#why is that a thing anyone says to anyone else
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❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !! ❞
❝ WHEN YOUR HOT COWORKER WANTS TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD, OF COURSE YOU'LL SAY YES !! ❞
✧ pairing: vampire! choso kamo x f!reader
✧ summary: choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, coworkers to lovers, vampire!choso, vampire bites are an aphrodisiac for both the vampire and the victim, no real dub/con b/c these two are already down bad for the other, mutual pining, scent kink, blood kink, blood sucking from neck / wrist, implied masturbation (m!), oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / yume041624
✧ wc: 7,193
It wasn’t as if you weren’t sure your coworker hates you—
You were sure of it.
He avoided you like the plague whenever the two of you were working on the same project. He always did his best to reply over email, avoid in person meetings, and he always seemed to get sick whenever the two of you had to greet the client together. But you didn’t know why — you hadn’t done anything to offend him, unless he had mistaken your hello for spitting in his face. And that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was that he was exactly your type — fucking hot.
Dark locks tied into a bun with a few strands escaped its binding by the end of the day, his neat nails painted a dark purple that rifled through paperwork, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and lovely, deep eyes that barely had stolen a glance at you but you could spend a millennia exploring—
In summary, you had it bad.
And he didn’t seem to know — or worse, he knew and he hated it. Or you.
But maybe something could change today, you flicked a pen up and down between two fingers as you stole a glance at him across the now empty office, the two of you were stuck working overtime on this project for two days now. But he still had managed to avoid you — but not today when you were stuck in the same conference room sorting through boxes of files that your client insisted must be done today.
You were getting some sleep at a hotel across the street, taking a quick nap and shower before returning, but Choso looked like he hadn’t slept in days. And you didn’t know why.
You glanced up at him between sorting through boxes, and you saw him adjust his collar, loosening his tie, fabric gripped tightly under white knuckles. His head was hunched over, his expression hidden behind the box in front of him, but you saw a hint of red in his eyes. You bit your lip, now you were worried.
Maybe for the wrong reasons.
“Choso, are you okay?”
No, no, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay after working overtime for two days straight. He wasn’t okay being stuck in this tiny, dimly fluorescent lit conference room reviewing files that would only prove fruitless and a waste of time for all parties, and what made it worse was you—
No, not you, his canines grew, sharp fangs digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lips,
Blood.
Your blood.
The very thing running through your veins and arteries, pumping through every crevice of your body through your heart — crimson stained your insides as it would your skin if pierced or cut — and it was the very thing that Choso wanted more than anything else.
But no, it couldn’t be anyone else’s — he bit his bottom lip as you stretched, your blouse and hair moving ever so slightly and exposing your neck — it had to be yours.
He pressed his hand against his face, palm covering the bottom half of his face as he forced himself to avert his gaze from you, all too unaware of his thirst — the very same that pulled his muscles taut and made his mouth water at the thought of you. His face was flushed — that much was for sure, as he felt the heat radiate from his face.
And he knew one thing for sure — that you were the one who’s blood would taste like the divine personified. But that’s why he had worked so hard to avoid you, to make sure he didn’t spend any time alone with you, lest his logic and sense fail him at once and he ends up with his fangs pressed to the nape of your neck at once.
No, he had decided he couldn’t do that. There were far too many times he had seen other vampires find partners this way — succumb to the urge — the draw of bloodlust — only for their partner to grow addicted to the pleasure that comes from the bite, and the relationship only fell apart when it was the only thing holding the relationship together. The bite could only do so much, it was an aphrodisiac for both parties, but not a miracle worker — chemistry burns bright and fast, but it could not make love exist if it wasn’t there to begin with.
And his avoidance of you had made any relationship between the two of you hard to happen — especially when every word you spoke sounded sweet and honeyed from those pretty lips. It didn’t help that he was reserved to begin with, but you made all words fall from his mind with only a glance — so what would a conversation do to him — much less a kiss?
“Choso, have you reviewed this one yet?” You ask, grabbing a box from his side, “I finished my half so I thought I’d help you finish yours,”
He shakes his head, “Go ahead. Thank you,” he barely manages through nearly gritted teeth, with barely a glance up — fuck, it didn’t help that you were always so kind, good at your job, and so pretty—
Fuck, the document he held crumpled under his tight grip, he shouldn’t have let it get this bad. Why had he let it get this bad? A few overtime shifts weren’t usually a problem for him — but being stuck with you? It was torture in the highest order — especially since he hadn’t been able to get home to his reserves at home and he had just run dry of the bottles he kept on himself this morning.
He sees you stretch again, this time your neck, and a heat began to creep on as he watched right over the top of the document he read.
Oh, he was so fucked.
You were going to ask him.
You were going to confront him about why he avoids you. You had made up your mind — you were tired of walking on eggshells without a reason. If you were going to be stuck working with him on future projects, especially with this client, he needed to tell you if this was how it was going to be.
And yet, you still sat, rereading the same document over and over, as the two of you were almost done wrapping up your work for the night. Choso was placing the last box he finished up away, a sigh stuck in his throat as he got to his feet.
“I’m going to head home,” he gets to his feet, a sigh on his lips, as he rakes his fingers through his black locks, “do you need help cleaning up?”
“No, I’m fine,” and he’s grabbing his things, as you bite your lip and stare at the shiny laminate of the conference table in front of you — fuck it, “I did have a question,” as he’s walking by in the doorway of the conference room, as your scramble to your feet, reaching for him, your fingers brushing his shoulder by mistake, and he’s tensing, “sorry, I didn’t mean—“
“It’s fine, what’s your question?” His reply is curt but he won’t even turn to face you, his fingers fiddling with the watch on his wrist. You furrow your brow, was it you or was his body shaking?
“I just wanted to ask you if you had some sort of problem—“ and then his bag clattered against the floor, contents spilling out, as he supported himself against the door frame, slumped against it, as his fingers gripped it.
You gasped, a quick brush of your fingers to his shoulder again, “Are you ok? Choso?”
Choso’s head swam — he could barely hear anything — every sound drawn out and garbled, as if he had plunged his head underwater and words were echoing in his ears. He felt his knees buckle under his weight — and he can’t think straight — and for a moment of clarity he realizes why—
Your touch — it was a spark amongst a field of wheat in a dry heat — and it was enough to set his entire body alight. And now—as he barely held himself together, muscles tensed and eyes fluttering — a haze of heat blazing ribbons up his body, and down — right to his cock.
Fuck. He’s swallowing, his muscles taut, as he tugs at his collar, even the brush of his clothes against his skin enough to drive him to the point of insanity. And it doesn’t help that your scent fills his nose, honeyed and cloying and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing the scarlet gaze would do nothing but elicit a scream.
“Please leave,” he says through gritted teeth, he can imagine the concern written across your expression, “go—“
“I’m not leaving you like this alone,” fuck, you only draw closer, the brush of your fingers against his shoulder enough to have him nearly keening for your touch — he’d nearly do anything you want for one touch, one drop of your blood, but he can’t — he can’t, “do you need water? What do you need?” And you’re helping him sit down on the floor of the conference room, as he clutches his bag to his front, desperate for something put between the two of you.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I needed, just go,” he’s pleading, head falling back against the wall — his mind is hazy, he can barely think about anything else but you — the way your soft lips are pursed in worry, the way your hands are so gentle against his skin and would feel so good gliding across his body, the way when he saw the multitudes contained within your eyes, but he only wanted to live in the warmth of your loving gaze, “I don’t want to hurt you,”
The words come as a confession, a last plea for you to leave, but you seemingly only chuckle, furrowing your brow, “how could you hurt me when you’re more terrified than I am?”
And oh you were so ignorant that you were inches away from a monster — a rabbit in a lion’s den, while you thought of him as a sheep — and his words weren’t enough to convince you, but maybe something else would.
His eyes flutter open to find your own, and he finds his own reflection in your irises — a blood red reflected back in your lovely gaze, as your mouth falls open, brow wrinkled, and breath caught.
“I-I-what?” and he sees your confusion written across your face, your fingers shaking as they brush against his cheek. Your touch sets his senses alight, a soft groan as he leans into your hand, his nose brushes against your wrist, and the thrum of your pulse ringing in his ears. His gaze finds yours — half moonshine with how it’s glazed over, “how?”
And his lips part, when your thumb drags down his cheek, hypnotized and entranced under a spell he didn’t mean to cast. He turns his head so your fingers catch on his lips, parting almost obediently, flashing fangs that has a flicker of confusion swallowed by horror and then consumed by fascination completely.
“Choso, what is—“
“You should go,” he murmurs again, “you can’t give me what you need,”
And you’re speechless, as if you wonder if you’re seeing what you are — but the longer you stare, the quicker it seems to sink in. You swallow.
“So you need my—“ and the sentence is cut off seemingly by the absurdity of the situation, as you mutter to yourself, “this can’t be fucking real,”
“It doesn’t have to be, you can leave right now,” he pants, sweat slipping down his forehead, and you’re still frowning.
“What will happen to you if I leave?” And he can’t think straight enough to lie, your fingers find his neck, to check his temperature but all it does is drive it higher.
“Nothing you need to worry about—“
“Well, I am worried,” you cut him off, squirming in place, “if you just take some of my blood, will that—“
“It’s not just that,” he’s shaking his head, fangs nearly grazing his bottom lip as he sighs, “do you know what your blood will do to me?” His eyes seem to flash, a chill down your spine, “but more importantly worry what it will do to you,”
And you stiffen, the spell waxing and waning as fickle as the moon never was, and that the thing about humans — you could never count on them to be consistent as all other things were. A beast can be predicted — their moves largely the same, caution put before hurt, but man gained consciousness and lost all reliability.
And you were no beast, not like him.
“What would…it do?” Your words are hesitant, carefully chosen, small jumps across stones rather than a leap across a rushing river.
And he lets the raging white water brush against your skin when his hand cups your chin, leaning closer and letting his breath warm your skin, “To reduce the pain, my bite is like an aphrodisiac,” his thumb rubs back and forth across your cheek, “you won’t be able to stop yourself, and since your blood would do the same to me — I wouldn’t be able to help myself either,” his nose brushes against your cheek, as he leans in to whisper in your ear, “you should go.”
But you don’t, silence settles over the two of you, until you choose to break it, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
That’s what you had said — but how did that land you here?
You both walked to your hotel room in silence, his flushed face hidden behind a mask, dead on his feet as he trailed behind you to the room. It was lucky you had a room right across the street from your workplace. You didn’t know what you would have done if you had to stay in the office — the blood would have been hell to scrub off the wood.
And now here you sat after your shower, hair still damp as you toyed with the edge of your fluffy bathrobe, as you chewed on your lip. What had you gotten yourself into? You listened to his shower run, a sigh on your lips — it was fine. It would be fine. You just stick to the plan. You’d let him drink your blood, and he would lock himself in the bathroom — and you both would ride out your…symptoms alone.
Fuck, you bury your face in your hands, what the hell are you doing? And that’s when the water stops — the quiet rustle and shuffling of himself in the bathroom makes your heart leap into your throat, as you sit looking down at the floor.
“Are you okay?” his voice makes you jump even as you expect it, as your head snaps back to look at him. His black hair still wet from his shoulder, long locks clinging to his hair, droplets ran down his bare abs, your eyes following one down right to his happy trail only hidden away by his boxers—
Fuck.
He only continues to towel himself off, before grabbing his undershirt to pull it over his torso, as you choose to avert your eyes then — as if him getting dressed was any more scandalous than his shirtless state, “I am, I’m just a little—“
“You don’t have to,” and your eyes slide back to him, his face was still significantly ragged, dark bags and fatigue clung to body worse than the water did — looking more like a corpse than a bloodsucker, “it’s not too late for you to leave—“
“No I decided I was going to help, so I’m going to,” you say, and his brow forms the same peaks and valleys he had all day — and you were sure his skin would remember the carvings at this rate, “what?”
“Why do you want to help me?” he mumbles, arms crossed, a distinct flush in his cheeks settling that surely wasn’t just from his shower, “I don’t get it, we barely have spoken—“
“We have spoken, our first week,” and his eyes snap to yours, “you may not remember, but you helped me,” and your cheeks burned, squirming in place as you couldn’t quite meet his gaze, “I had messed up on a project, I made a huge mistake on a document, one that could have costed the company a lot of money, and my job,” you murmur, “but you also took responsibility, even though it wasn’t your fault,”
“I didn’t catch the mistake either, so it was my fault too—“ and you shake your head.
“It was mostly mine still,” you offer a small smile, “and so if I can help you like this, I want to,” you shift, swallowing as an awkward silence falls over you both that you break, “why did you want to shower first anyway? You were ready to pass out earlier,”
“I still am,” he admits, and you notice the subtle shake of his hands, “but I figured the shower would make us both feel a little more comfortable, and it helped to…calm me down,” he cleared his throat, and it slowly dawned on you, cheeks burning, “again, are you sure—“
“I’m going to close you off in the bathroom, and we should be able to ride it out — you said you don’t lose control of yourself or become violent,” and he shakes his head, “then it should be fine,” you have him draw closer, his soft steps against the plush carpet fell silent as he sat beside you on the bed. The creak of the bed as he sat on the other side a little awkwardly, “you should be closer,” and he’s nodding, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
“I know, I’m just trying to…prepare,” he gives a shaky sigh, “your scent is—“ he scrubs a hand down his face, “it’s hard for me to be around, especially when we’re so close,”
“My scent?” And his hand covers the bottom half of his face, turned away, as he murmurs.
“Your scent is particularly strong — it’s…enticing enough for me to be distracted all day if I don't keep my distance,” and the pieces sink into place.
“You avoided me at work because of that?” And he nods, as you bite your lip, a small chuckle on your lips, “I thought you hated me,”
And his head snaps to you, blinking, “I don’t hate you far from it—“ he cuts himself off, his fingers grip the edge of the bed, “I’ve seen you in the office — you’re always so considerate, kind, and you always try to help, even people who don’t deserve it—“ he cuts off, “I don’t want to take advantage of your—“
You move closer, his breath hitching as you shrug your robe off your shoulders, leaving only your bra covering your chest, “You do deserve it,” Fuck, he was so close — you could feel the need come off of him in waves, the soft pants of his breath as his eyes fluttered. And you offer your neck to him, brushing your hair away — a silent offer.
You see him bite his lip out of your periphery, but he’s leaning down, warm breath fans across your skin, as he ran a finger down your neck, “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice a raspy whisper, “you smell so good,” and you nearly shiver as his lips brush your skin — soft lips against your skin, the barest brush, as if he’s trying to acclimate you to his touch. But it only stoked a fire — the same flame burning even before today, the one that wanted more than a bite at the apple — you wanted him down to his core.
His lips press another kiss to your neck, lingering longer, as he noses the skin there, and you’re biting your lip, the want bubbling into boiling need, “Please—“ you gasp as his fangs graze your neck now, the sharp points lightly dragging across the muscle, right before his fangs sink into your neck.
Your lips part, head nearly lolling back into his warm palm cupping the nape of your neck. Any pain only registers for a split second before disappearing under whitehot pleasure. Your blood turns to heady wine straight from his bite, his muffled moan vibrates against you, sending a wave of heat right between your thighs. Your head spins, all logic melts with as the wildfire only consumes — leaving only want behind.
Coherent thoughts don’t form — instead fractured thoughts spiral into a chant. You want more. You want more of his touch, his body, his words. You want him.
You want him.
And when he’s pulling his fangs from your neck, the sound of his teeth pulled from your skin only rings in your ears for a moment, before blood roaring in your ears replaces it. Burning — it felt as if every part of your body was aching, a deep throbbing with no end in sight. You glance at Choso — and only one cure.
Fuck, his skin looks so lovely when flushed a pretty pink — nearly a scarlet that lit a trail up his neck and across his cheekbones all the way to his ears. The heavy pants that left his lips did little to assuage the desire for him — his defined chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his long jet black locks hanging like a curtain around his gaze.
Your fingers are reaching for him, “Cho—“ and he’s shaking his head, as his muscles tense, as he leans away from you.
“Give me a moment,” so you do — you pull back, and he’s rising to his feet, shaky still, but seemingly for a different reason as he turns and flashes the rising tent in his boxers.
And you press your thighs together, wondering just how big he was — eyes fixed on the growing damp spot on his boxers — how he would shiver when you squee3/ him at the base in your hand, what sounds he would make when you’d flick your tongue against his weeping tip, and how he would moan your name when he sunk into you—
You were so fucked — if your drenched panties were anything to judge by.
“Choso, please—“ and he already knows what you’re asking for between the lines of your plea, and his eyes find yours, his dark gaze catches yours, ensnared in the blackhole that only pulls you under and apart, pinned underneath him.
“It’s just the bite, we can’t,” he’s covering his lips, as he takes steps away from you, towards the bathroom, “we just have to wait until it passes. It won’t take too long—”
“What if it’s not just your bite? Not for me,” you murmur, and the words are being spilled from your lips like honeyed truth with no bitter aftertaste, “it hasn’t been for me,” his brow is furrowing as if he can’t imagine a single person liking him, “I’ve spent the last year working with you and all i know is I wanted nothing more than to be the one you smile at — the same soft way you do when you your little brother visits you at work,”
And he’s swallowing, a deeper blush on his cheeks, “you noticed?”
“I also noticed how you always bring the person you work with their favorite coffee order, the way you try to make others feel valued when the company doesn’t even do it, and how you always do your best — even when it comes at your own expense,” it’s so easy to say these things, but it only makes you long for him more, “let me do more — let me take care of you—“
And he’s covering his mouth with his forearm, “do you know what you’re saying?” you slowly get up from the bed, taking careful steps towards him, “our heads are clouded, we aren’t—“ and he swears under his breath but he doesn’t resist your approach, the bathroom door right behind him, “I don’t want to hurt you—“
“Do you feel the same for me?” and his gaze softens as he meets yours, “because I get the feeling you do — at least you like my scent,” a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, “hopefully not just my scent?”
And you didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to be this pink in the face, but Choso was — and you weren’t sure if it was your words or your closeness, “It’s not just your scent,” he’s mumbling against his arm until he’s pulling it away, to reveal his lips colored a faint scarlet from your blood, “I have feelings for you — I have for a while,”
God, he was fun to tease, “What’s a while?” you’re murmuring, his lips part, flashing his fangs while he does. His eyes avert from your face, only to land on your neck, grazing over the bite mark he left, and you decide to spare him, “but if it’s been a while for you and for me, then—” he’s shivering again, a sigh caught in his throat, muscles tensed as if he was a tiger ready to pounce.
“It’ll be hard to stop once we start — we should think—“ your fingertips brush his cheek, his eyes falling shut at your touch, the want inside you only grew, as you felt him lean into you.
“Who said we’re going to stop?” and he breaks, his hand is sliding around your waist, tugging you closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his words nearly muttered against it.
“Are you sure?”
“I am—” and that’s all he needed.
In a flash you’re pinned on the bed, blinking as you glance at the spinning ceiling fan for a moment before he’s leaning over you.
His eyes are tinted with red and laced with desperation, fangs flashing as his fingers cup your chin and he leans down, “I’ll show you how much I like you, pretty girl.”
“Oh, Cho-so,” your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him impossibly closer, his hot tongue dragging up the side of your neck, licking at the rivers of blood dripping down, “fuck, please—“
“Can’t waste a single drop, not when you taste so good,” he’s murmuring, nearly hypnotized by your taste — his sticky saliva and your blood mixed together, “fuck, I could kiss every inch of you and it wouldn’t be enough,”
“Please, I need more,” and he’s chuckling, nibbling at the base of your neck, a whine parting your lips that made him nearly bust a nut then and there, “please—“
And his lips find yours in a searing kiss, fangs lightly biting your bottom lip, swallowing your gasps with a smirk, and how is it possible your lips are even sweeter? It was as if you were made of molasses, and he was more than happy to indulge. He parts your lips, dragging a thumb down your kiss bitten lips, your saliva clinging to his skin.
“You know how long I wanted this? Had to touch myself in the shower to stop myself from pinning you the moment we entered the room,” he murmurs, recalling how his fingers had reached for his cock, already nearly covered in pre, his thumb running across his slit was nearly enough to make him burst. But it paled in comparison to the sight of you, disheveled under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, chest rising and falling fast, and your lips nearly begging him to kiss you again and again, “and now I want to take my time, love,” but he doesn’t, instead he bends down again, to nip and suck marks all over your skin, savoring the drops of blood he steals from each one — a constellation dotting your neck and collarbone to remind anyone that you were his. And his fingers find yours, just as he was yours.
And you whimper, as he kisses his way down your arm, sweet pecks dotting down, until he reaches your wrist. He noses it, feeling the rush of your pulse underneath your skin, the sweet scent of your blood clouded his mind, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, as he flashes a gaze upward for your silent permission. You nod.
Your nod was all he needed, before his fangs sinks into your wrist. It was potent — you were potent rather — he had grown used to his normal supply of blood, blood that he had acquired through the proper channels, and though it quenched his thirst, it never satisfied it.
You were more than satisfaction itself — you were ecstasy incarnate, and he was utterly addicted from the moment he had his lips pressed against your lovely skin. Scarlet dripped from the bite and the corners of his mouth — the blood flooded his mouth, an unending pool of need that only grew with each second.
And as he pulled away, blood dripping from his lips, he watched your eyes flutter open, legs spread for him, as he licked his lips clean.
“Such a waste to let even a single drop go,” he drags his tongue up the rivulets of blood that ran down your wrist, and a whimper escapes your lips, and his lips curl, “what do you want, love? Tell me,”
And you’re biting your lip, averting your gaze, but he’s guiding it back to his, “Choso, please, I need you to touch me,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, “please—“
He pulls your hand away, and kisses your lips again in a bruising kiss, before he’s pressing sweet kisses down your body, easing the straps of your bra down. He kisses the swell of your breasts, one after the other, making you squirm in place.
“Pretty girl,” he’s murmuring, his lips kissing each one of your erect nipples, caught in a thick haze of lust, “so good for me,” and he’s lighting a trail of kisses down your body, and he’s resisting the urge to mark up every inch of you — no, there would be time for that later, his eyes flicking up to meet your half lidded gaze, “gonna be good for me?” His skillful fingers slide under the elastic of your panties, snapping the fabric against you, making you gasp, “either way, I might just eat you up,”
A shaky chuckle escapes your lips, “Promise?” And he chuckles, as he’s spreading your lips, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your inner thigh.
“Be careful what you wish for,” his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, before running over the mark with his tongue, before his fingers are running over your drenched panties, and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your plush thigh, but no — he’s carefully tugging down your underwear down your legs — he had to stay focused.
His breath catches at the sight of your dripping cunt and swollen clit, glistening with your juices that told him just how much you wanted this — and it was enough to nearly have him cumming in his boxers. And then the sweet scent of your precum becomes too much for him—
And he can’t wait.
His tongue flicks against your clit, making a squeal escape your lips, fingers finding purchase in the long strands. It’s too good — judging by the way your hips nearly rut into his lips, while your own moans his name. But it was even better for him, as he groans against your pussy, licking the pre sticking to his lips.
“How do you taste so good? Sweetest thing I’ve tasted, as good as every part of you,”
You gasp when his fingers spread your folds, “Cho—“ and he’s circling a tip of one of his lithe fingers around your entrance teasingly.
He hums lightly, “Can’t decide whether I want to use my fingers or my mouth, love,” he murmurs in contemplation, whilst his tongue teases your needy clit, “what do you think, baby?”
“I need you—anything—“ and he’s licking a stripe up your sweet pussy, before he’s sinking a finger into your fluttering walls, “Choso—fuck—“ and the wet squelch of your cunt and the feel of your fluttering walls around his digit makes his dick twitch in his boxers, “s’good,”
And you’re melting into his touch, your juices soaking his fingers and wrist as he fucks you with his finger, knuckle deep in your warm walls, rubbing at your clit with his thumb.
And you’re so sensitive, every move of his finger has your walls squeezing him tight, his other hand sneaking into his boxers to palm at his erection, “Cho, I need more—“ and he’s adding a second finger to the first, fucking you deep until he finds that spot — and that’s enough for you to fall apart.
You cum, back arching as you do, stars bursting behind closed eyes, as you moan his name. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, walls fluttering around his fingers, thighs tensing around his hand. You come down from your high, chest nearly heaving from your pants, as he eases his fingers from your pussy. A soft sigh leaving your throat as your cunt flutters around nothing.
Your eyes flutter open to see Choso licking his fingers clean — still sticky with your release — fangs flashing with the part of his lips, and you shiver at the sight. He’s leaning back down, pressing kisses to your thighs, before his tongue drags up your leaking pussy, making you gasp.
“Please, Choso—fuck—“ and he’s smirking, glancing up with lips glossy with your release, placing a chaste kiss to your puffy clit, your eyes falling to his hand palming his boxers, “let me touch you—“
“Not yet, baby,” his tongue circles your slit, circles growing faster before sinking into your insides, nose bumping against your swollen clit, as he laps at your messy slit, “not until I’ve swallows every drop of you,” his fangs pinch at your clit.
It’s already too much for you — your second orgasm sneaks up on you — a coil wound tight as he slurps and sucks at your cunt, all too eager to taste every last drop. And oh, he does — until he uses his thumb to rub at your clit, and it’s too much—
You squirt all over his face, soaking his face and fingers with your release, his lips more than eager to lap up every drop of it. Even as he pulls away, your cum is dripping down his chin, his dark eyes lidded as he looks up at you.
And he can’t wait anymore—he needs to sink his dick into you. He’s licking his chin clean, pussydrunk on your cum, as he smashes lips to yours. Your moan is stifled as you taste yourself on his lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth as you part them for him. You hear the shift of the sheets as he tugs his boxers down, pulling his lips away only to finish kicking them off.
But that’s not what you were looking at.
Fuck, he was huge — his engorged tip was a deep red, large pearly beads of precum dripping down, while the rest of him was flushed a lovely pink. The veins that went along his length made gou tempted to trace them, mapping out his cock until you remembered every inch. You were hypnotized as your fingers reached for him, thumb flicking against his slit, before grasping at his base.
He gasps, head lolling back, as you spread the pre along his length, beginning to pump him, “Fuck, so good for me, baby,” he’s covering his lips, cheeks flushed to match his cock, “please, I won’t last—“ and he nearly blows his load when your mouth sucks at the tip, before sliding his dick past your lips. your tongue tracing along the veins.
And a whine leaves his throat, as you start to bob along his length, spit and precum dripping down the corners of your mouth as you messily sucked at him. His hips jerk, as his fingers thread into your hair, tip brushing against his throat, it’s almost too much.
He’s easing you off his cock with a tug of your hair, your lips parting with a pop, strings of saliva and precum connecting your mouth to his dick. And god, he wants nothing more then to pump his cock and let him spill all over your face.
But no, no, he rather spill inside you.
In an instant he’s gotten you onto your back, the head of his cock brushing against your dripping cunt. He’s dragging the head of his dick against your dripping folds teasingly, making you squirm.
“Please,” you’re whining, drawing a soft chuckle from him, as he’s lining himself up, groaning in unison as his tip bumps against your slit, “fuck, Choso, I need you—“
And he obliges, sinking into you inch by inch, a grunt from his mouth, “Already trying to swallow me whole, love? No need for that — I’m already giving it to you,” the delicious stretch of your warm walls pull him in deeper, stretching as he works himself inside your cunt, “so tight, baby,” and he’s finally bottoming out — cock twitching against your sweet cunt.
He’s reaching places you didn’t think were possible, his
You were far too tempting, “Please, Cho, please move—“ your words cut off with a gasp as his lips against your neck again, fangs piercing your skin as he bites you, right as he starts to slowly fuck into you.
White hot pleasure rips up your spine — the bite and the way his cock fucks you enough for you to already cum around him, your mouth parted in moans, as your walls clamp down on him. He’s sucking greedily at your blood, and he wasn’t sure what was better, the way your sweet blood tasted against his tongue, or the way your release squelched around his dick, as he fucked it. And he barely registers that his cock is growing larger against your spasming pussy, but you sure do, as you moan his name.
“S’big, Choso, too big,” you’re whining, as his hand presses against your lower half only to feel a slight bulge, and he only makes him want to thrust harder, too far gone to think — only one thought circling the drain of his pin sized perspective — that he wanted to fill you up,
“Cho-so, please—“ and he doesn’t know what you’re asking him, to slow down or to go faster, as he pulls his fangs from you. And he could cum just looking at you — your forehead slick with sweat, while scarlet rivulets of your blood ran down the side of your neck, eyes blown out in such lust — and everything about your body begging him to fuck you more.
“S’pretty for me, baby,” as he fucks you through your orgasm, another building in its place, as he watches his cock piston in and out of your fluttering cunt. And it feels too fucking good. And he’s leaning back down to lick up the blood staining your neck, as he gives a particular hard thrust that has you seeing stars, and he knows you’re close—and he knows he won’t last much longer — not with the way your vice grip cunt is squeezing around him.
But you’re confirming it with your moans, filling his ears along with the lewd noises of skin slapping together, “I’m close—I’m—“ and he’s grunting in agreement, as his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, only to pull a breath away to ask:
“Where?” And the flutter of your walls that pulls him impossibly deeper tells him the answer, but you reply with words as well.
“Inside, please, need to feel you fill me—“ you cum then and there, words cut off with a moan of his name, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts stutter as he grows close, before groaning and pressing another kiss to your lips, biting your bottom lip to draw blood, as he spills inside you, painting your insides with his hot release, fucking it inside you as his hips slow.
He’s pulling away from your lips, pulling himself from inside you, a soft gasp leaving your lips, as he moans himself when he watches his seed mixed with your cum slip from your pussy.
He’s caressing you, pressing sweet kisses to your face and neck, your quiet pants filling his ears like a metronome.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter open, lips curling slightly as you nod, a sigh on your lips.
“I’m more than okay,” you press your lips to his again, a sweet kiss that grows more insistent as your tongue drags against the seam of his lips, before you hear a wet squelch, and your eyes open darting down to only find him stroking his cock, “Choso, are you—“
“Mm, the effect of your blood hasn’t quite subsided for me,” he murmurs, “but I think I can take care of it with—“ and he’s flipped onto his back, eyes blinking up as you, sitting on top of him.
And he sees the blatant want in your gaze, as you begin to lower yourself onto his dick, a smile pulling at your lips, as your lust pulled him under and his cock inside you.
“I told you I’d take care of you, Choso,” and you offer your neck to him again, dragging your wrist across his face, “so let me.”
“You’ll be working with Choso again on this project,” you have to bite back your smile, when you nod, “the two of you did a good job on the last one. Thank you for the overtime you put in. It did not go unnoticed,”
“No problem, sir, anything for the job,” and your supervisor smiles, as you turn to leave, “I’m sure Choso would say the same,”
“The two of you make a good team. I may pair you two together more often. Is that okay? I’ll have to run it by Choso, of course,” and you nod, hand already on the door knob.
“I’m sure he would be more than okay with that, sir.”
“Ah, baby, please just one bite?” Choso’s got you pressed up against the conference room door, “spending all day at work with you makes me so needy,” he mumbles against your skin, as he’s already unbuttoning your button up, the shirt already creased with he’s tugging it free from your slacks, “please,”
“Cho, you had one this morning, it’s barely lunchtime, and you’re this desperate—” and he’s grinding his tenting erection against your clothed cunt, and your hand barely is able to make it in time to stifle your moan with your fingers, “fuck, fine, one bite, but don’t make a mess, this is a white blouse, babe—”
He’s already tugging down your shirt, wrapping his arms around his middle, as his red tinted gaze meets yours in the shaded drawn window of the conference door. And now you were sure — your coworker loved you, even when you thought he didn’t.
“Don’t worry, love, I won’t spill a drop.”
✧ a/n: this fic was weirdly hard to write. i was very stuck for a while. i couldn't figure out how to write it even though the idea struck me. but i hope you all enjoy <3 thank you for @laneysmusings and @gaylatteart for betaing and being the best moral support <3
✧ taglist: @yourwaifuhatesyou, @cira273, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @whereismysane, @kaedeolgy, @keirangoldenwatch, @indieotterxoxo, @mua-for-now, @b3llair3, @evieslook, @shervinss, @saltymeow77, @svt-backup, @dazailover1900, @kentocalls, @yamaguccitadashi, @simply-a-s1mp, @rita-ritarita, @gorepain, @jupisloveletterz, @ice-echo26, @lemonpoppy-seed, @turtletaubwrites, @complexivelovely, @tiramatsumu, @strangehuman101, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @adrenova, @chosoitos, @stonecoldsensitive, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunamatic, @maetziniscool, @muichirosbestie, @monstrousbuu, @spider-fan72, @nakariabnrb, @petalshxwer, @talkativetranscendant, @fairyxgothic, @jupisloveletterz, @crystalkat6747, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @hotcocokiss, @angstigone, @sunnykento, @dantaku
#sab [mlist]#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo fanfiction#choso smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso x reader#choso x you#choso kamo x you#choso kamo fluff#vampire choso#jjk x you#jjk choxo x reader#kamo choso x reader#kamo choso smut
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ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ
pairing. michael kaiser x gn!reader
genre. college AU | older brother's bestfriend | fake dating (@/saekkas req!) | angry confession (anon req)
content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) | reader is a sophomore while kaiser is a senior | reader is ness's younger sibling | reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | toxic uni gossip culture | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread
summary: as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.
💭 masterlist | next part
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”
Your ears were ringing.
After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.
“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.
Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.
Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.
Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.
You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.
“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.
“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.
“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”
“We?”
“Kaiser is downstairs.”
Of course, he is.
Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.
You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.
If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.
“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.
The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.
“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”
In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”
“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”
“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”
Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.
Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”
“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.
“Fuck off.”
“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.
You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.
You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.
You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.
Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.
If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.
Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.
“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.
“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.
“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”
Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.
“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.
Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”
“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.
Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.
It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.
Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.
Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.
But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.
“I swear to god this better be important–”
“Get ready,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“Look out your window.”
Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.
Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.
“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.
You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.
It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.
It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.
“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”
He’s taking me to it? “Why?”
Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.
“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.
You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.
The first one today.
Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.
But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.
You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.
And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.
“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.
Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?
“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”
Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.
Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.
“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”
“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.
Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.
Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.
It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.
You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”
Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”
Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”
“Call me by my name.”
“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”
“The one you used to call me.”
Mikka.
It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.
You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.
“I’m Michael.”
“That’s… long.”
“What?”
“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”
“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.
“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.
He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.
“Same thing.”
“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”
“Your point?” you countered.
“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.
“He was nice to me!”
“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”
You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.
“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.
Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.
“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”
“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.
“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”
“And you? Are you a gentleman?”
Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.
Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.
Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.
When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”
He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.
“Especially not one, doll.”
“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.
Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.
The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.
Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.
Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.
He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.
“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.
The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.
“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.
From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.
After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.
You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.
Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.
As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).
“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.
“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.
“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”
Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”
You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.
But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.
“You should be flattered.”
Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”
“Accepted.”
If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.
At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.
You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”
The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”
“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”
“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.
If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.
Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.
Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.
“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”
If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.
You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.
Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”
“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.
“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”
You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”
“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.
Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.
You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.
“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.
“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”
“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.
Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.
You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.
“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.
Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.
Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”
Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.
And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.
But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.
If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.
Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.
“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”
Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.
You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.
“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.
“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”
“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”
“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.
“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”
“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.
Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.
“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”
What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.
“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”
“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”
The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”
“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”
What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.
He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.
And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.
His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.
Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.
Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.
“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.
As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.
“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.
Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.
“Easy, doll.”
Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.
Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.
Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”
The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.
Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.
Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.
He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.
Damn it, doll.
Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.
Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.
The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.
It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.
Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.
It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.
The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.
What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?
Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.
Just then, a knock on the door startled you.
“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”
It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.
Shit.
note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!
#☁️ my ode to you#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock imagines#michael kaiser imagines#kaiser imagines#michael kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#michael kaiser#blue lock fluff#first milestone event!#writing: 004
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The Family Business Ch.12
WandaNat x Reader
Word count: 2.7k
Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity
Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.
An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.
Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.
“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”
You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.
“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.
You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.
“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.
Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”
The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.
“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.
Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”
“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”
You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”
You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”
Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”
Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”
You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.
“What are you saying Wanda?”
For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.
“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”
You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”
Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.
Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.
“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.
Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”
“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.
She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.
“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.
Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”
Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”
This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.
“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.
Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”
“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.
“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.
“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.
Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”
“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”
Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”
You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”
“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.
“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.
“How do you know?”
She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”
You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”
Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”
Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.
The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.
Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”
“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.
Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.
“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.
Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.
“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.
You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”
Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”
“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.
It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.
Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.
Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.
“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.
“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.
Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.
Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”
You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”
Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”
Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”
Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”
Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.
“How do you want to do this?”
You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”
She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.
Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.
The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.
Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.
“Y/n, do you mind if-"
“Take it off,” you finish for her.
She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.
“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.
She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.
Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”
You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.
It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.
She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.
Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.
She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.
“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.
Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”
Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.
“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.
“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.
“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.
Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”
“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”
Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.
Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.
“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”
You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.
“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.
You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”
She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.
When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.
“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.
“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.
At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.
When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.
“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.
“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.
“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.
Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”
Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.
“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.
Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”
The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.
“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.
Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."
Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.
Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.
Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989
#lowkeyerror#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wandanat x reader#the family business
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His big wet eyes and loser boy personality have captivated me (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN!Reader)
Summary: you see Ghost's big beautiful calf eyes and you HAVE to say something. also he calls u love because he’s British and it’s cute IDC
inspired by something @suimon said because of course it is
The warmth of the cafe was a welcome reprieve from the biting winter cold outside, and you dusted the snow off of your clothes and hair as you made your way to the counter, not bothering to take off your scarf or light jacket.
You exchanged a polite greeting with the cashier and ordered your favorite hot drink, along with a pastry that caught your eye. Might as well, right? After you had missed your bus home, you deserved a little treat for having to walk in the cold instead!
The wait was blessedly short despite how crowded the small building was, and you grabbed your drink and snack with a quiet 'thank you' before looking around and searching for a seat. A lot of people had the same idea as you, it seemed, because every table and chair in the place seemed to be occupied. It was nowhere near nice enough for anyone to want to go outside to enjoy their food and drinks, so the small cafe was packed.
Well, almost packed.
There was one place left to sit; on a plush chair near a coffee table. A prime spot, if not for the man who was in the chair directly across from it. He was dressed all in black, with nearly every square inch of his skin covered. He was wearing a balaclava, with the bottom rolled up just enough to expose his lips and allow him to take sips of his tea. Not too unusual considering the weather, but still a little off-putting. No one had wanted to occupy the seat closest to him. You could guess why. He was massive, with biceps that were probably bigger than your head, and he didn't exactly seem the most approachable. Still, this was a public place. If he didn't want anyone to sit by him, he should have taken his tea home.
You cleared your throat as you stood in front of him, and he looked up.
"Mind if I sit?" You asked with a slightly anxious smile. The man grunted and shrugged his shoulders before replying.
"Nah, s'fine." He said, his accented voice rough. He gestured for you to approach, and you did, setting your drink and snack on the coffee table before settling in.
"Thanks, I didn't want to go back out in all of that just yet. My hands were starting to get numb…" You chuckled awkwardly, and the man hummed, taking in the sight of your snow-covered boots and rosy cheeks, but he didn't say anything else.
You saw that as your cue to stop talking, and you took a big bite of your pastry.
But then you noticed his eyes. They were...gorgeous, for lack of a better word. Observant and soulful, a warm brown color that looked like honey when the light hit his face. You inhaled quietly, your own eyes widening as you took in the sight. You absolutely had to say something. He wouldn’t get mad if you complimented him, right? He couldn’t just walk around looking so stunning and not expect anyone to mention it!
—————
You weren’t the worst person to be stuck sitting by, he supposed. Not one of those fuckers that wouldn’t stop trying to start a conversation with him despite his one-word responses and clear disinterest. The worst thing in the world for Simon was getting stuck near someone chatty, and you were blissfully quiet, which was all he could have asked for, really.
Not to mention, you were pretty easy on the eyes. A hot tea and a good view was just what he needed to get him through the rest of the day.
He could tell you were thinking about something as you ate your pastry, your eyes trained on the floor and your foot tapping rhythmically the entire time you enjoyed the snack. You were probably just anxious though. He wasn’t exactly the most approachable person, he’d be the first to admit it, but he really did hope he wasn’t making you too uncomfortable. He didn’t particularly enjoy scaring people- provided those people weren’t out to kill him or his friends, anyway.
“Hey, I…um. C-Can I just- say something real quick?” You asked. Your cheeks were still red, but it definitely wasn’t from the cold now.
Despite himself, Simon laughed. Or, well- he snorted really quietly and exhaled out of his nose. His lips twitched upward, and he glanced over at you.
“Don’t need my permission, love, but sure. Go on.”
“Right. Sorry, it’s just-“ You got even more fidgety, and you couldn’t seem to look directly at him while you spoke. It was like he was the sun, and you were trying not to blind yourself.
“I wanted to tell you…your eyes are beautiful.” You finally looked at him then, and your expression was so open and sincere that he knew you meant every word you’d just said.
Simon couldn’t help but be a bit shocked. His physical features had been commented on before, sure, but not like this. You didn’t seem like you were trying to get into his pants- hell, you didn’t even seem to be flirting with him. It was like you simply had to let him know.
“…What.” He said before he had time to formulate a proper response.
Damn it, Simon.
“Your eyes. They’re just really nice, and- i’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said-“
“No, no! It’s…”
More than okay? Incredibly flattering? The nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me? Making me want to kiss you on the mouth?
“…Fine.”
Damn it, Simon!
Despite his lackluster response, you looked relieved, a smile gracing your features.
“Oh, good…I was worried i’d made you uncomfortable, or…” Simon shook his head, immediately shutting down that train of thought as soon as it started.
“Not at all, love. You just…caught me off guard for a second. Can’t say anyone’s ever called any part of me ‘beautiful,’ much less my eyes.” He said, trying to ease your nerves. To his amusement, you looked scandalized, as if it was a travesty that you had been the first.
“No one? Really?”
“Really. S’ppose you’ll have to make up for it by tellin’ me again how pretty I am, eh?” He tested the waters by nudging you lightly, and you laughed.
God, he’d do anything to hear that laugh again.
“Humble in spite of your beauty, I see.” You teased back. Your demeanor became more relaxed then, and you leaned back in your chair a bit.
“Of course. Can't let myself get a big head, can I?"
Simon really liked you. You were a sweet little thing, polite, too- and he started to lose track of time as the two of you spoke. You were really listening to him, enjoying the conversation and not just waiting for your turn to talk, and he found himself talking a lot more than normal as a result. It was then that he noticed you glancing out the window, noticing how dark it was getting outside.
"...Shit. I didn't mean to stay for this long, I-I gotta get home." You muttered, clearly more than a little hesitant.
"I'll walk you." Simon offered right away. He couldn't help but feel protective, not wanting anything to happen to you during your walk home. He knew no one would dare to fuck with you if he was around, and he told you as much.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to go out of your way, or-"
"No, no...it'd be no trouble at all. S' the least I can do for keeping you all this time. You'd probably be back by now if it weren't for me." He insisted, standing up and gesturing for you to do the same. He had made up his mind, and he knew you realized that as well, an affectionate chuckle escaping your lips.
"Well...true, but it was worth it. And it's not like I didn't enjoy talking to you. I'd love it if you walked me home."
He had to fight the urge to pump his fist in victory. Instead, he guided you to the door and held it open for you.
"Cold?" He asked, watching you shiver as the winter air hit your skin.
"Y-Yeah...I didn't think I'd have to spend so long outside today, but I missed the bus and I had to walk home..."
Without a word, Simon unzipped his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth immediately transferring to you as you looked up at him with an adorably confused expression on your face. He gave you a look that said 'don't you dare try and give that back to me,' which you seemed to understand.
You smiled up at him and put your arms through the holes, quickly zipping it up and crossing your arms as you walked. You thanked him, and he was grateful for the balaclava covering his face, because he was definitely going red right about now.
The walk to your building was much too short for his liking, and it seemed you shared that sentiment based on the way you frowned as you stared at the door.
"Well, um...thanks for letting me use your jacket, but-" You went to unzip it, but he placed his hand over yours before you could.
"Hold onto it for a while, yeah? You can return it next time we see each other." He said with a wink. Your eyes lit up and you giggled. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.
Damn, that was smooth. Good on you, Si.
"When should we..?" You began.
"Don't worry about the details right now, love. You can next me later an' we'll work it all out."
"I don't have your number..."
"Sure you do. check the jacket pockets."
You did so, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise when you pulled out a scrap of paper with his name and number already written down. While you were staring at it with disbelief, Simon took that as his cue to slip away.
#call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost cod#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#fluff#i feel like we don’t acknowledge the fact that he’s a cocky bastard#mister Simon ‘quite the opposite’ ‘impeccable bronze’ Riley#he’s such a goober#kissing him on the mouth 1000 times
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closer than i ever even knew - quinn hughes
summary: quinn saves the day and goes mini-golfing
word count: 1.1k
note: happy belated birthday @fallinallincurls! this is much, much shorter than i anticipated and i hope it's short but sweet. muchas gracias to @offside-the-lines <3
bingo: friends to lovers | witty banter | fake dating | it’s always been you
It starts, like any good romance movie does, with an event she doesn’t want to go to and a friend willing to save the day.
The event isn’t even big or fancy, which makes the whole thing so funny. She’s under no obligation to bring anyone, let alone a romantic partner, but, during the busiest hour of her week, a coworker had asked if she was going to, and the ‘yes’ had slipped from her mouth before she’d even realised it was happening.
Thus, Quinn Hughes was playing mini golf at a "team bonding" event her company decided was a good idea.
Her intention hadn’t been to earn any brownie points by bringing him—he had volunteered himself, after all—but the second they arrived and her boss spotted Quinn Hughes, Captain of the Vancouver Canucks, she immediately grouped them with her, her wife and the next nearest couple.
They wasted no time in heading to the first hole, her boss taking the lead and making sure they weren’t stuck behind anybody else. Which turned out to be a good thing because Quinn was taking practice swings with the putter.
She rolled her eyes as she asked, “Are you taking this seriously, or are you having fun?”
“Are we on a team?”
“No, it’s individual.”
“Then I’m taking it seriously,” Quinn answered easily. “No way am I letting you win.”
The questions came through shortly after they started, nosing in on the relationship lie that resulted in Quinn joining them for the day. Well, they weren’t aware that it was a lie, of course.
Luckily for her, Quinn was all too happy to do the talking.
The lingering looks and touches had her wondering why Quinn pursued hockey when he would have been just as successful as an actor. Even though he was determined to win, the simple repositioning of her hands on the putter and the minute correction of the position of her hips were leaving her short of words.
“Is this good enough for you, Captain?” she called over her shoulder, teasing Quinn as she lined up for her next shot. The wiggle in her hips was joking—mostly involuntary even—but it immediately drew Quinn’s eyes, even though he was mid-conversation.
“You’ve got great form, babe.”
A wink accompanied the sentence and she had to look away so that her blush wouldn’t be seen by her coworkers. Or by Quinn.
It did mean that she turned around and focused on her putting, leading to a nice hole-in-one.
At various points throughout the afternoon, Quinn’s hand found hers. Their fingers intertwined in a perfect fit, and it took all her power to not act like it was a strange occurrence; she desperately wanted to get out of her head and enjoy those moments while they lasted.
Her boss, finally taking a break from talking about hockey, asked about how they met. The looks sent Quinn’s way were a discrete panic, but he didn’t seem to be facing the same problem.
“We had the same routine running the Sea Wall—seemed like fate that we kept running into each other when my schedule’s so chaotic, you know?” he answered, providing an entirely accurate retelling that had her shocked he hadn’t opted for something a bit more romantic. “She literally fell for me.”
“Me?” she nearly screeched, any confusion she was feeling or fluttering in her stomach was immediately overtaken by incredulity. “You tripped over a dog lead!”
“You distracted me, what can I say?”
There was some cooing that followed, and Quinn refused to make eye contact despite the cocky smile on his face. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tell whether it was all just for show.
Her boss ended up winning, after a lot of effort and a competitive nature that would rival anybody Quinn played with or against. She and Quinn shared many sideways glances with raised eyebrows at just how competitive she was.
The world stopped spinning when Quinn leaned in and whispered directly into her ear, “Still beat you, though.”
As they were leaving, Quinn took her hand again. It was so casual that she wasn’t sure any thought had gone into it at all—and with nobody looking their way, it did nothing to heighten their ruse. She glanced down at their hands, too distracted to even say a proper goodbye as Quinn earnestly told everyone he hoped to see them again soon—that also added to her confusion.
The streets of Vancouver were deeply familiar, etched into her brain from a young age with every slight raise in the concrete committed to muscle memory, so she knew that they were headed towards the water and away from either of their apartments the second Quinn chose a direction. The Sea Wall surrounding the city was her favourite part of it with nothing else even coming close.
“Weird time for a run?” she asked. She wiggled her fingers just to test the pressure. Quinn squeezed back. “I don’t want to go for a run right now.”
“Nobody is going for a run,” he said gently. “I didn’t even want to be going for runs but I saw you on that first day and kept going out just in case I’d see you again.”
She screwed up her face, the disbelief that ran through her had her pulling her hand from Quinn’s and huffing, “Don’t be stupid.”
“How am I being stupid?” There was a tinge of hurt in his voice that she so rarely heard; she felt it right in her chest.
“I don’t know, Q. I just don’t believe you went out of your way to find me. That’s not…” Her voice was muffled by the sound of the water rushing against the Sea Wall. “That doesn’t happen in real life. To me.”
Quinn stared at her, seemingly taking in every inch of her face, and she could only imagine the expression she was making. If she looked as pathetic as she felt, she would need to make sure she never saw him again.
“It’s happening to you.” he stressed. “Today was… Today… I’d like today to be every day.”
She had so many things she wanted to say but no ability to make them come out of her mouth. She felt no less pathetic than she did a moment earlier, though she did feel a little more hopeful. It had been a good day, even if confusing, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been wanting something similar since they first met years prior.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re Quinn Hughes? Because you’re the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks? We’ve just spent the entire day with your ass being kissed—you could have your pick of any woman in Vancouver. We’ve been friends for like, what? Three years now and you’ve never—”
“I am now. I don’t want anybody else. I want you. It’s always been you.”
i would very much love to hear your thoughts if you have any, and would love if you'd reblog and share it with some more people <3
#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes imagine#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#hockey fic#homemade fic#nobody saw me spell gracias wrong except for anyone who sees Kayla’s reblog#so many garcias
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Shambles
Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader
Summary: After Regina’s life goes down in shambles, she calls on the one person who’s always there for her.
Contents: lots of self-hate from Regina, vulnerable!Regina, sweetheart!reader, reader’s an angel, hurt/comfort
Word count: 951
Author’s note: Personally this came out a lot shorter than I would have liked, but it is what it is 🤷♀️ Based on the TikTok audio “you came, you called.”
— — — —
Regina George does not do vulnerability.
Vulnerability means weakness and being weak is not a trait that she possesses.
She’s the apex predator and people cower at her feet, tripping over themselves to please her.
Of course, that’s all before Cady fucking Heron steals her throne, steals her friends, steals her boyfriend, ruins her life, and gets her hit by a bus.
Now she’s stuck at home with this ugly ass spinal collar on, she has to take this pain medication that makes her loopy as hell, and she has to rely on her mother for help with the simplest of things.
Embarrassingly enough, she thinks the worst part of it all is that she’s alone.
She knows she shouldn’t care about that, knows it shouldn’t matter that nobody came to see her.
She wishes she could say she didn’t understand why no one came, wishes she could say they’re the rude ones, the mean ones who don’t care, but she can’t. She’s never been an easy person to approach before so why would she be now, after everything’s been taken from her and her life’s been turned to shambles?
Her eyes sweep over the flowers scattered about her room, pity gifts left at the front door by her classmates who clearly don’t mind spending money on her anonymously, but don’t have the courage to show they care in person.
She knows it’s her fault she’s by herself.
She glances to her phone on the blanket next to her, wondering if she really has to be.
The phone goes straight to voicemail and Regina releases a shaky breath as she speaks. “Hey, I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I’m having a tough time and I didn’t know who else- I didn’t have anyone else to call. I can’t do this — I don’t want to do this alone. I know I deserve this, but please I…,” the phone beeps, her voicemail reaching the time limit before she can finish. Still she whispers into the quiet room, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I need you.”
Exhaustion starts to creep in and for once, despite hating how tired her meds always make her, Regina doesn’t fight it allowing her eyes to slip shut and sleep to take over.
She wakes sometime later, her back throbbing in pain and a groan escapes her as she attempts to push herself into an upright position only succeeding in aggravating her back more.
“Careful there,” a voice — one that is decidedly not her mother — calls from beside her before a pair of hands are helping her into a more comfortable position. There’s shuffling next to her and she tries to turn and see who it is because there’s no way it’s who she actually hopes thinks it is, but her brace is making it impossible to turn her head so she stays facing forward until finally you step into her field of vision.
Regina blinks, trying to determine if you’re actually standing in front of her or if her medicine is making her hallucinate. “You came.”
“You called.”
It’s a simple response, one that falls easily from your lips and succeeds in making Regina spiral, thoughts of why, why, why, swirling through her head.
Why’d you come running just because she asked you to?
Why’s it so easy for you to come running to her?
Why didn’t you abandon her like everyone else?
Why do you tolerate her after everything?
“How many do you need?”
The question pulls Regina from her head and she looks to the orange pill bottle in your hand before returning her gaze back up to yours. “Just one.”
You nod, shaking the bottle until the pill falls into your palm and you help Regina take it, cupping your hand under her chin while she takes slow sips from the water bottle in your hand.
A single drop escapes her mouth and slips down her chin and you wipe it away with your thumb, your hand warm against her cheek and it takes everything in Regina not to lean into the touch.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few moments of silence. “You should’ve ignored me.”
“Never, Regina.”
“I’m not a good person, you know. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me. I’m not worth it.”
“Being mean doesn’t make you a bad person.” You shake your head at her, cupping her cheeks in your hands. “I’m not wasting my time; you’re worth everything to me.”
Regina can’t stop the tears from falling at that. You’re good to her, to everyone really, but always, especially to her; you’re too good to her and she doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve you. She knows that, there’s a part of her that has always known and refused to acknowledge it, choosing instead to bask in it like she always does, but now that she has, now that she’s had all this time to reflect, it’s too much for her.
She’s so mean, she’s such a bitch, and you’re so sweet, you’re an angel even when you shouldn’t be, like now, with her, and she’s consumed with so much guilt.
The tears come harder, a pained sob escaping her.
Carefully, you take her into your arms and she squeezes you tight to her, burying her face in your side. Crying hurts, but she can’t stop. You card your fingers through her hair and scratch lightly at her scalp, whispering soft reassurances to her.
“I’ve got you, Regina. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here, I’m right here.”
You press a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’ll always be here for you.”
#regina george x reader#regina george#regina george x fem!reader#regina x fem!reader#mean girls 2024#regina george 2024#regina george x female reader
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FUCK IT, TADC EP 2 THOUGHTS
MAJOR SPOILERS!! BE WARNED
LETS GO!!
Pomni is still pretty screwed up over her first day here, I mean this is all fresh and new to her so like DUH. everyone else here is somewhat or entirely adjusted and kind of just cope with the fact that theyre here I dont think pomni has really processed how long theyve been here?? In the pilot she seems SO bothered by how okay they are with this and willingness to do caines fuckass adventures
i dont blame her, anywho pomni in her nightmare-induced state starts to abstract, she had to face an abstraction early on in her days here which like have to be pretty truamatizing (duh) and cried out to ANYONE, but where she called for help literally no one helped her “oh well” they though
Pomni doesn't feel like anybody else cares, shes the only one whos still going through an adjustment phase and freaking the fuck out while everyone else is just going along with the adventure, something she still thinks is kinda pointless and doesn't get why anybody would waste their time here doing when they COULD be looking for a way out, why is she the only one who seems to still be distressed here? To feel lost? At least from her perspective, it seems that way. Unfortunately, these people have already been here for a while.
Pomski then meets someone whos just like her, their whole reality was shattered and they don't belong anywhere, mirroring how pomni feels at the moment, even if she still has some sort of grip now vs when she first got here
And she finds comfort in that!!! Why is it that this NPC feels more real than the ACTUAL REAL PEOPLE trapped here with her??? Whatever the reason, its something to hold onto. Something to LATCH onto. Hes Real. or at least he feels real, and maybe she feels like she belongs with him because at least he knows the feeling, something shes not really felt w anyone else before
This comfort and solidarity she has with gumigoo is shortlived however as she gets brutally reminded that he wasnt real. The anchor she had vanished and there's quite literally nobody to catch her fall.
And i feel like ragatha trying to comfort her the way she did didnt help AT ALL. it was kinda a sore reminder that gumigoo is easily replaceable, and GOD thats so frustrating?? This thing felt so real to her and nobody seems to care that he just vanished!! If they could be so apathetic to this whos to say they wont just treat her demise just the same as she thought they would???
But then something important happens. They have a funeral for Kaufmo, someone whos been established to be their friend way before Pomni ever came here. And maybe it didn't ever settle in before that kaufmo was a real person! Literally!! And he was real to them. Just like gumigoo though less directly they relate to being in pain and kind of in shock of losing someone who they cared about and who was a real person to care about to them
AND LIKE YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT CLICKS IN HER FACIAL EXPRESSION HERE, THE CHANGE IN HER EYES AND THE WAY HER EXPRESSION LOSENS AT THIS IDK IT DRIVES ME CRAZY GOD THE ANIMATORS WENT OFF W THIS EP VS THE PILOT IM IM IM
anyways anyways They have their funeral service, theres quite literally no reason for anyone to just lie and go along with whatever bs caines got going on, this also quite literally has nothing to do with him. This is kind of their own little way of keeping some sort of human traditions and respect for the human persons that get stuck here because they care. HELL you can even see pomni feel a little guilty here when ragatha says that his funeral was disrupted cause she arrived here
anyways thats exactly it!! They fucking car!! This whole time pomni thought that they just didnt care and were kind of apathetic or downright patronizing her over all this and mocking her or whatnot, like in her dream sequence. But no, they all talk respectively about their memories and experiences with kaufmo, the things they shared together and the feelings they had. EVERYBODY was grieving. Ragatha who always tried to put on some cheerful and kind of irritating (to pomni at least) everythings fine facade (which also kind of feels less real to her at least i think so but i don't think she figured it to be a coping mechanism) to just straight up start crying and breaking up a bit, even mentioning how this does not ever get any easier and how shes had to deal with this plenty of times before.
Zooble the usually apathetic and kind of asshole who keeps to themselves and gives off i don't care energy and probably gave off the impression that they didn't care about anyone here and just treated the people stuck here as an unfortunate fact and nothing more actually being vulnerable and probably doing the same as ragatha talking about their memories with kaufmo
Kingers ALWAYS kind of zoned out or not really taking anything seriously and just being there completely lost in space, but here hes grounded, and even earlier in the episode when ragatha needed it most he remained grounded then too (tho pomni didnt see that i just wanted to mention it). Just like the others he grieves and lives in the unfortunate moment
more of the kinger being grounded when the thought counts
GANGLE- dude even if its for just a moment she smiles here despite having her tragedy mask and like her whole shtick is being of whatever mood or emotion her mask is allegedly wether she wants to or not, but no here shes more than just that, she smiles for a bit when reminiscing her moments with kaufmo only to go back into crying, and man shes always crying with her tragedy mask but its beyond as far as anyone can tell wether or not its really her or just because of her mask, but here? its really her, no matter what the mask on her face shows!! shes genuinely smiling despite having her comedy mask and shes genuinely crying which is very blatantly obviously different to the usual mask cry etc etc
heres something about all this, it hits pomni in a way. These people ARE real, and they care. They care about her, they have nothing else but eachother and THATS something to latch onto. Thats something to hold her down, even if they just met pomni
SPEAKING OF JUST MEETING POMNI she literally expressed how she didnt wanna just LEAVE gumigoo there by himself because she believes no one should just be left there
the circus peeps just met pomni and just like how she felt a real connection to gumigoo in this digital hell she feels a sort of connection with these people too. Theyre gonna have her back all the same, maybe she wont feel so out of place and alone.
BONUS THING!! The literal only times she genuinely smiles is when she feels this real connection to what feels real to her and has a genuine and sincere moment with these people whether it be an npc or a trapped member.
Idk it just means something to me how significant both these moments are tipped off with a genuine smile a REAL SMIE!! (id add pictures but tumblr has a 30 image limit)
OH ALSO BONUS BONUS THING THE DIFFERENCE IN OUTRO MUSIC IS SO IS SO ITS SO
the outro song for the pilot kinda feels so ethereal and out of the moment at least to me it kinda feels like it you're slipping through the cracks and just, existing within yourself as the rest of the world around you kind of shatters into glass or melts into water or something i dont think ANY of that made any sense but its loud and its blaring and its so out of reach in a way, mad disassociation vibes
but the outro song for the 2nd ep is a lot quieter yet its right there, at first it starts really small, lonely even. trapped by yourself but as the music gets louder and more instruments join in on the song it kind of has a comforting feel? bittersweet? even? its grounding ina way which is much different from how the first one felt at least to me lmao
and the comforting feel kinda only emphasizes what I was talking about earlier- the comfort in having that anchor of reality with having a real moment with these people and making that connection yk?
and like as i was saying at first the song starts off with just one instrument, at the start of the episode pomni feels utter alone and out of place even if these people here with here are stuck in the same situation as her, together alone.
but as the other instruments join.
in it kinda uplifts the song a bit, its not one sole instrument anymore like how in the end pomni feels that connection with everyone else, not so alone anymore idk jackshit about music theory so this is entirely a feelies talk instead of like- music lore? so don't take anything i say as like- idk some professional speak im just a nerd nerding about silly digital fixations
ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW I AVE MORE TO SAY BUT THIS IS LONG ENOUGH LOL
if you actually read all the way down this far thank you for listening!!! i really really appreciate it :]
#tadc#the amazing digital circus#pomni#tadc pomni#ragatha#tadc ragatha#gangle#tadc gangle#zooble#tadc zooble#kinger#tadc kinger#jax#tadc jax#tadc ep 2#tadc episode 2#im crazy#ramble time#I MISS GUMIGOO!!#speaking of#gumigoo#tadc gummigoo#that was tragic killingmysel-#FUCK YOU CAINE#ALL MY HOMIES ANGY AT CAINE
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Buck/Tommy Late Night Endgame Ramblings
I want to start off by saying that this is all speculation and I think it's a bit to early to know what their long term plans with Buck and Tommy are but....I get the feeling that they are possibly being set up as an endgame/long term couple so I'm going to ramble about why I think there were some subtle hints of this already. And I need to know if other people agree with this. Please reply or send me messages or something because I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ON THIS!
The main reason being the parallel between the hospital scene and the end of Buck/Abby's relationship. Now, I can't claim credit for noticing this but I saw someone on here mention the parallels between the scene where Buck drops Abby off at the airport and Tommy arriving at the hospital.
So I went back and watched that singular scene.
It's Buck and Abby outside the airport saying goodbye. She needs to leave and Buck says he'll be there waiting for her, which is shown by Buck never moving from his spot in this scene (until it's time to walk away). He's standing still. They kiss goodbye, she walks through the glass door and we see them close between them. This visually showed the door closing on their relationship.
Now, rewatching the Buck and Tommy hospital scene after that made some things stand out.
The first thing that jumped out to me is that there isn't one door. There are two. The scene starts from Buck's point of view as he walks through opening doors. You then see Tommy, from Buck's point of view, walking through the glass doors to enter the hospital. Both Buck and Tommy are walking though their own opening doors.
Tommy, meanwhile, has literally come straight from the fire. He's in gear, dirty, sweaty and hasn't slept since he left the bachelor party. But he came straight to the hospital because he was here for Buck because this was important to him.
They then meet in the center together for that kiss.
We know now that Tim has been queer coding Buck since season 2 when Abby left and maybe this is all accidental but honestly? The opening doors, the meeting in the center, etc. It really seems to be doing some symbolism to set up their relationship in juxtaposition to a failed one and this isn't what you would do for something casual.
Have I completely lost the plot or is anyone else seeing this?
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Hellooo, hope u r doing good , I rly like ur work like it's all amazing ♡
Can I request Loki having a friend who is a mortal -female reader- but she is a mutant who can take up body energy -like Rogue in X-Men- and that's why she was always alone till her and Loki met and she defends him infront of the avengers, and he falls for her slowly ig 😅 -smut or fluff as u want-
Ik it's kinda lame, if u can't write it's alright
In all cases, thanks for the amazing writings ♥️
You Can't Hurt Me
Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)
Summary: You are finally going on a solo mission as an Avenger, or at least you were supposed to. At the last minute, the team decides to send Loki with you which is something neither of you are happy about. After an accident in the field, you come in contact with Loki and the two of you realize your ability to absorb someone's life force, memories and powers doesn't work on him.
Warnings: arguing, swearing, feeling alone, pushing others away, minor injuries, plane crash, Loki being an ass to everyone including you - fluff in the end of course
A/N: I'm so sorry it took me forever to get to this ask. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was awesome! I tweaked it just a little cause my brain kept going in different directions but I really hope that's okay. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚
"Are you freaking kidding me?" you ask in an annoyed tone as you get up from your seat in Steve's office.
Before Steve can reply Loki stands and adds, "I have never agreed with a mortal before but I am afraid I must in this case."
You glare at him and cross your arms. He could agree with you without being an ass about it, you think angrily.
Steve sighs and rubs his temples. "Look Y/N, I know you were supposed to go on this mission alone," he says and you nod dramatically, "But Fury, Tony and I decided Loki's skills would be useful on this mission."
"Then let me borrow his powers," you look at Loki and begin to pull off one of your gloves.
"If you touch me-" he threatens as a dagger appears in his hand with a green flourish. You put your glove back on slowly but you smile to yourself knowing you made the god nervous.
"Stop it, both of you!" Steve says loudly, slamming his hand on the desk. You and Loki both sit immediately on the chairs opposite Steve, you suddenly feel as if you are at the principal's office. He clears his throat and calms himself before he continues, "So far teamwork is not something either of you have excelled at. If you both want to remain on this team," he emphasizes the word, "you will go on this mission together."
"This is absurd," Loki argues and you roll your eyes but agree with him.
"What's absurd is the fact that neither of you are willing to work with anyone," Steve counters. "You are here because you have both been written up for splitting off from the team when we have explicitly ordered you not to."
"You know I'm better off alone," you tell him holding up a gloved hand. "The X-Men never had an issue with me going on solo missions or handling things on my own."
"You are welcome to return to the mutants," Loki offers with a smirk.
"Loki, seriously?" Steve says with an exasperated sigh but the god just shrugs.
"Y/N, just because you can't physically touch anyone doesn't mean you can use it as an excuse to avoid being near people or working with them forever," Steve says turning his attention to you.
"Yes it does," you mumble and sulk down in your chair with your arms crossed.
"And you," he ignores your comment and turns to Loki, "you are still on probation. If you want to remain here, and not be sent back to Asgard, you need to act like a member of this team."
Before either of you can say anything else, he gets up and says, "If you can't work with each other, neither of you will last much longer here. You're dismissed."
You snap your gum and click to the next page of the book you are reading on your tablet. Loki sits across from you with his nose in a book as the autopilot guides the jet towards your destination. You pop your gum again and Loki groans in annoyance. A smirk spreads across your lips, you would feel guilty about bothering him but he spent the morning calling you 'human' so you pop it loudly a third time.
"Will you stop that," he hisses, looking up from his book.
"It's an old habit," you make an excuse and shrug.
"It is an exceptionally annoying habit," he corrects you.
You hold eye contact with the God of Mischief and pop your gum in response. He practically growls as he closes his book but his words are cut off by a warning alarm blaring throughout the jet.
"What the hell is that?" you ask, getting up from your seat.
"I have no idea," he admits as he follows you to the cockpit of the jet.
The plane shakes violently and you almost lose your footing, Loki instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hand grabbing your clothed arm. You nod quickly to acknowledge the gesture and the two of you reach the control panel. A series of red lights blink frantically and your heart races as you try to decipher what is wrong but neither of you knows how to operate the jet.
You flip the switch to contact the base, "Tony what the hell is going on up here?" You know the panic is evident in your voice.
The only response you and Loki get is the crackle of static then suddenly one of the two engines goes terrifyingly silent.
You blink your eyes open slowly, your head pounds and your whole body aches. The smell of smoke and fire fill the air and your eyes sting. You try to sit up and hear someone talking but you can barely make out their words over the ringing in your ears.
"Y/N," Loki says again, shaking your shoulder lightly to get your attention. "Are you alright?" His lip is split and he is covered in dirt. His eyes are full of concern as he kneels over you, not something you are used to from the God of Mischief.
"Yea," you answer him quietly as he leans back a bit so you can sit up straighter, "I think so." You look around in awe at the torn and broken remains of the jet scattered throughout the field, unsure how you are both alive.
"I've radioed the team, they should be here in less than an hour," he informs you in a calm voice.
He rubs your shoulder in a soothing manner and you close your eyes as a breeze blows dust around you both. You shiver a bit and realize your jacket was torn during the crash, panic floods through you when you notice how much of your skin is exposed. Loki's hand gently rests on the bare skin on your shoulder and you pull away from him quickly.
"Don't touch me," you warn him and he backs away from you, his hands up in front of him. "You can't touch me, I'll hurt you," you remind him, trying to cover your skin with as much of left over material as you can. You try to get up to put distance between you and the god but you can't put weight on your left leg, it buckles under you and you fall back to the ground. You look down and see clean gauze wrapped tightly around your calf, your pant leg torn open from whatever caused your injury.
You look down in shock then look up at Loki. "How did you do this?" you ask, noticing the blood on his hands.
He shakes his head, "I don't know. I wasn't thinking, I just needed to stop the bleeding."
"I need to talk to you," he says unphased by your attitude which makes you nervous. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened after the crash." He rubs his hands nervously as if your blood is still on them.
That night you lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. When you first climbed into bed, you worried the memories of the crash would prevent you from sleeping but it was the moments after that kept replaying in your mind. Closing your eyes, you can almost still feel Loki's warm hand resting gently on your skin. You roll over, pulling the sheets tightly around yourself when to hear a knock at your door. You sit up and check the clock next to your bed, it's just after midnight.
You limp carefully to the door and open it, unsure who you expect to see. "What do you want?" you ask Loki, easily returning to how you typically treat each other.
You take a step back to let him into your room. You feel anxious knowing he is the first member of the team you've ever invited into your private space. Loki takes a seat on your couch as you pick up your hoodie that is hanging by the door.
"I think I know why I could touch you without your powers affecting me," he says and you look up at him, pausing as you zip your hoodie.
You shake your head and take your gloves out of the pockets. "Strange said it was most likely because I was unconscious," you remind him.
"I don't think your powers work on me," he says after a few moments of silence pass between you both.
"You and I both know that's not true," he keeps his eyes on you as you slip on one glove then the other.
You sit at the far end of the couch, afraid that he is wrong about whatever his theory is. He is right about one thing though, Strange's reasoning didn't explain why Loki was able to touch the skin on your shoulder after you woke up. You had done everything you could since you arrived back home to not think about how that was possible, you were terrified that it was some sort of fluke and would never happen again.
"They work on your brother," you remind him. You had grabbed the older prince by the wrist for only a few seconds during a training session two months ago. You were unable to contain his lightning abilities and fried all the computers in the lab. Thor spent the next four hours unconscious in the med bay. "Being a god doesn't make you special," you tell him in a harsher tone then you mean to.
"Thor and I are not..." he sighs. "We are not the same. You know we are not true brothers?" he asks and you shake your head. "Thor is an Asgardian and although I look like one, I am not."
"So whatever you are is why you think I can touch you?" you ask.
"It is hard to explain," he tells you. "I am from Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants. This is not my true form. I use an illusion to alter my appearance as Odin did before I knew the truth." You can tell by his tone that this is not a story he is used to sharing with others.
You take off your gloves and look at your own hand, remembering the pain and heartache even a light touch has caused to others around you. "Are you sure you want to risk this for me Loki?" you ask. "If you're wrong... I could seriously hurt you."
You listen quietly as he explains how he was taken as a baby and brought up on a series of lies. He rubs his hands nervously as he talks and never makes eye contact with you, staring at the ground as he speaks. When he finishes he lifts his hand and looks at it as he wiggles his fingers slowly, a green glow emanates from his fingertips and flows down his hand. As his magic travels, his skin slowly turns a deep shade a blue, thin ridges form intricate spirals on the back of his hand.
"This is just a well crafted illusion," he says as the glow retracts and the blue fades away.
"If I'm right... you might not need to be so alone," he counters gently.
"I... I don't believe this," you smile. Tears of joy and relief gather as you slowly look up at Loki.
He holds his hand towards you, palm up waiting patiently for you to move. Slowly, you reach you hand out, your heart pounding in your chest. Your fingertips lightly touch his fingertips and you hold your breath as you wait for the pain to spread through both of you but nothing happens. Your eyes lock on your hands as you slide your fingers towards his open palm. You still don't feel anything as you rest your palm on his, your fingers settling on his wrist.
He closes his fingers around your hand and you let out a laugh in shock and disbelief. There is no pain, no burning on your skin or in his veins as his memories are pulled from him or his powers are absorbed. Just his warm, soft skin against yours, a feeling you had almost forgotten.
"You can't hurt me," he says when your eyes met.
"I can't hurt you," you repeat. He raises his other hand to wipe away one of your tears as it travels down your cheek. The simple gesture draws even more tears. It has been so many years since you have been able to feel another person, you can barely hold yourself together. You get up suddenly and walk away from him.
"I'm sorry," he says as he stands.
"It's not... you didn't do anything wrong," you assure him as you wipe your face then wrap your arms around yourself. "It's been almost ten years since I've touched someone I wasn't trying to harm. When I gained my powers, I severed my connection to everyone I've ever loved or cared about. My family, my friends, my coworkers. I left all of them."
He listens to you quietly, not moving closer.
"I'm terrified of hurting the people I care about, that's why I left the X-Men. I was there for eight years and I was becoming too close to everyone. I was constantly afraid someone would try to hug me or give me a high five or just bump into me in the hall. I had to leave and when I came here..." you look down, ashamed of how you acted. "I avoided everyone and antagonized you on purpose so no one would want to be friends with me. I thought it would be easier, safer if no one ever wanted to be near me."
"I understand," he says and you look up as he takes a few steps towards you. "I have my own experience building walls to keep everyone out, even my brother. My reason for keeping the others away is far less noble than yours. You push people away to keep them safe while I push them away to keep myself safe."
"I have been lied to and betrayed by my family my whole life," he reminds you of your conversation only minutes ago. "If I never let anyone in, if I never care about anyone, then they can never hurt me. It's why I've been so rude and condescending to everyone on the team, including you," he admits.
You are quiet for a moment, you know exactly what you want but you are afraid he will turn down your request. "Can I..." you pause and he gives you an encouraging smile. "Can I have a hug?"
"I'm sorry for how I treated you," he tells you honestly. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"I'm afraid I am not very good at hugs," he says and when you look at the ground he adds, "But I can give it a try, for you."
You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face as you move towards him. He puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, your hands settle on his back and your cheek rests against his chest. He is stiff in your arms but after a second, he seems to relax and lowers his cheek to rest on the top of your head.
You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat, his breathing slows and you feel as if all the tension is leaving your body. After a moment you mumble something against his chest and he chuckles.
"I have no idea what you said," he tells you.
You lift your head and look up at him. "This is the first hug I've had in close to ten years," you repeat.
He touches your cheek gently and says, "That is truly a shame because you give wonderful hugs." You giggle and blush then he adds, "This is the best hug I have had in a very, very long time and I do not plan on letting go any time soon."
I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!
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Dad bi han headcanons?
Father, Father I Crave Violence
Prior notes: FATHER, INTO YOUR HANDS I COMMIT MY SPIRIT! I feel like you thought of this cause I reblogged that artist’s drawing and I will not say their name cause I don’t like involving them in my bs.
Who’s your daddy?: Bi-Han, congratudolences he got you pregnant!
Warnings ‼️: HE IS THE FATHER *camera man goes crazy*
Big, muscly, meanie (Regular Bi-Han)
He needs a son. That’s the heir to the Lin Kuei right there.
When the kid is five he will be trained to defend himself.
Don’t worry he won’t bring the kid on missions he’s not dense.
He has a soft spot for his children. Though he is cold those are still his blood children. He wants to take good care of them.
He won’t let any of his assassins take care of or even hold his child.
Bi-Han can be a little paranoid, he worried someone will hurt his child. He can never be too careful. Once the child is old enough to defend themselves then they will have some freedom.
That motherfucker (literally) will be pumped to see if his children gain his ice abilities. If they gained your abilities that’s ight too.
The max is two. No more no less. Don’t matter if it’s two brothers or a brother and sister.
Okay but what about a girl?
Overprotective and overbearing oh gosh.
If anyone in the Lin Kuei takes a peak at her they are getting smacked. Poor guys.
Bi-Han will teach her how to defend herself as well. She needs to know. He will even give her a knife to protect herself (which you take away cause she is only five)
If the son comes first it’s his duty as the older brother to protect his sister from any nasty boys.
When they seem ready (like maybe 15) they can start going out for missions. Simple ones at first. Gotta build them up.
I know I said he will teach them to defend themselves but he will teach them to fight eventually. Yes there is a difference.
His daughter wants to play. Ehhhhh, fine, just because she is crying. But he will be taking it too seriously.
“That’s not how you pour tea.” “Your dolls can’t have multiple partners.” “The dog can’t talk.” You have no imagination sir.
What do you mean they need toys? He didn’t have many toys back when he was a kid. Give them a stick and a rock.
Fine, he’ll get them toys. Only a few though. They need to be focused on other things.
Puberty is gonna suck for everybody involved.
Pads? Yes. Tampons and diva cups? What are those?
You know what helps with cramps, working out. Yeah he’s that kind of dad. They don’t need Advil they got this.
The boys are fighting again. Now Bi-Han is yelling again. Has your tinnitus kicked in yet?
He doesn’t care what they are into they just better be loyal to the Lin Kuei.
Titan Bi-Han (y’all know why I made it separate)
It’s very similar.
He isn’t too overbearing he is still overprotective.
There are too many sharp things in the temple oh lord hide them!
Bi-Han, they can’t even walk how are they gonna reach the butter knives on the tall counter.
He is serious but I think he would crack a dad joke or two.
“Dad, I’m hungry.” “Hi hungry, I’m the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster.” FEED THE KIDS STUPID!
Please don’t take my pupusas away cause I made that joke.
They will be begging him to teach them to fight. He is hesitant but eventually gives in.
Two? Why stop there? If you’re comfortable he would like a few more. Don’t worry he’s not asking for six.
Spoils them! Spoils them to death! His daughter gets anything she wants. His son can have that puppy. They just have to share NO ARGUING!
Only the most trusted of his clan can take care of his children, aka Kuai Liang and Tomas.
Puberty will never be easy in any timeline.
Pads and tampons? Yes. Diva cup? Still don’t know what that is.
Heating pads, medicine, working out, curling up into a ball on the floor, he understands his daughter is in pain.
The boys can’t fight in front of their dad or else he will get scary.
He cares about what they like and will get concerned over some things. I don’t think he will appreciate them liking technology or having a fascination with Volcán de fuego (cause like I never did I promise). They just need to stay loyal to the Lin Kuei or else they will break his heart.
After notes: I did this one earlier cause my dad said some crazy shit this morning. He said marmalade is disgusting and strawberry jam was created by the devil. The only good kind and only kind there should be is grape. And then he went on about how he knew someone who would ask him to drink a bottle of bourbon and find Jesus. I told him “dad, if you drink a whole bottle of bourbon you don’t find Jesus, Jesus finds you”. Very strange morning but the breakfast was good. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#bi han#sub zero x you#sub zero x reader#sub zero#headcanon
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hate the way you smile
bully! baji keisuke x popular girl reader
fandom : tokyo revengers
word count : 5.5k
tags : he is a bully (only to you tbh), dubcon, panty kink, he gives you a wedgie lol, pussy eating, anal fingering (just a bit), exhibitionism, groping, stalking (kinda), they are in school for the only purpose of them wearing uniforms, but I've been kinda vague about that because I hate writing high school aus, so you can def imagine them to be in college, all characters are 18+ only
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, IF THESE TAGS DO NOT SUIT YOU, SCROLL
you're not a loser.
quite the contrary actually, you're very popular.
you joined the school pretty late, which itself was not very common, causing everyone to ogle at you. and judging from the way they treat you, they liked what they saw.
your features and mannerisms captivated everyone, right from the way you walked into class to the little smile you gave after the introduction the teacher forced you into doing. that would've been called cringe on anyone else, but you pulled it off.
keisuke has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does.
yeah yeah, you were the shiny new thing when you first walked in. and then you got most of your answers correct in class, no matter when the teacher called on you. most of the answers, that is, because when you got an answer wrong and the teacher corrected you, keisuke finally felt vindicated. that would be the start of the chipping of your bright exterior.
but no. instead you snorted (and God even your snort was cute) and rolled your eyes, muttering stupid before smacking yourself on the side of the head with the tip of your pencil. that had the class giggling, causing even the teacher to smile as she continued with the rest of the topic.
what the hell? what was even funny about all this?
(he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, with a little lopsided smile on your face as you suddenly realized the rest of the class had heard you. you fanned yourself as if that would blow the embarrassment away somehow, and for just a second your eyes flitted up to his. he turned away immediately.)
"what do you think of the new girl."
“huh?” says mikey stupidly, his eyes trained on takemichi of all people. keisuke shares a look with draken, deciding to get to the bottom of whatever that is, later.
“she has a name, you know,” says draken, stretching, as the three of them are spread out on the bleachers.
“what, d’you like her or something?”
“very funny,” he replies, rolling his eyes at keisuke. “emma thinks she's really pretty, and you know emma. she immediately went up to her and started chattering away and the next thing you know they have a bubble tea date planned. i think she even dragged takemichi's girl into it.”
“i don't think they're dating,” mikey’s head whips around, finally decided to acknowledge the two of them.
“they hold hands all the time!”
“did both of them come and tell you word for word that they're dating?” says mikey seriously.
keisuke and draken exchange another incredulous look.
“yeah, that's what i thought” says mikey victoriously. he turns to keisuke. “do you like her?”
“who the hell are we even talking about anymore?”
“the new girl, keisuke, god, how can you forget what you were talking about so quickly?”
“tch. there's nothing to like about her. gave me something to laugh at with that stupid little introduction she gave us on her first day, but she's just another girl. i don't know why everyone's so obsessed with her.”
“she gave me some of her lunch when she saw me sniffing her,” says mikey unhelpfully. “people should start doing that more.”
“you should stop sniffing people,” replies draken, disgusted.
“guess what she smells like!”
“like cocoa butter on some days and like flowers on others,” blurts out keisuke.
both mikey and draken turn their heads to keisuke.
“that's what all girls smell like, what the fuck!” he retaliates, looking away, his face burning.
“emma doesn't.”
“yeah, and neither does hina. or takemichi,” drawls mikey, squinting at him. “and you're right. she does smell like cocoa butter. i don't know about flowers. but then again, i’m not the one obsessed with her.”
“i'm not obsessed with her!” hisses keisuke. “and keep your voice down, will you, i’m sure the rest of the world heard you!”
“mikey! draken!” a voice calls from the field in front of them.
they all turn to see it's you, in your skorts and top, visor in one hand and racquet in the other. the skorts (who the hell came up with that mopey idea) seem to hug your waist just right, the shortness of them making your legs look longer. your top is sticking to your skin from all the sweat you had built up from the match you just had, the white becoming almost see through, and he wonders how you’re either actually goddamn stupid or that desperate for attention for you to wear a red bra underneath it.
you wave at them enthusiastically, and you're close enough to them for him to see your eyes land on him, and you give him a little wave too.
mikey and draken wave back. keisuke rolls his eyes and looks away. “fucking of course she plays tennis, how pretentious,” he mutters.
“how come the girl you're obsessed with doesn't give a fuck about you?” snickers mikey as you walk away, surrounded by your group of girls, chattering and laughing.
“i'm not obsessed with her first of all, and second of all, we don't even know each other because i’m not a serial sniffer like you.”
“maybe you should be,” sniffs mikey, “‘cuz guess what i smell right now?”
“shut the- ”
“a boy in looove,” sing mikey and draken together, bursting into laughter.
walking home, the more he thinks about your tennis uniform, the more he's pissed off. that wouldn't be a regular bra now, would it? probably a sports bra. he imagines you peeling off the tight top in the locker rooms, laughing with the other girls. how the sweat makes it a bit harder to tug off the bra, causing you to flail around a bit, before it comes off fully. he thinks about you basking in the freedom from it for a bit, chest heaving from all the exertion of the game, nipples hardened from the sudden exposure.
he imagines you bend over and tug off the skorts you were wearing, wondering what panties you had on. would they be red, like your bra? you seem like a stuck up bitch who would make sure of stupid things like that. judging from how snugly the skorts had fit you, your panties would probably be digging into your soft skin, wouldn't they? were your panties riding up your pussy? the thought is quickly followed by the image of tight, red panties wedged up your pussy, he could almost hear you whine as you pulled them down and off of you. he didn't even have to imagine the rest before he broke off into a run to his home so he had some material left to finish himself off.
bad thoughts. these are bad thoughts that are too raunchy and precious for someone as annoying as you.
(to his utter irritation, it's the small smile you had on your face when you waved at him that pushed him over the edge at the end.)
you're not a loser.
so fuck knows why you're so hellbent on doing the project exactly the way you wanted to, with absolutely no room for creative liberties, no changes in font, and every single time keisuke suggested something he could see you typing up a storm on the group chat. he made sure to see the message, but not read it and then be conveniently offline for the rest of the day. he was sure you would resort to calling him to beg him to not deviate from the color pallete you (and you alone) had decided on. obviously everyone else nodded and went along with your decision. but you hadn't called.
so here you are, trailing after him.
“keisuke!”
he groans and keeps walking down the hallway.
“keisuke! i just wanted to let you know that i know it feels like i'm being so restrictive, but all these rules are just for the presentation, like the ppt!” you dodge a couple walking hand in hand and you turn around and wave at them. “you guys are so cute! anyways, keisuke, you have complete freedom over what you want to say during your part of the presentation!”
“ha, so can i talk about my favorite kpop star while the rest of you are talking about the american involvement in the korean war? thanks!” he snorts, striding away.
“i didn't mean whatever you want, i meant you can speak about your portion however you want! the format we've decided on is just for the ppt!” you hurry around a sharp corner he took, still following him.
“we didn't decide anything. you chose the topic, and you chose the format of the ppt,” he grits out.
“well, when we were going around suggesting ideas, everyone seemed to like mine, so they went with it. and you weren't even in the meet!”
he grunts. that was true.
you open your mouth to say something and someone’s calling your name, so you turn around to respond to them. by the time you turn back he's gone again.
“fuck! fuck!” you mutter, adjusting your tote bag over your shoulder. God, he is so irritating. him and how serious he always is about treating you like shit but never taking it all the way. you always feel the prick of his eyes staring at you, and initially you always turned to smile or talk to him, but he'd just look away and outwardly ignore you.
you had taken to staring back at him, in hopes of him at least taking it as a sign to leave you alone but that hadn't worked either.
instead, now you know how his silky hair slinks to the front of his face as time passes during classes, and how he absentmindedly gnaws on his pens with his canine teeth. you know how he actually prefers putting his hair up in a high ponytail rather than a low one on the few occasions that he does tie his hair. you know he's actually studying when he’s wearing his red reading glasses. he takes his blazer off often and he's rather ripped, and you're embarrassed to say that you might've asked around why. your classmates said he has a black belt and used to beat people up for fun.
you can't figure out if that's a joke or not.
you don’t care that he ignores you, you have enough friends and more than enough people who would pay attention to you. but it kept building and building. everyone said he was a quiet but nice guy. was rowdy when he was younger, but mellowed down and began to focus on school a bit more. you would love to see that side of him, especially now in the crux of the group project. he still had a wild side to him apparently and everyone knew not to mess with him and his loyal set of goons kazutora and chifuyu (who is quite the loser himself), but you'd had just about enough today. you had messaged him that you would like to talk when classes ended, and clearly he didn't give a fuck.
one last attempt, you promise. one last attempt and then you can boot him off of the project and be at peace again.
remember when you couldn't figure out if they were lying about baji keisuke being a bully or not? well, you're about to find out, because while you're digging through your bag for your history project folder, you don't see the foot sticking out right around the corner you turn.
one minute you're walking on solid ground, the next minute you're in the air and crashing down on it.
your bag provides no security at all, all the books, your cute stationery, the folder, your sanitizer, lip gloss, and all the little trinkets clatter onto the floor, spreading out onto the empty hallway.
you look up to see golden eyes, framed by dark silky hair staring down at you.
“what the fuck?” anger rolls through you. “what the fuck, baji?”
“oh, so it's baji now, is it? it was keisuke! keisuke! just a second ago!” he mimics your voice with a laugh.
you're still on your knees on the floor. you look around, and the school is empty, even the last of the people remaining would be downstairs in the cafeteria.
“lookin’ for all your admirers?” he sneers, bending down to pick up one of your keychains.
“what do you want from me?” you ask, reaching up to take it from him, but he snatches his hand back. “give it back!”
“you don't have to worry about this,” he says cooly, watching you try to gather all your stuff. you're on all fours, grabbing your things. you're getting nowhere ultimately, everything is far too spread out.
keisuke watches as your skirt hikes higher and higher up, teasing him with little glimpses at your white panties. was that lace on the sides? keisuke almost falls to his knees just from that, as you continue being a stupid slut so obliviously.
“get up!” he snaps and hauls you up with a firm grip on your bicep. “i told you not to worry about that!”
“oh yeah?” you ask, turning to him, your voice raising. “i would love to not worry about this, considering i was just minding my own business! i would love to not worry about the group project but you don't give a fuck!”
he raises his eyebrows, watching you go off on him. you get closer and closer to him, and start pushing him in his chest. “i'd at least like to have a conversation with you, but no, you're such a fucking asshole that you'd rather just stare at me resentfully like a creep instead of actually come up to me and talk to me! but i get it you know, i'd also be so full of hate if i was made to repeat a year but still remained as stupid as i was when i failed!”
the silence that follows is palpable.
you don't stand down. for once, there isn't a spec of your usual sweetness or benefit of doubt. you are glaring at him, looking right into his eyes, daring him to respond.
“so you've been asking around about me, huh?”
“that's rich coming from you. if i see you stare at me one more time, or blatantly ignore me, or disrespect me again, i'll gouge your fucking eyes out!” you hiss, pushing him one final time. you turn around and once again bend over to start collecting your things.
“stop.”
“you are not allowed to- “
“i'll leave you alone if you do this.”
that makes you turn back to him. hurts a lil bit to see you only listen to him so he'd leave you alone, but he’d brought this upon himself. “what do you want,” you spit.
he stares at you for a moment. you wonder if he's just gonna burst out laughing at how you deluded yourself into thinking that he'd leave you alone, right after he knocked you to the ground like that. his hair's out of his ponytail and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his fangs flashing at you.
he tilts his head to the side, and gives you a lazy grin. his eyes however, remain serious and trained on you.
“show me your panties.”
you balk, your anger dimming, replaced with confusion. “what?”
he looks serious as ever. he leans forward into your personal space, his hair almost brushing yours. “show me your panties,” he says slowly, as if he were talking to someone stupid, “and i'll consider leaving you alone.”
“con- consider? you told me you'd leave me alone!”
“depends. yes or no?”
“no! no! obviously no!” you're completely flushed, and you try pulling the hem of your skirt down defensively, wishing you hadn't snuck off to the bathroom to roll it up an inch before you came out to talk to him. “i'm not gonna show you my panties!”
he looks at you with a sort of bored but also amused look in his face.
“do you seriously think i haven't noticed that your skirt's shorter now than it was in class?” he flips the tuck of your shirt up, “ah, there it is. you've rolled your skirt up just to come talk to me.”
“no… no!” you sputter, all the fight in you bleeding out from embarrassment. “i didn't, and i didn't do it for you!”
“i know you want my attention anyways. so let me be clear. either you show me your panties, which seems like you wanted to do that anyways, or i make you show me your panties.” he smiles, so simply and easily as if he's discussing what to get for lunch. “as simple as that.”
you snort. “you're gonna make me show you my panties? and how's that gonna work?”
he laughs. “easily.”
you shouldn't have asked that, you think. keisuke pushes off the wall he's been leaning on and walks towards you. you walk back, unsure of what to do, your eyes never leaving each others, yours wide in shock and his sharp like a snake. your back hits the wall, and now you've got nowhere to go.
“like this,” he whispers, and tugs you forward a bit by your belt loops. he then reaches forward, peering above your shoulder, and you stupidly lean forward almost on instinct. his silky hair brushes against your cheek, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of that and the next moment, you feel his fingers fiddle with the back of waistband of your skirt, untucking it.
“you tuck your shirt into your panties, huh?” he murmurs, “you're really such a loser.”
“what are you do- ah!”
his fingers are on the waistband of your panties now. and he pulls. the fabric gets pulled up from the back and digs into your ass from his tug. embarrassment floods your body from how humiliating this is, but also from how disgustingly wet you feel yourself getting.
“keisuke! keisuke, please!” you whisper, turning to look at him, but he's still looking over your shoulder. there's no way to conceal his view, because not only is he taller than you but also he can see down into your skirt.
“ah, there she is,” he mutters. another tug. “i don't know why you didn't want me to see ‘em. well, i already did see a bit of them when you were sprawled on the floor on all fours looking helpless, but you can't expect me to be satisfied just from that.”
“keisuke, please, stop it!” you squeal, ears hot. you can't believe he's basically giving you a wedgie, his fingers are in your panties and your out in public, more or less.
“all right then.” your panties snap back in place, stinging a bit. he pushes away a step, hands up. “run along then, little loser.”
you stand still head down, with a humiliating feeling settling in you. you don't want to leave.
he watches you not make a single move to your fallen bag or even to run away.
“fuck, i knew there was something weird about you! i knew you weren't this sweet little popular preppy princess everyone makes you out to be!” he laughs, his deep voice echoing down the empty hallway. “you're a nasty little whore, aren't you?”
“m'not a nasty whore!” you whine, “i just- “
“fuck am i gonna have my way with you,” he whistles. “i was being polite earlier. turn around.”
“why- “
“talk all you like whore, but i better see you listening to what i say,” he cuts you off. He takes off his blazer, dropping it to the ground and folding his arms. “turn around.”
you turn around, with an inkling of what he's going to do. you stare at the lockers in front you and bite your lip.
“hands on the lockers.”
“what are you go- “
he lifts up your skirt and tucks it deep into the waistband, leaving you panty clad ass completely exposed. the cool air hitting you there directly makes you clench involuntarily and he almost moans from how cute and innocent that looks. he's finally got a good look at your panties. white, fitted cotton panties with a lace trim. it's ridiculous how simple it and how much it manages to choke him up. the back of the panties are still a bit yanked up from where he had pulled earlier, and you're clearly dying from embarrassment based on how low you're holding your head.
well, there's no time to waste.
he grabs onto the waistband at the back of your panties and pulls. the material disappears into your cheeks, digging up and up and up as he pulls, and you almost lose balance from the force of it. “keisuke!” you gasp, your hand coming back for some support. “i- “
“are you stupid?” he snarls, tugging up once more, causing you to jump from how mean he sounds, “or are your hands on the lockers?"
your hands are immediately on the lockers.
“good girl,” he mutters, “goood girl.” he pulls more and more on your poor panties, and they're crudely rubbing against your hole. your feet almost leave the ground with ever tug he gives, causing you to bounce. you're almost dead with humiliation, but the grinding against your clit and the embarrassment of the whole situation has you so flustered and wrecked.
“i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, keisuke!”
he's so focused on your hot your ass looks, clenched around your panties like that, soft cheeks being put through such torture, and he can't imagine how your puckered little hole must feel from all the abuse it's taking. makes him wanna kiss it better.
“what is it? you don't like being treated like the little loser you are, huh?” he croons into your ear. “is this not princess treatment enough for you?”
he lets you go all of a sudden, and you almost crumple to your knees, but he catches you and hauls you up, turning you towards him.
“you havin fun?” he taunts, towering over you.
“fuck off! you're so mean!” you sniffle, trying to pull your panties down.
“ah ah,” he says sternly, smacking your hands away. “none of that. i'm not done with you. boys!”
the door of the classroom next to you is kicked open and you see kazutora and chifuyu walk out, who follow keisuke like shadows and drank up every word he said loyally.
you glare at keisuke, who has both your wrists in a firm grip in just one hand of his. he grins at them. “told ya she's a slut.”
kazutora snickers, but your eyes remain on chifuyu. he's on the fucking math team with you! you glare holes into his eyes as he looks your way, and his cheeks turn pink, either because it's nerd recognizes nerd or it's because your skirt is tucked all the way up with your entire ass and panties exposed.
keisuke's attention is back on you as he lifts your wrists above your head, pinning them to the lockers behind you. you try to fight him, but it's fruitless. he then tucks the front of your skirt into your waistband too, leaving the front of your panties exposed too.
your panties have a little heart stitched onto the front, your pubic hair peeking out from the lace on the leg holes.
“now, isn’t she a pretty baby,” keisuke laughs to himself, as your heart flutters a little from that praise. “hold her up for me, boys.”
“what do you mean hold me up?”
kazutora and chifuyu position themselves on either side of you and hold on the sides of your underwear. “chifuyu!” you gasp, turning to look at the boy, who refuses to make eye contact with you, but does what his supreme leader says anyways.
“hey!” keisuke snaps his fingers in front of your face. “you don't focus on anyone but me, kay?”
you narrow your eyes.
he squishes both your cheeks with one hand, making your lips pucker out. “answer.”
“okay, okay,” you whimper, breaking eye contact.
“eyes on me, sweetheart. i'm gonna let go your hands now. if you try anything, you're gonna find out cute you look with a smack on your face, got it?”
your eyes turn watery as you look into his, lips pushing into a pout. “got it,” you mutter.
“there's my girl. now let's see what we have here.” and with that he sinks to his knees, till he's face level with your panties. he places his big hands on the outside of either thigh, running them up and down for a moment, sending shivers up your spine. he grips your thighs and watches his nails sink into your fatty flesh, and how you gasp at the pain that feels so good.
he leans forward and places a kiss on your mound, and then goes lower and places another firm kiss on your clit. the little whimper you give spurs him on. he pushes his nose between your lips and sniffs, groaning to himself.
“fuck that's good pussy,” he presses his nose alone the slit and goes up and up until it meets your clit and he presses down as his lips comes up to rub your pussy through your panties. his nose rubbing on your clit has you moaning, as if there aren't two of your classmates holding you up by your panties, your legs weak.
“gimme those hands,” he demands, his voice rough. you place your hands in his gingerly. he places a gentle kiss on both of them, so uncharacteristic to the situation you are in, and how he's been treating you. “i'm gonna give you a very important job, got it?”
“uh huh,” you whisper.
“you're gonna hold my hair up while i eat your pussy through your panties, okay? i don't wanna be missing a moment of it because of my hair getting in the way”
you almost short circuit. you stare at him dumbly, and are brought back to the moment when he places a sharp right onto your pussy lips.
“yes! yes!” you nod, and with your painted pink nails, you gently push back his hair and hold it in a ponytail. “this okay?”
he nods, and gives you a little wink. you gulp and look away.
“all right, we're back to business,” he mutters, going back down to your pussy. “hold ‘em higher for me.”
kazutora and chifuyu (whom you'd almost forgotten about from the previously somewhat sweet moment) pull your panties higher from the sides, making you gasp as they dig into your pussy this time.
keisuin prods and pushes at your pussy lips. he pushes the leg holes of your panties closer and closer together, little by little before he yanks on the top your panties suddenly, causing them to slip between your lips and tug up to your clit.
“ah! keisuke! that's really- “
“c'mon boys hold her higher for me, will ya? i don't mind if your bounce her for me. pussy's so wet just from all this panty action, let’s see how sensitive her little clit is, huh?”
he's talking over you like you're some thing. the boys pull you higher this time, and you can't help but marvel at the strenth of your panties for a hot second before bliss shoots up your body as the crotch of your panties rub against your clit, and you're finally getting some good direct action.
keisuke watches the wet spot in your panties grow bigger and bigger as your panties dig deeper into your clit, your fat pussy lips hang out from either side of the thin bunched up material and your knees knock together from how horny you are and how desperately you're trying to squeeze for more friction. all while you diligently hold his hair back. even in this debauched state, you're adorable. his dick is straining against his pants, he unbuckles them and frees himself, his mouth watering as he dives right in.
panties riding up to the maximum level, he laps up against them, tasting your juices. he spreads your lips even further, making sure there's no room whatsoever for you to escape and you whine and kick. his eyes almost roll back to his skull and his soul ascends when his tongue comes in contact with the slick and gummy insides of your pussy, clenching around both him and your panties. he's growing jealous of your panties now.
“change of plans,” he says, gruffly, “hold her up by her legs, and if you drop her, i swear to god, you're dead.”
chifuyu and kazutora are quick to follow, as they each take one leg and lift you up, holding you open and ready for keisuke, but this time with your entire pussy directly facing him. you wail at the sudden change, but to no one's surprise you're ignored.
keisuke pushes your panties to the side and can finally see your pussy in all it's glory. your cute little bush and your gaping pussy from all the edging it has taken a minute ago. he rolls his saliva around in his tongue and then spits a glob of his spit right onto your pussy. you clench at the feel of how lewd it is, the warm, thick saliva coating your vagina and sliding down, dripping from your asshole. it's disgusting, but it feels so good.
he pushes his entire face in, slurping and swallowing all you have to offer. you're glad that the two are holding you up, because you're too fucked out to even feel the tips of your toes, let alone stand. through all this, you make sure to hold his hair back, because you don't want him to be mad at you.
a finger presses on your asshole and you quiver with shock, snapping out of your daze. “kei- kei, keisuke, not there, not!”
you babble stupidly, passed the point of coherence, as keisuke lets you bounce a little on his fingertip dipping in and out of your puckered little hole, while he slurps up your perfect little pussy, sucking and flicking your clit.
“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum!” you sob, kicking your feet a bit, like the spoiled little thing you are.
“cum baby. i've got you,” he mutters, as he reaches up one hand to give your tits a hard squeeze. that's the final straw for you, as you finally let go, nipples aching, pussy tingling and asshole prodded open. you come on his mouth and he eagerly drinks up every last drop, jerking himself faster and faster.
“bring her down,” he groans, and the lower you down to the floor, still holding you and keeping you spread. you look up him, your mouth agape as you watch him fist himself and push himself to the edge, cumming all over your face. at first you're taken aback, but then you just sink into the feeling of the hot cum drizzling all over your face dripping down… it almost feel therapeutic.
god. you really are a whore. and a loser.
you sigh.
“oi, go pick her stuff up, and put it in her bag. nicely, like in however cute way she usually does it.”
you're gently set on the ground, on your hands and knees, shaking slightly. you see kazutora and chifuyu walk away and start gathering your stuff up off of the floor. keisuke kneels down to you, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. he pushes you slightly onto your knees and wipes the cum off of your face so gently and so sweetly, you could've mistaken it for your sweetheart wiping your wet face after a running home on a rainy day.
“you okay?” he asks.
you blink. “are you happy?”
“huh?”
“are you happy that you finally got to debase me and see me as a person and not some shiny new thing?”
“to be honest, you were a shiny thing till i wiped all the shininess away right now.”
you smack him on his chest with the back of your hand.
“i'm sorry,” he says looking into your eyes. “i just… um. have a crush on you that was so overwhelming that i wanted to, well, debase you,” he mutters.
you laugh, and scratch your face. “whoa, i totally had no clue whatsoever.”
“is your face still sticky? tora, she has some wet wipes in her bags, toss ‘em over.” the wet wipes fly into his hands, and he pulls one out, wads it up and starts cleaning you up again.
“how did you know i have wet wipes in my bag?”
“maybe i’ve looked through it before. maybe i haven't, who knows?” he shrugs, not looking at you, suddenly extremely concentrated on the area near your eye.
“when did you even- ”
“i might also have memorized your schedule, and all the classes you take. oh, and i also need your panties from today.”
he gets a slap in the face for that.
likes, comments, asks and reblogs HIGHLY APPRECIATED ❤️
this was 2.5k words longer than it was supposed to be. i'd love to hear what you think of it 😇
dividers by the super creative @anitalenia you can tell, I'm kinda obsessed 🌟
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers smut#baji smut#baji keisuke smut#tokrev smut#tokrev x reader#baji x reader#baji keisuke x reader#keisuke baji x reader#yves tells you a story ✩🕯₊˚.📖⋆🌙⋆⁺₊✧
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Honestly trauma bonding is the way to go 😌✨
Reader who adopted a child and loved them more than anything in the world, since she had no family or pets (being spiderwoman is a sacrifice, after all.).
Reader's Green Goblin killed their child brutally in front of her, leaving Reader with immense trauma and depression. (After torturing and then killing GG in the same gruesome way as he did with her child)
Reader who abandons being a Spider-person and goes back to her old job, being a professional gymnast.
Miguel who finds Reader's world, and asks who there isn't a Spider there if the canon event of the radioactive spider biting someone happened long ago.
Miguel who investigating, finds out that Reader is the spider there, however they abandoned their heroic life (mostly because of backlash from the media)
Miguel who one day goes to Reader's house to get answers, first explaining who he is and what the fuck that orange portal is 💀
Miguel understands how Reader feels and explains his backstory, and persuades (forces) Reader to join the Spider Society.
Miguel, that slowly falls in love with Reader and turns into an obsession. Maybe in the future, he can give Reader his kids so they won't have to grieve as much for their dead kids.
You were meant for him.
He shouldn't say that, but no bone or muscle in his entire body disagreed with this statement that he is claiming.
He fell in love with you before he even realized it and happily accepted the fall, knowing just from how you spoke to him, that you know how to love. You love the way that he wants to be loved. And he wants that. He wants you.
He was so goddamn in love with everything about you. He loves the way you speak, the way you carry yourself, the way you look at people, and the way you look at him.
He wants those eyes on him all of the time. So, he tries to work for it.
You looked so tired every single day. Since he found you alone in your apartment of your universe, he knew you held luggage no one else had behind them.
He wanted to at least take half of the weight off of your shoulders. He wanted to brush the midnight tears off of your face. He wanted kiss your callused hands. He wanted to have you.
He truly believes he can fix you.
"There is no fixing me. Nobody can save me."
He had never been so tuned into a conversation before. Mask off, sitting across from you in your living room, on the edge of his seat, staring into your iron eyes. You didn't want to let anyone back in again.
Hearing about your past only made him more determined.
"I can't put that suit back on again.....no. I killed enough people and killed off enough of myself. I don't benefit from that life anymore. Hell, my own city that I fought for doesn't want me anymore. Why the fuck would I even bother trying??" You try to laugh it off and killed the rest of your drink.
"The only person that could make me put that back on is the one I did all of this bullshit for."
You let the silence grow for a little to collect the words building up in your throat. But to speak it was a different battle.
"S/he was mine. S/he was all I had. Every day I had to wake up and go to sleep seeing her/his face, and it's all I needed to continue living another fucking day. And s/he's gone! I thought sparing lives would do me good, and now my babygirl/boy is gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do?" You whispered the words, as if it was forbidden to even speak them aloud.
And every single word you spoke made Miguel feel like he was living in your skin. Every question you asked, everything you said you felt is so close to experience of losing his little girl, it makes him nauseous. He only knew you for a few hours and already wanted to hold you in his arms.
"I can't....I just...can't put that thing back on. I really can't. I'm sorry." Your words slowly turned into a mutter as you fidgeted with your hands.
He doesn't know how many hopeful "yes, you can"s he whispered back to you with comforting (consensual) hugs before you had on that damned suit again and was in the middle of HQ.
His room was quiet. Peaceful, as he typed away on his technology you weren't interested in at all.
You felt so naked in the suit, but for some reason, it made you feel more secure than you'd ever felt these past few years......maybe this would be okay for now.
Miguel looked back at you, seeing you staring off into the distance and stopped typing to place his hand on your shoulder.
You looked up at him with those sad, tired eyes. Just seeing your face as clearly as it was, it continued to give him hope to be the one to support your during your healing process. You clearly needed the help. And if anyone could do it well, he was certain that it would be him.
#yandere#yandere x reader#atsv#atsv miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#yandere atsv#yandere miguel fanfic#yandere miguel o'hara x reader#yandere miguel x reader#yandere spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099
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If the sweater fits...
So I've been watching S2 again and I always chuckle at the end when Jim/Gabriel is asked what he wants, and he says he'd like "better clothes." And I thought I'd finally commit to writing a few words about that.
I've always just loosely assumed/headcanoned that the clothes he wears as Jim are on loan from Aziraphale. Jim's clothes have as many layers as a typical Aziraphale ensemble, but by Aziraphale's standards, they're waaaay more casual. We never see Aziraphale in anything resembling "casual" clothing. Probably the closest we get is in the opening of S2E1 where he's wearing that pale blue coat that's softer and more sweater-like than his usual ivory one. Anyway. I think that speaks to Aziraphale's desire/need to keep up appearances.
So why would he have that sweater (and the rest of Jim's clothes, but I want to focus on the sweater) socked away somewhere, probably for many decades, and never wear it?
Well, he's probably got some specific ideas about what it represents and the context in which it might be worn. Probably ideas about, oh, I don't know, country life, Sunday drives, long rambling walks. Picnics. Retirement. That was the first thing I thought of that made me sigh a little bit.
Then I remembered something else. Something about Fair Isle sweaters in particular.
Fair Isle knitting -- a style of stranded knitting, where you use two colors of wool to create a design in the fabric -- has been around for hundreds of years. But Fair Isle sweaters surged in popularity in the UK in the 1920s, when they were frequently worn by the Prince of Wales.
The Prince of Wales who later became King Edward VIII.
The one who abdicated.
The one who gave up the throne so he could be with the person he loved.
So it's completely fitting (pardon the pun) for Jim to be wearing it, and bittersweet for Aziraphale to have it and not wear it.
(Yet?)
Anyway that's my 2 cents. Thanks for reading and if anyone has any more wardrobe meta, I'd love to read it!
#good omens#aziraphale#jimbriel#gabriel good omens#wardrobe meta#costume meta#good omens meta#good omens costumes
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Mushy May 2024
Massage - Mountain/Phantom
Thank you to @forlorn-crows for organizing Mushy May for the second year in a row!
Divider by @ghuleh-recs
No CWs - 761 Words below the cut or on ao3
“Okay. Enough’s enough! If you ingrates want me to keep cooking for you, you need to stop losing or stealing all my damn utensils.”
Mountain is yelling at no one in particular, as he tries to fish cooked noodles out of the pot with a fork. He grunts in frustration as they continue to slip off and back into the boiling pot of water.
“So much for the environment I guess.” He pulls a colander out from the cupboard and slams the door so hard it makes the rest rattle.
He wanted to reuse the pasta water to blanch the spinach for his sauce. But now it’s swirling down the drain along with his patience.
He is missing his largest whisk, a meat tenderizer, a rolling pin, and now, his spaghetti spatula. Who knows what else. He’ll find out when he looks for it in the usual place and comes up empty handed.
Mountain turns his head in the direction of a tail swishing low across the floor, Phantom, hovering in the doorway.
“Can I help you, bug?”
“I just heard some slamming, and I wanted to see if everything’s okay?”
“Sweet of you to ask, bug. I’m just missing some of my cooking stuff.”
“What kinda stuff?”
Mountain rattles off names for items that Phantom doesn’t think he’s heard before. Mountain reads the confused expression on his face and begins to describe the objects and their uses.
“Oh, oh nooooo.” Phantom rubs his hands together nervously, staring at Mountain’s feet.
“What is it? Lemme guess, Swiss. He’s been hiding things on purpose to fuck with me. Or Sunshine? April Fools was over a month ago...”
“No… it’s not that. Just … wait.”
Phantom zips off down the hall and returns a few moments later. Mountain whips his head around as a bunch of objects clatter onto the granite.
“I’m sorry!” Phantom yelps, as if he’s been struck.
Mountain pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing out one prolonged, exasperated breath through his nose. “Do I even want to know? Do I need to sterilize these? Or should I just burn them.”
“No! Nothing like that!” Phantom offers no further explanation, he just stands there red-faced and horrifically embarrassed.
“So then, why did you have all that?”
“Well, it’s just, my guitar is heavy, and my back was really starting to hurt. But I didn’t wanna say anything. Cause - I didn’t want them to think I couldn’t do it.”
Mountain refocuses his efforts on sounding less irritated. “What does that have to do with a rolling pin?”
“I was just trying to - well - lemme show you.”
Phantom takes the rolling pin and stands in front of the wall, uses his tail to shove it behind his back, wedging it between himself and the wall.
Mountain watches incredulously as he bends his legs and uses the thing to steamroll his back. It must feel good, because his tail starts thumping on the ground like a double kick on a bass drum.
“Oh, bug….” He still can’t quite figure out what the whisk or the meat tenderizer would accomplish, but he gets it now.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve put it back. I did put most of it back. I just… these were the best. And I forgot.” He really does sound guilty, as evidenced by the wobble in his voice and the way he won’t meet Mountain’s eyes.
“You know any of us would’ve helped you if you had asked? But…” the unspoken second half of that sentence is that Mountain knows better than anyone how hard it is to ask for help, or admit one’s pain and suffering.
Mountain tosses the useless fork in the sink and closes the gap between them in one elongated stride.
“Sit.” Mountain gestures to one of the stools flanking the counter.
Phantom hops up, awaiting a lecture, or some form of admonishment. Instead, Mountain’s large hands start kneading away. Practiced fingers that have worked countless loaves of bread, rolls, homemade pasta, and quite a few ghouls, melt the tension and untie the knots in his overworked muscles.
“Oh my godddddddddddddd!” Phantom’s spine goes limp, but his tail thumbs twice as fast and loud as it had with the rolling pin.
Mountain pauses, hands hovering over hunched shoulders “Too much pressure?”
“No, it’s just so much better than that fucking rolling pin!”
Mountain bites back his laughter, his past irritation also down the drain along with the pasta water. He keeps kneading and rubbing until Phantom is more pliable than most of the dough, and ghouls he’s worked on the kitchen counter.
#mushy may 2024#mountain ghoul#phantom ghoul#aeon ghoul#the band ghost fanfic#nameless ghouls#moth’s mushy may#midnight moth writes
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ok now that stream over i will explain better when i say bbh's toxic love mindset explains all of his relationships, platonic, romantic, & familial
it's because HIS EMOTIONS ARE INTENSE!!! they are BIG and LOUD and he may express these emotions in unconventional ways (he is NOT human but that's the least of it) but he sure goes out of his way to make sure you notice (pranks), or his feelings are just natural (caring for and spoiling the egg babies). these emotions go unexplained, but they are there, and people misinterpret him so much because even if you DO ask, it's already established that he's a chronic liar and believing him could be a shot in the dark. but even LYING is one of these big emotions from the self-destructive side, the self-sacrificial side. "self-destructive" and "self-sacrificial" might look as to be opposites in the reason for why, but for q!bbh, they're both fueled by the same emotions. he's self-destructive because he's self-sacrificial, he's self-sacrificial because he's self-destructive, and it's because he cares too much. bigger than anyone has been able to understand.
you'd think an immortal would be numb to consequence at a certain point, but to q!bbh, consequence is EVERYTHING. he hasn't gotten over how quickly people and things can be lost, especially considering he's a reaper. so if q!bbh, as secretive as he is, can get all negative attention to him, not only does it help in lowering their expectations or view of him, but it also serves to make him a magnet for bad things. but if he's a magnet, he needs to care MORE because as he's said, disaster follows him wherever he goes, and being a magnet can hurt people. 'toxic love' is normal love to q!bbh, who taught himself to accept pain he feels, and not care to treat his wounds, for his hurt could be protecting someone else. it's 'not getting attached', it's 'when he does inevitably get attached he's overbearing', it's 'worrying about things that haven't happened', it's 'rewriting lies with more lies', and he's been doing this for so long that half of it he doesn't realize he's even doing it or that he could be 'too much'.
these big emotions, reactions, and actions, are natural. and to anyone else, he's just being dramatic and over the top. but in truth, that's just how big his feelings are. his love for his children is so large, he'd freeze hell over to get them back, but without an option to fight pre-purgatory, it originally manifested as him spiralling. his attachment to cucurucho is new since reviving, but since he was alone on & off for a while, he desperately clung onto any reinforcement he could get because even monsters want to be loved, to feel loved, and the chase made him reliant in a way that he refuses to let go of the constant he had during the quiet times, and if it makes him nuke spawn a couple times because he's desperate to be seen by who he's attached himself to, he'd do it, and im sure it wouldn't have been a first for him if we could put a magnifying glass to his past lives.
it's just natural, when the reason you get to be on earth in an eternal loop is because of rejection from what you still love despite your better judgement. because of your big emotions.
#haha ummm when did this get that long?? WOW ok um haha#and im sure there are things people could word better for me and also add on and i may be backtracking because i may just be cookoo crazy#BUT IM IN Q!BBH'S BRAIN I SWEAR i get HIS THING i just don't know if im explaining it right#goopert talks qsmp#qsmp#qsmp badboyhalo#long post#character analysis
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”Clever Y/N…” Task force 141 x Velociraptor hybrid!reader Head cannons
Warnings: SFW (I am a minor), fluff, blood, language (cussing), mentions of animal abuse/violence (I do not condone), reader is gender neutral
gif credits: @Deshi Basara
Writers note: If this gets 100 notes I’ll make a series out of this like my fox hybrid one
Context/backstory: Jurassic world AU; The park had been long lost abandoned for over a decade now. What was once a park full of creatures of old was now the ruins to a new world. You were an experiment. A human with the qualities and characteristics of a Raptor. You had the raptor feet, legs, tail. Claws, eyes, and teeth. The task force was sent to Isla Nublar. Back to the old run down park to retrieve a weapon, but little did they know that the weapon was you.
Price: You see Price as your Alpha. The moment you two met you knew who was in control. Price. He’s the only man you will ever willingly take orders to. The only man you’re afraid of. A muzzle was a common occurrence for you. You were notorious for biting and teething anything you could get your jaws upon. Especially the task force members. Price is the most patient with you about this but this is a problem that needs to be fixed. He either muzzles you or distracts you with a bone like you would do for dogs.
“Ay!” Price pulls you away from his arm sleeve.
“What did we say about biting Y/N?” He glares at you. You immediately stop what you were doing and turn your attention to something else.
“No biting ya muppet.”
Soap:
Soap was the one to break through to you. He never saw you as a weapon, you were just someone trying to survive. Find your place in the food chain. Soap always kept you calm and grounded even in times of danger or a threat to you and the others. Not even Price could calm you like Soap can. He was pretty laid back with you and let you do about whatever you wanted. He didn’t mind the nipping and teething as long as you were gentle. He was the one to help clean you after missions, including your teeth.
“Oi let’s see those pearly white’s.” Soap says as he gestures for you to open your mouth. You do as asked and he rests his hands on his hip proud of his work.
“Now there’s a smile!”
Gaz: Gaz is your trainer. Price thought it would be good practice for Gaz if he was your trainer. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two about teaching and be in Price’s shoes for once. You obeyed, but only when food was involved, otherwise Price would have to come down to motivate you to listen to Gaz. The training did well, you were a massive help on the field, but Gaz can’t help but feel bad about it all. You being a ‘weapon’ of massive destruction that he was in trusted to train. It held quite the pressure on him. He’s afraid he’ll turn you into the monster everyone thought you were.
Gaz watches you tear into one of the punching bags, he couldn’t help but picture the stuffing as intestines and flesh being tore out. He could see the cotton stuck in your teeth as blood dripping down and running off your chins
“Y/N! I think that’s enough for today…”
Ghost: You see Ghost as a beta. You sometimes take orders from him but only if you feel like it. The more irritated he gets with you and more and more you resist his commands and his attempts of control over you. You always snuck up behind him and he didn’t even need to call out to you because you were always there…He wasn’t sure what Gaz has been teaching you but the cold look in your eyes tells him that Gaz wasn’t the first to train you…You wear a head set around your head and neck so he could see out of you and see what your doing. Soap likes to call it Ghost’s “Nanny Cam.”
Price walks into the common room. “Has anyone seen Y/N? I told you all Y/N is not aloud outside unaccompanied!”
Ghost looks over to Price. “Y/N is eating Soap’s cookie stash.”
Soap jumps up wide eyed. “My cookie stash!? Ghost why didn’t you look at your nanny can sooner!?
“ITS NOT A NANNY CAM JONHHY-“
#captain john price#cod#cod mw2#gaz x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#soap x reader#call of duty modern warfare#captain price x reader#task force x reader#task force 141
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