing was bakugou could make this into his advantage, try to make y/n feel giddy in a way. it's not like they’ll remember anything, right?

bakugou grabbed an egg out of it's place. grabbing four and cracking them into a bowl while separating the whites and the yolk.

"can i mix the yolk?"

y/n asked, twindling their fingers as they waited for bakugou's response as he looked sideways to look at them.

"yeah, here."

bakugou handed y/n the bowl of yolks while also handing them a pair of chopsticks, watching y/n mix the yolks while they stuck their tongue out a little in focus. bakugou forcing his eyes to look away to put rice into the rice cooker.

bakugou watched as y/n ate their omelette, eating his omelette calmly as y/n practically swallowed the whole meal in 3 bites. quickly finishing it as they waited for bakugou to finish his.

"what do you wanna do, pretty?"

bakugou mumbled, putting their dishes in the sink, thinking 'class rep is gonna do them anyway'. y/n heard his voice, smiling softly.

"i'm sleepy, can we have a sleepover in your dorm?"

bakugou nodded, bringing his hand towards y/n's as he clutched onto it, bringing y/n to the elevator.

the next day, it was a friday. class 1-a got excused from class early to rest. it was a friday anyway. nonetheless, the class cherished the rare wide smiles that y/n was giving them, doing whatever they could to make y/n smile bigger.

"guys! i say we have a movie night tonight!"

mina said, her hand in the air to direct the classes attention to her.

"what movie?"

"let's binge watch all the harry potter movies!"

"hell nah cuh"

eventually, the whole class agreed. mostly everyone set up the comfy area of blankets and pillows, making a little oval around the large couch that sat infront of the large flat screen tv that the dorms had supplied for the students.

bakugou only agreed to come to sit next to y/n, as close as he could, and no one could comment on it because y/n wanted to sit next to bakugou!

y/n sat in the floor, their back leaning on the couch as kirishima sat on the couch behind them, y/n between his legs. bakugou sat on their left, the closet people to him were kirishima and y/n. y/n’s legs were under a blanket to create warm underneath, bakugou also under the blanket close to y/n. y/n held onto bakugou’s hand, playing with his fingers as bakugou watched y/n’s hands work.

no one could see anyway, bakugou thinks a bird just got murdered, but he doesn’t know, nor care really.

y/n gingerly intertwines their fingers, rubbing their thumb along bakugou’s own. y/n places a leg between bakugou’s legs, getting impossibly close to him as bakugou lets it happen, getting closer to y/n aswell.

“what you doing, dumbass?”

bakugou whispered, not letting anyone else but y/n hear his voice, it was slightly raspy in a way, he had never talked in such a soft tone.

“jus’ wanna get close to you..”

y/n admitted, looking up into bakugou’s eyes. thank god the lights were off and the tv was emitting a small bit of light, bakugou’s face was burning, but maybe y/n could already tell by his sweaty palms. he’s had to wipe his hands on the blanket several times already.

y/n looked around to their classmates, leaning into bakugou’s ear as they placed a hand over their mouth to cover their voice. at the same time, bakugou placed his hand on y/n’s lower back, leaning his ear towards them.

“can i sit between your legs?”

y/n asked, leaning back out with a soft smile adoring their lips. bakugou couldn’t resist, not saying anything but just moving the blanket and tapping the space between his legs.

y/n smiled widely, quickly getting up a little bit and sitting down between bakugou’s legs. y/n leaned back on bakugou while he wrapped his arms around y/n, holding onto their waist and he liked the way it slightly squished under his rough hands. bakugou placed his head into the crook of their neck, snuggling his nose into the side of their neck as y/n giggled, telling bakugou ‘that tickles!’ .

bakugou rested his chin on y/n’s shoulder, getting comfortable as y/n rested their full body weight on bakugou.

“you’re lucky i like you.”

bakugou mumbled, it was nearly silent, but since it was right next to y/n’s ear, they heard all of it. y/n’s smile disappeared, their face being replaced with embarrassment and a burning hot face. y/n turned their head to the right, facing their head away as they were flustered.

"hah? are you embarrassed, pretty?"

bakugou let go of y/n's waist, rubbing at their hips as they placed their hands on bakugou's thighs, avoiding bakugou looking at them.

"do you not like me?"

y/n gasped, whipping their head around and hitting bakugou on the chest as he yelped slightly at the sudden action.

"of course i do. why do you think i hang out with you more than anyone else?"

y/n mumbled the last bit, looking back at the movie like they've been paying attention.

"you're gonna watch the movie now?"

"i've been watching the whole time, what do you mean?"

y/n quickly said, their hands crossing above their chest as bakugou leaned into them, his chest touching their back.

"you want me to stop?"

y/n didn't answer straight away, but eventually,

"no.."

bakugou heard the small mumble, as he hid a chuckle and a smirk by digging his face into their neck, which made y/n smile at the ticklish feeling, which made them laugh quietly, smacking bakugou softly to get him to stop.

#baku a lil ooc but like this idea was in my head and i really wanted to write it #bakugou #katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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another-lost-mc · 2 years ago

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No-pressure Vampire AU idea: how about the brothers feeding on MC (consensually) a little too enthusiastically that they take longer than usual to wake up from the blood loss, causing the brothers to freak out and panic a little before MC eventually calms them down? You don’t have to write for all the brothers if you don’t want to. Thank you!!

I tried to keep the angst light-ish on this one. It focuses on the dynamics of poly!MC and the vampire brothers instead. All of them make an appearance in this but it's very Mammon/Levi/Asmo-centric.

[Vampire!DEMON BROTHERS x gn!Reader, 2.4k words, nsfw, hurt/comfort. Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour including biting/blood drinking, aftercare (and lack of), pet names, masturbation, poly!MC (they/them pronouns).] ♫ [ song rec: sweet dreams ] | more from the vampire!au

Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus have been in your room since they returned from their trip. The brothers were gone for nearly a week because Diavolo pulled them away from the Devildom metropolis citing official duties that required their presence.

Lucifer was considerate and gave you plenty of advanced notice before their departure. His warning before these trips is a courtesy for his brothers as much as it is for you. You scheduled your daily blood donations accordingly; by the time they were ready to leave, you gave each of the brothers two blood bags to tide them over for the week-long excursion.

The brothers returned two days early, and the first thing they did was bring you home. You stayed at Purgatory Hall while they were gone so you weren't lonely without their company. As soon as they saw you, all the brothers complained you reeked of angels and the soggy old wizard.

Mammon, Levi, and Asmo were quick to claim your attention for themselves, but first you needed to do something about the unwelcome scents of others that lingered on your skin. They waited in your room while you showered in your private bathroom. Even after you scrubbed your skin with the body wash Asmo gave you, they still insisted you smelled funny. You refused to take any more showers after the third one and told them to deal with it.

It'll be impossible for you to smell like anything except for the three brothers now. You had your (last) shower nearly an hour ago, and you've been sitting back-to-chest with Mammon with his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin is hooked over your shoulder while he watches the television screen. Levi sits at your feet and leans back against your legs while you play games together, and Asmo is sprawled on the bed beside you with his head in your lap.

It's cozy and affectionate and warm, but the air grows thick with anticipation when the first signs of bloodlust start to take hold of them. Mammon's nose tickles your neck as he scents you; if he's trying to be sneaky, he's doing a poor job of it. Levi's focus on the game wavers because he glances at you over his shoulder mid-match; he doesn't even flinch when he loses the third game in a row. Asmo's low purr rumbles in his chest as he massages the soft flesh of your thighs.

You tap Levi's shoulder with the gamepad so he can put it back on your desk, and Mammon turns off the TV and tosses the remote aside. Asmo sits up and kneels next to you on the bed. You feel a bit like prey when they all stare at you with unmistakable hunger in their eyes. They appear more monstrous than usual, but there's overwhelming love and adoration in their stares, too—you've never felt anything like it before, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Feeding multiple brothers at once doesn't normally take much preparation; they haven't fought about who gets to bite where in a long time. You shimmy closer to the edge of the bed so that Levi has more space to settle between your thighs. Asmo pulls a bottle of nail polish out of his pocket and grins as he reaches for your hand. He kisses each of your fingertips before he starts painting your nails. Mammon takes off his shirt and presses himself against your back again; you melt in his arms so he can support your weight.

You wince Mammon and Levi bite you at the same time, but pleasure seeps into your veins as they start to feed. Warmth and love and desire wash over you, and you close your eyes with a quiet sigh. The world seems to slip away and all you know is them.

Mammon moans into your ear as he drinks. He intersperses greedy pulls of blood with soft kisses against your throat, and his tongue flicks across the punctures he made before he drinks again. His hands slide under your shirt and rest possessively over your belly.

Asmo hums quietly beside you while he paints your nails, and he purses his lips to blow across the wet polish. He's so gentle as he turns your hand over in his, and his fangs drag teasingly across your wrist. He pierces your skin and groans loudly at the first gush of blood across his tongue. He nuzzles affectionately against your palm when you curl your fingers around his cheek.

(When the polish on that hand is dry, he gets off the bed and sits on your other side so he can repeat the process with your other hand.)

Levi is the loudest out of his brothers; you can hear the hungry, wet slurping noises he makes from between your legs. His hands are wrapped around your thighs to steady you, and he tickles your bare skin with his fingers as he feeds. It's not long before you feel the rough sensation of scales against your skin as his tail slides up your calf and wraps around your leg.

You gasp softly when three pairs of fangs finally pull away from your skin. The air reeks of blood and musk from their arousal and your own, but you feel dizzy and all you want to do right now is take a nap. You shake your head when Mammon asks if you want a recovery potion before you rest, and he helps lay you down. He smiles when you fall asleep within moments of resting against the pillow.

The three brothers glance at each other awkwardly and pretend they're not all rock-hard in their pants. They share your blood and your body, but they accept that their carnal desires will have to wait until tomorrow.

Levi scurries away first so he can take care of something in his room. Asmo saunters away towards his own room citing a similar excuse.

Mammon waits until they're both gone before he gets up from the bed carefully; he doesn't want to disturb you. He has a quick shower in your ensuite bathroom and jerks himself off. It doesn't take long for him to come, not with your scent in his nose and warm, sticky blood coating the inside of his mouth. He bites his fist to muffle his shout as he paints the shower tiles with his release.

After his shower, he dries off quickly and throws his sweatpants back on. He settles into the bed next to you, and the mattress dips when his brothers quietly return and tuck themselves into your bed too.

Mammon wakes up early the next morning. You're still asleep and laying on your side facing him. Asmo is plastered against your back, and Levi is curled at your feet with an arm draped over your legs.

Something warm and sticky drips onto Mammon's arm underneath your head, and he flicks your cheek playfully without opening his eyes. "Hey, don'tcha get your drool on me, now," he whispers, but he frowns when he smells the metallic tang of copper in the air. He glances at his arm and realizes it's not drool dripping onto him, but blood.

He's wide-awake in an instant when he realizes you must still be bleeding from the night before. He pulls you into his arms and rolls you onto your back so he can look at you properly. He panics when he realizes the small wounds on your neck from his fangs haven't healed. You're not breathing normally either and fuck, you look awful.

"Babe, wake up," he says, tapping your cheek lightly. You don't respond and he smacks your cheek again, a bit harder. "C'mon, wake up, please."

Asmo stirs behind you and sits up with a yawn, but the sleepy haze in his eyes fades quickly when he sees the horrified look on Mammon's face. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, they won’t wake up.” Mammon replies shakily. "Yo, Levi!"

Levi jerks at the foot of the bed and looks around bleary-eyed at the frantic shout of his name. "Huh?" he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Asmo leans over you and inspects the open wound on your neck, and his breath hitches when he realizes that your wrists don't look any better. "You need to check your bite," Asmo tells Levi, and the room grows thick with tension as all three brothers realize there's something very wrong.

Levi scrambles into action at the tone in his brother's voice, and he tugs the blankets down so he can inspect your thigh. He panics when he sees it's barely healed at all. "I—I don't understand, it's never like this afterwards." He wipes away the thin trail of blood oozing from one of the puncture wounds, but it stays dry for only a few moments before it starts bleeding again.

Mammon glances at his brothers worriedly. "They didn't drink any potions after we finished. I figured they drank some in the other room after they showered."

It wasn't unusual for you to drink a recovery potion to prepare for a heavy feeding session. Their mistake was assuming you did—no one saw you drink anything before or after they fed from you. If you were too tired after, one of them would've helped you.

Why the hell did none of them think to ask?

Why didn't they insist you drink one even after you refused?

Asmo slides off the bed and digs around in your nightstand where you keep your recovery kit, but it's empty. "Damn it," Asmo curses under his breath. "I'll go get some. Keep trying to wake them up," he tells Mammon hurriedly as he rushes from the room.

Mammon maneuvers you carefully and props you up in a pile of pillows against the headboard. Your nightstand is lacking recovery potions, but you have plenty of bandages in your private bathroom. He cleans the skin around your bite marks and covers them with gauze, and he bites his lip to keep it from quivering. He takes care of the wounds on your neck and wrists while Levi tends to the bite on your leg. They work together in strained silence.

You start to regain consciousness as they're tidying up the ripped bandage wrappers and bloody towels. Levi will swear later on that he and Mammon were both crying tears of relief. He covers his red, tear-stained face with his arm and sniffles pitifully; he's just glad you're okay.

You're woozy from blood loss and your speech is a bit slurred, but you try to answer Mammon's questions as best you can. You're not in pain exactly, but you're still tired and light-headed.

Levi paces nervously at the foot of your bed while Mammon sits beside you and holds your hand. He hates how sickly you look and how weak your hand feels in his. Guilt swirls in the pit of his stomach because he knows it's their fault.

Mammon finally hears footsteps rush down the hallway outside your room, and it sounds like Asmo brought company. There's a sharp intake of breath when the door opens. Lucifer steps inside first and Asmo follows behind him. The other siblings give them space and linger in the doorway.

Mammon's not sure what's scarier right now: Lucifer's icy glare of disappointment, Satan's scowl of barely-contained rage, or Beel and Belphie's muttered threats that promise excruciating pain. Mammon waves Asmo over to the bed—he'll deal with his brothers later, after you're taken care of.

Asmo sits on the edge of the bed and uncorks a small bottle that he tips into your mouth. "I'm glad you're awake," he whispers tearfully. "I'm so sorry." He wipes away a trickle of the clear fluid that dribbles down your chin before he leans forward and hugs you. You attempt to smile at him reassuringly, but it looks more like a grimace.

Lucifer glances between each of his brothers who squirm under his scrutiny, but his gaze lingers on you the longest. He's never seen you look so worn out, and he's seething inside that his brothers' neglect did this to you.

Asmo explained what happened after he nearly collided with Lucifer in the hallway earlier: you didn't drink any recovery potions before or after their feeding, and they didn't check on you properly during the night. Lucifer knows you'll try and blame yourself for this, but responsibility for your care ultimately falls to them. Perhaps you should know better, but they should too.

It doesn't take long for the potion to take effect. Your eyes are already a bit brighter and more focused, and you start to look a little embarrassed about what's happened.

Lucifer plans to come back later and help care for you personally, but first he needs to have words with his brothers. "I'd like to see the three of you in the dining room. Your brothers can take care of things here," he tells the trio hovering near your bed. "In the meantime, the next seven days will be dry for everyone."

The week-long ban that prevents you from feeding them in any way—directly or through blood donation��is met with mixed reactions. Lucifer and Satan look a little smug since they rationed your blood bags from the trip and still have some left over; Mammon, Levi, Asmo, and Belphie have nothing left of theirs; and Beel looks the most horrified since he consumed both of your blood bags before he even left the city nearly a week ago.

"Are—are you sure that's necessary?" you ask weakly as you try to sit up straighter in bed. Mammon tries to push you back against the pillows and urges you to relax. "It was an accident, I don't blame them at all."

Lucifer's eyes soften when he looks at you, because you always put their needs and desires above your own well-being—but today, he won't allow it. His brothers skitter away from the bed as he steps forward, and he strokes your cheek gently with the back of his gloved fingers.

"Your presence is a gift to us, and sometimes we all need to be reminded not to take you for granted." He wishes he could bend down and kiss the pout away from your lips, but the others are hovering nearby; he offers you a small, private smile instead.

"Take this time to rest and focus on regaining your strength," he suggests. His fangs peek out behind his lip when his smile sharpens. He leans down close to your ear and whispers darkly and full of promise, "You'll need it."

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @haezen @xpixie @lemonivall @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @angelsdilf @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @lust--on--my--lips @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @cosmicstarlatte

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#obey me vampire au #obey me demon brothers #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #asmodeus x reader #mammon smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #obey me hurt/comfort #x reader #gn!reader

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