#and yet you are able to look at it and decide how you feel about his actions & decide what it means when someone is 'innocent' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightseoul · 8 hours ago

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CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

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

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

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

links. masterlist, ao3

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

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

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

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

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

You actually transmitted the message.

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

Easy enough…

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

“Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

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

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

“Just what?”

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

…Why is he looking at you like that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

Fuck, you feel stupid.

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

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

Huh.

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

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

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

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

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

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

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

Anytime now.

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I was worried about you.”

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

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

“I—”

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

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

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

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

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

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

By batches.

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

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

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

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

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

His what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not a monster, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

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

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

“O–oh. Right.”

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

She doesn’t say it back.

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

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

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

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

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

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

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

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

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

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

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

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

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

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

Oh…

Right.

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

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

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

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

“Well, we are now.”

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

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

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

Fuck, no.

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

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

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

Then—

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

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

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

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

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

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

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

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

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

You don’t even have to think about it.

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

“Look, I—”

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

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

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

“What about it?”

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

First day? You don’t—

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

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

You blanch. “I—”

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

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

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

You can’t help it—you laugh.

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

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @lotusstarr @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33

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emsdevs · 12 hours ago

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Bear and Bug: The Pain

a/n: so so sorry for the wait! hopefully I can get stuff out a little quicker now that I'm used to my schedule! also gonna be completely honest this is not really proofread so ignore any errors! happy (or not so happy) reading! 🧸🐞

masterlist | bear and bug masterlist

The mood at the lake house was drastically different than usual. There’s no fun, no laughter, and most importantly, there’s no you. The boys were obviously feeling your absence, but Jim and Ellen refused to do anything to make them feel better. One way or another, each of the boys played a part in causing you to leave, so the couple decided to let their sons deal with the consequences of their actions. You were basically a daughter to them, and they hated knowing how badly you’re hurting right now because of their sons. If the boys wanted to fix this, they would have to figure out how to do it on their own.

Each of the boys was dealing with their emotions in different ways. Luke was quiet, which is heartbreaking when you truly know him. The kid never shuts up, but somehow, right now, he can’t find a single word to say. No one has heard him utter more than one or two-word sentences since the night you left. He knows it’s probably unhealthy, but he can’t get rid of the ache in his ribs from finding out that you kept a secret from him. He spends all of his energy thinking about what might have caused you not to trust him, so he doesn’t have any energy to talk with, stuck in his head all hours of the day.

Jack was secluding himself, spending hours at a time locked in his room. He only comes out to shower, use the bathroom, and grab food. When he does leave his room, he barely even looks at anyone. The anger is still obvious on his face. He’s not over the hurt you caused, and he’s not past taking it out on his brothers. He just hasn’t found the will to waste his breath yet. It wouldn’t be long, though, until he decides to take his anger out on you once more. He just has to find the time.

Quinn was handling it the worst. He only had two moods now: needing you so badly that he stays in your room all day and blaming himself so much that he can’t bear to look at your room. The house feels empty to him, dull even. Everything is better when you’re around, and he’s managed to ruin everyone’s entire summer by being selfish enough to start something with you. On the other hand, he really can’t bring himself to care. He was the happiest he’d ever been when he was yours. If nothing else, he’s still able to look back and see how great you were for each other, but he can also look back and think of what the two of you could’ve become. It was a never-ending cycle of pain and self-blame for Quinn, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape it unless he had you in his life again, one way or another. If he had to settle for pretending he never loved you and letting Jack occupy all your time, he would do it. He’d do anything to have you here again.

~~~

Cole Caufield wasn’t sure what to expect when he heard a series of knocks on his door at 2:30 AM, but it definitely wasn’t you, face soaked with tears, and two suitcases. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently allowing you to enter his apartment. Your state, combined with the time and unplanned visit, has Cole in such a state of shock and worry that he almost misses when you collapse into his arms, sobbing once more.

“Hey, hey, hey,” when he regains the ability to think, he’s immediately comforting you, rubbing your back and speaking softly. “It’s okay. You’re all good. What do you need?”

“Can I please just stay here for a while?” your voice broke as you talked.

“Standing here or just at my place?”

“At your place.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Can I ask what has you so torn up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now, Coley,” you sniffle.

“Okay. Okay, we don’t have to talk. Let’s get you settled in.”

He brings you to the spare room in his apartment, helping you put away anything that needs it. When you two finish, he leaves the room, letting you change and clean up while he decides to order a pizza for you both. The pizza arrives just as you emerge from the spare room, and you both find a place on the couch to watch a movie while you eat. Cole tried to put on something he knew usually cheers you up, avoiding all the Disney movies that make you cry and going straight for Cars. The two of you have eaten six pieces of pizza and are about halfway through Cars 2 when you finally decide to open up to Cole.

“I was dating Quinn,” it more or less just spills from your mouth. You didn’t have much control over it.

“What?” Cole is nearly shouting, clearly shocked by the news. “Wait. What do you mean you were dating Quinn? You’re not anymore?”

You let out a big sigh before giving him a quick summary of the events of your last day at the lake house, “We kept it a secret for a while because we didn’t wanna freak people out or cause a scene if it wasn’t serious. We told Quinn’s family in the first few days we were there, and needless to say, Jack caused a scene. He was all mad at Quinn, telling him he couldn’t let him have anything for himself. He started yelling at us both, and of course, Luke heard. Then he was all heartbroken because I kept a secret from him. Oh! And Jack called me a whore.”

“Jack did what?” Cole’s voice once again raised. “I’m sorry. I just- I can’t believe Jack would say that about you. You’re not a whore by the way. I hope you know that. Don’t let him get to your head.”

“I just feel so guilty, Cole. That’s why I’m here. I broke up with Quinn, at least for the time being, and I knew I had to leave the lake house. They’d look for me at my parent’s house, and I figured they probably wouldn’t think of me coming to you. Thanks for letting me stay, by the way.”

“Of course. Have you thought about when you might go back?”

“Not at all. I tore apart their family. I can’t face them any time soon.” “Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but I’m going to the lakehouse in about three weeks. If you’re feeling up to it, you’re welcome to come with me.” “I’ll think about it, Coley.” ~~~

Quinn was growing tired of the tension at the lake house, and after one dirty look from Jack, he lost it.

“Will you please get off of your high horse? I mean, honestly, you can not be this mad that your best friend got a boyfriend,” he snapped at Jack, ready for whatever his brother might bite back with.

“Oh, says you. You took her from me!”

“Really? I took her from you? Because she spent the entire summer last year with you because she knew you’d be leaving her, then she spent almost every night on the phone with you, listening to how horrible the NHL has treated you and how hard it is living the life you’ve always wanted! The only reason we even got close is because she was terrified you’d stop talking to her once you made it big!”

“Oh, whatever! She’s been in love with you since we were kids. Everyone could see it. That’s why I tried to keep her to myself. This was all just some big plot she made up to get what she really wanted!”

“Will you quit talking about her like she’s some puck bunny you slept with on a roadie? God! This was not some big scheme. She felt horrible lying to you, to everyone. I mean, you’re the only reason we kept our relationship a secret. She knew how rough you had it, and didn’t wanna put any more stress on you! If you learned to deal with your emotions like a big boy we probably would’ve told you and everyone else a lot sooner!”

“Jack, how much of your emotional stress did you load off on her? Because it’s starting to sound like you caused all of this,” the two boys hadn’t noticed their baby brother had entered the room until he spoke, more shocked to hear him speaking full sentences than to see him standing there.

“I didn’t cause anything. They’re the ones who have been lying to everyone.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, bud,” Quinn was done with the conversation at that point, heading upstairs and straight to his ex-girlfriend’s room, trying to figure out where she might have gone.

“You need to get a grip, Jack. They were happy. There’s nothing to be mad about,” Luke begins to walk off before Jack chimes in once more.

“I thought you were mad too? What happened to that?”

“I actually took the time to think through things. I realized that the only reason I felt a little betrayed was because I felt left out. She usually tells me everything, so it shocked me. But she had her reasons for not telling me, and I have to accept that. Maybe try using that brain of yours or whatever’s left of it.” He left Jack to sit in his thoughts, quietly joining Quinn in your room. The boys silently shared the space, knowing they were on the same side now.

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry

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#em's writing #bear and bug au #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #nhl #nhl x reader

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makeyoumine69 · 19 hours ago

Text

Daddy Knows Best 4.0

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Even though you and Patrick are not dating, at some point the Daddy and Little Girl game between the two of you came to a very controversial point when Bateman suddenly began to feel jealous and extremely possessive of you. And he is certainly not happy about it.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, Daddy kink, dry humping, handjobs, face riding (f), cum play, mild overstimulation, teasing, spanking, jealousy, choking, dirty talk, pet names, Patrick is possessive and hypocritical af.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 2.2k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: Modern Talking—Sweet Little Sheila💕

𝐀/𝐍: I got a lot of asks where people wanted me to make Patrick really jealous in this story, so I decided to add some plot for the drama. I hope you enjoy it!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [Daddy Knows Best 1.0]; [Daddy Knows Best 2.0]; [Daddy Knows Best 3.0].

Being on top of this man was always exciting, but being on top of him when he was spread out flat beneath you, his hands pinned to the mattress and his cheeks a little flushed from such a vulnerable position was even more alluring. It was intoxicating, to say the least.

"C'mon, kitten," Bateman bounced you on his knees, making you move with him, but you didn't react even when he bit his lower lip and gave you a look full of need and something that could be called affection. "Don't keep Daddy waiting long."

You chuckled and pressed his wrists even tighter, then bent down to peck his freshly shaved cheek and you could still smell his lotion - the scent fresh and tangy. "Are you in a hurry or something? It's Saturday!" You chirped, your hips slowly rocking back and forth, grinding against his hard bulge, but not crossing the line because you wanted to tease him, to inflame him to the point where he couldn't control himself. "I think we have plenty of time."

Gasping breathlessly, Patrick groaned but stopped struggling. "Uh, honey," the man let you turn his head to the side, and as you traced a wet line with your tongue, you sensed his dick throbbing against your soaped pussy lips, his briefs getting wetter with each passing moment. "You better not test me-"

"Or what?"

Bateman sneered, revealing his perfect white teeth including his fangs, which looked really sharp. The sight made you imagine how easily those fangs could sink into your skin and spill some blood as you kissed his collarbone and then his prominent chin. "What a brat," he growled, shifting his legs a bit to lie more snugly. "But I like you being bold, I really do," he hissed, his eyebrows furrowed as you humped his hard groin. "It suits you, babygirl...uh-mmm-fuck..."

"You like it, Daddy?

"Yeah," Patrick replied in a husky voice, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you senseless. "Keep...k-keep going like that."

The way he bucked his hips to give you more space to play with only added to your movements, but when you saw him close his eyes as the man lost his temper, you quickly straightened up on top of him before bending down to pull down his tight briefs—the moment you did, his strained cock popped out. Flustered and thrilled, Patrick couldn't help but moan as you trapped his dick between your juicy thighs and began to slide along it.

"A-ahhh, you make Daddy feel so good, kitten," he was barely able to speak as his hands clung to the sheets and his knuckles soon turned white. "You're gonna make me cum...I fucking swear!"

"Mmh...yes...yes, please," your movements became more and more jerky and intense, but as you leaned against his strong chest with one hand and wrapped another around his cock to stroke it—the stars began to dance before your eyes. "Please...Daddy...I want your cum!"

Pumping his dick and never ceasing to slide your inner thighs over it, you whimpered loudly as you rubbed his red-hot head against your swollen clit, smearing his thick pre-cum around your cunt and his length. God, it felt so good and yet so sinful, you never really thought you were capable of such things, but this man - he was like the key that unlocked the door to your most depraved desires.

Inflamed to the point of no return, you threw your head back, literally grinding against his hot flesh as your hands were busy working him up, his dense fluid forming a ring around the base of his cock as he literally drooled hard. You knew Bateman was on the verge of falling apart, you knew it but you never stopped because you wanted him to moan louder, to thrash around on his expensive sheets since he was so vulnerable like that. Vulnerable, but absolutely perfect in the way he unraveled for you. The thin layer of sweat covering his skin made it glow even brighter, the red tint spreading all over his body, contributing to the sight, but when you cupped his balls to give them a gentle squeeze, Patrick gripped your hips so tightly that you squealed in surprise.

"Daddy! It h-hurts," you murmured in a shaky voice, looking down at his agitated face, his eyes half closed, and you were afraid he was going to draw some blood because he was biting his lip so hard. "You...you're so savage and strong and..." the praise you knew would help him reach his peak never failed. "Cum for me, Daddy, please..."

The moment he arched his back, you heard him growl as loud as if he was going to die—the rawness of it almost pushed you over the edge too, but now you were so focused on his orgasm that you didn't really care about yourself—Bateman was writhing beneath you as he couldn't stop himself from cumming around your belly again and again, and you didn't let a drop of his seed go to waste, spreading it all over your body, especially your chest, even taking a quick taste of it.

"Fuck, oh-fuck," the man kept mumbling, his hands digging into your skin one more time until they fell off your thighs like two heavy whips. "You... you are such a stubborn girl," he grinned, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Thriving on being in control, huh?"

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a playful wink, but you were still on top of him, and little did he know of your further plans—you were not done yet.

Without saying a word, you pressed him down with your weight, only to change positions and take a place over his blushing face. The man was shocked, but he didn't stop you, and this kind of obedience was thrilling, yet a bit suspicious, but you didn't care about that now.

"Maybe it's you who desperately wants to be controlled?" You murmured teasingly before lowering yourself to rub your wet pussy along his chin, then his nose. "You can just admit it...I won't tell anyone-ah!"

The second his hot tongue made contact with your overstimulated little bud, you thought you were going to faint—it felt so amazing and heavenly. How in the world could this man be so good at everything related to sex?

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but now, oh now, you were so close to your second orgasm as you rode his face and Patrick only encouraged you to use him more enthusiastically by spanking your ass and then stroking your burning skin. It was sick. Bateman skillfully alternated between sucking your clit in his mouth, but then he was already probing your soaking entrance with his tongue, allowing you to fuck yourself on it as you bucked your hips against his face, grabbing his head and almost scratching his scalp. And the sounds this madman made, uh, they were so fucking hot and the vibration they caused was like an electric shock cursing through your system. Whenever it came to eating your pussy, Bateman was like a thirsty beast, literally feasting on you, his deadly grip leaving you no choice but to submit to the inevitable rush of pleasure that would wash over you like a tidal wave.

A week later, Patrick decided to give you a break from his intrusive persona, which was both relieving and frustrating because you couldn't stop thinking about him having fun with other girls while you were busting your ass at work. And it so happened that you were working as a paralegal because you had recently graduated from law school, so you couldn't work as a lawyer right now, and the craziest thing was that your boss was Bateman's lawyer. That was how you met him in the first place. One day you were stuck in the office late at night when Patrick showed up, and since he couldn't find Mr. Carnes, his full attention was on you. But how did you let him get under your skin so quickly? Bateman was so persistent in pursuing you until you said yes and the two of you had your first date. Now it all felt like it had happened a long time ago.

Tired as hell, you were organizing documents into folders at your desk when you heard the door crack with an unpleasant sound that immediately caught your attention.

"Mr. Carnes, I'm almost finished..." Your words stuck in your throat as you raised your eyes to see Bateman walk in with that classic arrogant smile that made him HIM. "Pat...Mr. Bateman?"

After a soft chuckle, the man stopped in front of your desk, clasped his hands together and looked at you intently. "Hello, little one," he purred, smiling even more mischievously. "Where is Harold? I have some important business to attend to."

Breathing a sigh of relief that he was not here for you but for his business stuff, you opened the drawer and took out your notebook. "Let me check Mr. Carnes' schedule," you replied in the most formal way you could muster, and that brought a sparkle to Patrick's eyes. "One moment."

"You sound so sexy when you're being bossy. Did someone tell you that?" Patrick asked seductively, leaning on your table as he adjusted his coat, even though he already looked perfect. "Someone like Carnes?"

Bateman's audacious statement forced you to stay still for a split second, barely managing to hold the notebook in your suddenly weak hands.

Am I delusional, or does he really sound... jealous?

"Excuse me?"

"Carnes," Bateman spat out your boss's last name before walking around the desk to stand right next to you. "What kind of relationship do you two have?" Rolling your eyes, you wanted to get back to what you were doing, but then Patrick suddenly grabbed your hand—you almost shrieked—and pulled you closer right against his buffed form. "Tell me!"

"Just business," you blurted out, but didn't try to break free, afraid that people outside the office might hear you. "Why do you even ask?"

The man didn't answer—instead, he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your neck, grabbing it in the most unexpected way—Bateman's eyes were like two big pools of black gold. For a fleeting second, time seemed to stand still and all surrounding sounds ceased to exist. There was only the two of you and your wildly beating hearts.

"Look at you," he hissed into your face, scorching it with his hot breath. "That skirt can barely cover your ass! When did you start wearing such slutty clothes?"

This was already too much.

In desperation, you tried to push him back with both hands, forgetting the notebook that fell on your desk with a thud. "Let me go...that's not...a turn-on for me!"

"Oh, really, honey?" Patrick spat out the words, his grip getting tighter and tighter around your throat, sending a chill of horror down your spine. "Did that bastard tell you to dress up like that?!"

"N-no," you managed to plead, your voice hoarse from lack of oxygen. "Stop it!"

Just when you thought he was about to strangle you, there was a barely perceptible commotion from behind the door, and the next second someone opened it, literally saving you as Bateman had to let go of your neck and stand back as nothing happened. The unexpected intruder turned out to be a middle-aged man who looked extremely rich, judging by the number of seal rings he wore on almost every finger.

"Bateman, is that you?" The stranger croaked, his lips curled into a cocky smile. "Looks like our old friend Harold is having a busy day."

Seizing the moment, you quickly straightened your skirt and blouse, which looked a bit disheveled after the unplanned encounter with Patrick, then grabbed the notebook and almost ran to the other side of the room while two men were busy talking to each other. You were so scared that Bateman would chase you, even as you left the office, on your shaky legs that threatened to give way. Panting, you didn't even look where you were going, because you were so panicked about lying to Patrick, and you hated that. But how could you tell him that his lawyer really told all the women around him to wear skirts and high heels?

As if he didn't say the same thing to his secretary.

You cringed at your own thoughts as you walked down the hallway, ignoring the staring eyes of your co-workers and unfamiliar clients—you wanted to escape this place the day you started working here, but now that desire had taken on a new dimension. And then the worst thing happened—your boss walked right up to you, smoking a cigar and holding his briefcase. And of course, he spotted you faster than you could actually change your route.

Damn it!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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winchesterwild78 · 16 hours ago

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Second Take pt 4

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Karl Urban, Eric Kripke, other characters from the set of The Boys

Warnings: Fluff, angst, talk of divorce

A/N: The reader and Jensen fly back to Texas. Jensen and Danneel tell the kids they are divorcing. A photo is taken that causes some problems.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

Please don’t take my work and use it as your own or on any other platform.

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning the alarm woke us up early. Our bodies tangled with the sheets and Jensen’s arms were still draped around me.

We both stretched and Jensen pulled me close, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I smiled sleepily, “Good morning to you too, handsome.”

“I could get used to waking up beside you again.” “Me too, Jensen.”

We laid holding each other for a few more minutes then decided we needed to get up. “Our plane leaves in about 3 hours. We need to get to the airport early so we can get through security and be checked in.”

I nodded and climbed out of bed. Jensen jumped in the shower while I started making coffee and breakfast.

My phone went off with a text. I looked at the screen and it was one of my friends.

Tia: What are you doing this weekend? I’m thinking about a girls day.

Me: Oh I’m about to go out of town for a bit. I’m actually boarding a plane soon.

Tia: Dang it. I swear I never get to see you. Do you have a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?

A lump formed in my throat. She knew Charlie and I broke up, but I haven’t told her about Jensen.

Me: Oh please. You know I’d tell you if there was something to tell you.

Tia: You better. Let me know when you land. Love you, girl.

Me: I will. Love you too.

Jensen came into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is still damp from the shower and water droplets rolling down his firm chest.

I bit my lip taking him in. “Damn, Ackles. You look, wow.” He smirked and stepped closer, “Want to get in another round before we leave?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The heat raised in my cheeks, “As much as I’d love to, we don’t want to be late and I still need to shower.”

“All the more reason to go for another round, you still need to shower. Why not make you dirty.”

I placed my hands on his chest. Feeling the dampness under my fingertips. “Later baby. I promise.” I kissed his lips and went towards the shower.

A half hour later we were walking into the airport. I kept my distance from Jensen so prying eyes wouldn’t see us. He would glance back and smile at me with eyes full of love and apology.

I checked in and sat outside the gate waiting to be called. Jensen got us seats together, but I figured it would be better to keep our distance in the airport.

Jensen had security around him. I was in awe watching him. Fans approached him, he took pictures and signed autographs. One girl squealed and looked like she was going to have a panic attack. I chuckled to myself.

Boarding was called for first class. Jensen was escorted on the plane first. I walked up to the gate and presented my ticket. Walking on the plane I spotted Jensen in his seat.

I walked over and smiled, “Excuse me sir. I’m in that seat.” I nodded towards the window seat.

He smirked and stood up. His fingers brushed against me. I put my bag in the overhead and sat down.

Jensen sat beside me and grabbed my hand. “I missed you baby. I hated not being able to be with you.” “I missed you too, Jens. I understand though. It’s not a good idea yet.”

He nodded, leaned over and placed a kiss on my lips. My cheeks flushed red and I looked around nervously. “Jens, we have to be careful.” He smirked and shrugged.

We put our phones in airplane mode and the plane was in the air before we knew it. Jensen and I talked most of the time.

We talked about our future, how and when he would introduce me to the kids, and how we would navigate our relationship once the divorce is announced.

Before too long the pilot was announcing our descent into Austin. Jensen took my hand and held it. He leaned over and kissed me. Soft at first and then he deepened it.

We pulled away and I bit my lip. He chuckled, “I’ll see you outside, babe.” I nodded.

When we pulled up to the gate security came and took Jensen. He looked back and winked at me. I smiled. Grabbing my stuff I made my way to baggage claim.

I turned on my phone and it started going crazy. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw messages and tags on social media. I furrowed my brow.

Tia: Girl! What the hell. Is this you?

Tia: *1 image sent*

Tia: Is that really Jensen Ackles?! Call me when you land. It’s all of socials.

I looked at the photo and my heart sank. Someone had taken a picture on the plane of Jensen kissing me. Oh shit! How the hell are we going to explain this? This is going to hurt his image so badly.

I sent Jensen a text.

Me: Babe, have you seen the picture? Someone took it on the plane.

Jensen: Yeah. I did.

Me: I’m sorry. Maybe me coming was a bad idea. This is going to hurt your image. What about your fans and career?

Jensen: Hey, no. I’m glad you came. Don’t worry about anything. We will figure this out, okay. I promise. I love you, now get your cute ass outside so we can go to the hotel.

I chuckled and grabbed my bag.

Me: On my way. I love you too.

I walked out of the airport and found Jensen waiting by a car. He got in and I followed.

We drove to the hotel and he went inside to check us in. He sent me a text with the room number and I walked to the elevator and pushed the floor.

Walking towards the room my phone went off again.

Tia: Y/N, are you and Jensen dating?

Me: I promise to tell you everything. Just not right now.

Tia: I hope so, because social media is blowing up saying Jensen is cheating and I know what you look like. That’s you in the pictures.

Me: Tia, I swear I will explain everything.

I walked to the room and knocked. Jensen opened the door and when I walked in I collapsed in his arms.

“Jens, people think you’re cheating. The things they are saying about me are down right horrible. What do we do now?”

“It’s okay sweetheart. We will handle this.”

He leaned in to kiss me when his phone rang. It was Danneel.

I swallowed hard. I could hear his end of the conversation and it sounded bad.

“Yes I brought her. No, D, I just kissed her. I shouldn’t have kissed her on the plane, but I wasn’t thinking. I’ll be over soon and we can talk to the kids then release a statement together. Yes, I’m aware. Please don’t start. I said I screwed up.” He looked at me and smiled softly.

When he hung up I just sat in the chair, not sure what to say.

“So I’m gonna head to the house and we’re going to talk to the kids. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back, okay? Hey, I love you.”

I nodded. Terrified of what was coming.

He leaned down and kissed my lips, “Baby everything is going to be alright. I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have come.” I said with my head down. “What?! No, sweetheart. Don’t say that. I need you here with me.”

“But now there’s a picture of us kissing and it’s going to mess everything up for you.”

Jensen cupped my face and tilted my head up, “Hey, no. Look at me, Y/N. I love you. I’ve never stopped. I don’t care what anyone thinks. All that matters is what we think and feel.”

I nodded and fought back the tears I felt pricking my eyes.

He kissed me again and then left. My heart pounded in my chest and the weight of everything hung over me.

I was terrified to call Tia but I needed to clear the air.

I swallowed and took a deep breath.

I called her and she picked up almost instantly.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on and why is Jensen Ackles kissing you?!”

“Hey T. Um, so we have a lot to talk about.” I told her about everything going on and how we wanted to keep the relationship quiet, but then Jensen kissed me on the plane and it kinda blew up from there.

“So wait, you were engaged to Jensen years ago, you broke up, he got married, now his marriage is over and you two are together again?”

“Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.”

“Wow. That sounds like a hell of a roller coaster. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried about Jensen and his family. I don’t want this to hurt them.”

“I’m sure everything will work out.”

We talked for a few more minutes then we hung up. I promised to keep her updated with everything.

Jensen arrived at the house to find the kids playing outside and Danneel in the kitchen.

“Hey D.” He said when he walked in the house.

“Hey Jensen. Is Y/N with you?”

He looked a little confused at the question, “No. She’s at the hotel. She didn’t want to cause any more problems and we decided it was best for me to come alone so we could tell the kids about everything.”

Danneel nodded. “I understand. I appreciate that. I would like to talk to her face to face.”

“I’ll let her know. I’m sure she’d like that. So, how did you want to do this?”

Danneel looked nervous, “Honestly I’m not sure. I’m terrified to tell them. JJ asked me today who was the guy in the house the other day. I swear Jens I thought they were asleep.”

Jensen was a little taken aback by the thought JJ caught Danneel. “Well, should we call them in? We will reassure them they are loved and explain to them we will be better off separated from each other.”

Danneel called the kids in and when they saw Jensen they jumped on him. “Daddy!! You’re back! We missed you.”

“Hey guys, I missed you three so much.”

Jensen walked towards the couch and had the kids sit down.

He swallowed hard. He knew this was going to be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

“Okay guys so Mom and I wanted to talk to you three about something.”

JJ’s eyes went wide and Jensen could see the tears forming. He grabbed her hand, “Hey J-bird, it’s okay. I promise. Everything is going to be alright.”

She nodded, but the tears didn’t leave her eyes.

“Guys, daddy and I have been talking about us and how much we love you three more than anything.” Jensen nodded.

“The thing is sometimes Mommies and Daddies end up not loving each other anymore and that’s okay. They still love their kids very much. They just don’t stay married anymore.”

JJ climbed in Jensen’s lap and held on to him, “Daddy are you and mommy going to get a divorce?”

Arrow and Zeppelin both looked between their parents.

Jensen took a deep breath, “Yes, baby we are. But we will always love you three and we will always work together for you three. We just don’t love each other anymore. Not like a husband and wife do.”

There was silence in the room. The kids sat stunned. Then JJ turned to Danneel, “Where are we going to live?”

“Oh baby, we will still live here. Daddy is going to get another house for you three to stay at too.”

Jensen nodded, “Yes, when I’m back from filming you guys are coming to stay with me. We will still spend birthdays and holidays together. I promise.”

“Daddy?” “Yeah buddy?” Jensen looked at Zeppelin. “Did we do something wrong?”

“Oh buddy, absolutely not. Mommy and daddy just grew apart. It happens and it’s not anyone’s fault. Especially not yours or your sisters.”

He nodded.

Jensen and Danneel spent about another hour talking to the kids and explaining things. Telling them they may see things or hear things from people. They told them to come back and talk to them. Jensen and Danneel promised to be honest with the three of them.

By late afternoon the kids were okay. They were sad but they understood the best they could. Jensen and Danneel told their families and they decided to put out a joint statement. Especially since the plane picture was going viral.

The joint statement read:

Hey everyone. We wanted to take this opportunity to clear up some things and some questions. Before we start we want to say we appreciate the love and support we receive from all our fans. That being said, we want to announce that we have made the decision to move forward with our divorce. We’ve been separated for a while now but have kept that to ourselves. Only a few people were aware. Deciding to move forward with the divorce was a difficult decision, but one we made together.

We also want to address the photo that is going around today. Yes, that is Jensen on a plane kissing another woman. They are together, and I fully support their relationship. I’m in a relationship too, and when we all feel comfortable we will be making our relationship public. Until then, please respect everyone’s privacy. Especially our children as we navigate the divorce. Thank you for understanding. We love you all.

D & J

Jensen and Danneel posted it on their social media accounts and it instantly went viral.

Jensen told Danneel he’d be back later today. He hugged the kids and hugged her. Then he left.

I was sitting on the bed when my phone went off. I looked and saw the post from Jensen. My heart filled with love and sorrow. I was happy but also worried about the kids.

My phone rang and it was Jensen. “Hello” “Hey sweetheart. I’m on my way back. That was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. Are you okay? I’m sure you saw the announcement.”

“Yeah I’m okay. Are you okay? How are the kids?”

“I’m actually feeling better than I have in a long time. The kids are going to be okay. They need to process it, but they will be fine. I’m almost back at the hotel, so I’ll see you in a minute. I love you.”

“Okay, Jens. I love you too.”

We hung up and about five minutes later Jensen was coming through the door. He closed the door and pulled me into a hug and a kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We sat down and he told me what happened. Tears filled his eyes when he told me about Zeppelin. I touched his arm, “Jens, I’m so sorry he felt like that.”

Guilt began to gnaw at me. I nervously bit my lip.

Jensen cupped my face, “Hey, they are okay. I promise.”

I nodded, guilt still lingering. “So D wants to talk to you. She asked if you came with me to the house.”

I looked at Jensen, questioning and a little nervous. “Why does she want to talk to me?”

“I’m sure it’s to apologize for slapping you and talk everything out.” I took a breath, “Okay. Whenever she wants to talk I’ll sit down with her.”

“Okay baby. So I’m heading over there tonight for dinner. I figured the kids needed me. I’m gonna stay for bedtime too. Are you okay with that?”

“Jensen, you don’t need my permission to spend time with your children. I’ll be fine. Go spend time with your babies.”

“I’m gonna shower first. Want to join me?” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

I bit my lips and smiled. “Do you want me to?” Jensen pulled me into his arms “Absolutely. Come on beautiful.”

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

@spnaquakindgdom @djs8891

@pughsexual @spnaquakindgdom

@lunaleah @amberlthomas

@impala67rollingthroughtown

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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deadpan-whistled · 2 days ago

Text

Hanahaki - A Thangyu Oneshot

——————

Pairing: Thanos / Nam-gyu

Warnings: Drugs mentioned; Strong language; Slow character death

Summary: Nam-gyu has to make a choice. Either he confesses to Su-bong (Thanos) or he dies; but will he confess on time?

Word Count: 1600

——————

Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns feelings for the other, if not the carrier of the disease will eventually be unable to breathe.

———————————————————————

He didn't even know his name. He called him 'Nam-su' and yet, he still fell for him.

Nam-gyu was a fool for allowing himself to fall for the rapper he looked up to. How had he allowed this to happen?

Every day since he realized his feelings for him, he was in pain. Pain in his heart, pain in his soul... Pain in his lungs.

The petals came up when it was really bad, but his breathing was becoming slowly more and more unstable; more unsatisfactory for his body to function. He could barely walk without being winded these days.

He had gone to the doctor when this had first became an issue; when the coughing fits got so bad that he could no longer explain their reasoning for being there. At first, he figured it was just a common cold. About a week later he found out he had Hanahaki Disease.

Nam-gyu sat in shock when they told him. He barely understood what was being said. The doctor and nurses were equally saddened when giving the news, he could see the pity in their eyes for him. He could only imagine what they were thinking.

"How do I get rid of it?" He had asked when he could bring himself back to reality.

"You need to confess," the doctor had told him. "Confess to whoever it is you are in love with that could cause this sickness to appear... unless, of course, these symptoms came AFTER you admitted them?"

"No, no..." Nam-gyu had told him. "I haven't said anything, yet."

"Great!" The doctor had said. Pity was still in his eyes. "Then, just admit to them, usually this disease can go away like that, since mostly people fall for each other rather than just a one-sided thing."

If only it was that easy for him to do.

But, his disease was getting to the point of no return. The way he looked at it, he wasn't going to get any better unless he told him and if he gets rejected... well, he wasn't long for this world anyway.

When he decided to tell Su-bong, he knew he would back out if he called and heard his voice. It had been around three weeks since the two had spoken and that was over the phone. Su-bong had not been able to see the amount of weight he had lost, the heavy bags under his sunken eyes, or been able to hear the muffled coughs while he spoke about the club he went to, the knew drugs he had gotten, the girls who flirted with him. And Nam-gyu was suffering more with every word. Every word he held onto with dear life, he wasn't aware of which sentence may be the last he heard. So far, it was on a voicemail. He listened back to this voicemail every day since he had gotten it a week prior.

"Where you gone, my brother? Call me back!"

Such simple words, so full of life. Su-bong was worried, he knew. But, he didn't call him back. He didn't want to torture himself like that or make anyone think anything was wrong. He knew he would play it off, but Su-bong would show up and see everything was wrong and he would worry.

Taking as deep of a breath as he could muster, Nam-gyu knocked on Su-bong's apartment door. "One second!" Was shouted through the apartment almost immediately. This made Nam-gyu smile.

Surely enough, a few seconds later, a disheveled Su-bong pulled the door open. "What's up my-" Nam-gyu winced as his friend's normal greeting interrupted itself. "Holy shit, man! What the hell happened?"

Su-bong grabbed Nam-gyu by the arm and pulled him into his apartment, practically slamming the door behind him. Shock and worry was all over the purple haired man's face. Nam-gyu sighed.

"I'm just sick, is all," he told him, but Su-bong was not taking that answer.

"Just sick, my ass! You are practically skin and bone!" Su-bong ushered the other to the couch, forced him to sit down. "Is this why you have not called me in nearly a month?" He asked, to which Nam-gyu hesitantly nodded.

"Yeah, it's uh..." Should he tell him, he wondered? He decided to just not say the clinical name. "It's deadly."

Su-bong jumped up, startled. "Is it contagious?"

Nam-gyu chuckled. "No, no, not contagious. It is just killing me... Literally."

Su-bong stared at the black haired man in shock. "How long have you... been dying? Do they know what you have?" He gasped, "Is it Cancer or AIDS?"

"No, neither," Nam-gyu laughed, genuinely for the first time in weeks, only to be interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. He covered his mouth. Fuck, he didn't want to cough up any petals here, not in front of Su-bong. "And I have known for a little over six weeks now."

"And you didn't tell me?!" Su-bong answered, appalled that he had no idea.

Nam-gyu frowned. "It is not like I didn't want to, I just didn't want you to act like this." Sighing, he looked at his feet and caved in. "I have Hanahaki Disease, Thanos."

"Hana..." For a moment, Su-bong didn't know what he was talking about, then it hit him. His jaw dropped. "Oh, shit, man, for real?"

Nodding, Nam-gyu still refused to make eye contact.

"Who broke your heart man? Who doesn't love you back? Who is killing you? I swear, I will—"

Nam-gyu stood up and grabbed Su-bong by his shoulders. "Thanos!" He shouted, voice shaky. "I cannot tell you any answers if you don't give me any time to answer them!"

Su-bong's eyebrows furrowed. He knew Nam-gyu was right, so he didn't argue. "Fine."

Sighing, Nam-gyu gently spoke. "That is actually what I am here to talk to you about," he told him, removed his hands from the other man's shoulders. "Can we please sit down?" He coughed, a few petals falling out this time.

Su-bong obliged, sitting down and helping to lower the coughing man beside him.

Nam-gyu felt worry and guilt fuel him. He closed his eyes, he needed to just spit it out.

"The person causing this is..." he gulped, gathering the very little amount of courage he had for this venture. "It's you, Su-bong."

Su-bong was startled at the use of his name. He had never heard Nam-gyu use anything but 'Thanos' so he knew he was being serious. He blinked a few times, mind blank. He had to hear it again, so he slowly and gently said, "... What did you just say?"

Defeated, Nam-gyu spoke quietly. He averted eye contact, he couldn't bear to see the look on the other man's face.

"It... it's you causing this."

Nam-gyu felt weak, his entire body was feeling the depth of the pain he was feeling all of the sudden. Tears welled up in his eyes. He finally met Su-bong's gaze.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen... I didn't even think of myself as gay until I met you, Su-bong." He finally broke, crying. He began coughing, his vision blurred, not just from the tears, he noticed. "I just had to see you one last time before I died, I couldn't handle not seeing you any longer."

Su-bong could tell something was extremely wrong. The other man's eyes were growing heavy, his breathing sounded harsh. "Wait— wait, wait, wait—" Su-bong felt frantic, panic setting in. He was watching this man die, he knew it. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he knew it.

"I love you, Choi Su-bong..." Nam-gyu stated, watching as Su-bong rapidly pressed buttons on his phone.

Su-bong was calling an ambulance. "Stay with me, Nam-su!" He shouted, but Nam-gyu didn't hear him. He smiled when Su-bong brought the other man to his chest, rocking back and forth frantically as he ordered an ambulance to come immediately.

Nam-gyu sighed, one last heavy sigh, when his eyes closed. He never gave much thought to his death before, but he decided in his last moments that if he could die in the arms of the man he loved, he would accept his fate.

The ambulance was too late. When they arrived, Su-bong was trying to wake up the other man, to no avail, tears falling down his face. He was never one to cry, but the grief he felt in that moment matched none he had ever felt before.

————————— 3 Days Later —————————

Nam-gyu looked healthier when he was lowered into the ground than he looked when he had died. There weren't many people at the man's funeral, only a couple family members and a few friends Su-bong didn't recognize.

Su-bong was there the longest after everyone had left. He sat with his knees on the ground, hands gripping his thighs. He stared at the tombstone that faced him.

When grief became too much, he pulled out his cross necklace from under his button-down shirt and popped a pill.

And he began to cough.

#nam gyu #player 124 #oneshot #oneshot book #thangyu #fanfic #thanos #thanos x nam gyu #fanfiction #thagyu #choi su bong #squid game s2 #squid game 2 #squid game #hanahaki #angst

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the-morningstar-family · 2 days ago

Note

Does Willa have a will?

Alastor, Lucifer and Doctor Chaim sit in a room, after he looked over Willa once again. The air is tense, because they know what is coming.

Dr. Chaim: “As you can imagine; I have quite sad news”

The king takes Alastor's hand, who squeezes it.

Lucifer: “We're ready.”

Dr. Chaim: “I am sorry to say that Willa's condition is deteriorating more every day. And while I cannot say with a hundred percent certainty… I do not think that she will live beyond the end of the week.”

Alastor's ears droop, face relaxing with an acceptance of woe, looking sorely disappointed by the universe. While Lucifer looks at the Doctor with pleading wet puppy dog eyes, as if he decided it and isn't just notifying them.

Dr. Chaim: “When Willa had still been able to talk, she asked me to hold on to this, until she is close to death.”

He slides a small paper stack over.

It is a will. Between the official papers that have been filled out there is also text, handwritten by her. The king's small hand hold them with care, despite the shakiness. Alastor has long since buried his head in the blind head, peeking over just enough to read the contents as well.

The Will:

“Dear Friends and Family,

It is a strange feeling to be writing about one's own death. Especially when being aware of how soon that Future will arrive. I am keenly aware of the many Birthdays I will not attend, of the Sinmas celebrations that I won't be part of, how many New Years Eve's will come by without me.

I have been rather fortunate in life, though. I had a wonderful mother, who had been nurturing and loving despite never receiving the same in her childhood. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful son. Bright and curious despite the challenges he has faced since the day he was born. And I am most grateful for the bonds I have been able to make with the residents of the Hazbin Hotel.

Not only have you extended incredible kindness to my son but to me as well. And the second you knew of my condition, you took care of us both. Please allow me to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am afraid there are no words that will ever be enough to articulate these feelings. The ones of love and care despite the difficulties increasing every single day. For every time I fell, and you to pick me up, for every time you wiped my drool, when my body would not let me, I want to express my deepest gratitude. I wish, for all of our sakes, that I could be staying longer. But it won't be possible. And for that my heart aches, and I am so fortunate, to have people who's heart have ached with me, and will continue to do so.

I feel a little selfish asking for more. However, there are a few things I would like to address, before I am unable to.

Again, I am fortunate, that you already treat Felix like your own. I am so very glad to know, that my dearest boy will be safe and sound. What I want to ask you is, to not stop. To treat all of your children to the best of your ability. There is no shame in imperfections, but please, treat them with the care they deserve.

For my funeral I don't have many requests. A small goodbye for all of us is more than enough. I would like to ask you to make sure that everyone can have their goodbyes how they need to have them. Anything beyond that is of little importance.

Thank you, for all you have done. I could not have wished for better company.

And to Felix:

My dear lovely boy. When I first held you, I was completely overwhelmed and so incredibly happy. That is why I named you Felix, because I felt incredibly lucky to have you.

And I am so sorry to leave you. I love you with all my heart. I already miss you, yet you are still in my arms every day.

I wish I could see you grow up. See the person you will become in ten, twenty, thirty years. But I will not even make to next year.

But know, that I love you. And that you are loved, when I am gone. Remember, that to me, you will always be my most wonderful child.

I love you.

Goodbye.”

#ask #send asks #ask blog #ask me anything #hazbin hotel ask blog #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #dr.chaim #willa #mention of terminal illness #terminal illness

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clarisse0o · 2 days ago

Text

The Mayor - Chapter 12

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 774

Masterlist

———————————————————————

"Basta Ona! Basta! Stop with this Lucy Bronze."

Alessia’s voice echoed in the living room. It was just the two of us now, on this Sunday evening. She brought me out of my thoughts.

"Ona, you're letting yourself be walked all over, getting called in on a Sunday. No, impossible!"

When Alessia got angry, she had a habit of speaking in Italian, her father's native country, where she had lived for over 15 years. I loved listening to her speak in that language.

"Yes, well, you know it's just for a short time... I'll try to manage," I said with a smile, feeling guilty for not being able to tell her the whole truth.

"She's going to end up exhausting you!" she said, throwing me a smile.

She straddled me and kissed me passionately.

On Monday, I hadn’t heard anything from Lucy, which wasn’t unusual since our meeting was scheduled for Tuesday at 7:30 PM. I didn’t know if I should take the initiative and send an email. I decided to do nothing and wait until the next day.

On Tuesday, I received a call from a mosaic company. They were the ones who would be installing the mosaic in the veranda. Due to delivery issues, a decision needed to be made today about the color, or we’d have to wait another 15 days for the mosaics to arrive. I knew Lucy was torn between two colors, but I couldn’t choose for her. I decided to send her an email. When I had no news by early afternoon, I decided to call her. Inhale/Exhale, I grabbed the receiver. She didn’t pick up. I tried again 4 more times during the afternoon, with no answer. Well, this wasn’t going well. Would she show up for our meeting tonight? Nothing was certain...

7:30 PM. I arrived at the scene. Lucy was there, facing away, talking with the workers. So, she had come. I didn’t know how to act: should I play it low? Yes, I had sort of jumped on her, but she had responded to that call. I didn’t have much to blame myself for. Not playing it low. Provocative? No, I needed to calm the situation down a bit. I decided to go with my usual tone: friendly, smiling. Without forgetting to test her a little, if necessary.

"Hello everyone!!" I said.

Lucy turned around and greeted me with an icy "Hello." After a conversation with the workers, she suddenly grabbed my arm firmly and led me into a nearby room, out of sight. What did she want?

"Are you harassing me now?" she said in a low voice, so no one would hear. Low but very cold.

I was stunned, harassing? She continued, panting and showing me her phone:

"5 calls in one afternoon when you never call me! A text asking me to call you back!! What game are you playing?"

Unbelievable, what an ego! Did she really think I was harassing her? Staring at her, I said, in a very neutral tone:

"Well, no, Lucy, I’m not harassing you. I received an urgent call about the mosaics, asking me to make a decision today about the color, or risk huge delivery delays. If you had read my email or listened to any of my messages, you would have known."

She was taken aback, probably a little ashamed for looking down on me like that. While I had intended to keep things soft, her attitude had provoked something in me, and I had to respond.

"Did you really think I was harassing you, Lucy?"

She didn’t know what to say.

"What did you think? That I was going to blackmail you by threatening to publish the video from Sunday, having hidden a camera in the living room?"

She was speechless now, stunned by my boldness.

"Or that I wanted you so badly, that I couldn’t stop calling you all afternoon?"

I knew I was going too far. But she had pushed me to the limit!

She lifted her blue eyes and replied, ironically:

"Really funny, Ona, very funny!" a smirk on her lips.

"Rest assured, Lucy, I’m not harassing you, not yet at least! And I’ll remain professional!" I said.

"Perfect then! Because that’s what I expect from you!" she replied.

"Okay, Orange or Red?" I continued.

"What?"

"The mosaics! Back to work, Lucy!"

"Ah... Red, red."

We returned to the workers, passing through the living room. In front of the Persian rug, I turned to Lucy and said:

"And we’re going to have to make a decision about this Persian rug, Lucy!"

I gave her my biggest smile.

#lucy bronze #woso #woso community #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #barca femeni #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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skeletinmoss · 1 day ago

Text

@babygirlvirgil I don't think I'll ever touch this cursed thing ever again so I might as well post it.

Ever since that stupid trip to the ancient ruins that Remus dragged him on something felt off. Virgil felt different, felt wrong. There was something inside his body, he was sure of it. He felt weird. Moving, breathing, eating, everything felt weird.

Virgil thought he caught some kind decease or parasite from that one skull Remus yeeted his way. He even got over his social anxiety and went to the doctor, but everything was clean and he got nothing except some advice to lower his caffeine intake and get some healthy amount of sleep.

He was being paranoid, Virgil knew that. The only thing left was problems with his brain. But he was too scared to send himself to the physics. Because if he was right he was crazy, and there was nothing better than not being able to trust yourself!

He was probably crazy either way, he couldn't shake off the felling of something inside him. He could sense it moving, he could feel the aches he never felt before. Or maybe they were always there? He couldn't remember, he never cared to make a mental note on how it felt not feeling like he did now.

The Thing inside of him was growing, spreading, replacing his bones with Its own. He could feel it. He could feel IT.

At first he was too nervous to say anything. Everyone noticed. He even managed to make Mr Janus-poker-face look genuinely concerned. When he rejected any concern for his well-being everyone took the hint and didn't press. That was the moment he sealed his fate at getting any help later. His attempts at looking miserable so someone would ask about it and he can share his concerns failed miserably because of it.

Then It started to learn. It was in his arms, in his legs, in his torso, in his neck. It knew how to move like him. It knew his habits, It knew how to pretend to be him. And It had his friends fooled. He couldn't pretend to be miserable again. Virgil wasn't sure he was even able to mention the situation if prompted. His voice didn't feel like his own either now. Was it always this deep? Was it this hoarse before? Would any of his friends be able to notice?

" Notice! Say something!" his mind cried as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

" Sorry, got something in the eye," his body said instead as it moved his hand to wipe it.

Was it still His body? Or did it belong to the Thing that was living with him now?

He knew he wasn't crazy when he confessed to his crush. Real Virgil would have never done that! Now he was sure there was an imposter inside of him. Someone took his place and now trying to trick his love too.

" I won't let it happen," he decided.

In retrospect he shouldn't have done what he did then. Not for his sake, for theirs.

He was never good at making friends. Most of his friends came from his brother Patton. Patton was always sociable, cheery and loud, when Virgil was quiet, introverted and anxious. Their parents always got jokes about how their sons were so different being only one year apart. Patton's friends were always the only one Virgil had. And it's safe to say they all were shocked at what he did.

His new boyfriend contacted Patton over night with the news, " Virgil is trying to kill himself ".

Admittedly not the best plan. But how else could he stop the Thing from touching someone so dear to him?

His brother and boyfriend were so distraught, it was hard to look at. He didn't tell them why he tried to do it. He couldn't. He didn't tell the doctors either. And in the end he was declared mentally ill after all! For all the wrong reasons!

The feeling of someone inside only grew. It tried to communicate now. It knew how, it pretended to be him for over 4 months now. Yet the only thing it said was 'beautiful'.

" You are so beautiful," It repeated in a millionth time now, as his own hands caressed his face and neck ever so gently.

But after this time Virgil suddenly felt in control again. His body was moving at his own will. The thing was still inside of course, but now it settled inside his bones. He wasn't sure why he was so certain about it. But now there was a clear line between his bones controlled by the Thing and the rest of him.

The notes I had, but don't want to write it

Lo: so, has your skeleton said anything lately?

V: I know it is not... It's the best way i can describe it. I swear i know it sounds absolutely nuts. But I can't make it stop.

Lo: that is very good actually. Aknowledging the delusion is going to be vital in maintaining control over yourself.

The thing: Darling, i am here. Please, i am real. I promise. I love you. More than anyone ever will. They are trying to make you abandon me because they are jealous.

V: it doesn't like being called a delusion...

Me thinking " Why not try and write a fun fic where Virgil is shipped with his own skeleton? It'll be fun! "

The psychological horror with a person who's definitely most likely having a mental illness starring at me back

#virgil sanders #ts virgil #sanders sides #fanfic

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fungi-maestro · 2 years ago

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Questionable Images 1/2 - The Question #8 (1987)

#book club #the question #vic sage #dc comics #comics #questionable images #another one of my favorite issues #here you can see vic talk about second chances and get fucked up on drugs #also it contains at least two jokes about vic having no face. higher than there have been so far!#but seriously this issue is really fantastix #it shows you what someone who fights fire like fire is doing in the town of hub city #as well as discussing how 'innocence' can be subjective...#dr spaulding is one of my favorite one off antagonists. hes not cartoonishly evil or anything like a lot of the others.#you can see his motivations and you can see how his morals somehow justify this (while being hypocritical)#and yet you are able to look at it and decide how you feel about his actions & decide what it means when someone is 'innocent'#it forces you to ask yourself how much a person can do before they're irreparably guilty. and whether theres a balance to it.#100 good deeds might outweigh 100 bad deeds. or they don't. and every moment decides whether you're 'innocent' or not on its own.#and at the end you have to ask yourself whether spaulding deserved that. DID the punishment fit the crime? why him and not vic?#it brings up moral issues you maybe didn't think about before.#very very good issue... one i often think about.#WHY WONT TUMBLR LET ME MOVE THESE PICTURES AROUND IM GOING TO EXPLODE #no one is guilty except whoever at tumblr made this impossible

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fettery-fetterie · 6 months ago

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if i was an artist with budget i'd be able to draw the buildup and all. i am not an artist with budget tho. so 3 panels will do

Kinda suggestive/nsfw tags btw go there with caution

anyways i think i huave covid

#perceptive little crow #fettered paintbrushes #never thought i'd be able to make a kiss scene this good. it's not spectacular but yesssssssss it's exactly what i wanted #anyhow i'll die and go to hell #depending on how im feeling I'd give you two answers over how this went down #the first one is that peka just was struggling for his life to get the knot done (he's doing a hard one) so he went #'ok maybe if i make out with her I'll be able to hide the fact i can't do this at all'#the second one is that. man. tying someone's tie? having your hands close to their body in an attempt to do something for them?#SPECIALLY what might as well be the love of your life? the one person that you just can't stop looking up to?#man that's hot as fuck #snd he felt it #of course he couldn't describe it (nor that he knows the words anyways) but he felt it deep down #the way im wording this kinda seems like this would've been their first time. like both kissing/making out and #hell maybe even having sex together #which honestly? kinds fits #i guess one of the things about their relationship is the restrain they have #i don't even know why it'd happen yet. i just feel like they wouldn't really like...allow themselves to be intimate. at all #maybe some hugs here and there but never something actually like. deeper #it's just kind of a fun scenario if the bubble finally broke in such an innocuous moment #only because one of the parties felt a little bit more aroused than usual. and decided to act upon it #i guess that'd make it the more painful once they separate bc they literally wouldn't have time to enjoy each other anymore #anyways thoughts thoughts #sorry for being insane over teorija with a suit i think a sleeper agent just activated on me #anywayssss

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hellokittyish · 1 month ago

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part one here.

★ thinking about mutual masturbation on facetime with ex!satoru which starts off with you just staring at him in some sort of daze, wondering what on earth possessed you to pick up the call in the first place. this is a mistake, you know that... so why aren't you hanging up already?

but before you can dwell too long on the answer to that question, your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a particularly loud moan echoing through the speaker.

“mmh… you actually didn’t decline for once," the white-haired menace gasps out, the slick sounds of his hand gliding up and down his cock only picking up in volume as he lays eyes on you. “shit— you don't know how much i've missed seein’ that pretty face of yours, baby.”

“you’re so shameless, satoru.” you mutter, lacing your tone with as much disdain as you can muster; but the way your own hand somehow snakes its way beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties tells an entirely different tale of how this whole situation is really making you feel.

“yeah,” he muses in an unapologetic hum, making a show of tilting the camera down to give you a better view of where he's currently thumbing his leaky, blushing tip. “but… ah— so are you, otherwise you would’ve blocked my new number the second i sent you that dick pic.”

“w-well how do you know i wasn't about to press the block button right when you called me and i accidentally clicked accept instead?” you shoot back through teeth which are clenched partly in annoyance and partly in an effort to hold back letting your own pleasure show on your face.

“nah, don’t give me that bullshit,” satoru snorts amusedly, leaning in closer to the screen and tilting his head to the side, snowy lashes fluttering seductively as his bright eyes stare knowingly into yours. “if you’re not enjoying this, then i want you to show me that your hands aren’t in your pants right now rubbing that pretty little pussy.”

shit. of course he'd be able to see through you that easily — he is your ex, after all. but no... you can’t let him win just yet. so, as subtly as possible, you pull your hand from your panties and hold it up to the phone screen, hoping against hope that the darkness of your room hides the wetness of your palm.

“hah. nice try, baby,” he drawls smugly, smiling so wide now that both of his annoyingly cute dimples are on full display; and it’s deliberate, too. he knows full well they were always your weakness. “...but i can see your sweet juices coating those cute fingers from here.”

and he knows he has you right where he wants you when you still don't hang up the call like you both know you should, instead just shoving your hand right back into your panties and rubbing messy circles over your clit while keeping direct eye-contact with him — trying to beat him at his own game, are you? oh, how he's missed you.

so he picks up the pace of his jostling fist around his cock, candy-pink lower lip caught between his pearly teeth as he tries to catch even a small glimpse of your bare skin through the screen; and god, only you could make him act this pathetic, this desperate. "fuck... please, pretty, y'gotta give me something to work with here. h-how about you pull your top up just a little for toru, hm?"

and you've already let this escalate too far to back out now, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and tug at the edge of your oversized tee just enough so that your bare tits spring free, courtesy to your preference for not wearing a bra around your apartment.

"o-oh, just look at those. i missed my girls s'much. bet you wish they were in my mouth right now, huh?" satoru rasps out, balls tightening to an almost painful degree as he reaches down to pay the heavy, neglected sacs some attention by gently fondling them.

and you, having finally caved and slid a finger into your fluttering hole, can only respond with a soft whine as you reach up to knead a breast with your free hand, the image of his skilled mouth suckling on them like he always used to making your much-too-empty cunt clench around your digit with need.

and that singular sweet, sweet sound from your lips that he's been deprived of hearing for months is all it takes for him to finally bust a load all over his chest and hand, goopy white streaks tainting his previously unmarred pale skin as his entire body trembles with a pleasure only you can give him.

and when he eventually manages to compose himself enough to glance back down at the facetime and realize that you're still trying to reach your own climax, your meek little fingers clearly not enough to finish the job, satoru has the absolute audacity to lean right in close to the screen and mutter out a cheeky…

“hey, if y'want me to come over and help you with that then all you gotta do is agree to get back together with me, baby.”

taglist: @haruhatake @sheismaryy @jxeon @bonneyzsk @yozora7154 @depositodeporradogojo @ifyournameischoisanpleaseloveme @anthy-j-ander @sugarcoatedsoul @moncher-ire @fwxyz00 @trishiepo0 @just-lilita @beenathembo @channnee @tul1ps1 @awoodsysimp411 @vera4luv @silllly-jokesterr @mastermasterlist1p1 @yourfaveava @rllyobsessedgirlie @cherrycel @tomiokas-lunchbox @iwaizumisloverrr @citruswriter @jasminelee324 @kocho-catt @azewritessillystuff @suggestmename @greentea-ellie @banksxxnik @feelingtoosilly @nepotti @nonamevenus @barking4dogs-fy @mihoonz @crazytrash @phoenixflames498 @starlightmid @k0z3me @cakenpiewhyohmy @wh1msycal @resfrio @ersharyzst @loveyislost @supernovacoffeestop @ying47

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year ago

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Other Misc. Rambling Thoughts on the topic:

(~ !!!!!!!!! if you're just reblogging this post for the Poll section, please reblog the original post without this addition* lol. ~)

(*not that there's anything super personal or weird about the addition, just that it's meant to be kind of casual Side Commentary, not really part of the Main Point Of The Poll, so it would feel kind of weird for it to be emphasized by being included in reblogs unless the reblogs were explicitly about the side commentary, etc..... if that makes sense.. ANYWAY!)

It's neat to read the written descriptions that people are mentioning in the tags, since it's almost like I can see or conceptualize the idea as well, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING it.

Like for example: I can imagine a vase, it's a muted mint green and slightly translucent, elaborate golden birds sprawled down the side in streaks of thin rough watery paint, the base material shimmers gently in the light, there's a small chip where it's cracked on the handle, etc, etc. .. But as I'm thinking about this I see literally nothing.

It seems like perhaps some people can visualize an object first, and THEN describe what they see. But I sort of work backwards. I am building the object in my mind, I can never see it, but it's a collection of concepts. Rather than visualizing all details as a whole at once, I am adding each detail one by one, building onto the IDEA of the thing.

The vase doesn't have a crack on the handle because I just automatically visualized a vase with a crack. It was more that I cognitively understand the concept of a vase, what they tend to be made out of, how they tend to look and feel, the properties they have. So based purely on that knowledge, I can imagine "a chip is something that a vase could have, it would look this way and behave this way" - more like... I'm constructing a bullet point Fact List about the object rather than seeing it.

So if you tell me to imagine an object, I can, in a way, imagine that object in great detail, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING those details, more just knowing it's qualities in a purely conceptual way. Sometimes in the tags when people are like "yeah I can see the skin of the apple, texture, little dots on the surface" it's like… I can imagine that too, I can know it's there, but just with no visual attached.

I guess rather than SEEING something and going ''ah. I know what this looks like because I have seen it''. I more just skip that visual step entirely and go ''I know what this looks like, I just randomly have a list of information about the concept in my mind.'' etc. Maybe similar to how sometimes in dreams, even though a house may look completely different and be in an entirely fake 'dreamlike' environment, you just somehow KNOW intuitively that it's meant to be your childhood home or something. Even when it looks nothing like it in reality. There's a built-in base knowledge of the properties or information of some things within a dreaming mind, etc.

This also makes me wonder about like.. how storytelling and myth is so important to cultures all across time. Or how this could tie also into concepts of religion.. etc. etc. If so many people really can kind of conjure these vivid images in their mind, then maybe that's part of why certain things are so meaningful to them? Like a "religious experience" being something you can actually really SEE/feel/lingering with you in your head, rather than just abstract words on a page, detached purely theoretical ideas, etc... hmmm

Plus also just for average emotional stuff too, even outside of broader cultural conceptual attachments..

Like, I don't think there's a direct 1 to 1 link (obviously not all people with mental illnesses that significantly reduce their emotional or expressive capacity also MUST have aphantasia or vice versa), but it's interesting as someone who DOES also have a much more lessened emotional range/pretty flat affect/etc. etc. to think like.. Maybe I WOULD be more emotional, in a way, if I could have these vivid experiences..?

Perhaps memories would hold deeper significance if they could really stay with me vividly. Or storytelling would evoke more of a deep emotional reaction to me if I could really picture and feel the things that are going on. If things were more TANGIBLE in my brain, rather than always merely conceptual highly abstracted ideas.

Kind of like, it's probably easier to get over the death of a pet or something, if after not seeing them for an hour you already don't remember what they looked like (beyond just a vague fact list of traits), and you have no vivid memories or mental reminders of them (beyond just factual information stores). COGNTIVIELY you can appreciate the idea of their absence, of course, you still miss them, but there's just no remaining visceral sensory ties. A very "out of sight, out of mind" sort of thing in terms of attachments, memories, emotions, etc. Maybe certain things are easier to "get over", when you're not having constant mental sensory reminders that occasionally rekindle your feelings about the event or etc.??

(like for example, maybe someone could remain angry about an argument longer if they could vividly replay it in their head over and over again. VS just like.. 'Yes I can factually recall the fact I had an argument, and I do have knowledge stored about what precisely was said, but any sort of sensory data such as sights/smells/feelings, etc. from the actual moment of the event are long gone and can never be conjured again in my mind." etc.)

Which again, I think lessened emotional permanence and image permanence in the mind are NOT inherently linked, can all be caused by different things for different people. And, since I can't visualize anything in my head, maybe I'm misunderstanding how it happens and the effect it may have on stuff like remembering things you miss or replaying arguments, etc. etc. But it's still a little interesting to think about, if they could influence each other to some degree.... :0c --

Lastly, It's also weird because I'm actually pretty good at estimating distance and spaces? I can quickly assemble furniture without an instruction manual, pretty easily have a concept of how much space a chair may take up in a room, how two mechanical parts might fit together - BUT, I am literally not actually visualizing anything. I cannot see 3D objects in my mind at ALL. It's like.. just based on the pure List Of Facts About Things Which I Have Observed.. I can intuitively go "oh this works like this/this is this size" just because.. I know it's that size. I don't have to see anything to know..?

But then on the other hand, I'm terrible at directions without a map (I guess because a 3d outdoor environment has WAY more complexity than like.. "Will this square fit into another square?"etc. lol ).

BUT, I also draw/sculpt/etc. entirely without references, and seem to do mostly okay at that..? Like.. I can't even remember the last time I actually used a reference or looked at anything whilst drawing. It's all muscle memory, and me just adjusting as I go until something "looks right" on paper, I never have a set image in my head (or external reference) before hand.. Hrmm....

AND.. I used to say that I had a photographic memory when I was younger, which I know NOW is not true (I always thought it was just an expression, not that people could literally see things in a photographic way). But what I was describing is, I do often associate information with imagery, just... without imagery....

Like "Oh, I know that I took my medicine earlier today because I have a distinct memory, a snapshot of a moment in time, of me rattling the pill bottle in my hands as I looked up at a stop sign while in the back seat of a car". When I say this, I can't ACTUALLY see/feel/hear a pill bottle, or vividly picture a stop sign, but it's more just a factual recall, of. Even though I don't see these things, I know they happened, the information of them happening (me hearing a sound and also looking at a stop sign at the same time) has been stored in my brain as a memory, a collection of linked facts. --

As for other senses, I cannot taste or feel anything in my head AT ALL.. wild that some people mention that. I mean, again, I can have a purely factual recall as if reading a textbook, knowing the information of 'X item typically has X texture, therefore I can imagine what it may be like to feel it' or 'X usually has this taste' etc. - but I can never actually experience those senses in any capacity in my mind alone. I would say audio is my strongest mental sense (maybe a 2.5 or 3 (if it were translated onto the above scale where 1 is most vivid and 5 is nothing)), then visual (4.5 at most, usually 5), and then taste and smell and such are just complete 5, absolutely nothing, I didn't even know people could experience taste or feeling just in their mind alone.. lol...

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

#repeat reblog #Hrmm.... this must be why you all like reading books so much lol… option 5.. so few of us…#Also I wonder if this is why I'm a more detail oriented writer. Like if I was making a story I would first have to plot out information #about the location. draw a map of the room the chararcters are in. sketch the characters. their outfits. do a lot of plotting and planning #about how the world and the setting works and what plants might be there and so on and so forth. Because I'm working #more from a factual knowledge base of like 'bullet point list of things I know about this setting/object/person/etc'#rather than actually just being able to see it in my mind. So to really conceptualize a person/place/thing - I have to build it #from the ground up conceptually. Gathering and organizing all the information about it until I have a Full Mental Concept of it - and THEN #I can work with it from there. But maybe someone who just Pictures all that in their brain from the beginning can kind of skip that step.#Like for example I literally have NO idea what any of my characters look like until I draw them. I have to actively decide what they look #like and think about all of those details and create the List Of Factual Information (black hair. green eyes. this tall. etc.) from scratch #. where the friend I talked to on the phone recently said that they literally just like... picture the character. like they just SEE them #doing stuff and know from there. And of course i have an IDEA of what I may want a characters appearnce to be or properties that would suit #them based on their Concept and Personality. but I literally do not know. And even when writing or thinking about characters doing things #I cannot visualize them no matter how hard I try. It's all theoretical factual recall for me. Also my friend said that to THEM the saying #''the characters write themselves'' was interpreted to mean.. they can literally sit down & watch the characters do things and it's as #if they are just creating a story in their mind from thin air. it writes itself. Where for ME I have always interpreted it to mean ''I have #undertaken the process of analyzing and plotting every detail of this character SO deeply that I know them SO well down to even #how they would walk or hold a pencil. and thus because I have such an intimate understanding of every intricacy of their personality. It's #extremely easy to just Put Them Into A Situation and assume exactly how they'd react/ exactly what they'd say because based #on what has factually been determined about them and their personality/worldview/etc. it's just.. literally automatic. The same way that #if you knew a friend's preferences extremely well you could probably easily predict how they'd respond to a birthday gift'' etc.#hmm.. ANYWAY... Which my friend may be an extreme example. I feel like it'd be obvious even for writers without aphantasia to STILL sit #down and plot out details & intimately understand their characters/setting/etc. But the idea that for ANYONE it's like ''yeah I dont have t #think much about designing the layout of a room/place/etc. I just kind of SEE it in my mind and know automatically''.... wild... lol #It makes it seem like I'm always having to do like 500 tons of extra work that other people can just skip .. oughh #''well after writing them for a YEAR and fully conceptualizing their personality and going through 15 sketch drafts. i have FINALLY #decided on an appearance for my character'' ... ''erm.. i have been seeing my character since day 1.. what do you mean?'' ... lol #ANYWAY.. and thank you to those who have sent in asks abt your experiences.. very inchresting.. sorry not posting/responding yet since im #still a bit sick feeling and energy is very scattered/low social ability/etc... even this post i typed over the course of days lol..

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fluoneia · 2 months ago

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pitfighter!vi knew it was bad to be indulging in something like a whorehouse, yet, she found herself at babettes often since she starting fighting in the ring.

usually, it was a quick in and out, but this time, she heard of a new worker. since the others started declining her because they were too rough with them, she decided to take the chances with you.

she drunkenly stumbled into babette’s place, grabbing onto the doorframe to steady herself.

that’s when she saw you. standing there, all pretty in nothing but pink.

vi’s eyes widen. she sees you talking to babette, no doubt starting as a worker there. vi chuckles to herself as she thinks, oh, i’m having fun tonight.

vi stumbles forward, grimacing as her shoulder hits the wall. she walks forward, leaning against the front desk.

“hey, babette.” vi slurs. she turns her glance to you, peering you up and down. her hungry, raw eyes make a shiver go down your spine. her badly-dyed black hair, ends pink, like how you assumed her hair used to look. she had bruises on her face, blood stained on her lip.

you gasp.

“hey, beautiful.” the girl rasps.

“vi.” babette says calmly, “i’m afraid.. you’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

“what?” she turns to babette. “why?”

“well.. none of my girls will take you anymore. if i mention your name, they instantly say no.”

what the hell could this girl have done that makes it so every girl would decline her? money is money, you thought. and this girl seems willing to pay it.

“that’s bullshit.” she scoffed, slapping her palm on the desk. “bunch of wimps.”

“that’s precisely why, violet.” babette shakes her head. and her name is so.. un-fitting, you think. maybe the girl she was before, the girl with pink hair, was violet. but, this didn’t seem like a girl who deserved the honour to be named after things as delicate as flowers. but then again, you never liked delicate girls.

“i will.” you speak up. you straighten your back.

the girl— vi, turns to you. she eyes you up and down. and she reeks of alcohol, but, you could overlook that.

truth be told, you wanted to see what she would do that the others that made them not want to take her as a client anymore. you wanted to see what she could do.

“will you?” vi leans toward you. you smell the alcohol on her tongue. what made her this confident.. and if she can back it up?

and babette gives you a look. “alright. goodluck, then.” she snorts, leaning back.

you glance back toward vi. her eyes are staring at you like she can see underneath your clothes. undressing you with her eyes. and you wonder how she could look so damn hot.

red jacket. black hair. face-paint on her face. the way she held herself was so.. unreal. she knew she was attractive, and that’s what made her even more attractive.

you hadn’t had a good fuck in a while. at your old brothel, it was nothing but smelly, old, beer-bellied men, often from piltover looking for the thrill on cheating on their wives.

so, you hoped, maybe, just maybe, her reputation holds up, and you can just.. let yourself go.

oh, and boy, was she able to hold it.

you were writhing. your legs shaking, wrapped around her head as she eats you out like you’re a damned feast on christmas eve.

“o-oh, gods!” you’d scream, hands digging into her black hair, gripping and pulling her scalp. vi whines against you as you pull and tug, your plush, soft thighs wrapped so tightly around your head.

her fingers curl inside of you, only adding to the pure euphoria you feel. you’d fully forgotten everything— nothing mattered but vi’s tongue on you, licking through your folds, tasting you, feasting on you.

“ugh— fuck!” you whine, head throwing back against the pillow. the smoke of the candle around you, earthy scent only adding to the fog in your head.

how could anyone pass up on this? you’d think as her tongue brings you to your fourth orgasm of the night. your voice cracks from the sounds you’ve been making, no longer caring about how people might hear you. you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s it,” you hear vi whisper, voice vibrating against your skin in the most pleasurable way as it could. her voice was rasped, so drunk on your taste that she swore she’d never tasted better pussy before she met you.

“vi, vi, vi—“ you chant her name like a damn mantra as her hands tighten on your hips, dragging you toward her as you begin to pull away.

“oh, fuck, s’too much!” your voice slurs, her tongue chasing you as you pull back.

but that wasn’t true. you wanted this, you wanted more then this, you wanted to be treated so well that you forgot your own name.

she takes a second, pulls her head away, and you sigh in relief. “you asked for this.” she says, before running her tongue along your folds, your hips jerking at the sudden stimulation.

she placed a kiss against you, before pulling back, running a hand over her hair, inhaling a deep breath.

yet, her hands don’t pull away. she smiles a toothy smile as her fingers begun rubbing small, long circles over your most sensitive spot, leaning toward you.

“mmf, vi.” you cry, eyes opening to peer up at her. you don’t realize the tear running down your temple before she wipes it away.

“so beautiful.” vi gasped, fingers dipping inside you only to move back up. you cry out, legs shutting against her hand, preventing her from moving her hands any further.

but, her eyes darken, and her other hand rips your leg to the side, pinning it to the side of the bed.

“don’t do that.” she nearly damn growled, “do that again, and you’re only getting it worse.”

she leans toward you, eyes glancing all over your body, at the plush of your stomach, so soft, and twitching, pushing up from the bed, leaning into her touch despite your protests.

“ohmygod!” you whine. “fuck, oh my god!”

everything around you was so hazy. so foggy, so unreal. her hands were unreal, so laced with skill it almost drove you insane.

“said you can take it.” vi’s slurred voice only brings you more into the spiral of your own pleasure. her lips find your neck, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your skin. her teeth nip at your neck, grazing against your skin, and it’s such a sweet gesture if you weren’t so out of it.

the feeling makes your skin set ablaze, prickles all over your body.

“you can take another. can’t you? hm?” she hums against you as her slender fingers dip back into you, curling, pressing against that spot she now knew drove you absolutely crazy.

and you whimper and whine, but you don’t protest. you wanted this. that’s all you’ve wanted for years. someone who can keep up with your stamina, your needs.

and vi not only meets that, but surpasses it. you swore she was between your legs for three hours and didn’t move once to breathe.

she was so enveloped in you. and that’s what you need.

her fingers rile you up, ignoring the absolute ache of your core, your whole entire body. you relished in the fact that you’d probably be here all night, but that’s what you wanted.

and as you feel your stomach untwist, that knot release, your vision goes fucking white from the searing, hot pleasure through your whole body.

“ohm—“ you cry, chest heaving as her fingers work you through your orgasm, slowly, yet continuing to abuse your bruised spot that she’d been hitting all night. “fuck, fuck! fuck me, oh my god!” you cry, gasping for air.

your arms throw around her, pulling her against you, entire body curling into her, legs clamping around her hand. your body shook, your nerves feeling like they were alive, and they would never die.

and finally, she stops.

you gasp a satisfied breath of air, mouth falling open, eyes squeezing shut before she finally lets her hand slip away from you.

her hands glide up your body, stopping at your hips before she hauls you over her own body. her hand rests on your back, her own breath heavy as she tries to regain herself.

“you’re amazing.” she whispers against your hair. you freeze, taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but you let yourself melt into her, both not having the will or the strength to pull away from her.

“you’re fucking amazing.”

and slowly, you laugh. you glance toward her.

“are you.. are you done?” you say quietly, timidly.

she cocks a brow. “do you not want me to be?”

you shake your head. “no, no..” you inhale a deep breath, hand moving to take one of the strands in her hair in your palm. “for now, im done.” you snort as you shake your head, body still compelling from the previous orgasms. “but..”

“but?” she hums, hand moving to grab the plush of your ass, before running up your back. you gasp at the crude gesture.

but, you shake it off.

“you.. you haven’t let me touch you at all.” you say, shakingly pushing yourself up, resting your palms on her chest.

you let your hair spill over your face as you move closer, lips hovering just above hers.

“yeah. that’s not what i’m here for.”

vi gasps a breath of air. she brings herself closer, hands resting on your hips.

“that’s what you paid me for.” i cock a brow, before laughing and pressing kisses along her jaw, up to the corner of her mouth, testing the waters.

you smirk, you hand moving down to her jacket, slowly pulling it away.

“let me do my job. huh?”

“fine. but you’re not getting anything out of me. i give. i don’t receive.”

“you underestimate me.” you smile against her lips. “i’ve been in this business for years. i know how to pleasure a woman, vi.”

she pushes herself up, nose touching eachothers.

“we’ll see about that, cupcake.”

vi left the brothel feeling like a new person. all she could think was, what the fuck?

she clears her throat as she passes by babette, not daring to look at her as she struggles to stand on her shaking legs.

she discovered something about herself she never thought she would that night. and oh, she’d definitely be coming back if that meant you were there.

a/n. for @obivari :,)) more info on my taglist here

part 2 here.

#fanfiction #writing #arcane league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x reader #vi x reader #smut #arcane smut #vi smut #vi arcane #arcane

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heyysteven · 17 days ago

Text

Playing Dangerous

Pairings: Hwang In Ho x Wife!reader

Summary: Mr. Hwang does not like it when his wife ignores him. He decides to show what happens when you upset him.

Warnings: Smut (18+) mdni, Yandere behavior, In ho is obsessive and controlling, dub con, public sex, breast play, mentions of captivity and stalking, a bunch of rich assholes.

Take the driver with you.

Did you reach yet?

I'm waiting for your answer.

Swirling the glistening champagne in your claw you leaned into the conversation, feigning interest into whatever story was being told. Mr. Richie, the President of a luxury brand of perfumes was bragging about his most recent visit to Luxembourg; how he surprised his wife by renting one of the castles for the week and how much money he burned through to make her happy.

He stood surrounded by some of the most powerful and elite people in the country as he drawled on and on about his stay. Bit overkill with how much money he spent for your taste but you were used to it by now.

From rare antiques to color vomits on canvases, these were awfully boring people who always talked about the same few conceited experiences. But you indulged in their conversations. You had to appease to them after all.

You had to play the perfect wife.

Nodding your head you smiled, as if you hadn’t zoned his story out completely. It was easier attending events alone. No one paid much attention to you without the loaded man beside you. You prayed that no one asked about why your husband was missing because frankly you didn’t have an answer.

As if sensing your thoughts Mrs. Richie asked, “Will Mr. Hwang not be joining us tonight?” interrupting her husband’s museum story.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it. He has so busy these days with meetings and that big launch coming up.” You replied.

They raised their heads oh in understanding. In truth, there was no launch. You just lied so they wouldn’t pry too much.

Mrs. Richie clutched her pearls, “That makes me so upset! He has such a strong aura around him, always brightens up the room with his presence.” She talked as if his absence was her personal loss. As if another moment without him would cause her to wither in physical pain.

In hindsight it should have really bothered you. Hearing another woman yearn for your husband should have had you pulling her hair and throwing her to the ground. But your relationship with Mr. Hwang wasn’t like that. It was all only for show; a signed inconvenient obligation. You two didn’t even looked at each other unless there was someone watching.

“Yes, it is quite upsetting.” You said with the most heartbroken smile you could muster. ”But sometimes you have to sacrifice time-”

As you spoke a shiver ran down your spine. Your heart started beating faster as a knot formed in your stomach. It was as if your body was warning you.

You could feel his presence even before you could see him.

Every single person in the room had turned their heads towards the entrance. His black polished shoes clicked as silence fell around.

Mr. Hwang was the kind of man who commanded unwavering attention. It was impossible to ignore him. Not when he walked with a sense of ownership. As if every living and breathing thing belonged to him.

He was the kind of man who could will mountains to move on their own; the kind of man who could make a ballroom like this feel like a cramped elevator. Dressed in his signature black look he walked in with a sense of control. Every stride oozed power.

Alarm bells started ringing in your head as he walked towards you.

“Oh look he is here!” Mrs. Richie exclaimed. She looked seconds away from rolling her tongue out for him to walk on.

Color threatened to drain from your face as he slipped his long cold fingers around your waist and placed himself beside you. His touches always made you nervous, no matter the months you’ve spent with him. The haunting scent of his strong cologne filled your senses as his towering body pressed into your side like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You dragged out a surprised smile as he bent down to place a lingering kiss your cheek.

“You’re here.” You said finally, a ghost of a whisper.

He tilted his head to look into your eyes and smiled back at you. “When your wife doesn’t respond to your texts, you just have to come find her, am I right folks?” He turned to the group as they all threw their heads back in roaring laughter. It was kind of pathetic how much they seemed to want his approval.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. You acted to feel around for your phone and said, “Really? I don’t remember checking my phone. I must have missed them.”

He just continued to stare down at you with a frown, “You know how worried I get. Should have just gotten you the phone with an inbuilt tracker” he said with a chuckle and people laughed again. But you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Anything this man couldn’t control drove him crazy.

You playfully patted his cheek and laughed. “He is so silly sometimes.”

He simply pulled you closer and squeezed you in his embrace, “I just want my wife to be protected that is all”. People took that as a hint to slowly start dispersing. When the last person left you tried to move away from him but he held still. “Don’t. They’re still watching.”

“Why are you here?” You asked with an accusatory tone.

He didn’t bother answering that. Instead he asked, “Why did you ignore my messages?”

So that’s why he came. The minute you refused to play along like his little doll he had to show up.

Fidgeting with the strap of your watch you replied, “I was preoccupied.”

“Were you avoiding me Mrs. Hwang?” His voice dangerously calm as he drawled on the possibility. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that. It felt derogatory. It was a reminder that you were just another one of his little slaves who had given into his power.

When you stayed silent, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, I will hunt you down and drag you out by your hair if I have to.”

“Just be very careful with your actions love.” he kissed your shoulder and left towards to bar.

To everybody else he was the perfect husband; the one who showered you with jewels and admiration. Who blindly bought you everything you touched. Your brain itched every time they would congratulate you and tell you how much you lucked out.

How you wished it was true.

The tap water trickled as you stood counting the droplets one by one. You had excused yourself to the restroom, thinking a few silent moments would help you find the energy to go back and attend the event with your husband. But the more time you spent here, the more this little bathroom started to feel like your refuge.

Just five more minutes and then we go, you thought for the 8th time.

The door slowly swung open.

“Occupied!” you called out. But the intruder continued in. You turned around to tell off whoever entered but stopped when you saw those black polished shoe.

Your heart started hammering as his shadow came into full view. He invited himself inside and locked the door in one quick click.

With each step he took forward, you took one back; moving back till you felt the cold ceramic sink hit your back. The look in his eyes was animalistic. You felt caught. Like one wrong move and you’d be engulfed in a huge trapping net.

“So you are ignoring me I see.” Mr. Hwang concluded.

“I just feel a little tired from all this.”

He scoffed, “Do you find pleasure in defying me?”

You looked around at everything but his face. You were afraid of what you might find if you looked at him right now. Placing his palms behind you, he gripped the sink, locking you in front of him. His breath fanned your face as he said, “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“I am an honorable man. I have been as patient as I can be but you just make it so difficult” he rasped.

“Do you remember what you said before you signed our papers?”

His jaw clenched as he ordered, “Answer me.”

“I said I would do anything if you saved my brother.” Your body had started shaking.

His eyes sparkled as he grinned deviously; finally getting the answer he was desperately waiting for. “Anything? Are you sure? A lot can happen with anything.”

He dropped his head into your neck and traced a slow line with his tongue, painting your bare skin with his saliva till he reached the top of your neckline. You clenched your eyes shut, your hands closed in a tight fist as his mouth roamed your chest.

“The question is how far are you willing to be pushed my love?” He sucked on your sweet spots as you turned into an unstable block of mass in his arms. He knew you wouldn’t fight him.

He had pulled that one string to puppet you, that one weakness you would lose to every single time. He had you right where he wanted you. Digging his fingers into your hair, he pulled your mouth near his and started devouring you with his soft mouth.

“I hate this dress." He said between kisses. "I hate that everyone saw you looking this fuckable.” His hand glided up your thigh, slowly massaging the smooth skin up and down with his palm.

His teeth hooked around the strap of your dress and pulled them down. When the sleeves fell down, his mouth attacked your already sensitive nipples. He sloppily circled around them through the fabric of your bra. Your hand tugged his hair as he continued to suck. It became impossible to stop the moans escaping you.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back. I have been nothing but a respectable man to you. But I’m beginning to think that perhaps you do not like it.” His words scared you. He seemed to have taken this as some sort of challenge. The look of terror between your eyes made him rock hard. He forced your legs open with his knee. You could feel his cotton trouser pressing into you through your underwear.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve my restraints anymore.”

Your head fell back as his knees started rocking. He almost came right there when he felt your juices starting to drench his pants.

“You have no idea how far I’m willing to go. Trackers? Trackers are nothing. I will tie you and gag you till no one can hear your screams. You will be at my complete mercy and no one will come save you.” He moaned as tears started falling uncontrollably from your eyes. He continued rocking till you were a complete sobbing mess.

You should’ve known better than to displeasure him.

He pulled back right before anything progressed further. Straightening his coat he kissed the side of your head. “See you at home Mrs. Hwang.” And with those six words he left, leaving you half naked and dazed. In that moment you realized you had started a very dangerous game in just one evening and you weren’t sure if you could handle playing against Mr. Hwang.

A/N: I wanna play his wife so bad

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