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sweetnsour1 · 2 days

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10:53:01

Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of 2

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?” His tone had shifted. You could hear his brows and eyes furrowing at the strangled laugh you had shakily exhaled.

“How did you find out?” He had to be fucking with you.

“Um, the mission briefing...like usual?”

“What?” Shit, so he wasn’t fucking with you. You blinked away tears of frustration already threatening to leak into your voice. Stupid.

“Huh?”

“So, you’re really leaving?”

“Have to, beautiful.”

“But...”

“Yea, I know. I’ll miss you too.” His tone was getting softer with every awkward response you choked out.

“No, I mean...” You let the words trail off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten the meaning behind this quickly approaching date. Your brain couldn’t even craft a way to bring it up without whining. You couldn’t do it. “Just be safe, okay?”

“The hell do ya think I am? I’m always safe.”

“Safer than your version of safe, please.” Your tone was firm as it delivered the familiar words, a ritual every time he left for a mission.

The memory of the first time you’d made the request came to you easily. He was in the doorway of your office, backing out, bumping his wide shoulders into the frame as he failed to smoothly exit. Red spread across the skin directly below his mask. You had thought you had overstepped, maybe he was upset that you questioned his performance. Your head had tiled to the side in confusion when instead he only said, “Yes, ma’am.” He landed a smack against the head of the blonde hero snickering behind him as he walked off, mumbling something about shutting up.

“Mmm.” You smiled. Maybe he was thinking of that day too.

“‘Mmm’ isn’t a promise.”

“I’ll be back before Saturday. Promise.”

“Back with all the parts you left with.”

“Ya gonna’ love me less if I don’t?” His words were obviously being spoken through a smile now, or a smirk more likely.

“Depends on what you lose.” A part of you melts at the chuckle let loose in your ear.

“Bullshit.”

“Mhmm.” You’re quick to agree but want to hear him laugh again. “If you come back hurt, I’ll just kick your ass for not listening to me.”

‘What if I come back without an ass?” His laugh is cut short as you hear a familiar voice inform him how that would be highly unlikely to count as coming back safe. The tone on the other end gets harsher as he tells the man with him to mind his damn business. You roll your eyes at the familiar sounds of bickering bubbling between the two heroes. You pull Katsuki’s attention back to you as you catch the sound of Deku’s mediating attempts only pacifying Todoroki.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

“Yea.” You quirk an eyebrow at the leftover hostility worming its way into his conversation with you. He hears it too, coughing back to a gentler version before he continues. “I’ll see you Saturday, beautiful.”

“See you Saturday.” Your words fall forward in a mumble towards the screen already reminding you that you’d ended the call. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You rolled your head forward; thankful it was still early enough in the day to start making all the calls you’d need to. You did a few of those dumb square breaths that your therapist swore by. It was annoying that it helped. A feline reminiscent stretch was the only other action you took before opening the most frequently used document saved on your phone. The twinge of regret at the sight of the bright orange header was promptly shoved aside as you began scrolling down to the vendors’ contact info. By the third call, you had quite a script ready to go as soon as someone picked up: Hello, sorry to bother you right before closing. I actually have you guys booked for the event tomorrow night. There’s been a change of plans and I would like you to deliver the (whatever they were in charge of) to (whatever organization could use it) as a donation instead of delivering anything to the venue. After that, it was always a short confirmation of details before you dialed the next number on the list.

The biggest loss was the venue...no, that was wrong. The biggest loss was not being able to get Bakugou’s birthday right AGAIN. You really weren’t sure anymore if the blame was with you or the universe or maybe Bakugou was a villain whose only agenda was to thwart your birthday attempts. Well, you were pretty sure it was you, but it was way past ridiculous at this point. His birthday had been a disaster or disaster adjacent every year since you’d started dating.

There was the first one where you got flustered when he had the audacity to go for the first kiss, getting you flustered enough to drop his gift, a very not waterproof limited edition and vintage All Might card, off the bridge and into the river. The next involved a mistake where you accidentally had Kirishima drop him off at the wrong address...not realizing there were two locations for the restaurant you two had your first date at. The one after, you ended up hospitalized for just a few days, missing his birthday completely because your dumb ass didn’t wake up in time. Although he technically had spent it with you, you just weren’t conscious. You both had work the one after that, so not really your fault on that one. But you did forget his present at the office and so ended up giving it to him the day after, so that part was your fault.

He was always annoyingly understanding about the trouble you ended up causing on the one day every year that you wanted to be the least troublesome. He would just laugh it off, thanking you for an unforgettable day. He’d call you cute or sweet or a menace. He’d say his birthday wasn’t anything to stress about.

His words would be so much easier to accept if he didn’t seem to feel differently when it came to your birthday. He never gave a gift late or damaged or less than perfect. He never messed up the date or time or location. He never forgot any part of his plans or goals for the day. It was always irritatingly more than what you would’ve imagined or expected. Not that birthdays were a contest, but...if they were, you were fucking losing badly.

You slid your phone further across the counter after your last call. This was supposed to be the year you got it right. You’d even enlisted a dangerous amount of help for a surprise party: Kirishima to keep Bakugou from finding out, the head assistant at their agency to get the scheduling information just right, Mina was charged with the guest list, Kaminari and Sero were assigned the entertainment (with final approval from you after a near x-rated disaster). You even had Midoriya help you decide on a present.

Everything was finally going to be perfect. You were so determined. You had even stupidly begun to feel safe in your victory. The party was supposed to be tomorrow. And now, he wouldn’t be back for nine days. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You pawed at your phone again, sending a quick text to Mina so she could notify the guests of the cancellation. You were already exhausted from the last half hour of calls and just wanted to crawl into the bed that was now dumber and colder and emptier than it was supposed to be. Before burrowing, you sent “code yellow” to the One Brain Cell group chat, following the ridiculous list of emergency code phrases made up by Kaminari. You didn’t think you’d end up using them, but here you were.

You then finally set your phone aside for real, pretending to set the urge to sulk along with it. This was part of the job. He was needed and that was a priority...helping people should come first (and it always did). Even if a selfish part of you, that seemed to get louder every time he was called away, wanted nothing more than to convince him to stay. The man you were in love with wouldn’t just give up his purpose or his morals like that. Not even for you. It was admirable. As a hero, you loved and respected that. As his girlfriend, it made you feel more jealous and selfish than you would ever admit.

You would just have to not suck next year.

Inspired by the request sent in by @mentallyablaze-writes

Masterlist

Part 2 coming soon

#Bakugou #Bakugou fluff #Bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #Bakugou imagines #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #fluff

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dazednmatthews · 3 days

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sick!matt headcanons

based on this ask n answer i saw on my feed!! all credits to both of these amazing ppl for the idea!!!

-matt is definitely the type to be a whiny mess when he’s sick

-we alr know his ass is in his room and sleep 24/7 but the second he starts to feel even a little bit ill he’s in there with blinds drawn and bundled in his blankets so tight

-he’d be texting you every second he is awake though, begging to see you

-“please baby. i just want to be next to you.”

-and ofc course you don’t give a damn about getting sick because that’s your man and you’re gonna stick beside him!

-“i know, honey, i’m coming. gotta stop at the store to get you some things.”

-matt always likes to find new shows to watch. it’s like his thing, but when he’s sick it’s a constant marathon of all his comfort shows and movies.

-“can we watch taken?”

-“again?”

- “it’s such a good movie, babe. liam neeson is just too good not to be a real spy.”

-“whatever you want, matty.”

-you love taking care of him, but getting him to take medicine is the most annoyed you feel

-“that shit tastes so bad, i’m not drinking that.”

-“do you want to feel better or not?”

- you’d argue back and forth for a little while but you get your way regardless

-“matt if you don’t take this fucking cough syrup, i’m going home.”

-“…fine. where is it?”

-a lot of naps. constant napping.

-you’re both cocooned underneath several blankets, legs intertwined, matt’s head on your chest. he’s been in and out of sleep all day while you’ve been watching the movie playing softly on the t.v. your hands are running through his hair affectionately. his hands are wrapped around your waist tightly. you think this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever been.

-when you eventually have to get up, you do your best to unwrap yourself from his hold, but his ass will not let go.

-“where are you going?” his voice is thick with sleep and a little nasally cause of his congestion.

-“babe, i have to pee.” you pat his head affectionately. “you’re gonna have to let me up.”

-“nooooooo,” here comes the whining again. “stay.”

-“the quicker you let me up, the quicker i’ll be back, matt.”

-chris and nick make fun of him so bad for it.

-“he’s fucking insufferable when he’s sick. i don’t know how you’re doing it right now.” nick says.

-“he’s not that bad,” you roll your eyes while heating up some soup for the two of you.

-chris laughs, “this is hilarious. big, bad, tough guy matt getting his ass kicked by a cold.” he’s much more happy than he should be at that. “mr. tough guy getting spoon fed soup by his girlfriend.”

-you let them have their fun for a while before you light heartedly shut them up. “lets not forget that mr. tough guys girlfriend has cleaned up your-” you point at nick, “vomit, and has also babied you when you got your ass kicked by a sunburn.”

-they shut up after that

-sleepy matt is one of your favorite versions of him

-when you come back into the room he’s sat up against the headboard shirtless, doing that cute thing where he rubs his eyes incessantly, blankets pooled at his waist

-his hair is strewn about, fluffy and wispy. he stretches, enough for you to see the top of his pj pants

-he looks at you as you enter, gatorade and soup balanced in your hands

-you put the dishes and drinks on the bed side table and he smiles at you oh so warmly

-he moves from his spot to the side of the bed where you stand, opening his legs for your to go in between them. he looks up at you, pulling you towards him. your hands find his shoulders, kneading softly.

-“thank you, baby.”

-“of course, matty. you’ve gotta stay hydrated if you’re gonna get better.”

-“no, not for the soup. well, yes for the soup, but i mean for everything. for staying with me. for taking care of me. i know i’m a lot right now.”

-he looks sheepish, so you bend down to kiss his cheek.

-“you’d do the same for me.”

-you stay there for a couple sweet moments, his face pressed into your stomach and your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck

-eventually you both lay back in bed, ending the day doing your favorite thing, just holding each other

-of course you end up sick

-you’re a lot better at being sick than matt but it never matters

-he’s babying you just the same

-“can’t believe being a good girlfriend got me sick. i hate you.”

-he rubs your back while your head is in his lap

-“i’m sorry sweetheart. don’t worry, though. i’ll take good care of you. just rest.”

-you’re not worried in the slightest. he always does.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo headcanon

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loveinhawkins · 1 day

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Ficlet prompt: Lighter

Truly will enjoy whatever that might inspire for you, but I do especially love all your steddie work that takes place between scenes of s4!

thank you for the perfect excuse to think about another before the battle scene. (also i hope i’m recognising your username correctly & if so i love your video analyses 💕) •one word ficlet prompts

Eddie throws the lighter with no warning. It soars in an arc across the field, a glint of silver in the sun, and Steve catches it with one hand, of course he does. Eddie remembers the running joke in the true basketball glory days, Steve Harrington, an excellent catch: in every sense.

Eddie would always act like the whole thing annoyed him, but now, as he watches Steve grin smugly, he can only be fond.

“Figured you’d need it when you’re, uh, flambéing.”

Steve’s smile fades, just a little; Eddie wonders if the terror he’s feeling is obvious, even from a distance.

“Like, it’s my uncle’s, so be careful,” he adds, rambling. “I’ll want it back, man.”

Steve considers him. Pats a patch of grass, come here.

Eddie does.

He sits down as Steve flicks the lighter a couple of times, the flame winking in and out of existence. It’s a soothing sight, almost makes him forget that they’ve spent most of the day fashioning weapons—like so long as Steve’s got a light in his hand, things are gonna be all right.

It’s a child’s logic. Eddie can’t help it; he never could.

There’s a soft click as Steve shuts the lighter. He puts it in his jacket pocket with unnecessary care. A gentleness.

Eddie knows he’ll keep it safe.

And then Steve’s twisting round to reach another pocket, brings out another glint of silver.

He flicks it up in the air, catches it before dropping it into Eddie’s palm.

“This is my lucky quarter,” Steve says with uncharacteristic solemnity, but his lips are quirking in amusement and—

“You’re so full of shit,” Eddie says through a laugh, “you literally just bought that jacket.”

His fingers curl over the coin anyway. He feels the warmth leftover from Steve’s touch. Wonders if Steve felt something similar with the lighter—if he can lend their improvised charms some power through sheer force of will.

He slips the coin into his pocket.

“I’ll kinda want it back,” Steve says pointedly.

Eddie smiles. “I’ll take care of it,” he says.

He doesn’t want to sound afraid, but he can’t promise anything. Can only think of Steve carrying the lighter and hope that it holds: an amulet, guiding him home.

#pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 hours

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The Man 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You think you remember. Or at least you’ve convinced yourself that you do.

You go through the painstaking steps as the dark presence looms across the counter. The man walks along, just on the other side of the machines as you steam the milk. Toffee nut, yes, you’re pretty sure that was it.

You put it all together, step by step, hands shaking. Your lips move as you talk yourself through your work silently. You can do this. You still feel how the man scratched you through your shirt when he grabbed you, your skin fiery.

You give one last look to the foam and send a prayer up to whatever deity will hear it. You slowly move to the till and place the cup down. You wet your lips and clear your throat.

“Almond, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” you declare, voice quavering as you stare at the bristle across the man’s upper lip. “Mr. Hansen.”

He clucks and leans on the counter, hooking one foot behind the other. He wraps his hand around the cup and slides it closer to himself. He stares down into as you fidget. You glance around at the baked goods.

“And a cinnamon bun?” You suggest but before you can carry through on the offer, a splash of liquid washes over you, hot despite the layer of steamed milk.

“Oat milk,” he crushes the empty cup in his large hand and throws it at your face. You sputter and blink as the foam drips down your cheeks.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll make it again.”

“Fucking right, you will, sweet lips,” he growls and stands straight, crossing his arms.

You pull the bottom of your apron up and wipe your face. You bend to pick up the empty cup and turn away. Your eyes sting and you wiggle your tingling nose. It’s fine. You can do this.

Oat, half blond, half regular, toffee nut, cinnamon on top. The smell of espresso and syrup clings to you as you make the death march back to the till. You set the cup down without a word.

Mr. Hansen, Lloyd, the boss, whatever he is, considers you as he lifts the drink and examines the careful leafy art in the foam. He turns it and inhales the scent, some of the foam catching in his mustache. He takes a breath as if about to dive into water and has a taste. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he pulls the cup away from his mouth. He hums. Does he like it?

Splash.

Another searing dousing and you stand there with a gasp, shaking off the dredge of his displeasure.

“Mr. Hansen, I--”

“First thing’s first. Shut the fuck up. You talk too much,” he tosses the cup. Bonk, right off your forehead. “Second, I changed my mind. Get me a mocha. Extra whip.”

You nod and keep your head down. You pick up the cup and stand, nearly slipping in the puddle around your feet. You dispose of the empty cup and go to the coffee machine. You begin your new task, hands clumsy and trembling. You add the whipped cream and return to the till. You put the cup down and grab onto the counter to keep from sliding through the liquid at your soles.

He lifts it and you wince, bracing for another deluge. He repeats the same deliberate examination. You swallow tightly as he samples your work. This time he doesn’t make a noise. As he lowers the cup, you flinch and take a step back.

He cackles, “relax, cupcake.”

You stare at him grimly. You flick your lashes and blow out your nerves. You hide your shaking hands behind you.

“Now you know who the fuck I am,” he says, “clean yourself up and get back to work.”

He grabs a package of the cookies along the small shelf beside the till then turns on his heel and struts to the door. You watch after him, damp and dripping. As the door opens and closes, you turn to face the mess. You sigh and go to grab the mop; you can clean the floor but you can’t do much for yourself.

You work at soaking up the excess then spray cleaner on the floor and wipe with paper towel to prevent it from getting sticky. As you work at sopping up the errant droplets from the counter, the door behind you swings open. You glance over your shoulder as Bre sweeps through.

“Alright, your turn--” She stops short as you face her. “What happened?” Her face slackens with dread and shock, “what did you do?”

“It was Mr. Jansen—Hansen,” you correct yourself, “he came by and--”

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses.

“I... I didn’t have a choice. He wanted a drink and--”

“Fuck. Fuck! What did he say? What did he do?” She snaps.

You recoil at her accusatory tone, “he... he threw coffee in my face? He took some cookies? I don’t know? He just... said now I know who he is. I didn’t really understand--”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

You frown and cross your arms, “I’m sorry, Bre, I did my best--”

“Not good enough. You think it’s all fun and games. It’s not. That man is dangerous. Not just here, everywhere,” she shakes her head, “you’ll see. Out there, on your own. Give me your apron.”

“What?” You murmur.

“Get out. I’ll call Maurice and let him know it didn’t work out.”

“What? No, you can’t--”

“I am. Give me your apron. Now.”

You pout and sniffle. You reach back behind you and unlace the apron and lift it over your head. You hold it out to her, “it’s wet--”

“Just go.”

You hang your head and turn away. Your eyes begin to stream before you even get through the door. You grab your stuff from the backroom and give one last look around. You got fired. What are you going to do?

You fold your jacket over your arm and sling your bag from your shoulder. You let yourself out into the alley and head down to the street. You stop at the end and cover your face, sniveling behind your hands as you lean on the brick. You don’t want to go back home. You only just got there.

“Whatsa matter, sweet lips?” The low drawl is followed by a loud slurp, “bad day?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #the man #au #drabble #mob au #series

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sl0t4matt · 2 days

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could you do a fic w hector fort where him and the reader get a matching tattoo please? like something little or whatever you want hehe

h. fort | girl with the tattoo

thank you sm for requesting, i love this request! i only know very few things from friends abt tattoos so i hope i got everything right.

“hi baby how was training?” you ask hector as he slumps down the couch next to you, immediately snuggling up on you.

“it was fine. i would’ve rather stayed with you though.” he admits, laying his head on top of your lap.

you move your hands to his curls playing with them. you absolutely loved playing with his hair, since it was always perfectly curled and done. “don’t let xavi hear that.” you chuckle.

he starts grinning a little too suspicious.

“oh god, what have you done again you idiot.” with that look he must’ve done something, you thought. he smirks. “what do you mean?”

“do not play with me right now, hector. tell me!” you roll your eyes at his annoyingness.

“you know i love when you’re demanding, ma.” he winks liking his lips. you stand up not being able to deal with him right now. he knows exactly how impatient you are. he just loves pushing your buttons.

he won’t tell you. fine! he takes ahold of your wrist, immediately pulling you back.

“okay, okay i’ll tell you.” you sigh sitting back down. he smiles. “hector i swear-.”

“chill, i’m sure you’re gonna like it.” he interrupts you quickly. you furrow at him. what the hell could he mean? “okay so i got an appointment at the tattoo studio.”

“nice. what are you gonna get?” he smirks. “you mean what are we gonna get.”

“what?!” you’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but because of your school schedule you never got to doing it . you honestly also kept forgetting tbh but obviously hector didn’t.

“well i wanted to get your eyes tatted because you know how much i love them, but then i thought ‘oh y/n always wanted to get a tattoo’ so i thought why not just take you with me and we’ll get a matching one.” this boy is something else.

you grin so hard, it hurts. hector has always been affectionate moments like these remind you how much he truly is your soulmate. you jump on top of him shooting him with kisses. “i literally love you, you know that right.” he nods, laughing. “i love you too.”

“when is the appointment?” you ask. “7pm.” he shrugs. “are you serious! i don’t even know what we’re gonna get!!” you sigh, shaking your head at how your boyfriend can be so slow at times.

“we’ll get angel numbers of course. you’re a big astro girl.” hector says, referring to the time you first met him. (your first question being what his star sign is.) “wait, that’s actually a good idea.” he smiles smugly. “i know.”

…

“is it gonna hurt?” you ask hector as you enter the studio. “you don’t want me to be honest, ma.” you sigh. hector takes your hand. “i’ll go first if you want.” he says. you nod. you never had a big fear of needles. you yourself having a belly button piercing but a tattoo is different the pain is there for a while whereas when you get pierced it’s more like a poke.

you get in walking to the woman behind the counter.

“hi, we got an appointment for 7pm.” i smile at her. “of course. come with me.” she smiles back, bringing the both of you to the guy that does hector’s tattoos.

a bigger man with a beard greets us which you assume is the tattoo artist. he doesn’t quiet look scary though rather like a big teddy bear with lots of tattoos.

“the girl who’s eyes you’re getting tatted on?” he grins at hector. “yeah.” he smiles turning to look at you. hector isn’t very social with people he isn’t extremely close with, so he tries to keep his conversation as short as possible. you think it’s quiet ironic since you never seem to shut up, no matter who you’re talking to. they say opposites attract though!

he pulls out a picture handing it to him. the man nods, giving you a quick smile then takes his stuff out.

you follow hector as he sits down on a chair, extending his arm. he shows the guy where he wants it and how big it should be. the man doesn’t waste time and directly goes on tattooing him.

you sit beside him, squeezing his other hand, you being more scared of the pain he must be going through than hector himself is.

“you’re fine.” you stroke his hand, looking at him seriously concerned. “stop it you’re gonna make me laugh.” he mumbles. he’s so unserious.

it must not bother him much since he grimaces and curses on a few spots but keeps cool most of the time.

after him also getting the angel number tatto that is supposed to match with you, it’s finally your turn.

you’re pretty sure you’re gonna piss your pants as you wait in the room alone with hector because you’re so nervous. you don’t know how you’re gonna live to see see the next day after this. “you’ll be fine. it’s bad at first but you’ll get used to it. also i’m here for you, ma.” he tries cheering you up. “fucking hell.” you mutter. you’re probably going to experience the worst pain in your life here.

“are you ready?” the guy asks. with nodding your head, you go to sit on the same place hector sat when he got the tattoo.

you grip hector’s hand tightly, breaking it almost.

hector kisses the side of your face, whispering sweet words in your ear, trying to distract you from the needle that currently goes in and out of you.

“fuck.” you mutter through gritted teeth. “you’re doing so good, baby.” hector whispers. you bite your lip so hard you start tasting blood. “you wanna take a break?” the tattooer you now know as chris says. you shake your head, wanting it to end as soon as possible.

hector hates to see you like this: in pain. he hopes for it to end as soon as possible, the only thing he’s been wanting to do while you got tattooed being showering you with loving kisses, but he didn’t for the sake of chris since he’s sure he wouldn’t want to see a whole teen kissing session.

“it hurts so bad, hector.” you cry out. he moves stands of hair out of your face then cupping your face gently. “i know, baby but you got this.” he nods. the thing is you weren’t even being dramatic for once. this had the be the most hurting feeling you’ve ever experienced.

“we’re done!” chris pats your arm after he was done. your eyes meet with hectors, smiling lightly. you definitely knew you’re going to thank him at home for how he was there for you in this entire process.

#barca #fc barcelona #lamine yamal #hector fort #marc guiu #pablo gavi #fermin lopez #joao felix #guiu #pedri gonzalez

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sunboki · 11 hours

Text

— FOR THE NIGHT. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

AUG'S NOTES. this bangchan is from my “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe because i have yet to get over him from october…

“Bin, you said it was shipped friday.” The man, Christopher Bahng, grumbles, massaging the pinch between his brows.

His counterpart, Bin, whom he was now quarreling with on the phone groaned profusely, claiming how shipments were already slow—not to mention with the new investigations on his business underway.

The life of The Gunsman isn’t an easy one. It’s a constant game of tag against the police and the government while wielding a well-planned dictionary of excuses to avoid suspicion.

So now, as Bahng’s precious system becomes increasingly jeopardized, he finds himself losing more and more sleep to a worrisome degree.

And, having left the party filled with chairman, associates, and colleagues alike, Bahng slips into the safety of his car, once again troubled with the demands this illegal trade calls for.

“Well tell him I’ll have to serve his head on a platter if the ammunition doesn’t arrive by Friday. I’m running a charity event with how many funds I’ve given the idiot.”

Although halfway into Bin’s response, a quiet, though audible sound rustles in his backseat.

Instantly, he’s lurched a pistol from his thigh, aimed directly at the responsible interruption.

“Bahng. Bahng?” Bin echoes, only to be hung up on as Chris takes in the sight before him.

Lying in his backseat, curled up in a miniature ball, is a girl.

Your face is wrinkled in discomfort, hand resting right below your cheek, smushed against his car, a Lamborghini’s, interior.

How you got here without him noticing is beyond him, how long you’ve been here an even larger mystery.

His hand falters with the pistol, gawking with obvious surprise prior to stuffing the weapon back into its leather holster.

Instinctively, he would’ve called an assistant, asked them to take you home, find someone who knew you. Except, by the look of your current state, he has an inkling you wouldn’t be the greatest help navigating.

You’re gone.

Plus, the party’s already drawing to a close, people scattering out in every direction. The last thing he needs is to draw attention to himself.

Bahng may work illegally, lacking the fear of blood on his hands, but he’s not heartless.

Stifling a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, repeatedly clearing his throat in the case you woke up.

Leave it to him to end up with a random girl in his backseat.

Fine. Home it is.

Or, one of his many homes in the area.

Starting the engine, he spares repeated glances at you on the drive back, simply met with your same, woeful expression. Eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, cheeks stained a pink hue.

Pulling in, he stalls in the front seat, debating on all his morals up till now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” Words a mere mutter, he carefully opens your door, gingerly dragging you out from your awkward position.

Knees pulled to your chest, Bahng keeps one, scarred hand on your back and another beneath your thighs while your head hangs, both hands bunched into fists, pressed to your chest.

Scared.

Whatever happened before, however you got here, you were scared—that much was known.

Somehow, the realization had him holding you closer.

Swiping the code to the door, he silently curses the loud beep, confusing himself with his concern for you.

Why did he care? You’d wake up, he’d get your home address and send you off. Why was he now so conscious about your comfort?

Heading up the winding stairs, he pulls his office chair from its place, deciding water as the best option.

“I’m going to put you down for a second, okay?”

Gently idling you into the chair, his movements halt when your arms reach up around his shoulders, a soft, barely divisible whine slipping past your lips, unwilling to let go.

He can barely recognize anything with how loud his heart rams against his rib cage.

Pull yourself together Bahng.

Ensuring you were still asleep, he slips into the kitchen, filling a glass with water before returning to you.

Your head jerks from when he holds the rim to your mouth, unwilling to cooperate.

“Just water sweetness,” He soothed, hating how worried he was, how senseless this behavior was.

Yet, he only continued to ease you into each sip, palm cupping your cheek for support, narrowly masking his astonishment when your eyes slowly opened, barely awake.

“Mm..?” Your vocal cords betray you, leering on the verge of dream and reality as you try acknowledging your surroundings.

No amount of recollection aids your perception in figuring out how you got here, only aware of the blaring ache in your head and a strangers voice in the distance.

One thing’s for certain. You feel awful.

Discerning the splash of water dumped down a sink, you’re once again hoisted into his arms, disappearing back into unconsciousness as Bahng nudges open his bedroom door, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t mean to man-handle you, but we need to get these shoes off.”

Situating you upright, his arm slips down, propping each of your ankles where he can pull the heels from your feet.

Softly placing you down, he savors your feeble grip grasping at his clothing, gradually loosening in an attempt at holding his face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here all night sweets, you’re gonna have to let go,” Bahng whispers, easing your wrists down to your sides.

Unfortunately? What’s gotten into him?

Although, just as he adjusts the comforter over you, turning to go, he hears a sniffle.

C’mon, ignore it, she’s fine.

Another sniffle.

Screw it.

“If you tell me where you live I can take you home?” He utters, lingering by your bedside like a child waiting to hear if they can go on a play date.

It’s painful admitting the effect your tears have on him, brows creasing so sadly in a way he can’t ignore.

“Are… Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimper, feeling absolutely exhausted the longer your mind races, frantically piecing together any clues of your whereabouts to no avail.

The pad of his thumb wiping free falling tears, he shakes his head, a miniature smile gracing usually serious, unmoving features.

“I can’t say I haven’t hurt someone before, but I’m not gonna hurt you, alright sweetness?”

Nodding fervently, his face contorts, admiring the adorable manner you blink up at him, lashes all clumped from crying.

Look, his ego isn’t too fragile to admit you’re cute.

“..How did I get here?”

Bahng chuckles.

“I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

Freeing your arm from his sheets, you furiously rub your eyes, frown tugging at the corner of your lips, hiccuping as your breathing shallows.

“I know things are scary when you’re this drunk. I promise everything will be a thousand times better in the morning.”

And with that, he pulls the comforter over you, bidding a quiet good night and nearing the door for a second time.

This time, you intervene, latching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

What did he just get himself into.

He sucks his teeth, surveying the sleepy eyes you’re torturing him with.

“Don’t mention it.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 days

Note

Ok I just saw that I need to put it on here but Imma copy and paste my ideas and you can go from there or change up whatever you don't like, you just do what you feel is best for the part 2❤️ dom!charlie, a little bit of spanking, daddy kink, handcuffs, a lot of dirty talk, oral, desk and chair, him teasing her a lot, and having the office door unlocked (like the thrill that someone could walk in)

hi! I'm sorry for taking so long, but I finally got around to it, and I hope you enjoy part 2! thank you so much for requesting this, I love charlie so much.

part 2 of a freaky chief and his girl

summary - after riding your man in his police cruiser and getting caught, he decides why not extend it to his office.

warning - smut, oral, degrading maybe, mentions of slut and whore, creampie, nearly caught, semi-public sex, handcuffs, daddy kink, swearing, praising, aftercare, dirty talk, spanking.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Once Charlie pulled you into his office, he pushed you against the door. “Are you gonna be my good girl? Or do I need to arrest you for public indecency?” You bat your lashes as you stare up at him innocently, a soft smirk on your lips as you reach your hand up and shut the blinds before putting your hands in front of you.

“I think you’ll have to arrest me, Chief. If I’m not caught now, I don’t think I’ll ever learn my lesson.”

Charlie grunts, a dark look in his eyes as he grabs his handcuffs and cuffs you, binding your wrists together tightly causing you to let out a sweet moan. He hooks his finger around the chain, dragging you over to his desk. “You will address me as Daddy in this office, if you disobey. You will get punished, do you understand?” You don’t reply for a second, too stunned by how your cunt pulses at how dominant he’s become in a split second. A slap echoes throughout the room as his hand comes down on your arse hard, his other hand grips the back of your neck, squeezing as he leans close to your ear. “I said. Do you understand, you little slut.”

You nod, thighs slick with your arousal. “Yes! I understand, Daddy!”

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to fuck you against my desk so that whenever I come to work and sit here. I’ll remember taking apart my little girl.” He growls into your ear before bending you over the desk and lifting the cute little sundress you showed up in, exposing your messy thighs that are mixed with your arousal and his cum from when he previously fucked you in the police cruiser. Charlie groans at the sight before him. “Public indecency and leaving evidence?” He tuts, never taking his eyes off of your glistening cunt. “Your punishment may have to be harsher than I anticipated.”

You whimper when you hear his belt buckle and a breathy moan escapes you as he slaps your arse repeatedly until his mark is left behind and more of your arousal drips down your thighs. “If you are a good girl and take daddy’s cock without any complaints, I’ll reward you real nice.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes in, his thick girth stretching you as he groans by how tight you still are.

“DADDY” You are sure the whole damn station can hear what’s going on behind their chief’s office door. But you don’t care as your nails dig into the palms of your hands, moans filling the room as Charlie stretches you out.

Charlie’s cock twitches as he slides deeper inside your warm cunt. “So fuckin’ good.” He grunts again, eyes slipping shut as he grips your hips and begins to pound into your tight hole, setting a rough pace and already hitting the right spots with how well he knows you and your little cunt. “Still so fuckin’ tight even when acting like the little slut you are.” He grips your hips tighter, causing bruises to form. “You think you can just walk into my station and tease me? Tease my men.” You nod, liking how his voice sounds so possessive even through your dazed and fuzzy mind. You barely register his words, only how he sounds.

He continues to pound into you like the whore you are. He’s never usually this rough, but you and your cunt like this side of him. Causing you to suck him in deeper, making your body tingle as you are close to cumming but just as you are about to, Charlie pulls out and you whine, though it turns into a moan as he slaps your cunt making your clit buzz with pleasure. “Don’t be such a greedy slut, you’ll cum when I tell you to.” He walks around his desk and relocates you, but just before he can slide back into your dripping cunt, there’s a knock at the door.

Charlie mutters curse words under his breath, annoyed at whoever is interrupting the two of you. “Who is it?!” You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the roughness in his voice. You just want to jump him at that very moment– No one would really expect Charlie to be extremely sexually active, hell you didn’t when you first met him and he wasn’t until he met you. He didn’t see the point of going out and finding someone when he had his hand, plus it was a small town, word would get around and he definitely didn’t want that. But when you moved to the small town of Forks and looked at him with those big eyes, kissable plump lips and that little sundress that hugged your body just right. He knew he wanted you and didn’t care if word got around about him fucking the young newcomer. Except it never was just sex, Charlie wanted to do everything right and you were the first woman that he felt something for since his ex-wife left him.

“It’s me, Char–Dad!” You were lucky you were bent over the desk cause you could roll your eyes without Charlie seeing, you never understood how his own daughter treated him like an inconvenience when all he did was right by her. “Can I come in? Why’s your door shut and blinds closed?” Her awkwardness was literally seeping through the door, maybe that’s why they never got along, because they were too much alike in personality. He didn’t push and she wanted to isolate.

Charlie huffs quietly, whispering. “C’mon, Sugar. Lemme get these cuffs off you, might have to do this another time.” He pulls you up gently, but you shake your head and turn, keeping eye contact as you sink to your knees and get underneath the desk. Watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down, knowing what you wanted him to do by your actions. He sits in his chair, scooting it as close to the desk as possible, making sure you had enough room and weren’t too cramped. When you give him a nod, he begins to pretend that he’s been working. “Yeah, Bells. You can come in.”

The moment she walks in, you see Charlie tense and guess that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t too far behind her. You lick your lips as you stare at his throbbing member, watching as a bead of pre-cum gathers atop his tip before rolling down, your eyes watching as it follows your favourite thick vein that you always like to mess with. “So…” She pauses, probably scratching the back of her neck or fiddling with her fingers as she usually does when she talks. “Your door and blinds?”

You zone out, your attention focusing on Charlie’s cock. You wonder how he’s still hard, most guys would’ve gone soft by now. But he’s still throbbing and twitching every so often that it makes your mouth water. Maybe it’s because you were nearly caught or the fact that you're under the desk, dripping all over his floor. You can’t take it anymore, you lean forward and give a small lick to the pre-cum that had dripped down before following it back up with your tongue, flatting the muscular organ against his base before it reaches his tip where you collect more of his sweetness. You have to hold yourself back from moaning, you always make so much noise when you pay attention to his cock. Charlie had never met someone who gets so excited and needy when sucking a cock, until you came along and worshiped it without being asked or forced. Hell, the amount of times you’ve gotten onto your knees or under a table or really anywhere just to take his cock out and taste it were the times he was glad he was the Chief.

Charlie grips the mouse in his hand tightly, clenching his teeth as he holds back a groan before roughly answering his daughter's question. “Wanted some privacy. Is that so wrong?” Mostly, Charlie is a sweet guy. He’d never intentionally be rude or mean to someone unless he has a reason and right now his reason is that his daughter and her good for nothing boyfriend interrupted him from destroying your sweet cunt, but now he has to deal with your slutty self sucking him off under the desk WITHOUT making a sound or getting to lean back and enjoy it. So yes, he was a bit pissed off. “What’d you want, Bella? I’m kind of busy here.”

Bella shuffles awkwardly while Edwards eyes are pinned to the desk, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out something. “Uh… Wanted to tell you that I’ll be cooking dinner tonight and that Edward will be joining us.” She gestures to her boyfriend. Your mouth latches onto Charlie’s angry red tip, sucking it greedily, your eyes practically crossing as you are greeted with more of his taste. His grip tightens, one hand moving subtly (well it was subtle to his daughter, not so much the vampire) and grips your hair. He didn’t know whether to pull you off or push you deeper onto his cock.

“Fine. ‘S that all?” He bites down on his tongue, pushing your head down, feeling you take all of him, your tongue and mouth moving rapidly as you lather him with your saliva. Your head bobs up and down, sucking him deeper and harder, wanting him to cum down your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his grip tightens, causing your cunt to clench and unclench around nothing.

Bella nods awkwardly, “Yeah. I’m uh gonna go to the Cullens for a bit, Esme’s giving me the recipe.” If Edward could blush, he’d be as red as a tomato right now, he had finally figured out what was happening and was wishing he didn’t have super hearing or such a strong sense of smell.

Your cuffed hands grab onto Charlie’s leg, digging into him as his tip hits the back of your throat and you force back the gag that threatens to come out. You remove your hands from his leg and reach up, tugging and rolling his balls while you deepthroat him. You know that he’ll definitely be feral by the time they leave. “C–cool.” He clears his throat. “See you back at home.” He nods, watching with dark eyes as they leave, not without noticing Edward glancing at the desk every now and then.

The moment the door shuts, Charlie rips you off of him and pulls you up, pressing you against the desk. “That was so fuckin’ risky, you fuckin’ slut.” His hand wraps around your throat and tightens. “Couldn’t just wait for them to be gone. Just had to have Daddy’s cock like a whore.” He growls and you could swear that you’re even hornier than before. “I’m gonna fuck you against this fuckin’ desk and you’re not gonna hold back those fuckin’ sounds of yours. I want everyone in this goddamn station to know who’s making you feel so good.”

You nod, opening your mouth to reply but a loud moan rips through your throat as Charlie thrusts into your slick cunt with no warning. His hand tightens more around your throat as the other reaches between the two of you and begins to rub harsh circles onto your puffy clit. “Who do you belong to?!” Your eyes roll back for what feels like the twentieth time as he slaps your clit. “Answer me!”

Your back arches, your sore arse pressing harder into the edge of the desk as Charlie thrusts deeper into you. “Y–yours! I’m yours, Daddy!” You scream, squeezing your hands into fists because you can’t grip onto anything. “P–please! Can I cum?!” Your walls clench around him, squeezing his cock.

He grunts. “Do you think you deserve it?” You shake your head, not wanting to lie. Charlie moves closer, pressing his lips against yours before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. He pulls back when your lip is red and puffy, looking into your eyes and seeing how dazed they’ve become. “Such a good girl. Cum for Daddy.” Your moan is cut short when he kisses you again, this time rougher and needier.

Your cunt pulses like crazy as you let go. Your arousal dripping onto his cock, your moans getting swallowed by his lips. You whimper as you come down from your high, vision beginning to go white as he continues to use your cunt for his release. Charlie’s cock twitches before he pumps his thick load into you, coating your walls white. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, quickly tucking himself in before he uncuffs you and reaches into his draw to grab some wipes. He sets you down onto his chair, kneeling in front of you as he cleans you up before grabbing your hands and checking your wrists, placing gentle kisses on the red marks. “You did good for me, Sweetheart. Can you stand?”

You nod, head still fuzzy and gaze a bit unfocused as you grip the arms of the chair and pull yourself up, only to fall forward and into Charlie’s arms. You shake your head, burying your face into his neck. He always takes such good care of you afterwards, it never fails to warm your heart. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“What about work?” You snuggle into his arms, enjoying the warmth that radiates off of him.

Charlie moves around his office, collecting your things and wrapping his jacket around you. “I’m the Chief, Sweetheart. If they really need me, they know where to find me.” He holds you tighter before opening the door, the amount of eyes that shoot towards him is ridiculous. “Shouldn’t you all be working?” He grunts.

The same man that caught the two of you in the car steps forward with a smirk. “Sorry, Chief. We couldn’t work with the amount of noise going on, thought someone was getting murdered in there.” He and a few fellow officers laugh. “But glad ya put the office to good use, Boss.”

Charlie huffs, eyes daggered. “Back to work. I’m taking my girl home, so don’t expect me back unless it’s real urgent.” With that, he walks out of the station and sets you down gently into the passenger seat. “‘S alright, Sweetheart. Get some rest, I’ll wake you when we're home.” He buckles you in, pressing a sweet kiss to your plump lips before hopping into the driver's side. Resting his hand on your thigh as he drives the two of you home.

Let’s just say dinner was eventful. Well, mostly for Edward. It was one of those nights where he wished he wasn’t a vampire, must’ve been something about the day really. The sucky thing about being a vampire is your eyesight is a lot better than a humans and you had a few marks that weren’t visible to the human eye. He wished he could’ve been set on fire when he saw your puffy lips and the bruises forming around your neck, didn’t help the fact that your thoughts weren’t blocked and he finally got the mental image of what was going on in that office and under that desk.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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ipushedthewrongbutton · 2 days

Text

Imma do this final vent and then I’ll shut up about it.

This was a dumb move, from every possible perspective.

In the og goodbye video, they really made it sound like they were doing the streaming service because they wanted to go bigger, make cooler videos, really see what they could do and let their creative vision take the lead.

Growing as an artist is what you do when you Already Have The Money To Do So. You don’t tell your audience “give me money and then I will use to it to make cooler bigger things”. That’s not a streaming service, that’s a kickstarter.

They didn’t have the numbers to pull a streaming service off either. “We think we’re ready for television quality content” no you don’t. Sorry, no you do not. Television quality content means 30-50 crew per project, means at least 4-5 production being worked on at the same time, and at least 4-5 productions being broadcast at the same time. Watcher has maybe 2 series they upload simultaneously and they have 25 employees TOTAL. Not even CLOSE to tv levels of content, who the fuck do you think you are???

Did they really think all 3 million of their subscribers were going to follow them on this? Including kids, whose spending is dependent on their parents? Including the casuals, who only subscribed for the occasional video? Including people for whom $6 dollars on another streaming service just isn’t an option? Why DIDN’T they poll this, was this being a surprise really that important??

AND why would you completely cut off another revenue? Even if YouTube is restrictive, it’s still another source of income. Cutting that off completely is… bold.

Especially since in the apology, they let it slip that no, actually, it’s because Watcher is on the brink of having to close up shop because they’re not making enough money with just the patreon, the merch sales, the ad reads, etc.

So… one of those is a lie. Or at least part of the truth.

But let’s assume they are in financial trouble, then this was still the dumbest they could’ve done.

Welcome to the entertainment industry where we follow 1 giant fucking rule: Kill Your Darlings.

Fellas, pals, amigos, bros, dudes. If your projects spend more than what they make, it’s time to downsize. Not upscale. Cut the shit that’s spending the most money, start concentrating on how you can conserve without having to fire your crew. Put the projects where you have to fly out and buy new stuff all the time on the back burner, you can get back to them once you actually have the money for them. Work with what you already have. You have a MASSIVE studio space, fuckin use it. You HAVE sets, you HAVE props, you HAVE talent and you have ideas. Start workshopping all the crazy and shit ideas you thought weren’t gonna work and start thinking how you could make them work with the lowest possible budget you can have. Your audience is there, they’ll watch whatever you throw at them. Now is the time to go crazy and see what sticks. You HAVE viewership. Collab. CONSTANTLY. Get it the fuck out there that you exist. A lot of people had no idea a patreon existed, mention it ALL THE TIME. To the point that it becomes annoying. Do it!

If your studio is becoming too expensive, get rid of it. Sorry, kill your darlings. Move some shit around in Steven Lim’s tesla garage, put up some green screens, this is where you work now until you can afford a studio in LA again, you dipshits. Editors can work from home, sound designers can work from home, writers and researchers can work from home, meetings can happen in someone’s kitchen or living room.

And finally: be transparent. Be honest to your audience and communicate. “We’re sorry to put Ghost Files on hiatus, however we can no longer justify the cost of traveling to locations.” The majority of your audience will understand and show patience. The part of your audience that matters will wait and enjoy your other wacky shit in the meantime. Hell, they might spontaneously start their own kickstarter because those who can, will want to support you financially, if you’re just hONEST WITH THEM.

As a business, you constantly have to choose between your financial stability and that of your employees, your vision and the future of your company and what you Want to do with it, and your integrity, the trust between you and your audience. (Especially that last one, businesses can’t pretend they don’t have a relationship with their audience, that’s not how business works, guys.)

When you’re in financial straits, one of those has to go. Watcher chose the latter, they should’ve picked the middle. Their grand television quality ideas can fucking wait, if money is a problem.

Look, I’m an artist too. I had a vision too. But it was either my creative vision or being able to afford food and rent. Creativity can wait, creativity will always be there once I can support it. Living comes ALWAYS first. Asking my audience to fund my huge artistic dreams though, with only the promise of something cool, NEVER even crossed my fucking mind. That’s what donations are for, that’s what the patreon is for.

They apologised. And good. But this was a dumb decision from the goddamn start. There were like 500 steps in between and they skipped all of it. And for what? For money? For grand ideas? For greed or for hubris? How many of their original subscribers are actually gonna come back? How much money did they lose with this stunt? If they really are in financial trouble, this MASSIVE risk -which is what it has always been- might just be their downfall. And it’d be 100% their own fucking fault.

#Watcher #Ok that’s ACTUALLY the last time i talk about this i need to move on #I dunno why this played in my mind so much #No i do know: it was boredom #But even as an outsider to whole streaming service just Felt Gross #And as someone who’s worked in the entertainment industry… i just.. SAW all the red flags #And it’s BAFFLING none of the so-called professionals at watcher entertainment stopped this #Or maybe that’s the hubris of the ceo’s talking who tf knows at this point #Anyway all of this was playing in my mind and i had to type it out to get my brain to hopefully shut up #Imma pirate some fucking tv shows now #If paying for it isn’t owning it then pirating isn’t stealing #Long post #like LONG-ASS FUCKIN POST

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sixeyescurseuser · 2 days

Text

Prince/Pirate

Thinking about Gojo who is a prince known for running away for weeks at a time. His current excursion was done purely out of spite because noble court advisor, Nanamin, claimed he wouldn’t be able to survive the pirate life.

So here Gojo is, living it up on the Black Dragon’s ship. He was actually exchanged as a prisoner from the initial crew he tried joining, but they ended up trading him for more resources.

Now, the Black Dragon’s captain scrutinizes him from head to toe with sharp, silent eyes.

At first glance, Captain Geto knows this pretty boy comes from money. And there’s no way in hell he’s built for this lifestyle.

“I’ll drop you off at the next seaport,” Geto says before Gojo can even get out a simple greeting. Gojo gasps, deeply offended.

Gojo removes the sheer blindfold that previously covered his eyes, exposing the azure blue that is easily recognized of that of Prince Gojo.

Captain Geto’s eyes widen a fraction before doubling down.

“Oh, we are definitely dropping you off at the next port.”

There’s no way Geto is risking his and his crew’s livelihood for a runaway prince!

Gojo frowns, and has the audacity to cross his arms in disapproval, like he’s the one in charge.

“Well, it’d certainly be shame if after you dropped me off, I went ahead to tell the royal guard that I had just escaped the evil clutches of the Black Dragon. Would be a damn shame if a bounty were to be placed on your head,” Gojo ponders out loud.

The captain’s gaze hardens, and Gojo knows he’s on the way to bargaining his way onto this crew. “While you decide on your answer, I’m going to go look for food around here.”

Gojo squawks when a rough hand grabs him by the collar, preventing him from walking away.

“I’ve already made up my mind. You’re allowed to stay as long as you obey my direct orders,” Geto bluntly says.

“Okay, but-“

Geto loudly clicks his tongue, cutting Gojo off.

“If that’s anything other than ‘Yes, Captain,’ I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

After that, Gojo sulks. He’s also forced to help the other cooks prepare the food and serve the crew first before being allowed to eat himself. A younger boy with pink-ish hair sits down next to him, offering a friendly smile.

“Don’t worry, sir, if he didn’t throw me overboard when I first joined, then he certainly won’t kick you off,” he says. Gojo hums, wishing he had honey he could add to sweeten up this godawful, bland porridge.

“Good to know…?”

“Itadori Yuji,” the boy introduces himself.

“Nice to meet you, Yuji-kun.”

***

Gojo on deck cleaning duty, but it’s very hot outside so he’s shirtless…all sweaty and pink where the sun kisses his skin.

Geto happens to walk by. Gojo is so focused on his work, but also yapping to the other crew members who are really invested in his story, that he doesn't notice Captain Geto stop in his tracks.

Shoko, Geto’s second-in-command, waves her hand in front of his face: “Hello? Captain? I have some updates on our future routes…Captain?”

Geto is too focused on the way powerful muscles flex back and forth. The prince is so freaking tall. And why is his waist so tiny?

Geto squints.

***

If there’s one thing Gojo didn’t need to be trained on when it comes to being a pirate, it’s speaking whatever is on his goddamn mind.

Gojo watching Geto retreat to the captain’s room to plan their next route, eyes trailing down to Geto’s ass.

Gojo: “I could take him.”

Crew member, Haibara: “In a fight? Hmm, questionable.”

Gojo: “Nah, not like that.”

Haibara: “Eh?”

On another occasion, Gojo mentions that he once ended a five-year relationship.

Crew member, Choso: “Holy shit, that’s tough, mate. Didn’t realize princes were even allowed to date.”

Geto: [🤨]

Gojo: “It’s okay, it wasn’t my relationship. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Who knew the most common nights husbands cheat on their wives would be a Thursday?”

Geto: [relieved sigh]

The story is, one of the times Gojo ran away, he made a name for himself as the “Six Eyes” where he was paid to follow spouses to investigate if they were committing adultery.

An example of Gojo’s note to a client: “Yes, he’s cheating. No, he couldn't make her cum. Their next meeting is Saturday at XXX bar. Do yourself a favor and dump him.”

The notes were also written in the most ELEGANT calligraphy.

***

Gojo learns that despite being young for a captain, Geto is very respected and relatively feared among the ocean. He’s charming when he needs to be, and always extremely careful.

Geto has made many friends around the world, but also a lot of enemies. The Black Dragon has been susceptible to many attacks, whether intercepted by the royal ships or other violent pirates.

The crew admires their captain unconditionally. He’s provided them with a place to belong, after all. While Geto embraces their individual fighting styles, he has also taught martial arts to those who didn’t know how to fight before joining.

Gojo also learns that, boy oh boy, does Captain Geto despise the aristocrats. It was no question that royals were included as well.

Geto’s way of life is a direct resistance against the excessive luxury the wealthy live in, while ignoring the needs of common folk. Involving smaller, innocent towns in the battles between the political strifes was another huge issue too.

Thus, Black Dragon is a pirate ship that picks targets based on status and wealth, and they also redistribute this wealth and communicate information between the smaller islands and ports.

***

They visit Geto’s hometown, which had been depleted of resources by nearby military forces during past wartime. Their economy was shot, but they were in the process of slowly rebuilding and recovering. The scenery was beautiful too.

While at one of the ports, some enemies catch sight of Geto and his crew. The enemies approach with calculated steps, definitely planning to cause trouble.

Gojo is obviously very out of his element, but he still doesn’t appreciate being told to wait on the ship while Geto and the crew settle things off.

Gojo "agrees," then proceeds to walk off and hide inside a random shop for five minutes before leaving to hide among the crowd so he can watch Captain Geto in action, dueling this other no-name pirate.

There Gojo is, extremely proud for egging the pirates on and cheering for HIS captain.

Geto’s crew spot Gojo and are like: “Aren’t you supposed to be on the ship?” 🤨🤨🤨

Gojo brings a finger up to his lips with a pleading expression.

Shoko: “At least put a hat on. If the Captain spots that white hair, he’ll definitely get distracted.”

She lends him a cloth to wrap around his head. Now, Gojo looks like a proper pirate!

The enemy eventually yields, and backs off after a rather aggressive threat from Captain Geto. Gojo doesn't have much time to drool over how sexy Geto looks because Gojo must BOOK it to the ship to save his ass.

A few minutes later, Geto returns, then points to the cloth wrapped around Gojo’s head: “Why are you wearing that?”

Gojo, yeeting the cloth off: “No reason!”

Gojo then notices the sheer amount of things Geto carries in his arms. When he asks whether Geto bought souvenirs, Geto tells Gojo to follow him.

They end up in the captain's room, where Geto shows Gojo his collection of trinkets which were gifts from the common people Geto visited during his travels.

Unlike the royal gifts that are typically bestowed, like expensive perfumes, jewelers, or pounds of gold, these trinkets were like handmade bracelets, a shiny coin dating centuries back, paintings from children, etc. They were all thank you gifts for visiting their islands and helping out one way or another.

Gojo is entirely taken aback.

“Holy shit, you've touched so many people's lives!” Gojo exclaims, bright blue eyes shining with wonder. “You're fucking amazing, you know that? It's an honor to be on your ship, Captain.”

Geto doesn't respond, merely has a sincere yet shy smile on his face.

At that moment, hearing those words come from Prince Gojo himself, Geto felt seen in a way that feels new and exciting and makes something warm flutter in his chest.

Oh no, abandon ship! Abandon ship! The voice inside his mind shouts.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #goge #prince gojo #pirate geto #cerdrabbles #gego #jjk fanfic #TBC

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sweetnsour1 · 23 hours

Text

9:36:11

Angsty fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 11 of the Broken Collection

Greyed sherpa texture that used to be the darkest black in your closet. Peach accent colors that used to burn bright orange. Grenade patches that had been sloppily stitched over any of the more serious injuries along the fabrics. There was a rock embedded in the sole of the right slipper. No one could see that though. You only knew it was there every time you took another idiotic step in whatever direction you seemed to be going. It was kind of starting to hurt, but you had no fucking desire to stop and make yourself more comfortable. You jumped at a buzz from your pocket, launching the wounded slipper towards a bench nearby. You offered a quick apology to the cat you nearly hit, who only glared.

“So, I take it I’m not forgiven?” The animal had lost interest in you, resuming its pigeon hunting. You tossed yourself onto the seat beside it, which earned you another unwelcome expression. “I know. I’ll just be a second.” You smacked the slipper around, finally removing the pebble that felt a whole lot larger when it was digging into the arch of your foot. The cat seemed more offended by the buzzing you had brought with you. “He really isn’t letting it go, is he?” Narrowed eyes met yours for a moment before your unwilling morning companion leapt away, running out of sight. “Relatable.” You dragged your phone from your sweats, answering without checking the screen. You wanna cringe as the voice that exits your mouth is the one you use on stages you don’t want to be on.

“Hel-”

“The fuck?” Harsh, but fair.

“-lo?”

“Don’t ‘hello’ me! Where did you even go?”

This would be a lot easier to pull off if you had just been able to leave in the hours before he woke up. But leave it to Katsuki Lightweight Bakugou to have zero hangover and wake up before you. He really had some nerve looking that good in your kitchen making breakfast. It’s fine. It really was fine. You were fine.

“I just needed some air?”

“You were on the balcony...outside.”

Absolutely correct, that’s where he left you when he turned around in your apron to go grab whatever he was sizzling in the kitchen. There was hot coffee. There was music. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t smell anything. You couldn’t fucking breathe.

“I needed different air?”

“Oh, yea...using the fire escape to exit the 13th floor was just the quickest way to get air.”

“Right.” Not your finest moment. Not your worst, but it felt like the only decision available at the time. You needed to not be there...and if you went inside, he would be there. He would talk and you would-

“If you wanted me to leave, you could’ve said so.”

“That would’ve been rude.”

“...unlike the polite emergency exit method you have going for you?”

“Ugh, don’t name it.”

“It’s basically your ultimate move.”

“It is not. I only do it-” with you. You rush into your next sentence, not leaving room for him to push you further. “Anyways, I’ll probably be out for a while. Um. So, take your time and just take it easy. You had a rough-”

“I already left.”

“Oh.” You cringe at the way the word comes out, laced with disappointment or regret. You cough, covering up whatever that was. “Why?” Fuck, now you sounded cold as hell. Why couldn’t you land on something neutral when you talked to him?

“Because I’m not gonna’ be the reason you run out of your apartment.” Did-did he mean now or then? His words sounded heavier...too heavy to just be talking about this morning. You blinked pre-emptively at dry eyes you worried would betray you at any moment. You’re not the only one getting chased by echoes, kid. Was this one of his?

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Your eyes shut as he exhaled into your ear, only the static reminded you he was at a safe distance from you. “Go home.”

“I am sor-”

“Hurry up. It’s too cold for what you were wearin’.”

He hangs up first. You’re left with your throat full of the words you chose to stuff back down. There are so many choices that could’ve let you have a nice...probably great morning with him, but you chose the sit-alone-on-a-park-bench-with-one-slipper-in-your-hand-and-a-cell-phone-in-the-other adventure.

You could have let yourself soak in the happiness that was Katsuki humming in your kitchen. You could have reflected the smile he gave you instead of looking catatonic. You could have just breathed the air at home. You could have sat down instead of darting down a ladder that had seen better days. You could have talked. You rubbed at your throbbing head. Fuck, you could have at least had a cup of coffee.

a/n she’s a runner she’s a track star

Masterlist

#bakugou imagines #Bakugou angst #Bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #bnha Bakugou #pro hero bakugou #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bakugou x reader #Bakugou #bnha

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hazbin-hotlee37 · 1 day

Note

Lee!Vox with Ler!Velvette would be cute :3

Fuck, motivation has gone poof! Anywayyyyyyssss

TW: Mentions of eating disorders and bad self care habits

Getting your mind off things

Lee!Vox, Ler!Velvette

“VOX!”

The TV headed demon in question jumped slightly, lifting his head from the desk where he was sleeping and running a hand down his screen. He sat up with a wince, his back aching. Fuck… What time was it?

“Vox, you missed the damn meeting and left me there with Valentino-... Damn, you look like shit. The fuck happened to you?” Velvette asks after she spun Vox’s chair toward her. The Media overlords appearance was very off from usual, looking disheveled instead of pristine.

“Nothing… I’ve just been trying to work on the Angelic Security shit…”

“That random idea you pulled out your ass? Why waste so much energy on that?? The extermination was canceled”

“Yeah, but what about the next one! I want to get this shit out there so the bitches aren’t breathing down my neck over it next year!” Vox said with a sigh.

“Yeahhhh, no. Come on, you haven’t left this damn cave in days.” She responds as she takes Vox’s hand dragging him out of his chair and out the door.

“I’m fine, Vel-”

“Don’t make me get Valentino” That shut the Media overlord up, he loved his husband, of course! But…… Valentino was already on his ass about this type of thing, if he learned the real reason as to why he wasn’t in bed with him at night… God, he did not have the mental capacity to comprehend that lecture.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on, I’ll get you something to eat” Velvette says as she pushed Vox into her room/living area. Vox stumbled a little but followed.

“I’m not really hungry right now, Vel” Vox mutters, he knows he should eat something… But the thought of food right now only made his stomach churn…

“Don’t tell me-... That thing is coming back?”

Vox shrugged and looked to the side, fidgeting with his sleeve slightly.

“Have you told Val-”

“No. And he doesn’t need to know, I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re not, V! When was the last time you ate? Or slept? Or even took care of yourself in the slightest??” Velvette says, concern clear in her voice. “You’re gonna work yourself to your second death at this point!”

“I know, I know… I get it, It’s just hard to suddenly change something you’ve done since you were alive.. For years! I’m trying my best… but sometimes it creeps back…” Vox says his voice going quiet near the end, he sat down on the couch and sighed.

“...Bloody hell, V, I didn’t realize you were this fucked up” Velvette says with a joking smile, trying to lighten the mood as she sat down next to the Media demon.

“Who down here isn’t..?” Vox says with a slight smile, he then jumped and gasped quietly when he felt Velvette run her claws up his side. “V-Vel-”

“Come on, Vox, we both know you need a bit of a pick me up” The fashion designer says with a smile as she squeezes the TV demon’s sides.

Vox squeaked and tried to bring his knees up to his chest but Velvette just pushed his legs back down and started scribbling her fingers over his tummy.

“Nahaha! V-Vehel, nononono NOhohoho! Ehehek!” Vox giggled and batted at the Social Media influencers hands but didn’t really try to push her away.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Voxy, can’t handle what you dish out? Don’t think I forgot when you got me and Val the other day! So take this as a pick me up and revenge!” The fashionista says with a smirk as she started to squeeze and drill her thumbs into the Tech demon’s hips, giggling when he shrieked.

“VEHEHELVEHETTE! NAHAHAEHEHEH- I Cahahan’t-! Ehehehek!”

“Shush! God, you’re so bloody loud! At this point, Val’s gonna kick down the door!” “Ihihihi’M SOHOHORREHEHE-” “Blah, blah, blah. Whatever, I’ll slow down a lil, don’t want you passing out on me. Tino will have my head” Vel says with a softer smile as she plays with Vox’s antenna, making the TV headed demon’s giggles melt into something softer.

“Ohoho gosh…” “Yeah, yeah, just take a load off, alright? You deserve it…”

#hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #mentioned Valentino #lots and lots of fluff #soo much fluff #Headcanon: Vox is fucked up #Eating disorder mentioned but not directly #Hinted at #Ler!Velvette

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myeyesarebrighter · 2 days

Text

I think I settled things with my MIL, I tried anyway. I explained today that my parenting is under a constant microscope, with my child’s behavior, and it is exhausting. Everyone has suggestions, questions, or just plain doesn’t agree. Anyone over 50 is hair on fire about medicating a child. Anyone with an adhd kid is like “yo for real just keep everyone alive mom!”

School is again kicking the can down the road, and I loaded a months worth of attachments from daily emails from the school to send to our education advocate. Another SEVERAL hours spent today sorting out ADHD related things. Tomorrow I’ll do the same. We won’t have an IEP meeting until til mid June. 3rd grade will officially be done, for bad or worse, and all I can hope is she’s got enough to start 4th strong. The school is saying it’s not worth doing anything at this point. I may just drive there and cry in someone’s office again.

Anyway. I also told husband he left me in the flames with his family, threw an extra log on, then walked off like a big coward and left me to protect his child. He basically hasn’t spoken to me and has moped around for 24 hours now. I’ll give a generous load of assuming the best - if I do, he’s probably feeling bad. That or he’s giving me the silent treatment, which is his family’s favorite coping mechanism. My family prefers to yell in each others faces, so you can see why this makes us both really fucking annoyed. I did a good job rage cleaning last night until i could compose myself enough to use few words, zero yelling, and a concise explanation of how he failed me. He robotically said he was sorry and has been shut down since. I have nothing nice to say anyway, so silence is fine.

Work is fine. I got an end table that matches my set tonight for super cheap in the clearance room. I’m sure it’s bc this set is 10+ years old and they’ve discontinued this dated “reclaimed” barn wood style for whatever else. But this shit is durable, has stood the test of 2 children and 3 houses, so I’m ride or die till it’s dead. It’s solid wood with distressed finish, so I think it’s pretty subjective about when dead is dead 😂

I need to make time for myself. I feel used up by the family and like I’m fraying at the seams. I can’t seem to find a reliable way to do that. Everyone needs too much right now. ADHD chaos factor has soaked up any time I used to be able to spare for me.

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gothushi · 23 hours

Text

white horse

pairing: simon x f!reader

warnings: canon s/a, simon feeling worthless, narrative paints him as pathetic because that’s how he feels, pining, one single use of y/n

note: went in a totally different direction for this but i’m happy with it. i think he deserves the world and more. i’ve left it open to your own mind whether you’re actually in a relationship with simon or not

word count: 5k

———————♡

Hands trembling, Simon hurriedly fishes his phone from his jeans pocket. Clothes scattered on the floor, pristine motel shower, towel wrapped too tight around his waist. His heart beats so hard he fears it may just pop right out of his chest, a sick feeling in his gut as he fights back his emotions welling up. Did he go too far..?

It’s subconscious, the way he dials your phone number, anxiously listens to the ring.. ring.. until you answer with a groggy “Hello?”

He steels his nerves, inhaling sharply when he hears your voice, neck straining with the effort to not break down into pieces right there. “Did I wake you?”

“Simon?” You had answered the phone before you realized you were even awake, just now registering it’s him. “No.. no you didn’t. What’s up?” You find yourself rolling over in bed, rapidly waking up. He doesn’t call often, much to your dismay, but you understand he’s undercover and isn’t able to as much as he’d like. So, to get a call so late at night, unprompted, stirs worry in you.

He feels his breath catch in his throat, shutting his eyes for a moment, “Uh.. it’s nothing.” A half truth. It’s been six days since he last called, but it hasn’t been because he doesn’t want to. If anything, he craves the comfort of your voice. He just can’t let you know he’s not okay. That he misses you. That he craves you. “I.. I just.. wanted to check in.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

He slept with Brendan. Slept with him. Let Brady touch and touch and take. He can still feel his hands all over him, his tongue on his skin, rough and sharp. Even after taking a shower, gasping for air, scrubbing his skin so hard it’s sore, washing over his growing and current bruises enough to turn them a shade darker.. it’s still there.

You can obviously tell something is wrong, can hear the way his voice wavers, how he can’t seem to find his words. Sitting up in bed, you flick on your bedside lamp and see the book you were reading discarded beside you. “I must’ve dozed off while reading, so you caught me at a nice time.” You smile, letting him hear your calm and warm tone, not wanting to push immediately.

Simon’s breath is heavy, labored. It’s audible over the phone. He can feel his throat constrict and his hands are trembling, thighs weak. Memories of Brady flash through his mind, his hands, his- It’s not like he had a choice. He has to do whatever it takes. Right? “You sound.. sleepy.” He offers, words nervous like he’s choosing them carefully, “What were you reading?” Please don’t ask please don’t ask.

You can hear it, hear his gasping, as if you were standing right in front of him. The urge to ask what the fuck is wrong is so unbearbly strong but.. you know him. Know enough to wait a moment. Glancing down at your book again, you speak, keeping a soft tone, “That series I told you about last time.. I’m already on the third book.” You laugh a little, fixing the bookmark sticking out of the pages before getting up from bed, “What are you up to?”

Even in this state, a smile touches his cut lip, remembering the previous conversation about some fantasy book you had started. “Just… getting ready for bed. Took a shower.” Another half truth. He’s still wearing the damp towel, stood in the too bright bathroom and avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. He looks awful. “The book’s good?”

“Yeah,” your bare feet pad downstairs, going to the kitchen to get a drink, “I’m breezing through it, but the series isn’t even finished so once I’m caught up I’ll have to wait for the next book.”

This is nice, it’s helping to start to calm him down a little.. but.. his jaw clenches with the effort of holding back a sob. Brady’s hands yanking his shirt up, tongue licking his skin, roughly flipping him over with strength he never wants to feel again, bared before him whilst his lip drips blood onto the wooden floor. His eyes dart to his reflection. He looks.. defeated. Beaten. Bruises adorn his sides, jaw, lip bloody and rapidly scabbing over. The shower did nothing to wash away the ache in his bones, did nothing to cleanse the feeling of being used, his hands, the nails that scratched his back and the pressure of another body atop him.

“Simon?”

It’s too much. Did he go too far? He’s completely broken himself and for what? Revenge? Justice? Cam? Is it worth it? Of course it is. Anything for his baby brother. Even if it shatters him fully.

“Y.. yeah.” It’s whispered out, realizing he hadn’t spoken. The silence between the two of you lingers. He can hear the shutting of your fridge, the way that certain hallway floorboard creaks under your feet as you go back upstairs. It’s comforting really, let’s him know you’re there, real.

Back in your room with a glass of water, you sit back on the edge of your bed, taking a swallow of the cold liquid, “Simon.. what’s wrong?”

There it is.

The way you ask him.. makes his chest ache, and his voice cracks when he answers. He hasn’t told you much about what he has to do while he’s undercover but.. you’re intelligent. You can put things together. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to steady the shakiness of his breath and to not cry. “I..” his voice catches in his throat, almost raw, and he takes a couple more forced breaths.

He can’t. He’ll cry. His throat is tight, eyes blurring with tears. Brendan even patted his head like a dog when he was done.

“Did something happen with Brady? Are you safe?” Had you been more awake, that would’ve been the first thing you asked, if he were safe.

His throat trembles again at the mention of his name. “I’m okay..” he says, voice strained. “Just.. I’m..” He feels like he’s about to crack open entirely. He’s barely got it together as is, a few words and he might fall apart right now.

You know he wouldn’t lie to you if he were to be in danger, if he were at risk of being caught or something, so that eases your worry by only a millimeter. The tone of his voice, hoarse, how he can’t find his words.. “What happened love?” It comes out oh so softly, as if you were speaking to an abandoned animal.

It hurts. It all hurts. His bruises, where he was abused, deep in his chest, his head, it aches all over and he just wishes it were gone.

He nearly bursts into tears right there just from that, as pathetic as it may be. Another deep breath as he finds the words he’s been searching for. I shouldn’t be telling her this. “Just.. Brendan and I..” His hands are trembling, fingered curled around his phone until his knuckles are white.

“Simon.. tell me.” You urge softly. You need to know. Something is eating him apart to the bone and you can tell.

He can’t help it, he’s breaking and his voice quivers a bit. “We slept together.”

His throat hitches when he says it. He hates the way those words sound put together, hates that they’re even true.

It stuns you for a moment, you didn’t know what to expect but.. pieces are clicking in your head and your own throat tightens for a moment, “Simon.. you..” You can’t cry. You won’t. For him. Not yet. “You didn’t want it… did you?”

His legs feel weak, like he might collapse. Breathing is a foreign concept to him as he swallows down more tears, trying to will them back as he glances upwards at the white ceiling. “N.. no.”

His chest is caving in on itself, the reality of it actually hitting him. And the worst part? Come morning he has to do it all over again, slip into that facade he’s been playing for months. The thought makes him nauseous.

Silence lingers for just a few moments as you process the information. You want to begin crying, to weep for him before it’s even fully settled in what happened but you can’t you won’t, you have to be strong for him. “Does he..” you form the words as soft as possible, “Does he know you didn’t want it?”

Brendan tossed him around, punched, kicked, threw him overtop the little table that shattered under his weight, the ceramic lamp cracking and cutting a spot on his hand, his lip. They had been arguing before, that’s what spurred it on. But he needed to get to Brendan, to be trusted. So he played coy, tilted his head.. and kissed him. He formed the plan so quickly in his head he didn’t have time to think of the consequences.

“No..” He whispers. “I had… I had to. Had to act like I did.”

“Oh.. Simon..”

The rooms too bright, such a stark contrast to the darkness of the rest of the motel room. He has no where that feels safe to hide away, heart beating at his chest. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, holding the phone tight to his ear. I didn’t have a choice. This is the only way. This was the only way.. It repeats over and over in his head like a mantra, though the words do little to ease his pain. Knees hit the wet tile floor uncomfortably as he shakes with the effort of holding back his cries, rasped pants escaping him.

You have no choice but to just listen to him break. Your brows knit together in worry and you steady your own breathing, trying to remain calm even though pure sadness and anger flood your veins. “Simon.. love, breathe..” He’s panting too hard.

He wants to scream, weep until he passes out, but he tries. He tries. “I… I need you.”

He wants your comfort, needs it. Needs your gentleness, your warmth.. even if he doesn’t deserve it.

A frown forms on your lips. He can’t, it wouldn’t be safe. At least that’s what you think right now, have been told before. Even though you crave to hold him, to cradle him, whatever he wants. “I’m here.. I’m right here. Breathe..”

He just wants to lay next to you, to forget everything. Forget Brady’s wandering hands. He inhales a skaky breath, “I just-.. don’t wanna be alone. I just want you next to me… even if I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you deserve it.” There’s zero hesitation, “You deserve the world Simon… after.. after everything you’ve done..” All this for his baby brother, laid in the hospital.

“I know.. I just..” Simon takes another raspy breath, fingers hurting with how tight he holds his phone. He wants to beg. He wants to tell you to come get him. All he wants is you. Needs you to tell him everything is going to be okay. “I wish you were here.”

“I am, I’m right here.. I promise.” The walls too cold against his bare arm as he slumps against it, chest heaving. “I’m sorry.. I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting.”

“It’s not just the hurting..” He whispers back, barely able to force the words out. It’s like his heart’s trying to claw it’s way up his throat. Tears burn his eyes, wetting his cheeks and sticking to his lashes. “I hated it.. I hated having to… to.. touch him. I know it’s for-.. I-.. he thinks I enjoyed it and I wish I could just-.. wipe it all from my mind.” It’s a miracle he’s even able to speak right now, even though getting the words out is like nails on a chalkboard. Unbearable.

Blinking back tears of your own, you ask, “Simon..” you would never once doubt his love for Cam but.. “Is it worth it? Will.. doing this all be worth putting him in jail?”

“It has to be..” He has to believe those words. It has to be worth it. He has to believe it. “If it just stopped now.. then it would all be for nothing.” That’s what he has to believe, otherwise.. who knows, maybe it is.

A slight nod to yourself, understanding his words. Cam wouldn’t want.. this.. The thought crosses your mind but God, you’d never say that out loud to him. “You just.. have to keep him convinced.” You confirm softly, understanding his actions.

“Yeah..” He whispers again, raspy. His thumb rubs up and down on the side of his phone. “I just.. wish this was over now.” His voice cracks with another sob.

You heart breaks, tears welling up in your eyes as you exhale softly, “Sweetheart..” How can he do this..? How can he manage to keep this front up with Brady? Your heart is just breaking and you want nothing more than to kill Brady with your own hands.

“It’s just..” His words come separated, panting, crying, “It’s all so hard.” His eyes squeeze shut, head pounding with a deep ache that may never go away.”I don’t-.. how much longer do I have to do this?” He whimpers.

This case is important to him… to get justice for Cam.. to lock Brady up.. but..

“I don’t want you to do it anymore..” You breathe out, tears spilling over your lash line.

He tenses at your words, even his breathing halting, “I have to do it..” His eyes squeeze shut again so tightly they hurt, deep behind his eyelids. A couple of shakey inhales and exhales before he speaks again, “Please.. just please don’t ask me to stop.” If I stop, then I’ll hate myself more than I already do..

Your heart is breaking. It’s cracking into two and you have no idea how to stop it. You can’t. “Okay.. I won’t..” You curl up beneath the covers, leaving your bedside lamp on. The call now on speaker, you set the phone beside your pillow. A weak little thank you comes from him, whimpered, tired. “Just… don’t hold it in. Please… I’m right here and ‘m not leaving, so just let it out..” Your voice is pleading, knowing he only has tonight before going back to playing the part. Know he has to get his emotions out now before they’re shoved back down again.

He’s still white knuckling his phone, trembling, slumped against the cold tile wall as the light above the sink hums annoyingly. “I…” He felt stupid, as the tears begin to flow again, another sob clawing its way out of his throat, “I hate this.”

“I know..” You wish you were with him. You haven’t seen him in months. “Just breathe..”

Another strangled sob, words cut off, “I wish I was with you..” He’s so afraid..

“I know.. I know..” You try to soothe, keeping your voice steady even as tears slip into your hairline as you lay in bed, finger rubbing along the side of your phone like you wish it were his face you were caressing.

He feels weak, pathetic. He wishes he were strong enough to handle the fact that he’s alone in this, but he doesn’t want to. Wants you. Needs the safety of your presence, your touch, to bury himself in your chest and never move.

“Hey.. y’said you took a shower right? Why don’t you get dressed and get into bed..” The suggestion leaves you in a soft voice, like you’re speaking to a child. Despite not being there physically, you want to help the best you can.

“I.. yeah, I did.” Laid against the wall, his tired eyes scan the floor where his shirt and underwear lay before out into the dark room. He takes the time to get to his feet, nearly stumbling, trying to follow your instructions. He’s thirsty, so he gets a glass of water from the tap and downs the entire thing before getting dressed, eyes trained on the increasing time of the phone call to keep himself reassured that you’re there, before crawling into bed.

“All comfy?” Your voice almost startles him as he lays his head down. The bed is.. alright. The blankets are soft, fleece, bringing a contrasting warmth to the chill his damp hair sends through him.

“Yeah.. I...” A moment of silence passes before he resumes speaking, his voice so quiet, “Can I ask you something..?”

“Of course.” He could ask for the moon and stars and you’d present them in the palms of your hands.

“What would you do if I asked you to come and get me..?”

That would ruin everything, his mission, and he’ll never be able to look his Lieutenant in the eyes again, maybe even be fired. It’d also risk you, put you in danger. He knows all that, yet, the desire to have you here right now still lingers. Selfishly, he wants you.

“I’d do it.” No hesitation. That seems to be a theme for you and him. You stare at your phone, hoping this is him asking. You’d do anything for him, yearn to hand him anything he desires.

“You’d.. you’d come?” He’s almost certain this would ruin everything, all these months for absolutely nothing… but would.. would it really? Is this worth what it’s doing to him? “Please.. just…” He trails off, thoughts battling each other.

You, on the other end, stay dead silent. If you let your lips part, you’ll start begging him to let you come. Beg for him to leave it all behind, consequences be damned. So you wait, swallowing, listening to his even breathing as he sniffles.

…

…..

“Could… could you come get me? Please?”

There, he’s done it.

You’ve already begun sitting up before the words finished leaving him, picking up your phone. You stand, feeling the wave of panic and relief flood your system, blowing out the candle you had lit, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.. please.” It’s almost a sob, maybe it is one. Tears start to soak his face again, “Just please come get me. I don’t want to be alone. I-.. I wanna see you.”

There’s no thinking anymore as you rush downstairs, shoving your feet into the nearest sneakers you find and grabbing your keys. Simon can hear the front door shut and gravel crunch beneath your feet as you get into your car. “I need to know where you are.” The engine of your car purrs to life, already backing out. He weeps out the motel name, the bed and breakfast showing up as nearly forty-five minutes away once entered into your GPS. Fuck.

—

He wants to beg, continue to plead as he wails into his pillow, muffled. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, half asleep, body in survival mode and trying to shut down all in the same breath. You make the drive in thirty minutes, your voice startling him out of his half dozed state, “Love? You awake?”

“Mm..” Simon blinks, focusing on his phone, heart speeding up, “Yeah.. yes.. I’m awake.”

“I’m outside.” This almost doesn’t feel real. After being separated for so long and now you’re just… here. You have to stay strong, get him out of here first. Your eyes scan over the big buildings with multiple rooms, seeing the dim lights on them. A silver car is parked a few spaces away from yours and… next to it, Simon’s bike. There’s some shuffling, sniffling, feet thudding on the floor before the call ends and movement catches your eye. Up on the second floor of one of the buildings, the door opens and a tall figure slips out, jacket over his arm. He’s walking with a limp, and the sight of him makes you almost start to wail. You sniffle and wipe at your eyes, leaning over to unlock the passenger door and push it open as he nears.

He looks a mess. His lip is cut, eyes sunken and tired, face wet with smeared tears. He slips into the passenger seat, not even daring to look at you and neither do you dare to continue to stare at his face for a moment longer. You can’t, you’ll break. However you waste no time reversing from the parking spot and driving off, back out onto the road in the direction you came. It’s silent for five entire minutes and you don’t dare stop, just in case, but you do however reach and blindly grab his hand, linking your fingers together. Part of you fears he won’t even want to be touched, but it’s squashed with the way he clutches onto you for dear life.

You’re actually here. With him. You’re really here and he’s really out. He breathes in deep, trying to calm his racing heart, stow his emotions for now. Even just being in your car helps, because it smells familiar. Even as more stifled sobs leave him, he doesn’t let go of your hand, squeezing so tight it must hurt you.

—

He’s nearly cried himself to sleep again, barely feeling the way the car jostles as you pull into your driveway, the gate sliding shut behind your car. Undoing your seatbelt and reaching over, you undo his and slowly unlink your hands, not daring to look at his face yet. “C’mon, let’s get inside..” He listens, slowly, following you up to the front door, taking in the surroundings of your house again. Garage to the right, big gate and large brick walls lining the property. He’s been here countless times but.. oh.. the warmth he feels as you both step inside. A table to the right along the wall for your keys, coats hung up on a wall rack to the left, shoes scattered on the tile entrance way floor. You push open the door to the main hallway, the heart of the house, and he feels so much better.

You finally turn to look at him, both stood in the middle of the hallway, and in the dim light you fear he may see the way you crack open a bit.

He looks… broken. A bruise covers his jaw, scabbed over cut on his lip, eyes red and wet, cheeks flushed yet he’s pale. Bags hang under his eyes, dull, sad. Your hand reaches up instinctively, but you pause mid action, as if it’ll scare him.

He blinks slowly, sniffling, your touch so close yet so far.

But you pull back, “Go upstairs, get in bed. I’ll bring you some water, okay?”

He obeys, feeling comforted by your voice, the simple instruction. He doesn’t need to be pointed to the stairs, the carpet plush under his socked feet as he somehow makes it up there without his legs giving out. Not even considering the guest bedroom, he goes to yours, crawling underneath the duvet and he almost sobs again at the warmth, the smell, you. It smells like lavender and vanilla, the candle you have on your bedside table, mattress made up with a different bedspread than he remembers.

After a minute he hears your footsteps, watches as you come inside with a glass of water, kneeling onto the bed to offer it to him. Now he notices you’re in some pajamas, a cute matching set that he’d compliment if not for the circumstances. He sits up on an elbow, taking the offered drink and sipping some of the ice cold water, before handing it back to you with a whispered thank you. You set it aside and just stare, really looking at him now. “Simon…”

It’s obvious how tired he is, and the way he stares back up at you makes him feel vulnerable, not in a bad way though. “..yes?” His voice is small, barely a whisper. He’s feeling so many overwhelming emotions and doesn’t know which one to settle on. He feels grateful, safe, even though the last thing he feels he deserves is your forgiveness and warmth.

However you reach out again, mirroring your action in the hallway, pausing before your skin meets his, ‘Can I..?” Your fingers curl into your palm, nervous he won’t want the touch.

But he does want it, wants it so badly. To feel the comfort of your hand, the love of your fingers… Simon reaches up, his own hand curving around your wrist. He tugs softly, pulling your hand forward, feeling the tickling touch of your fingertips before you lean more into it and cradle his cheek. His eyes flutter, he could start crying again, if he had any more tears in him. He whimpers as his hand drops from your wrist, pushing into the touch with his eyes closed. The warmth on his bruised jaw feels so good, so safe. He looks so defeated, so broken, he’s had everything ripped away from him except you.

“Y/N..” Simon utters, it’s all he can do.

You’re so gentle, as if calming a skittish animal, thumb gently brushing the cut on his lip. “I’m right here…”

It almost brings tears to his eyes again. This is where he feels safest.

“I’m sorry..” He leans into your hand, the touch slowing his heart, and for the first time in he doesn’t know how long, he relaxes.

A frown finds its way to your lips, cradling his face, “What for?” you ask back, keeping your voice just as low as his.

“For.. everything, for..” The words won’t fully come to him, eyes fluttering halfway open as he gazes up at you, watering again, “I’m sorry, I..”

You shift, laying down ontop of the covers whilst he’s tucked under them. Your other hand comes up, and you falter for just a fraction of a second before it slides against his other cheek, cradling his face in your palms. “You have nothing to be sorry for Simon.”

He can’t help it, the moment you lay down he reaches out and pulls you close. His arms loop around you in a hug, burying his face against your neck. “I missed you.” He sniffles, lip wobbling against your skin. You cradle him back, one arm curling under his head for support and the other loops over him, hand finding his hair and petting it gently. It almost startles him, because Brendan did the same thing, albeit rougher, but your hand is so… it feels much nicer, your fingers tangling into the clean locks and scratching at his scalp.

“I missed you.”

The sensation of you caress is enough to make him curl into you more, face pressed against the base of your neck. Simon inhales deeply, smelling your body wash, the compassionate hug making him relax. His arms are tense though, as if he’s scared you’ll be taken from his grasp. Fingers paw at your back, pressing into your shirt, feeling. He needs to know you’re real. And you know that, so you let him even if it hurts a little, “Do you want me to turn the light off?” He answers with a shake of his head, a quiet ‘mm mm’, trying to wiggle impossibly closer. Now that he has you he doesn’t want to let go, fearful you’ll slip away.

“Do you.. want me under the covers?” Even if it sounds silly you have to ask for permission, petting your hand down his hair and over the nape of his neck, where Brendan’s lips were.

One little word slips from him, “Please..”

He is tired, exhausted, sore and scared, but the thought of snuggling with you, feeling your heat, your body against him, is enough to keep him awake. Your hand on his nape brings a small whimper from him, he’s so relieved you haven’t pulled away from him. He feels used, like he doesn’t deserve this touch, but here you are. Your nails scrape over his skin and it makes him shiver in a good way, bringing back memories, a comforting feeling.

A whispered okay is your response, twisting to lift the duvet up and slide yourself under it. He’s immediately pulling you into his arms again, right to his front so not an inch is found between you. The touch makes his heart race, nuzzling back into your neck, breathing in your scent like a hungry animal. He whimpers again, clinging to you for dear life.

“Shh.. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Your chin is ontop of his head, hand back in his hair to pet and scratch, soothing him. The sensation is enough to break him completely. His lip wobbles again, blinking as tears flood his eyes, legs tangled with yours. He’s really here.. It’s all over.. he doesn’t have to go back.. He can feel your heartbeat, steady and solid. The moment the tears slip from his eyes, his grasp on you tightens desperately. He buries himself closer, wanting nothing, not even oxygen, just you.

“Don’t..” He chokes out, trembling, hiccuping a little cry.

You give him a squeeze, cradling his head and keeping him close, “What?” You whisper, “What d’you need Simon?” It’s pleading. Anything. You’ll do anything for him.

“Don’t let go. Please.. Don’t.” His fingers tense again so much they hurt, wanting to make sure you don’t fall through his grip. He needs you now more than he’s ever needed you before, your hands in his hair, your heartbeat sounding in his ears.

“I won’t.” You tilt your head down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I promise. You can go to sleep, I’ll be here, I’m not leaving.” Your hand tangles in his hair in a light grip, enough for him to know you’re there. Leaning into him, he grasps so hard it hurts, but you’d prefer the bruises of his fingertips over the absence of his body.

This is all he needs, all he wants. Forget everything else, he doesn’t want to turn to that life anymore, wants to forget it all and stay hidden away tucked beneath your duvet. Reality can wait.

———————♡

#neil newbon #neil newbon x reader #simon walker #simon walker x reader

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lilithlinen · 1 day

Text

Turning Tables III - Kevin Lomax, John Constantine X You.

"Yes," he says, his voice cold. "Find out everything. And make sure it hurts him." Kevin hangs up the phone, his mind racing. He needs to control this situation, to make sure you know who's in charge. He won't lose you to anyone, especially not John Constantine.

Kevin’s POV

A few hours later as I walk back home, my thoughts are consumed by revenge. I need to make John pay for what he’s done. For making you question me, for trying to take you from me.

When I arrive, I find you sitting on the couch, tears streaming down your face. “Where have you been?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“Taking care of business,” I say, walking towards you. "Did you call your...lover?" I ask mockingly.

“No,” you admit, looking away.

I grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at me. “Don’t worry about him,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll handle him.”

“Kevin, I can't do this anymore,” you whisper, tears still falling. “I can't live like this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated on me,” I growl, my anger rising again. “Maybe you should have thought before you acted.”

“I had to,” you murmur, your voice small. “I just needed something more than THIS.”

“Well, you won’t find it with him,” I say, pushing you onto the couch. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You stare up at me, fear shining in your eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever it takes to prove my dominance,” I say, my eyes never leaving yours. “To show you who’s in control.”

I watch you as you crawl back. “Kevin, don’t. Please...” You plead, and I smirk.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” I say, my voice firm. “You always will be.”

“I’m not yours,” you say, your voice shaking. “I'm my own person.”

I laugh, my eyes glinting with anger. “Oh, really? Then why are you so willing to run to John?”

“Because he loves me!” You shout, your face red with emotion. “He doesn’t hurt me!”

“That’s not true,” I say, my voice rising. “He’ll break you just like I will if you leave me!”

“Stop it!” you cry out, covering your ears. “Please, just stop it!”

I grab your wrists, pulling them away from your ears. “You’re mine, Y/N. Mine. You belong to me.”

“No!” you scream, fighting against me. “I won't be your possession!”

I shake my head, trying to regain control of the situation. “You're, you’ve always been,” I repeat, my voice cold. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you this way.”

You stare at me, tears stream down your face. “You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

“I never was,” I admit, my voice devoid of emotion. “But I’m the only one who can give you the life you want.”

“You’re wrong,” you say, your voice soft. “I don’t need that kind of life.”

I lean in, my lips brushing against yours. “You’re wrong, Y/N,” I whisper. “You do need me.”

You move your head away and say through gritted teeth. “I don't need you.”

“Yes, you do,” I say firmly. “You need me more than anything.”

“No!” you scream, fighting against me. “I don’t need you!”

With one swift motion, I pin you down on the couch, my body pressing against yours. “Shut up, Y/N,” I growl, my lips crushing against yours.

You struggle, but I'm relentless. My tongue slides into your mouth, dominating you as I have always wanted. Your struggles slowly fade, replaced with moans and whimpers of pleasure.

Finally, I pull away, your breaths ragged. “See?” I say, my voice thick with victory. “You need me.”

You stare at me, confusion and desire mixed in your eyes. “What...what are you doing?”

“Showing you who’s in control,” I say, my eyes never leaving yours. “Reminding you of your place.”

You gasp as I move lower, my tongue tracing the outline of your breasts. “Please, Kevin...” you murmur, your voice shaking.

“Please what?” I ask, my voice low. “Now...why don’t we make it even more fun? Call that bastard of yours. Constantine...right? Call him right now. Let him come over.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you shake your head. “No, I will not.”

“Come on, Y/N,” I say, my voice soft and seductive. “Make it more interesting.”

“No,” you say firmly. “I won’t do it.”

I smile, leaning in close. “Why don’t you think about it?” I suggest, my breath hot against your ear. “Unless you want him dead.”

You hesitate, your body trembling. Finally, you reach for your phone, your hand shaking. You dial John’s number, your eyes never leaving mine.

John answers immediately. “Y/N? Are you okay? Your last call had me worried sick!”

“John,” you say, your voice trembling. “I need you to come over.”

“I’m on my way,” John says, his voice filled with concern. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine,” you say, your voice shaking. “I just...I just need you here.”

I lean in, my lips brushing against your ear. “Tell him you need help,” I whisper. “Tell him you’re in danger.”

“I... I’m in danger,” you say into the phone, your voice cracking. “Please, John. Come now.”

I smirk, my grip tightening on your wrist. “See, I told you it was a good idea,” I say, my voice low. “Now, let’s make sure we put on a good show for the great John Constantine.”

I lean in, my lips finding yours. My kiss is hungry, possessive, as I dominate your mouth. I can feel your body respond to me, your heart racing in your chest. You want me, Y\N. You always have and always will.

As I pull away, I can see the conflict in your eyes. You know you’re in trouble, but you can’t help but crave my touch. And I’ll make sure that’s all you crave for the rest of your life.

Tears fall down your face as you try to resist again. “Kevin...don’t do that to me.”

“What, Y/N?” I ask, my voice gentle. “Hurting you?”

“No,” you say, your voice breaking. “Making me want you.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a slave to your desires,” I say lowly. “It’s not my fault you can’t resist me.”

“I don’t want to,” you say, your voice shaking. “I...I don’t want to want you.”

“Liar,” I say, my eyes never leaving yours. “You know you’ve always wanted me.”

I move closer, my lips brushing against your neck. “Just think about how good it feels,” I say, my voice soft. “How good it feels to be mine.”

Your breathing quickens, your body responds to me even though you fight it. I can taste the salt on your skin, the evidence of your tears. It makes me harden, knowing I have this kind of power over you.

“Do you want me, babe?” I ask, my voice deep. “Do you want me inside you?”

Your breath hitches, your eyes locked on mine. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Yes, please.”

I grin, my eyes sparkling with triumph. “Then let’s give you exactly what you want.”

I undress you, reveling in your naked body. As I take you, I can hear John knocking on the door. But it’s too late for him. I’m already deep inside you, claiming you as mine.

As I thrust harder, I can hear his voice outside, shouting your name. But I ignore it, focusing solely on your cries of pleasure. This is ours. Ours alone. “Scream louder, hoe. Let him hear you getting fucked by me.”

I smirk darkly as I watch you sob and struggle to keep quiet.

“Quiet?” I say, my voice mocking. “Are you trying to protect your pathetic lover?”

“No,” you say, your voice breaking. “I just...I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I ask coldly. “Don’t think you can hide from me, Y/N. I know every inch of your body. Every reaction. Every desire.”

“I...can’t help it,” you say, your voice trembling. “It feels too good.”

“That’s because it’s meant to,” I say lowly. “I’m the one who knows your body best. No one else can compare.”

I thrust harder, feeling you clench around me. You’re so wet, so ready for me. And I’ll make sure you stay that way forever.

As you reach your peak, I can hear John banging on the door. But it’s too late for him. You’re mine, completely and utterly. You’re mine, and no one else will ever satisfy you like I do.

“Come for me, baby,” I say roughly. “Let me hear you scream.”

You do, your body arching beneath me. Your screams fill the room, filling John’s ears. As I finish, I can’t help but smile. He’ll never replace me. Never. Not in your heart or in your bed. “You see, darling? There’s no one else for you but me.”

A/N: Flopped?

#keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #JOHN CONSTANTINE #john constantine x you #john constantine imagine #john constantine x reader #john constantine 2005 #kevin lomax x you #kevin lomax imagines #kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax #IMAGINES #keanu smut

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