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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 month ago

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⋆ the heart devises, desires, can be stolen.

modern!young!ambessa x curvy!best friend!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: ambessa has always been your best friend, and you hers—one half of a duo everyone envies. but it turns out she’ll take any chance to remind you that no one else gets to have you.

cw: straight smut bro i'm ovulating real bad, power dynamics, homoerotic friendships, rich girl bullshit, pining, sexually explicit content, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, oral sex, face riding, impact play, dom/sub, brat!reader, brat tamer!ambessa, dom!ambessa, praise kink, face-sitting, face fucking, possessive sex, accidental voyeurism (she eats you out while you're on the phone with a date), possible infidelity? may be up to interpretation, insane sexual tension, kinda hate sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clit play, humiliation kink, reader is black-coded but everyone can read!

notes: i have nothing to say for myself. enjoy. love you.

the problem with the medarda heiress is that she’s allowed to want you, but you are not allowed to want her. if you do, you’ve upset something delicate and impossible to rebalance. you’ve leaned too hard into it, and she’ll punish you for the weight. it was an invisible rule, but enforced with brutal consistency. you, and anyone else she ever deigned to touch, had to understand this law to be allowed inside the thicketed, thorn-laced garden of her lioness heart.

you were strategic. played it smart. tied yourself to her not through confession but through proximity. best friendship. a safe zone, or something close enough to perform as one. still, the world you built together had curdled into something sticky. mutated by a strain of possession that could only belong to two bright, beautiful, brilliant young girls, padded by old money and too many afternoons with nowhere to be.

you never talked about it, but you both knew: the relationship had grown elevated beyond all else. separate. sacred. whatever existed between you was observed with more affection than most marriages.

she had your coffee order filed away in the notes of your contact card. you had her credit cards sitting untouched in your apple wallet, every limit obscene. you did her makeup when she was afraid to try something new and needed someone who wouldn’t laugh if it all went wrong. her hands hugged the lunar curves of your hips as she measured you for brands you rarely purchased from. urged you to yield to instructions such as stand still while her thumbs pressed deliciously just below your hipbones.

you knew each other best, which meant you hurt each other best.

when she was displeased with you, she would excise you silently. you’d wake to an instagram feed newly glittering with crowds of people who would ask about the reason you hadn’t been there with rehearsed innocence. in return, you would still celebrate her birthday, but with less respect than owed. show up late. deliver a gift just generic enough to imply you’d forgotten, a last-minute grab from a boutique near the venue. it would make her lips go thin and bloodless at the head of the dinner table, her eyes going flat with insult.

ambessa would follow this with digging her nails into your thigh until she drew both blood and your sharp gasp of pain, and then look over sweetly. her face would enact a perfect collapse, a slow crumple, her face folding into the perfect picture of saccharine concern.

“jesus, [name],” she’d whisper, a hand on your knee, locs twisted up like a debutante. “are you alright?”

only you could see the violence behind it. it matched your own.

later, to get back at her, you’d lock her out in the cold and text her to call in a favor at the ritz. you’d fall asleep sprawled across your shared bed, cheek pressed to her pillow, her scent making something claw in your chest.

but the worst, the thing that really got her, was when you went on dates. she despised it. viscerally, illogically.

she’d watch you get ready from the edge of your bed like a housecat preparing to pounce, her long limbs sprawled out in quiet threat. her eyes would follow your reflection in the mirror as you applied gloss and tucked that evening’s pair of earrings into the soft swell of your earlobe. when you reached for your heels, she'd tug the hem of your dress like she was helping, but always, always popped off a bead or caught a thread.

you’d swat her hand away.

“bessa. stop.”

she’d just blink, slowly and unreadably. “i’m only fixing it.”

you’d kick at her ankle, not gently. she’d wince, delicately performative. it made you feel better, even though both of you knew she could break you in half if she wanted.

she just never did.

she always waited up.

never slouched. never drowsy. only still. it was like a meditation brought on by jealousy that coiled with nowhere to strike.

ambessa kept the suite dim, lit only by the golden hush of a single lamp and the spill of city lights leering through the windows. she sat poised in one of the chaises like she’d been born there, legs crossed, one hand rubbing idly at her temple as she looked over internship applications. her silk robe was belted in a way that suggested absentmindedness. but with ambessa, nothing ever was.

your entrance was deliberate. you’d come late, always sitting by yourself at the table for a few extra minutes just to strengthen the wound. as you walked in, she looked up, eyes glossy but sharp as if she hadn’t blinked while you were gone.

your heels hung from your fingers, limp and thoughtless, betraying nothing of the two thousand dollars they’d cost, you had played it risky, had decided to engage with what your mother once called “the wisdom of a whore”. the outfit was an electric blue, comprised of a candalously tight, micro-skirt and a matching beaded tube top that did nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples.

your hips swayed like a dare. your hair was teased large and soft, fragrant with something tropical and warm, the kind of scent that would linger kindly along bedsheets and a shirt collar. your lip combo was smudged from the sips of the apple martinis you’d ordered, the liquor a toxic green highball. it had felt threatening every single time a sip went down. your teeth bit into your bottom lip, white still gleaming. your edges were immaculate, barely curled.

you looked expensive. you were sure to taste somewhat like trouble. and she abhorred it.

you hadn't even liked the guy, but you liked his effect. it was cruel, but cruelty was the only language you spoke fluently when ambessa got like this.

her eyes crawled over you. slow. bladed. her fingers twitched, and she covered them with the lip of her robe, anxious to keep her emotions unrevealed.

“well?” she said.

you blinked. set your purse on the counter like you hadn't noticed her watching. “well, what?”

her lip curled, delicate and venomous. but then, “did you—did you have fun?”

her voice seemed to get smaller by the end, but you caught the subtle narrowing of her eyes.

you laughed. couldn’t help it. the act was borderline insane. insanely her. you dropped your heels, letting one tumble toward the couch.

“you’re so upset,” you murmured, the sound almost fond.

ambessa stood. “i am not.”

“bessa,” you said, ensuring that you sounded the right side of disappointed. “i thought we agreed to never lie to each other.”

“please,” she scoffed. you smiled wider. you began to move again.

her eyes tracked you, slow and precise, a predator unbothered by the illusion of prey. she waited until you leaned against the island in the kitchen, fiddling with a glass like you might pour yourself water. you didn’t.

then, low and syrupy, “what’d you drink tonight?”

you smirked without turning. “why?”

“i’d like to know what to order if i go there.”

she’d never go there.

you glanced over your shoulder, smiling sharply.

“if you want to know what’s been in my mouth, then come and find out.”

she slipped over like a shadow, walked unrushed and barefoot. her robe parted just enough to flash well-lotioned skin and the flex of lean muscle. her nails were painted a deep oxblood. she didn’t raise her voice when she stopped in front of you, her height even more pronounced in the throes of her possession, but her mouth was hard.

her gaze dropped: first to your gloss-slick mouth, then the dip of your collarbone, then lower still. with it went the last of her mask. her voice grew high and tight.

“did he touch you here?” she asked, reaching out. her fingers hovered. “or was he too busy trying not to cum in his pants the second you sat down?”

you sucked in a breath, heat climbing up the back of your neck.

“you sound jealous,” you said.

“i think you want me to be,” she countered. you had no answer to that.

goosebumps lit up along your arms. you were still warm from dinner, still sticky from the club, but something about ambessa always made you feel brand-new.

she stepped closer. her hand landed heavy on your hip, fingers sinking in. she wanted you to remember just how bruiseable your body was. her thumb brushed under the edge of your skirt. a threat of a touch.

“did he kiss you?” she whispered, like it would kill her to hear it.

“of course not,” you lied, soft and immediate. you licked along the faded edges of your lip liner.

ambessa smiled. not kindly.

“that’s too bad,” she said. it was so fucking hot that she didn’t mean it.

“did he touch my things?” she asked. her fingers ghosted the curve beneath your top, just under the tight squeeze of your left breast. “put his mouth here?”

“nope,” you answered, popping the ‘p’.

she moved to your hip. “here?”

your breath hitched. you shook your head, slowly. still lying.

“what about here?” her hand slipped behind you, tugged up the hem of your micro-skirt until the under-crease of your ass met the cool air. one finger traced the waistband of your thong. “this was twisted when you walked in. that’s not like you.”

you didn’t answer. your glossed lips just parted slightly, as if something invisible had just struck you. ambessa tilted her head.

“i’ll fix it,” she murmured, voice thick and poisonous. “you know how i hate mess.”

she adjusted the strap of your underwear with surgical precision. the backs of her knuckles grazed the softest part of your skin. she made sure to dip downward, drag a fingertip against your clit just to feel it twitch.

you didn’t flinch. you couldn’t flinch. then you’d lose.

finally, she stepped back, just barely.

“and what did you have to eat?” she asked, her rounds of questions cinching tighter against your throat with every turn.

you gave a half-shrug, cheeky. “whatever he was paying for.”

ambessa leaned in. she studied you, breath warm across your cheek, and then cupped your chin. with low eyes, she bit at your lip until they opened and then slid her tongue in to make it a proper kiss. she sucked and lapped at you, curling all around the wetness of your mouth and humming with pleasure when you tried to kiss her back.

then she broke the connection, lips almost engorged red from the tension.

you stood there, stunned. her taste now lived on your lips. your pulse lived in your throat.

“well.” she shrugged, casual. “sounds like it was all very unexciting. shall we go to bed?”

she shouldered past you, unconcerned whether you followed.

ambessa didn’t look up from where she was sitting on the bed, not even when you slipped into the bathroom. you left the door cracked, half-inviting her to watch the undressing of you, but she didn’t give you an inch. it was almost worse, that stillness again. how could she withhold and perform perfect patience while her jealousy dirtied her blood?

you brushed your teeth, wiped your face clean of the night, undid your top like it meant nothing, and re-entered the bedroom in just your strapless bra and thong. you tried not to rush. you knew she was waiting for only a second of displayed desperation.

the air was cooler when you stepped out. low lights spilled across the floor from the floating led light bar above the bed. her robe had been abandoned, and her legs were crossed with the intention underneath the scarlet sheer of her babydoll.

with a stifled sigh of annoyance, you moved toward the dresser to grab your pajamas. but your phone lit up before you could, its thin body vibrating with an incoming call on the bed. it lay there, ringing in suspense of your answer. you squinted and rose on your tiptoes to read the caller id.

[date’s name.]

ambessa’s eyes found it at the same time yours did. she didn’t say anything, but she shut the cover of her ipad case decisively. her gaze lifted to you with the languid, expectant delight of someone about to flip a switch.

“answer it,” she said, voice so even that you knew she must be boiling inside. it wasn’t a request.

your hand hovered. “bessa."

she tilted her head. “you were so sure of yourself earlier. why the hesitation now?”

you sighed, picked it up. “hey,” you greeted, light and airy, as if your best friend wasn’t boring a hole into the side of your head. you were suddenly so aware of your lack of clothing.

ambessa slid off the side of the bed and moved behind you, steps quiet and intentional. she didn’t touch you yet. only looked.

“uh, yeah, i made it home fine,” you said into the phone, forcing a little buyoncy into your voice. “no, it’s cool, i had a great time.”

her hand ghosted over your waist. her fingertips, at first. you turned a fraction of an inch, a subtle warning in your glance. but she wasn’t interested in warnings tonight. she was tuned into her own thing.

you felt the full flatness of her palm, warm and calloused against the small of your back, and then, without further preamble, she pushed you down. you fell with a gasp of surprise, your chest hitting the plush of the mattress and your legs splaying across the cool sheets.

“shit, sorry! i’m fine,” you said, responding to the sudden concern of the man on the other end of the line. “just tripped.”

you went to twist over your shoulder, but were stopped by a firm hand on the nape of your neck. you froze. this was new. you had no plan for this. carefully, ambessa dragged your hips up until you were in a suitable arch with your ass spilling around the baby pink lace of your thong.

“hold still,” she murmured, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear, “and keep talking.”

you fought to keep your breath even as she bent and placed a heated kiss against your shoulder, sliding further down to tattoo one against your back. her palm flattened over your ass, sliding up and under to grasp at your lower belly. her fingers splayed wide, her mouth finding that soft place between your neck and collarbone.

the graze of her teeth made you moan, which you then tried to transform into a weak excuse for a yawn.

“no, i’m not tired. just—” your voice hitched. she dragged her hand downward, slow as silk through a ring. you felt her tug up the front of your thong, so that your lips bulged obscenely around the rim of the fabric.

your free hand clenched in the duvet.

“‘m just getting ready for bed,” you lied. or maybe not. maybe this was exactly how it always went with ambessa; submission didn’t look like a loss. you wanted to obey.

the call continued as she dragged the thong away from you, the graze of lace lighting up every nerve. she left it down around your knees, bringing both hands up to spread you wide and dirty. she gazed silently at the bubblegum pink gape of your body, eyes catching the sloppy drip of your pussy as it pulsed open, messy and glistening, your cream leaking onto the sheets with every shaky breath you took.

“such a pretty girl,” she whispered. you heard the rustle of her sliding to her knees. “keep talking or i’ll make you give him a play-by-play.”

she swung herself around so that she could slide under you, hands coming up to clutch at your thighs. you managed to mute the call as she pulled you down, just in time for the wide stripe of her tongue to meet the throbbing heat of your cunt.

“ohhh fuck, babe,” you groaned, your body falling flush against her mouth. “yeah, holy shit, bessa. right there. please.”

ambessa suctioned her mouth around your clit, suckling and then pulling off with an unnecessary slurp that you knew was done only to make you shiver with embarrassment.

“put it on speaker.”

then she was back to burying her face inside of you.

you hesitated. she noticed. she always noticed. her tongue slowed just enough to make it a punishment.

“bessa, i don’t—”

she pulled back, breath damp against your skin. “i said, put it on speaker.”

you fumbled with the phone, thumb slick as you pressed the icon and heard his voice flare through the room. he was still talking. something dumb. something you didn’t care about.

ambessa hummed, pleased. the vibration traveled straight through your spine.

“hello?” came the tinny voice, tentative now. “you there?”

ambessa hummed again, this time laughing at both of you, and your whole body jolted. you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to make a sound, trying not to cum.

“uh-huh,” you said, voice thin and cracking as you ground down into her mouth. “no, i’m—yeah, just—yeah—yeah. shit. um, sorry. thought i dropped the call.”

underneath you, ambessa smiled.

“is this a bad time? ‘cause i can call back.” it was a shame he was sweet.

ambessa tapped your ass lightly. then sank her teeth into your thigh, not enough to mark, but enough to warn. then she went back in like she had nothing to lose. well, she didn’t. you did.

hands gripping your ass, she tugged you even lower, lips messy, tongue insistent. you could feel her breath, hot and damp, every time she moaned low, just to rattle you from the inside out.

“you watching something?” your date asked, and you nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you for a moment.

“yeah, sorry! i always have something on in the, unh, background while i do my routine.”

he laughed, filing away your distraction as some cute, quirky fantasy. a far more innocent categorization than the situation deserved. “nah, i get it.”

you tried to focus on the call, tried to nod along to whatever the hell he was saying, something about “doing this again,” “seeing you soon.”

ambessa refused to let up. she devoured you, alternating between firm, unrelenting strokes and soft kisses that felt like taunts. you could hear the slick echo of it, each pull and suck wet enough to shame you. and it was all happening on his time. you weren’t yours right now.

you bit your knuckle, shuddering.

she moaned like you were the one doing something to her, then gripped the backs of your thighs and pulled you further down, spreading you open with no mercy. her tongue lapped deliberately, each movement messier, filthier, designed to make you flinch like a liar under a spotlight. you could hear the wetness now. you prayed he couldn’t.

her nose pressed in. her mouth devoured. it wasn’t sweet. it was starved.

“i’d like that,” you said hoarsely. “tonight was so good. you’re so good.”

“oh, it’s like that?” your date replied, voice dipping with misplaced pleasure. this was not about him right now.

ambessa pulled back just long enough to whisper, lips glossy. she spread your lips wide, watched you clench around the emptiness. her chin was glazed with the drool of your need. “but not as good as this, right?”

then she flattened her tongue and drew a line so slow it made your knees buckle. when she grazed your swollen clit with her teeth you whimpered, far too loud. there was a pause on the other end.

“you okay?” he asked, voice laced with confusion now. “you sound a little more than distracted.”

“yeah,” you breathed, forcing a laugh. “swear. just exhausted. you know. long day.”

ambessa pulled your clit back into her mouth like she wanted to keep it, and your body betrayed you with its shivering and arching. she didn’t stop. she didn’t want you to be quiet. she wanted the performance. wanted him to hear you choke on a lie while she tore the truth out of your body.

you grabbed the edge of the headboard with one hand, the phone shaking in the other as you began to bounce. you needed it to end, needed the focus to ride the fuck out of her face.

she squeezed your ass, giggling to herself as she slapped it and you covered your mouth as your brain whited out.

“hey, look, do you want me to call back? i can let you enjoy your show in peace,” your date offered, tone unassuming and teasing.

ambessa pulled away only long enough to murmur, “answer him, baby. or i’ll do something that’ll make you.”

“no! no, that’s okay. i wanna—i wanna keep talking.”

he said something else, his tone pleased. you couldn’t even hear it, because ambessa was saying something too. between sucks. between strokes.

“look at you, mama. do you want to cum for me?”

she didn’t wait for an answer. she slid two fingers in, knuckles deep, while her mouth returned to your clit like it belonged to her and no one else. you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, tried to focus on breathing.

“you want to cum for me, right? not him. we can keep him on the phone if you want. let him here how nasty this pussy is.” she pressed open mouth kisses to your cunt as she said it, using two fingers to spread your folds as she made out with it. she slid her tongue in, french kissing it like she’d done in the kitchen before this. “it’s okay, baby girl. i’m feeling generous. let him hear what he’ll never have.”

you slapped a hand over your mouth. your eyes rolled back. the phone slipped from your fingers and hit the bed with a soft thud, still on. still listening.

“oh shit, baby, fuck. i—oh my fucking god, bessa.” you moaned, rolling your hips faster.

“yeah?” she said, uncaring of her volume now. she smiled viciously at the thought of the way that man must be feeling. “you feel good? you like it when i put my mouth on you? come on, use your words for me.”

“yeah. i, mmm, i love—i love it. love it when you eat my pussy. ‘s so good. so fucking good.”

you were bouncing vigourously now, ass slightly clapping against her chin. she didn’t mind, only guided you further into her mouth and whined into you. you were dripping, dribbling all over her face, even slipping down her neck. she reached up, brought the phone closer.

the squelch of your pussy was obscene, your walls gummy and tightening around her every time she tried to leave. she drove her fingers deeper inside of you, relishing in the way you squealed and tossed your head back. you fumbled with the band of your bra, finally getting it undone and allowed your tits to fall perky and full into your hands. you pinched your nipples, swiveling delicately as you felt that syrupy heat begin to rise.

“i’m cumming. bessa, i’m cumming, i’m gonna—holy shit—i’m gonna cuuuum.”

ambessa didn’t slow. didn't pause. she held. kept you split open, held down, fingers buried, mouth sealed over you with a precision that felt cruel. her eyes never left your face.

you screamed as you sprayed, thighs snapping shut around her face as you shook and curled inward. the world fell away, your brain tumbling into the searing bliss of an orgasm that was ripping something out of you. your voice pitched high, trembling, frantic, sweet enough to haunt someone for life. then it fell into a vocal blend of three parts: sob, slurred praise, utter disbelief.

the phone was still on, the call still connected. there was silence first. then:

“…what the fuck,” he said, voice hesitant as if he didn’t want to believe what he heard. “what the fuck, [name]?”

ambessa didn’t even glance at the phone. she just kept going, alternating between fucking and kissing against your mess, tongue soft now, lapping it all up like she was savoring victory. you whined, tried to pull back, too sensitive. she didn’t let you.

“uh-uh. you can give me another one, pretty girl. i know you want to.”

she made you ride it out, whimpering, breath stuttering against your lungs, throat closing as her tongue still worked slow, torturous circles through the oversensitivity. another cry ripped out of you, lower this time. she chased every twitch and tremble, drank from you like she was feeding.

the line crackled.

“can you not hear me? because i can hear you. i’m still on the fucking phone with you! you’re fucking—what the fuck is this?”

you couldn't even respond. you were still pulsing, convulsing, twitching in her hands. she pressed her mouth against your thigh like a signature. then, with the most obscene casualness, she reached for the phone and brought it to her lips, their fullness still soaked and shining with your release.

she didn’t rush, her hand rubbing a warm circle across your back as you fell into her. she pressed a kiss to your shoulder and then said, voice soaked clean through with honey,

“wrong number, maybe.”

then she hung up.

you collapsed forward, gasping into the pillow, body wrung out and wet and glowing like a fever. ambessa crawled up behind you, mouth still damp with you, and kissed the back of your neck like she was about to tuck you into bed.

“good girl,” she whispered.

then she bit you, hard enough to leave a mark. her hands slid up the backs of your thighs, sliding between them to spread you back apart and rub a thumb against your nerve-shot pussy.

“you want me to fill you up, sweeheart?” she murmured. “tell me, and i’ll go get it. make you feel full.”

“fuck you,” you breathed. then, “yes, please.”

ambessa’s laugh curled around you like smoke. one arm draped heavy over your waist, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“be right back.”

⚚ special taglist: @venusiandyke @thatonetargaryen @drgnflyteabox @y2kas13 @blackdykegirlblogger @slut4sevika @joon1uvr @dut1fuldyk3 @imheadintothemountains @bambishaven @kirammansbow @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @nightlyconfusion @sevikasrightboob @half-of-a-gay @nsfwruru @yourlovesicklibra @bluferret @doppelman @savedforlaterr @sevikasserafim @fruitfulfashion @soniiyi @namuranguinho @bubblestrbls @spidercat-soccerfan @pllduniverse @sugrcookiiee @iwasholic @sevslefthand @fxngsfxgxrty @leone007 @kk-iki @jvalentinelvr @bella-goths-wife @maaaaaaaaaaari @marieeeluvsyou @powderpinkandsweeet @pearldaisy @sevikas-whore @wolfessa @lazyartizt @cherryswisherz

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 5 months ago

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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@salem-witch-slut

⭒ Prostitution

Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

⭒ These Trembling Hands

Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

@sunflowerwinds

⭒ Gentle Touch

you take care of sevika, jinx, and isha after the fight with vi and caitlyn. sevika, for the first time in a long time, breaks down when you remind of her that it’s okay to let go.

⭒ Hers

your bright personality unexpectedly draws in sevika and she can’t help but fall for you. when finn makes a comment that he can’t take back, sevika reminds him and you how much you mean to her.

@creatur3featur3

⭒ Street Rat

part one | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 5 months ago

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Most Trusted

|| Ambessa Medarda x fem!reader

|| Warnings; brief swearing, brief mentions of killing but nobody dies, reader & Ambessa naked, hints at intimacy if you read between the lines, reader being absolutely smitten for Ambessa, little dialogue

|| Summary; with a slow morning, reader encourages Ambessa to stay in bed with her. Allowing her more time to admire her body. Scars and all.

Requests closed!

Started; December 3rd

Finished; December 3rd

HurtCember2024; Day 4, Scars

Author Note; dropping this one a little early! I couldn't wait that extra sixteen minutes. It's midnight somewhere, right? I'm really happy with how this one turned out 🫶

~~~

The bed was warm and comfortable as you snuggled up to Ambessa. Enjoying the small moment of peace the two of you shared. With Ambessa, these moments came rare and few. Comparable to scraps off a table. So, you cherished whatever ones appeared. Living in the moment to its absolute fullest. Your finger tips trailed along Ambessa's scars, having started on the ones on her face. Now trailing those on her shoulder. You couldn't help but admire them. The scars held memories and Ambessa often told you the stories of how she got them. She loved retelling her battles to you. Her many victories, how proud she made her ancestors. You'd hang on to every word. Taking the stories in full. You couldn't believe that Ambessa was your lover. She was strong, powerful, the embodiment of leadership and control. Whenever you heard how much she had achieved, it made you feel like you could be doing more yourself. Ambessa motivated you. She was your inspiration.

Her gaze fell to you, feeling your fingers against her skin. Trailing the old scars with nothing but admiration and love in your eyes. You often looked at her like she placed the stars in the sky for you. She would have, too. If they weren't already there. Ambessa found it adorable how simply you were entertained by her. You seemed to love everything she did. She could be killing someone and you would honestly probably look at her the same. The thought alone amused her. You really did love her and she really did have you wrapped around her finger. She cared for you. Protected you. You were hers just as she was yours.

"Darling... are you simply going to look at me all day?" Ambessa asked, amusement in her tone. Her hand wrapped around your waist. Resting to your ass. Bringing you in closer to her. Your eyes met hers, taking your gaze off her scars. Your head rested to her shoulder and your hand cupped her cheek. Feeling how she leaned into your touch. For a woman with the strength that Ambessa had, it was cute. Watching her soften up for you. Even if it was simply to humour you.

"Couldn't I?" You replied. You often did find yourself staring at her all day, without boredom. It wasn't often the two of you weren't at each other's side. You were her most trusted, after all. Ambessa could see clearly how deep your loyalty for her ran. Like you were sculpted just for her and her alone. She knew you would never betray. It was one of Ambessa's favourite qualities about you; the thing that caught her attention to begin with.

A small chuckle left Ambessa at your response. Couldn't you? She supposed you could. Though, she knew sooner or later the two of you would have to get to work. Maybe explore the local cuisine... she sighed, propping her elbow to the pillow. Fingers resting to the side of her head. Her eyes locking with your own," we have quite the busy day ahead of us. Though.. for you, perhaps we could stay in bed just a little longer. If only to humour you."

Your eyes lit up and you tried getting even closer to her. Sometimes you found yourself wishing the two of you could just merge. Being up against her wasn't enough. Your hand continued its journey along her scars. Only parting way for a moment to feel her lower abs. You could feel Ambessa watching your every movement, like she was calculating what you would do before you did it. You didn't mind. You loved when the tables were flipped and she would watch you instead. It made your whole body feel warm. In ways beyond just temperature. Ambessa allowed you to continue for a moment longer, before she reluctantly pulled herself away from you. Getting out of bed to begin her day. You couldn't help but pout just a bit as the warmth left.

Ambessa got dressed in front of you. Hardly caring if you watched, besides. It wasn't nothing you hadn't already seen from her. She was in no rush to get ready, even if she should have been. Enjoying the little show she was putting on for you. Once she was clothed, Ambessa looked to you. A subtle smirk dancing on her lips," if you keep your mouth open like that you'll swallow a fly," she teased.

You blinked, haven't even realizing that your mouth had opened slightly. You quickly closed it and scrambled out of bed. A blush dusting your cheeks. Looking through your drawers, you pulled out your clothes for the day. Ambessa would lean herself over your shoulder. Suggesting what she would like to see you in. You hardly minded. You loved dressing for her.

Once dressed, Ambessa gave you a nod of approval. You joined her at her side and she placed a kiss to your cheek. Her hand resting to your shoulder with a firm hold before the two of you left the room. Beginning your day.

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 6 months ago

Text

it's britney, bitch

pairing: choso kamo x reader word count: 10.6k inspired by: oops!… I did it again by britney spears content: fluff, friend zoning, friends to lovers, car accident, a lil corny, a lil angsty, choso being my baby girl princess, suggestive content, 18+

“Can’t you just sleep with him or something!”

Everyday you came closer and closer to making an abrupt u-turn on your decision to become a teacher. Inhaling deeply to collect your thoughts before you smacked the teenage boy in front of you, you blinked slowly at him, a clear sign that you were losing your patience. Your students knew it too, evident in the way they slowly inched away from you.

“First of all,” You gritted through your teeth, but you were still unable to hold back the amused smile that crept up your lips at the fear in Itadori’s face upon seeing your temper flare. “That is so unbelievably inappropriate for you to say.”

At once, the pink haired boy was bowing apologetically at you, submissively waving his hands out in front of him as if it would grant him your mercy. “Secondly, you’re being mean. He just wants to spend time with you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kugisaki scoffed, kicking at Itadori to stop his groveling. “You’re not the one who has a six foot curse following your friends around and scaring away everyone at the mall!”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose, wondering how your lesson plan, which you’d insisted on having outside for the sake of your hyperactive students, had been bulldozed by the conversation of Yuji’s newly discovered brother. The trio seemed desperate to get any space from him, especially the younger brother in question. In truth, you felt bad for Choso Kamo— Yuji was all he had left, and being a big brother was all he knew. Still, you could understand why the group of teens were growing increasingly annoyed by the older man’s budding into all their plans. Not bad enough to sleep with him to get him off their asses, but bad nonetheless.

“They’re right, he’s definitely creepy.” Fushiguro agreed gruffly, finally turning to face you with his usual blunt expression.

“Give him a break.” You huffed, glancing back down at your book in hopes of finding a way to veer back on topic. “You did kill his only other family members, so technically this is on you guys.”

“Actually that was just Itadori and Kugisaki.” The raven-haired boy reminded. His two friends whipped their heads back at him with icy glares. It was Yuji who finally turned back to you with his hands clasped in front of him pleadingly.

“C’mon, Sensei, he’s a handsome guy. Take him out!” He begged, ignoring the way the redhead beside him scoffed at his use of handsome in describing the man. Suddenly, his brown eyes drifted behind you before settling in horror. “Oh god, he’s coming over here.”

“Stop it!” You growled lowly, peering over your shoulder to see Choso in the distance. The school had agreed to take him in with the understanding that he was being closely monitored. In truth, despite his intimidating appearance and his dubious status as a half-curse, you didn’t feel like you had much to worry about with regard to him. In his time at the school, he’d been helping out (or attempting to) with combat training for the students in Gojo’s absence. Sure, he was a little awkward, and the ever present dark circles around his eyes were kind of unsettling, and he didn’t really know how to hold a conversation that well— but he seemed nice enough. Then again, it was usually Itadori he spoke to and hung around with, so you didn’t know him that well.

Snapping your head back over to the trio before you, you huddled in closer to them with a firm expression. “Listen, Choso is only just now learning how to live as a human and not a curse. So, no, I cannot just date him. You need to lighten up on him, he did a lot for you— for all of us.”

“And I’m grateful! But I just want to be able to hang out with my friends without him lurking behind us. Please, can you at least talk to him?” Itadori pleaded, his voice dropping into a whisper as his brother drew closer. You sighed deeply, taking in the desperate look in your student’s eyes. After all, these three had been through enough as it was. A chance to just be kids again was the least you could grant them, and maybe teaching Choso some basic human boundaries wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I’ll do what I can, but be nice to him.” You warned, straightening your posture as you saw the tall man approaching your group out of the corner of your eye. Smiling politely at him, you took note of how his ghoulishly pale complexion seemed to glow under the sunlight. It emphasized the deep blood mark that ran across his nose, reminding you that he wasn’t entirely human despite how he appeared. You thought his change in wardrobe helped ease that villainous energy he seemed to radiate, having swapped his typical robes for mainly black attire— t-shirts, crewnecks, loose fitting bottoms. Choso seemed to prioritize mobility and practicality above all else, if he was even putting that much thought into what he was wearing at all.

“Oh, I thought class would have been over by now.” The half-curse commented, nodding kindly (albeit a little awkwardly) at you in greeting.

“We’re actually…” you trailed off, taking note of the time on your small, wrist watch before huffing in annoyance that these students had managed to monopolize the entire end of your class with this dilemma of theirs. “All done for the day, apparently.”

“Did you still want to see that worm film, Yuji?” Choso asked casually, and you couldn’t help but empathize with him and the way he was trying so hard to connect with his younger brother. The younger brother in question was having none of it though, glancing obviously at you with wide and urging eyes as if to say do something.

“Actually Choso, I was hoping to get your help on something, if you don’t mind staying back?” You babbled off the top of your head, trying to rack your brain for anything you could occupy him with. His dark eyes peered over at you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Okay, maybe these kids are onto something— he is kind of freaky.

His dark brows furrowed just a fraction before he looked back over at Yuji, who seemed to be holding his breath in anticipation.

“It’s for a lesson plan I was hoping to do on blood manipulation. I thought maybe you could come in to show the kids a few things?” This seemed to peak his interest more, and you watched his shoulders fall slowly with the beginnings of acceptance. As if you needed to seal the deal anymore, you elbowed at his arm playfully, a motion that had him ever-so-slightly jerking in the opposite direction. “Gotta keep things interesting, y’know?”

“That would be so cool!” Itadori gushed dramatically, but you could see the desperation behind his eyes— he just wanted Choso to agree so his friends could go to the movies in peace tonight. The half-curse perked up a bit at his brother’s enthusiasm, and you thought you saw a ghost of a smile on his usually gently set pout. Your heart clenched guiltily at the way his eyes lit up.

“I can stay behind.” He offered, finally turning to face you with a newfound motivation. “We‘ll have to watch it another time then, Yuji.”

“You got it, bro!” The pink-haired boy cheesed enthusiastically before the trio rushed off, likely worried the man would change his mind. Your head shook silently at the eager students, and as you looked back at Choso, who was now staring expectantly at you with his usual stoic expression, you almost started to regret your decision.

The awkward tension continued to settle around you as the two of you got back to your classroom. His comically large frame was squeezed uncomfortably into one of the desks, shoulders stiff as he watched you write down discussion points for the lesson. You tried to get more of his input on what he thought would be good to include, but he seemed hesitant to participate.

“Choso, you’re kind of the expert here.” You urged teasingly, tapping your pen idly against your lesson notebook. He glanced up at you with that familiarly subtle pout on his lips.

“I don’t know if I’m the best person for this. Yuji doesn’t seem to think I’m a very good teacher.”

His explanation had your heart sinking a bit. You made a mental note to lecture your students about their treatment of the new member again.

“You can’t listen to Itadori, he’s just a kid.” You laughed softly, setting your pen down to give your full attention to the reserved man before you. Biting your lip pensively, you wondered if now would be a good time to weave some suggestions into the conversation.

“He listens to you though… pays attention.” Choso murmured, and it was clear in the distant look in his dark eyes that his mind was elsewhere. There was no malice or jealousy in his tone, just a pensiveness that set his already sharp features into a firm gaze. “You’re good at what you do. Yuji and his friends like you.”

You smiled bashfully at his unintentional compliment, but you didn’t miss the subtext in his words— but they don’t like me. Pursing your lips, you stood from your chair and walked around to lean against the desk he was occupying. You knew it didn’t have anything to do with whether he was a good teacher or not, it was his lack of understanding of how to be human and how to connect— especially given the fair age gap between him and Yuji.

“You’re not a bad teacher, Choso.” You assured with a knowing smile. His arms crossed over his chest, almost as if he was trying to make himself smaller as he sunk further into the cramped seat. “It’s not even about whether you’re a good teacher or not, you know. They’re kids, teenagers at that. You can’t just force that respect.”

As he peered up at you through his dark lashes, the vulnerability that shone through his curiosity made him appear far less intimidating. The wispy, stray bangs that fell from his buns brushed against his furrowed brows, and you fought the urge to push the offending pieces from his face. Despite the clear confusion on his face, you desperately hoped he would catch on to what you were putting down.

“You’ve gotta be cooler, Cho!” You encouraged with a light shove to his shoulder.

“Cooler?”

“Yuji’s at an age where he’s gonna want to hang out with his friends— do stupid stuff, you know? You have to let him be a kid.”

He sighed with a frustrated pout on his lips. When his dark eyes met yours again, there was a quiet desperation in them. It made your gaze soften— it made him look more human.

“I want to be there for him… like I couldn’t be for my younger brothers.”

You felt your shoulders slump in sympathy for him. There was a lingering guilt that settled in your chest for ever having thought of him as anything less than a man trying to right his wrongs in life. Then again, you weren’t sure that Choso knew who he was as a human yet either, much less how to be there for others.

“And you are. Just not in the way you think is best for him. You have to let him come to you. Don’t try to insert yourself in with all these younger kids, Cho.” You laughed half heartedly, and his lip quirked as if he was at least attempting to reciprocate, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If you try so hard to fit in with them, he can never see you as his big brother. Big brothers bail you out of trouble, teach you how to drive… that kind of stuff means a lot to them.”

The tall man sat up in the desk suddenly, the metaphorical wheels turning in his mind. Still, there was that furrow of discouragement that formed a thin line between his brows. The blood mark across his nose scrunched up with the rest of his face in a manner that had you biting back an amused grin.

“I don’t know how to drive though.”

You had hoped to finish up your lesson plan and go grocery shopping after work that Friday afternoon, maybe curl up on the couch and watch a movie you’d already seen twenty times. So, you weren’t sure how you ended up slamming the driver’s side door of your car shut, huffing in determination as you prepared to give a makeshift driver’s ed class to the half-curse now occupying your passenger seat. Choso sat stiffly in the leather seat, hands clutched against his thighs as he watched you intently, awaiting your instruction.

“Okay, first and foremost, put your seatbelt on.” You ordered, turning to buckle yourself in as well. “When you teach Yuji, always make sure he has it on. These kids don’t fear death these days.”

As you rambled on distractedly, you caught Choso’s apprehensive figure in your peripheral. He watched you click in your buckle with furrowed brows before looking back at his own chair unassuredly. An apologetic smile settled on your lips, and you reached over him to grab his seat belt for him. He tensed as your hair brushed against his jaw, the lingering scent of your shampoo distracting him from the task at hand. Nonetheless, he tried to focus back in as you pulled the device across his chest and nodded in the direction of the buckle.

“Here, click it in here.”

You held the belt out for him, and he nodded slowly before taking it from you and clicking it into place. With a satisfied nod, you teasingly pulled on the belt to assure it was secure across his chest.

“All good to go, Captain.”

Choso questioned why he wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat, and you had to quickly remind him that you weren’t about to let him operate the thousand plus pound machinery without at least seeing someone do it first. Ever eager to learn, he was leaned over the center console most of the time, curious eyes taking in how your foot moved steadily over the pedals and your hands’ placement on the wheel.

He must have asked fifty questions about what each button and knob did— and was more amazed at the fact that he could control the temperature in the car than any of the other features. It wasn’t raining, but you turned on the wipers just to see the look on his face. It was difficult focusing on the road ahead of you when you had a grown man in your passenger seat experiencing a modern car for the first time. After seemingly having seen enough, the man leaned back into his seat with a pensive hum, eyes a bit brighter than they were when he first sat down.

“And you think this will interest Yuji?” He questioned doubtfully, as if he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes being thoroughly entertained by the car’s functions.

“Learning to drive is a rite of passage— freedom. He’s human, of course it’ll interest him.” You explained nonchalantly, eyes focused on the turn you were making. From your peripheral, you saw Choso’s shoulders fall, and the implication of what you said hit you at full force. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not sure I understand the part of me that’s human.” He confessed. With the car safely paused at a red light, you turn to look at him, only to find him looking down at his own lap as if it held all his answers. “So maybe I can’t understand Yuji.”

When he looked up at you, the look in his eyes was so determined— so sure of his revelation. It was clear he was attempting to come to terms with the fact that the path he’d chosen meant that he may never connect with his younger brother the way he so ardently hoped for, or anyone else for that matter. What you saw though, as you stared back into his chocolate eyes, was a man experiencing the very epitome of humanity; uncertainty, guilt, fear.

“Remember how cool you thought my windshield wipers were? That’s the human in you. You teaching yourself something new just so you can be a good older brother? That’s all human, Choso.” You explained firmly, watching carefully as the blood mark on his face seemed to grow darker as his nose and cheekbones flushed red, the line thinning out in a manner that was barely noticeable had you not been so close to him. You smiled fondly at his bashfulness. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re more human than curse.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“Then I’ll remind you.” You offered nonchalantly, facing forward once the light turned green. Not only that, it was clear he was getting flustered with all the sudden attention on his vulnerability. “I’ll tell you whenever I see it.” Stealing a glance at his burning cheeks, you hid your smile. It was silent for a beat as he contemplated your words.

“My face feels hot.” He finally admitted.

“That’s the human in you, Cho.”

“Right.”

The weekend came and went quicker than you hoped. Following your driving crash course turned therapy session with Choso, you both agreed to reconvene the next week so he could actually get behind the wheel. Despite your planning getting cut short, you still intended to have that lesson on blood manipulation with the students, seeing as it was difficult trying to come up with topics that would peak their interest every week. Deciding that you didn’t want to spend your afternoon cleaning blood off the walls of your classroom after the lesson, you opted to take this one outside again. So, you sat against the cool grass, looking over the haphazard notes you had taken the week prior as you awaited the students’ arrival.

When you heard the crunching of the crisp grass growing closer to you, you perked your head up with an enthusiastic smile to greet what you assumed would be the trio. Instead, you were met by the passive gaze of Choso.

You had texted him to confirm that he was still coming, something you didn’t even know he knew how to do until Yuji droned to you about the countless hours he spent trying to explain emojis to his brother. His response was a stiff ‘Yes.’, followed up by five thumbs up emojis. Despite this prior confirmation, you weren’t sure why you were still surprised to see him. You offered him an encouraging smile, patting the spot beside you in the grass.

“Try not to look too excited, Cho.” You teased as he came down unceremoniously to sit beside you. The half-curse donned a fitted black t-shirt, complemented by dark joggers and his typical boots that he evidently was so attached to. His hair was ever presently in those messy buns, bangs strewn about his forehead.

“I am excited!” He perked up suddenly, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. As the cool wind blew in his direction, he reached up to shove his bangs out of his face. “I want to be… cooler.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in your chest at his words. There was a small part of you in the back of your mind praying that the kids actually seemed interested in the lesson today for Choso’s sake. As you watched him fight with the offending hairs in his face, you sucked your teeth in amused frustration.

“Do you want me to fix that for you?” You offered with a soft smile. He peered over at you with a questioning furrow in his brow. You jutted your chin toward his unruly buns. “Your hair— so it’s not in your face during the lesson.”

“Oh,” He muttered, slowly lowering his hands into his lap. “Okay.”

It took him by surprise when you made quick work to shift onto your knees in front of him. His dark eyes stared widely at the firm look of determination on your scrunched face as you gently worked the elastics out of his hair. The more curious part of your mind had you leaning back a bit to watch as his hair fell freely down, just barely grazing his shoulders and framing his sharp features. A gentle shiver threatened to run down your spine as he gazed up at you in fascination.

Tearing your eyes away from his, you forced yourself to turn your attention to his hair. Gripping the sturdier hair tie you had around your wrist between your teeth, you slid it off your hand as you worked to gather his chocolate locks. The half-curse felt his eyes involuntarily droop down to watch the way your lips pouted against the black hair tie that dangled from your teeth.

It was another one of those moments, Choso thought to himself, where he couldn’t for the life of him understand the very body he resided in. He couldn’t understand why he had such an urge to commit the image before him to memory, or why the gentle scraping of your nails against his scalp made him feel as though he was melting into the grass below him. A deep hum resounded, pulled from the depths of his chest as he tilted his head into your touch.

You smiled knowingly, watching as his blood-mark twitched against his nose in tandem with the flush of his cheeks.

“Your human is showing, Cho.” You teased softly. Making a point to take a bit longer than necessary in smoothing all his hair up into your hand, you allowed your nails to scrape gently up the nape of his neck, earning the not-so-subtle shiver that shook his broad shoulders.

“It feels nice.” He almost sounded as though he was attempting to defend himself, though in reality, he was coming to understand that perhaps there was more to the human side of him than he had ever anticipated. There was a blossoming desire in him to explore it, and he determined as you finished the kempt bun at the top of his head, that was just what he’d do.

When the student’s arrived, they rose a brow at the man’s new hair-do as he straightened his shoulders to face them. The sudden attention made his confidence falter a bit, but he stood up nonetheless to begin the lesson as you two had briefly gone over.

It would have been a bold-faced lie to say that Choso’s dominating presence during the lesson didn’t distract you. Maybe it was the fact that the hair that once concealed some of his chiseled face was now tied up and out of the way, you thought as his brows furrowed in determination with each demonstration. Better yet, perhaps it was more plausible to assume that a newfound confidence seemed to shape his aura as he explained the cursed technique he’d been mastering for so long. He was completely in his element, movements fluid and oozing with poise with each ripple of his biceps under the sleeves of his snug, black shirt.

The final nail in the coffin of your uncharacteristic distractibility was just seconds after he’d performed what seemed to be his pride and joy: supernova. As the fragments of crimson burst individually at a safe distance from the students, you didn’t miss the way he tilted his head back to look at you. Truthfully, he didn’t understand his own reaction either, but there was a burning in his chest. It was as if he would implode on the spot if he didn’t catch your reaction to the impressive technique. As the two of you locked eyes, and Choso took note of your parted lips and raised brows, he couldn’t suppress the smallest of prideful smiles from disrupting his once stoic expression.

There were countless, futile attempts to push down the memory of the oddly intimate moment as you watched Choso climb into the driver’s side of your car later that afternoon. It was nearly impossible though, suddenly hyperaware of the way the veins in his hands flexed as he gripped the steering wheel apprehensively. The bun you had placed his hair into had loosened in tandem with his day to day movements, stray strands of his bangs hanging around his solemn expression.

In your almost shameless staring, you missed the way he was looking expectantly at you. Snapping from your daze, you smiled as nonchalantly as you could at him, eyes fluttering around the vehicle.

“Remember step one?” You tested him with a teasing quirk of your brow.

His dark eyes drifted from yours to look around the various buttons and knobs before he perked up, reaching behind himself to tug on his seatbelt as he peered toward you for approval. With a soft laugh, you nodded and turned to pull your own belt on. As you settled back in your seat, you were caught off guard as Choso reached over and tugged firmly at the belt across your chest twice, just as you had done to him during your first lesson.

“All good to go?” He repeated your words back to you with a shy smile.

Your heart warmed at his innocence, and you couldn’t possibly find it in you to correct him. So, you only nodded with a doting smile playing at your lips, hoping that whatever Choso learned of humanity would never taint the innate kindness already everpresent in his heart.

It was both comical and positively nerve-wracking to watch the half-curse drive experimentally around the vacant parking lot. His already pale knuckles seemed impossibly whiter due to the tight grip he had on the wheel, tense shoulders barely touching the back of his seat. For the first few minutes, it was a constant back and forth between jolty excelarations forward and abrupt, harsh brakes that sent you ragdolling against the passenger seat.

After some guided trial and error, Choso had been managing some choppy, albeit better, loops around the lot for a few minutes now. From the corner or your eye, you took in his rigid posture and furrowed brows, wondering when he would relax a bit.

“You’re doing good, Cho.” You encouraged as you plugged your phone into the aux.

That familiar sensation of pride overtook him, and the corners of his lips twitched up at the sound of the nickname you had so casually assigned to him. It sounded so sweet coming from you, as if there was an unspoken bond he had with you, one unlike anything he’d ever experienced or understood before. His internal battle for understanding was cut short when an unexpected tune began blasting from the speakers, making him jolt back in surprise.

You yelped at the sudden slam on the brakes, hands flying forward to steady yourself on the dashboard lest you be tossed around anymore.

“Choso, oh my god!” You laughed despite your state of shock. His head whipped around to stare incredulously at you.

“What is that?” The half-curse urged, eyes darting frantically between you and the speakers.

“I was playing some music! I thought it would help you relax a little.”

“Make it stop.” He demanded pleadingly. “I can’t concentrate.”

“Okay, okay.” You continued to giggle softly as you paused the Britney Spears song you had chosen, watching as the sudden, exaggerated tension in his shoulders seemed to fall. “C’mon— it’s Britney, bitch!”

His brows twitched down at your explanation as he slowly began driving once again. Peering at you quickly from his peripheral, he pursed his lips at the playfully disappointed pout on your face.

“I’m sorry… bitch.”

All at once, your neck snapped toward him, jaw slack as a shocked laugh bubbled up from your chest.

“Choso! You can’t just say that to women!” You could barely get out your half-hearted scold with the force of your laughter. Hunching over in your seat, you reached out to pat his arm, a motion that had him more flustered than the pop song had just moments prior. He felt the heat creep up onto his face, once again feeling left out of something it seemed like he should have understood.

“You said it to me.” He defended.

“Yeah, but I was— it was… ugh, I have a lot more than driving to teach you, Cho.”

Later that night, as you had finally showered and settled into bed, you tried desperately to bite down your tickled smile at the texts you received from your ever-entertaining driving student.

I asked my brother what that word meant

I’m sorry

I don’t think of you that way

As your lessons progressed, you saw the way Choso’s confidence behind the wheel grew. His posture wasn’t so rigid, and he no longer gripped the steering wheel as though it might fly out the window. One thing that hadn’t changed though, was the way he would turn to you each time he was about to begin driving to tug affirmatively at your seatbelt. No matter how many times you had witnessed it already, it never failed to have you internally gushing.

With much convincing, Choso had finally agreed that he was ready to go out on a main road. For a while during this transition, he was back to his stiff-spined posture and trigger-happy brakes. This apprehension didn’t last nearly as long as it did the first time around though, and soon the half-curse was successfully completing smooth turns and semi-straight parking.

It would be a lie to say that Choso didn’t become more intriguing to you each passing day, what with his fierce loyalty and innocent curiosity. You couldn’t help but wonder, as you peered at the concentrated jut of his pink lips from your peripheral, which parts of humanity he had been spared from, and if attraction was one of them. Perhaps a bit too apprehensive to assume, there were little moments that made you question how you appeared through his eyes.

They were in the miniscule reactions; how swiftly his cheeks would flush with every passing graze of your fingers or arms, or the intense way he seemed to stare into your soul each time you were explaining something otherwise irrelevant to him, with his lips parted and his eyes starry in their exploration of your face. Then again, maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to.

Forcing your eyes away from his statuesque side profile, your gaze fluttered about the dashboard of the car in a desparate search for something that would distract you. Landing on the radio, you stole one more glance at his calm demeanor before testing the waters and connecting your phone once again.

In an unnecessarily stealthy pursuit, your fingers snuck up to turn up the volume just a hair on the song Choso had so abruptly shut down days prior. For a moment, his grasp tightened around the wheel at the sudden noise. His eyelids fluttered rapidly for a second, glancing down at the radio before he relaxed once again. With a triumphant smile, you raised the volume to a reasonable level and settled back against your seat.

“Is… is this Britney?” He questioned, stealing a glimpse at the way your head swayed steadily to the rhythm. The contented smile on your face made him want to ditch the attention he had on the road in favor of watching your building choreography in the passenger seat. The car swerved a bit, making his eyes shoot back to the road and jolt the steering wheel straight. If you noticed, you didn’t mention it.

“You remembered.” A tickled smile lit up your face.

A subtle warmth settled in his chest at the approval in your tone. For a few moments, he allowed the rhythm of the upbeat song to fill the air around him, trying to understand why you seemed so engrossed in it. After a while though, you caught the way his head began to bump subtly to the song. The sight had your heart melting for a moment, the way he was so worried about not being human enough, yet so blissfully unaware of just how alike he was to those he felt so alientated from.

“Chooo,” You sang teasingly, leaning in closer to him and not missing the way his lips twitched up at the nickname as they always did. He hummed in question, sparing you a quick glance as if it would scald him to stare at you a second too long. “Your human is showing.”

This seemed to fluster him a hint. A swift puff of air blew through his nose as he smiled halfheartedly at you before looking back at the road.

“I think it always is when I’m with you.” Choso didn’t seem to pay any mind to the implications of his little confession, staring off at the road before him with that same, easy grin on his face. It hit you with the force of a hundred punches to the gut though. The smile on your face slowly faded in favor of a softer gaze, feeling as though your heart might soar up your throat and out your parted lips. Upon noticing your sudden silence, the man in the driver’s seat glanced at you in question, an insecure expression overtaking his face upon seeing your solemn face. “Did I say something wrong again?”

You quickly shook your head, blinking back the mistiness that almost fogged up your gaze.

“No,” You reassured, smiling warmly at him as he spared you another apprehensive glance. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Cho.”

You tried— you tried so hard not to let your thoughts wander too far each time his unintentionally tender words replayed in your head over and over and over again. Choso didn’t understand what he was saying— that’s what you told yourself so as to stop the way your face seemed to flush each time you thought of him. On the other hand, the fact that he didn’t know what he was saying somehow made it all the more real to you. No, because if he didn’t know what he was talking about— he was responding solely to what he was feeling.

Still, despite how much the signs were all pointing there, you couldn’t bring yourself to act on it. A part of you felt as though you would be taking advantage of his lack of experience. Choso was still learning about the intricacies of humanity, of his body, and his feelings. Even so, you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and you compromised with yourself that friendship was innocent enough.

Friendship was innocent, was what you repeated to yourself as his contact seemed to light up your phone more and more with each passing day. The way you couldn’t suppress your smile each time was innocent, even if your thoughts were anything but whenever you happened to pass by when he was training with the students. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him though, so you allowed your breath to be taken away every time his fiercely determined eyes would find yours from across the field. The sweat would drip from his brow, and he’d wipe at it haphazardly before raising his hand to offer a cheerful wave.

The bun you’d put his hair in hours prior, something he always sheepishly stood at the door of your classroom to ask of you since that first time, made his strong features stand out freely in the sun. His jaw was definite, his eyes piercing despite the warmth they always seemed to hold just for you, and his arms bulged and god— you couldn’t possibly keep your thoughts innocent forever. Innocence was a notion lost on you with each dream you’d have of those veiny hands of his discovering just how enticing humanity could be as his fingers dig into your thighs.

You’d wake each time feeling more guilty than flustered, because his name was lighting up your phone again and his messages were innocent.

Cho: I keep hearing that song in my head

Despite the weight of sin that sat in your chest, you still smiled from ear to ear, brows furrowed in curiosity as you responded to him to ask what song he was talking about.

Cho: Britney

Cho: the one from the car

A boisterous laugh bubbled up in your chest at the thought of this strapping man having a Britney Spears song stuck in his head, of all things. The devil on your shoulder also whispered in your ear that this meant he was thinking about you, but you brushed it off just as you did the heat between your legs that you had woken up with. With a few rushed taps to your screen, you sent him the link to the music video for the song he was talking about.

You must have forgotten how easy it was to amaze someone so new to the human world, so you weren’t expecting his gobsmacked reaction. Your phone nearly buzzed off the nightstand as you tried to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. It would have been an absolute crime in your book to not see this type of excitement up close and personal, and later that day you two huddled at your desk, having to repeatedly push Choso’s face away from the laptop as Britney Spears’ iconic Oops… I Did it Again music video lit up the screen.

“I should’ve known,” You mused as he begrudgingly sat back in the chair he’d pulled up beside you. “Every straight teenage boy’s first crush was Britney Spears.”

This made him finally tear his eyes away from the music video to look at you with that confused expression that he seems to have perfected. Rolling your eyes playfully, you waved a hand at the screen.

“You know, everyone thinks she’s really pretty— that’s what having a crush is.” You explained halfheartedly, not wanting to miss the monologue that had always been your favorite part of the song. Beside you, you heard Choso hum thoughtfully.

“I think I have a crush on you then,” He stated so simply that you couldn’t bear to face him right away. Surely your face had painted itself a red as bright as the latex suit Britney was wearing in the video. “But I guess she’s pretty, too.”

You swallowed thickly, hoping to ignore his comment all together for the sake of your own sanity. As the seconds ticked by, feeling as though time was moving through molasses to catch up, you saw him glancing at you from your peripheral. After the fourth look over, you spared him a questioning look, amusement almost outweighing your bashfulness.

“Do you have a crush on me?” The question, despite being so juvenile in nature, overdramatized gossip you’d hear at a high school cafeteria table, his eyes held such sincerity that it nearly made you break your resolve, because you did. You did have the biggest, most out of proportion, high-school crush on Choso, more so than you’d ever had when you were actually in high school. Perhaps it was doing him a disservice to not be upfront with him, but you didn’t trust yourself to deal level-headedly with the consequences should you answer him truthfully.

“You can’t just ask people that, Choso.” You attempted a light-hearted laugh, hoping he couldn’t see the lingering flush on your cheeks.

“Why not?”

“Well,” You racked your brain for an appropriate answer, but the way his dark eyes scoured your face made it difficult to focus. “People ask stuff like that when they want to date you— you know, be in a relationship.”

“And you don’t want to date me?”

“Choso, it’s—”

“Humans don’t date curses?” There was no malice in his voice. Instead, it sounded as though he’d come to a groundbreaking discovery himself, but it didn’t stop your heart from breaking nonetheless. Ditching the music video that had auto-played on your screen, you took one of Choso’s hands into your own.

“We’re friends, Cho.” You explained softly, watching the way he blinked slowly at you before glancing down at your small hand, and he liked the way his enveloped it wholly. “Aren’t you okay being my friend?”

The half-curse nodded solemnly, but there was something in the way you phrased it that made his stomach churn uncertainly. There was a finality in your tone that made him question if he really was okay with it. It felt as though he’d hit a roadblock on his journey to self discovery, one that he felt you and you alone could clear if he could ever figure out what the hell it was that he was supposed to be asking for. The fact was that he didn’t know though.

So, Choso agreed to whatever you would give him, because anything was better than nothing at all. You continued sending him songs, and he continued listening to them while thinking of the way you’d sing them in the passenger seat each time. He didn’t understand why no matter how much he saw you, it burned deep in his chest each time you’d leave.

The interaction didn’t leave you anymore clear headed either, your imagination running wild with the possibility of allowing yourself this one thing. Each time, you flicked the little devil off your shoulder, more determined with every passing day to snap out of this infatuation for a man who was in no position to be in a relationship. With every wandering thought that was squandered in your mind, Choso was waking up in a cold sweat with feelings he wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant to ask you about.

You had tried everything— journaling, pros and cons lists, looking at yourself in the mirror and telling your flushed reflection to snap out of it, but they all seemed to be in vain. Once even the students started to catch onto the frequent togetherness and wandering glances, you knew it was time to seriously kick this thing. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle Yuji’s not so subtle hinting at his brother, which always went straight over the half-curse’s head, of course.

That’s why when one of the sorcerer’s you’d always see in passing, stopping by the school before and after his infrequent missions, asked to take you to dinner, you agreed. You nodded with a feigned bashfulness and ignored the way his eyes seemed to linger a little too long on an area of your body a little too far from your eyes to be considered an accident.

After all, there weren’t a lot of men your age around campus, so perhaps you had just forgotten what it was like to be paid such attention to by an attractive guy. Maybe all you needed was someone to remind you that there were other fish in the sea.

That, of course, didn’t stop the twisting in your heart when Choso’s name appeared on your phone that afternoon just before you stepped into the shower to get ready.

Cho: Can we go driving today?

Cho: maybe we can go to that bakery you always point out but never stop at

Cho: I promise I know how to park now!!!

Smiling wistfully at his enthusiasm, you chewed on your bottom lip as your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. In the contemplation of your response, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be than in the passenger seat with Choso, driving with no real destination in mind. Shaking those thoughts from your traitorous mind, you quickly typed up a response before laying the phone face down on the counter, not brave enough to wait for his response.

I can’t tonight, Cho, I have a date.

Of all the possibilities you had panned out in your mind as you got ready, anxiety brewing with every churn in your stomach of how this night might go, none of your guesses ended like this. None of your mock scenarios involved the very man you had been working so hard to forget standing outside your room, fist raised with a prepared knock.

“Choso?” You questioned breathlessly, watching as he slowly lowered his arm and took in your appearance.

You certainly looked a lot different than you normally did while at work, which is usually when he’d see you. Your hair was down and styled sleekly as opposed to the messy updo you typically kept it in. Choso couldn’t put his finger on just what it was, but he knew there was a more distinct pop around your eyes that nearly made him weak in the knees. Your lips were shining, your perfume was making his head spin, and it wasn’t for him. All the attention you always gave him, your patience and your kindness, but he didn’t feel he could ever possibly be satisfied if this part of you wasn’t for him too.

“You… you look really pretty.” Despite his sweet words, his voice sounded almost disappointed, but he didn’t give you a chance to question him before he continued. “Why can’t we have a date instead?”

The deep breath you took in was calculated as you looked down at your feet, unable to look him in the eyes because Jesus— he was making this hard. You composed yourself before looking back up at his hopeful eyes. Forcing a small smile, you gave his shoulder a half-hearted punch.

“You really want to try that bakery, huh?”

“No, I don’t care about the bakery.” His blunt response almost made you laugh while his dark brows furrowed in determination. “Yuji told me if I don’t want you to go on this date that I should tell you.”

Closing your eyes in frustration, you made a mental note to add that to the list of things you needed to scold your problem-child student about.

“Choso, Yuji’s just a kid. He doesn’t—”

“But I don’t. I don’t want you to go on this date. It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I can’t tell you why because I don’t understand it either, but I don’t want you to go, okay?”

Your protests died in your throat. Shifting from one leg to the other, you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly insecure about all the effort you’d put into your appearance tonight. Peering back up at him through your lashes, you pursed your lips.

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked quietly, and he quickly nodded. “I don’t want me to go on this date either.”

The ecstatic grin that broke out across his face almost made all your wasted makeup efforts feel worth it. At once, your resolve had crumbled once again at the hands of Choso’s innocent sincerity.

“So we can go on a date instead? I can drive us to the bakery.”

“This isn’t a date, Cho.” You quickly reminded him with a defeated smile, placing your keys in his awaiting hands. “And you just said you didn’t care about the bakery.”

“That was before I knew you’d be going with me.”

You were sure he’d be the death of you, but you were too blissed out to care. The windows in the car were rolled down, wind bursting through and ruining your done up hair, leaving you to resort back to your trusty updo. Choso’s cheeks would fall off soon, you swore as you glanced over at the smile that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten into the car. With a shake of your head, you willed yourself to look away, biting down your own smile.

A familiar opening beat spilled from the speakers, and you gasped dramatically.

“It’s our song, Cho!” You shouted, reaching over to turn the volume up on Oops… I Did It Again, which had arguably become his favorite of all the songs you had introduced him to.

Our song— the term had the same tingling effect on him as your nickname for him did, and the way you turned your entire body to face him when he was talking to you. It made him feel closer to you, like he had a little slice of you that no one else would ever see. Maybe that was why this song was his favorite— because it was one that you could never resist shouting out the lyrics to, and he hoped that you would always allow him the privilege of these little solo performances.

“Do the lines with me— I know you know them!” You quickly demanded with a pointed stare in his direction before getting into character. It made his cheeks flush, because he did know the lines, every last one of them.

“Britney, before you go, there's something I want you to have.” His theatrics weren’t quite on par with yours, but you’d let it slide because his shy tone was so endearing.

“Oh, it's beautiful, but wait a minute, isn't this?”

“Yes, it is.” You bit back a delighted laugh at his eagerness each time it was his turn.

“But I thought the old lady dropped it into the ocean in the end?”

“Well baby, I went down and got it for you.” He tore his gaze away from the road to recite it to you with a knowing smile. Leaning toward him dramatically, you clutched onto his bicep as you gushed out the final line.

“Aww, you shouldn't have.”

Choso wished he could have laughed with you at the conclusion of your dramatic reenactment, but you were holding onto him in a way that you never had before, and he could no longer tell if that look in your eyes was part of the performance or not. Heaving out a breath, his eyes dipped down to your unusually glittering lips, and suddenly he knew what you meant all those times you told him he was more human than curse. The feeling he was acting on wasn’t one he’d ever come to know in his countless years living as a curse— this was instinctual and new and so human.

Still, he wouldn’t know just what those human instincts of his would guide him to do, because his attention had been on you for too long, and he sped right past the stop sign that neither of you were paying mind to. It just took one blink of his eyes, and the passenger seat of the car was getting rammed into, and the grip you had around his arm tightened before falling all together.

Choso was yelling out your name, though neither of you could hear it over the sound of your car screeching across the road. After what seemed like ages, it came to a shrieking halt, and he suddenly wished that you had gone on that date after all, because he was calling your name, and you weren’t responding to him. He could barely see you past the airbag, but he still clutched at your hand as if it would pull you from whatever slumber the impact had placed on you.

Blood had always been his saving grace, his weapon, and his pride, but all he felt as he stared back at the way yours began seeping out was raw fear.

Wrenching the belt off of himself by snapping it at the base, Choso yanked the driver’s side door open before stumbling out. There was blood dripping from a cut in his forehead, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to stop it. His vision almost seemed to blur as he reached through the shattered window in an attempt to pull you out. People had pulled over at the scene, yelling at him to not move you until an ambulance came.

He didn’t understand what they were saying, and he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just reach in and pull you from the mess he’d put you in. Just moments ago, the half-curse could swear that finding his humanity was the most incredible thing he’d ever done. That idealization was fleeting now, because humanity was what made him take his eyes off the road, and humanity is what might assure that you don’t leave here as unscathed as he would.

Choso was quickly learning a hard truth about humanity, and it was that he didn’t want to experience it without you.

He called Yuji shortly after the ambulance came, telling him he couldn’t get in with you as he was so desperately trying to do. His brother, at least, had more experience with these things and could understand the foreign jargon they were spouting at him. In the boy’s frantic, breathless translation after speaking with the doctor, he was told that you were fine, only having passed out from the air being knocked from your lungs with the impact of the airbags. Other than some gnarly bruising, minor cuts from the glass, and a broken arm thanks to the awkward position it was squished into on the passenger side that had taken the hit, you’d be fine.

Well, you certainly didn’t feel fine upon initially waking up a few hours later, but you supposed you were doing alright considering. Before you could even fully process where you were when you squinted your eyes open, rushed apologies were already slipping past Choso’s lips as his hand clutched at yours. Blinking back the stinging in your eyes, you quickly turned your head to face him, bewildered by his grief-stricken appearance.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” He has stood up from his chair, staring down at you with those pleading, puppy-dog eyes of his. “I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry, I—”

“Cho,” You stopped him, your foggy mind finally having caught up to what had happened. Slipping your hand from his grasp, you placed a reassuring palm on his cheek. “It’s okay. You’re human, you make mistakes.” The title fell so casually from your lips, as if you had forgotten his genetic makeup all together. It sounded so sure coming from you, that he began to believe it too. Releasing a slow breath, Choso leaned into your hand before you brought it up to ruffle his loose hair affectionately. “But no more Britney in the car, okay?”

“No more Britney in the car.”

You took a week off following the accident for your bruising to heal at least, but you had been discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. It was admittedly nice being able to laze around for a while, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss your students. Still, they made it a point to stop by every once and a while with food or treats.

You hadn’t seen Choso since your discharge, and you were beginning to worry that he was keeping his distance because of the unnecessary guilt he was carrying. He texted you every so often to ask how you were doing and was quick to respond to your messages, but you still missed his almost daily presence in your life.

It had taken you some time, but you were soon able to recall the moments just before the accident— how he had been looking at you, and how it had almost made you stop caring about your self-imposed friend-zone. Friends or not though— you just wanted him here, laughing with you and staring at you with those big, confused eyes of his that were so good at testing your patience.

And you would gladly allow them to continue doing so, you determined as they stared down at you following over a week of their absence. Choso’s towering figure hovered anxiously in your doorway, eyes grazing over your nearly healed cuts and braced arm. He tried not to let the guilt eat away at him, but it was showing all over his face, making you sigh softly. In an attempt to alleviate some of the unspoken tension, you offered a playful smile.

“You find another karaoke partner or something, Cho?” You teased, watching some of the tension fall from his shoulders at your banter. “You haven’t come to see me all week.”

“I’m sorry, I was—” He stopped himself, glancing over his shoulder at nothing in particular before looking back down at you and attempting a smile of his own. “I have something for you.”

“Choso, if this is some prank Yuji put you up to, both of your asses are getting it.” You threatened as he led you outside, his large hands covering your eyes as well as half your face.

Behind you, he smiled, not exactly sure what his ass would be getting, but you seemed assured enough about it. You bumped into his firm chest as he came to a sudden halt, and you tried to focus on anything other than the feeling of being pressed up right against him. His thin, black t-shirt was doing little to hide the chiseled architecture of his torso though, and you were just a woman after all.

Before you had much of a chance to soak in the feeling, his hands fell from your face and onto your shoulders. Squinting your eyes open for fear of what might jump out at you, you instead saw your car parked right in front of you— well, not exactly your car, but the same make and model.

“Cho, isn’t this—”

“Yes, it is.” He interrupted with a boyish excitement in his tone. Pulling the keys from his pocket, he placed the key ring on your finger.

“But how did you buy it? I mean—”

“Well, the school has been giving me stipends every month for helping out. I never really had any use for the money.” He explained, his fingers digging gently into your shoulders as he fought away an unexplainable bashfulness. “So, I went with Yuji to the shop and got it for you.”

Blinking back the tears that were burning at the corners of your eyes, you turned around to face him. His loose hair swayed softly in the breeze as he looked down at you with a shy smile, his chocolate eyes shifting anxiously between you and the car.

“You didn’t have to do this, Cho.”

“I wanted to.” He affirmed with furrowed brows. You watched the mark across his nose twitch with the reddening of his cheeks, smiling at the way his body was built to betray him. “I… I want you— to go on dates with you and to not just be friends anymore.”

“Choso,” You sighed, taking a small step away from him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes I do.” There was a firm confidence in his tone that you had rarely heard from him, and it made your eyes widen as he took a step closer to you. “I know you make my face do that weird thing where it gets hot whenever you smile at me. I know every line to all your Britney songs because you get so happy when I sing them with you. I know it made me mad when you told me you were going on a date and it wasn’t with me. I know when we got into the accident, and you weren’t responding to me it scared me.”

Unsure of what to do, he just knew he wanted to be close to you, and he placed his hands awkwardly on your shoulders. You were staring up at him in astonishment, soaking in each gut wrenching confession.

“I might not have all the right words for it, but I know I always want to be your date. So, don’t make a decision for me because you think I don’t understand it, please.”

His plea smacked you right where it hurt. All this time you’d spent trying to remind him of his own humanity, but you wouldn’t allow him to express it the way he felt was right. It was in all his little quirks, in his innate kindness, and the warmth in his fingertips— Choso was experiencing humanity at its most beautiful, and you could no longer bring yourself to keep it from him.

Wrapping your good arm around his neck, you pulled him down to steal his first kiss from him— one he was more than willing to part with. He stood stiffly against you, all his senses lit ablaze without any guide of where to go from here— he just didn’t want it to end. So, his hands fell from your shoulders and wrapped around your middle, pulling you flush against him in the way that had felt so nice to him earlier. The abrupt tug made you gasp against his lips, your hand that clung to his neck reaching up to tangle in his hair.

A soft whine fell from his lips, and he stumbled forward, pressing you against your new car in a desperate attempt to simply swallow you whole. Your teeth were tugging at his bottom lip, and god— he didn’t know that was an option, and his head was spinning as his body seemed to react for him, hips jolting forward to pin yours against the door.

In a desperate haze, you fumbled with the key in your hands to unlock the car, reaching behind you to tug the back door open blindly. You fought against his iron grip to fall back onto the brand new seats, panting up to watch as he stared down at you with clouded eyes. Tugging on his hand, he seemed to get the message quickly, climbing clumsily on top of you before chasing your lips once again.

His scent surrounded you, trapping you within his aura without any hope of escape. Your good fist tugged as the thin fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you as your hips bucked up instinctively. He choked out a gasp at the feeling, and it made you pull away from him, the recollection that this was all incredibly new to him crashing back down to you.

“Cho, you okay?” You asked between pants, dodging his desperate attempts to find your lips once again. Finally opening his eyes, his irises appeared nearly pitch black from his blown out pupils.

“I want you, I want more of you.” He babbled, suddenly a man possessed. If he had known humanity could be like this, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so scared of it in the first place. Choso didn’t even know what he was asking for, he just knew it felt like he might die if he wasn’t this close to you all the time.

“Slow down there, tiger.” You laughed, trying to calm your own ragged breathing. The man hovering over you looked like he could cry, and you placed a chaste kiss to his jaw. “You haven’t even taken me on a real date yet.”

His face scrunched in confusion, and he filed this under customs he didn’t quite understand yet. Despite his confusion, he respected your wishes and halted his craven pursuit. As rational thought slowly began working its way back into his lust filled mind, he took note of the unfamiliar sensation below his belt. It was as if you could read his mind though, watching in barely disguised amusement as he glanced down at where the two of you remained connected.

“Why is my—”

“It’s the human in you, Cho.”

a/n: yayyy the choso fic that has been sitting in my drafts for three months

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 8 months ago

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Y’all I just realized something

Bats cuddle up to each other while they’re sleeping by instinct

And wolves are pack animals, which means that instinctually they would want to have somebody nearby before they fall asleep

So basically, if you put a sleepy vampire next to a sleepy werewolf they’re gonna start cuddling by instinct

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 8 months ago

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Because I remember disinformation being spread around the last few elections and I’m sure assholes will bring it back:

YOU CAN’T VOTE ONLINE.

YOU CAN’T VOTE FROM YOUR PHONE.

IN MANY STATES THERE ARE LEGAL CONSEQUENCES FOR PHOTOGRAPHING YOUR BALLOT.

DO NOT WEAR CAMPAIGN GEAR TO THE POLLS.

DO NOT TRY TO PERSUADE PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR A CANDIDATE AT THE POLLS.

DO NOT ENGAGE IN ANY KIND OF POLITICAL DISCOURSE AT THE POLLS.

NO ELECTION IS EVER A SURE THING, EVEN IF YOU’RE IN THE BLUEST OR REDDEST OF STATES. IF SOMEONE TRIES TO TELL YOU THAT YOU CAN SIT THIS ONE OUT, THEY ARE EITHER IGNORANT OR MALICIOUS.

VOTE.

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 year ago

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finding an apartment on this side of town was no easy feat, considering rent was through the roof and your wallet wasn’t exactly padded with cash. it wasn’t long before you’d run out of options and decided to go with plan b – find a roommate. not exactly what you’d wanted, you couldn’t exactly afford to be picky.

you start your search immediately, scouring the personal ads in the newspaper and roommate finding websites before you find one that catches your eye. it’s the location, really, the ad doesn’t give much information other than a phone number and a notice to ‘ask for simon’. if it hadn’t been so close to your job, you probably would have skipped over it.

when you call the number a gruff voice rumbles over the other end of the line. you explain your interest and agree to meet later on in the day to talk things over. anxieties start to swarm your mind as you hang up the phone. living with a stranger was definitely not on your bingo card, but then again, nothing that you’d been through in the last few years had been either. by 5 o’clock you’re knocking on a dark paneled door, nervously rocking on your heels. first impressions have never been your strong suit. don’t be too friendly, you don’t want to be overbearing. what if he thinks you look like a slob? oh god, what if this is the wrong apartment –

the door swings open and you almost feel like you shrink in front of the man in front of you. he’s tall, muscled, and looks utterly bored. shit. he’s perfect.

“um…I’m looking for simon?”

“you found him.” he blinks down at your hand when you stick it out for him to shake, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his hand around yours. you try your best to ignore the way it fits just so, sending warmth up your wrist. simon leads you through the apartment and shows you the spare bedroom, which is right across from his. it’s spacious and bright, and you can’t help but imagine decorating the space to your own liking. don’t get ahead of yourself.

when simon tells you how much he’s asking for, your jaw drops. the price is good enough that you can pay him and still have a good chunk of your paycheck left over. what’s the catch?

“there's a catch.” and there it is.

turns out, this ‘catch’ is more of a pleasant twist. simon is in the military and goes on leave every so often. sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months, he says. it’ll be up to you to manage the upkeep of the apartment. he seems surprised when you assure him that it won’t be a problem, you like to keep busy anyway. and so your partnership begins.

the two of you fall in step with each other almost immediately. simon is a man of few words, but the conversations you have are amusing and leave you smiling. he’s armed to the teeth with bad jokes and sarcastic comments that leave you simultaneously rolling your eyes and laughing. he leaves for base early in the morning and by the time you return from your own job, he’s sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. within a few weeks, he even starts making you one too. your routine evolves to include him, spending your evenings with simon instead of out or in your own room. one evening you come home and he’s on the phone, staring out the window as he hums in agreement with whoever is on the other end of the line. he ends the call with a “see you then, sir” before turning to face you. you know the words that are on the tip of his tongue before he even speaks them.

“you're being deployed.” simon nods. “I leave in the morning,” he replies, and you’re a little bit alarmed by the way your stomach drops. you knew this was coming at some point, you shouldn’t be so surprised. and you really shouldn’t be feeling like a spiderweb of cracks just appeared on your heart. you muster up a smile and even though you know it looks forced, you need to be supportive of him now. god knows where he’s going and what he’ll be walking into. “I would ask for how long, but that’s probably a stupid question, huh?”

simon chuckles, nodding. “yeah it is. won’t stop me from asking tomorrow though.” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “are you gonna be alright here?” by yourself is the unsaid addition to his words.

“I’ll be fine. so will you,” the latter you speak aloud not only for him, but a little bit for yourself. if you keep saying it maybe it will come true. simon changes the subject, obviously wanting to enjoy his last few hours as a civilian before he has to turn that side of him off for a while. you share takeout from his favorite restaurant and talk over the sound of the television in the background. there’s something deeper about this interaction, something you can’t seem to put your finger on. you watch simon as he cleans up the kitchen, sweeping takeout boxes into the garbage and putting the silverware in the dishwasher.

take a good look now. he’ll be gone soon.

the thought sobers you and you quickly look away when he turns away from the sink to fully face you. he studies you back, almost as if he is memorizing every detail of your face just as you had done to him only moments before. when you lift your gaze to meet his, there’s a look in his eyes you’re wholly unfamiliar with. longing, it feels like. he blinks it away before you have a chance to say anything. “I’m gonna turn in. I have to be out of here by 4 o’clock to make it in time for our flight.” you wince. 4 o’clock in the morning? its almost 11 o’clock now. as if sensing your horror, he waves a hand dismissively. “don’t worry love. I’ve shipped off with less sleep in my system and survived.”

love. it was a nickname he’d only recently started using but it sent a flutter of butterflies loose in your stomach every time. a common term of endearment, you remind yourself, especially for a british man. he probably calls the nice lady down at the coffeeshop love too. the thought irks you more than it should. “hold down the fort for me, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“be safe, please.” the words come out before you get a chance to mask the desperation behind them. simon nods. a man of few words.

“goodnight,” you whisper as he moves down the hall toward his room. your heart tightens with every step he takes until you hear the ever familiar click of his door being shut. the sound snaps you back to the reality of the situation.

he's leaving. you’ll be on your own for a while. what if it’s forever?

a shiver passes through you as you will yourself to get up from your chair, making your way down the hallway to your door. you pause as you open your door, staring at the one across from you. it’s quiet, you can’t hear him moving around, although you never really could in the first place. the man moves with the silence of owl’s feathers. this is the closest he’ll be for a long time.

pulling yourself into the room and into bed feels like a chore. sleep does not come easily. your conversation with simon plays repeatedly over and over in your mind. a chorus of emotions start to flow through you – anger, concern, fear. anger for whoever had started the conflict that required his deployment, concern for his wellbeing during said deployment, and fear – fear for what this overwhelming urge to be with simon meant. he was a door away, just as he always was. but tomorrow, he would be shipped away, sent to fight with his team in some unknown place against some unknown enemy. the thought makes you sick.

sleep finally comes, but only in waves. you're thrown between consciousness and the space just between sleep, leaving you groggy and miserable. even so, the only thing on your mind is the storm cloud of a man just across the hallway and the intensity of your feelings toward him. he appears in snapshots as dreams come and go. simon smiling, simon cooking, simon laughing. he hadn’t done it much at first, but once you’d heard it you ached to hear it again. the thought hits you like a brick wall.

I’m in love with simon riley.

you sit up in bed, grabbing for your phone in the dark blindly. it hits the floor and you curse as you reach down, feeling for the shape of it. as soon as your fingers touch it you snatch it up, squinting as the brightness glares in your sleepy eyes. 3:54 AM.

you all but fall out of the bed, stumbling over to the bedroom door to yank it open. simon’s door is still closed as it was when you went to bed last night, and when you wrench it open your heart sinks. empty. spinning on your heel, you rush down the hallway, trying not to slip in your fuzzy socks as you turn the corner to the front door. you’re met with the sight of simon’s duffel bag, and for a moment you feel like you can breathe again. find him, your brain chants. you turn to head back down the hallway you came from, ready to call out simon’s name when you smack face first into the man himself.

“what are you doing up?” he pulls you back the shoulders, studying your face with a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. “is everything okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

simon’s eyes soften but he holds his ground. in all honesty, he looks a bit surprised. “I don’t exactly have a choice, love. I – “

“that’s not what I meant.” you stare up at him, taking in the beauty of the man before you. dark eyes staring down at you, the traces of scars trailing across his skin. the stories of battles won painted across his skin. “I want you here. I know this is your duty, but god – if there was anything I could do to make it possible for you to stay I’d do it. I don’t want to lose you simon, I just can’t,” by the end of your sentence you can feel the sting of tears and you cover your face with your hands. sure he’d seen you cry, but putting this on him, right before he was about to leave, didn’t seem fair. the words seemed to come out of their own volition as you chew your bottom lip. you hadn’t thought this far. realizing your own feelings? check. but even hinting at them to simon was a decision you hadn’t even had time to think about. you’d just confessed you couldn’t stand to lose him, and now you might lose him to that very same decision. you should’ve just –

“I’ll always come back to you.” his words are spoken softly but you can’t ignore the seriousness behind his steely tone. warm hands leave your shoulders and simon’s fingers wrap around your wrists loosely. he pulls them away from your face and grips your chin lightly, angling your face up to his. the air leaves your lungs as his breath fans across your lips.

“I would ask you to promise me, but I don’t want to hold you to that.”

“you could hold me to anything you’d like love. just like I’ll be holding you to it that you’ll still be here when I get back.” he tilts his head and you can swear his eyes flicker between yours and your mouth. images of a different reality start to play in your mind, one where he wasn’t moments away from leaving and had the time to push you against the wall and pour every ounce of emotion into a heart stopping kiss. as if stuck in his orbit you shift forward slightly. you don’t miss the way his eyes darken before he pulls away. he doesn’t miss the whine that slips from your lips.

“if I didn’t have to leave within the next 3 minutes I’d give you everything you want, love. everything i want.” simon’s voice is gravelly and has a dangerous tinge to it. the air shifts between you two as he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, your eyelids fluttering closed at the sensation. objectively, simon was not a soft man. he’d only given you a glimpse of his life before you and even less of his life before the military, but you could tell that he’d been hardened by something much deeper than the world of a soldier. but this – this was a gentleness that you’d never expected from him. it made your heart hammer in your chest.

simon steps back, a pained look in his eyes as he leans down to collect his bag. you can still feel his lips on your forehead, his fingers on your jaw. you have a feeling you’ll be replaying this memory until it’s worn thin just waiting for him to come home. if he does – you stop that thought right in its tracks.

“please be safe.” simon nods at you as he adjusts the bag higher on his shoulder. his phone buzzes and he snaps an “I’ll be down in a moment” to who must be the cab driver waiting outside. you swear you can hear your heart crack just a bit. he’s leaving.

simon steps towards the door, his fingertips landing on the knob but not gripping it. you take the opportunity to speak. “I’ll be waiting right here,” you choke out, trying your best to sound as composed as possible. he offers you a weak smile, one that can’t mask the pain behind it.

“you better be. you’re all mine when I get back.” with that, simon tugs the door open and slips through it silently. the click of the door behind him wrenches a sob from your throat. you quickly wipe away the tears as if he were still there to see you cry. simon would let you cry. after indulging in your tears for a few moments, you sniffle and straighten yourself. you’ll have plenty of time to cry later. for now, you have to either sleep or make yourself busy. you have a feeling that ‘making yourself busy’ will become your new hobby over the next few weeks.

it does.

the silence that haunts your apartment becomes too loud. so you pick up crocheting, start reading again and learn how to make your favorite takeout meals. simon’s too. days turn into weeks and before you know it a month has passed. then two. there’s no word from him, but he’d mentioned that calling or texting wouldn’t really be an option when he was away. you’re left with nothing but more anxieties than you’d like to consider and the memory of simon riley one moment away from kissing you.

you spend your evenings busying your hands and thinking about a certain pair of brown eyes hovering over you. you feel as if you're willing him back to you, his words replaying in your head. you’re all mine when I get back.

you wish you’d told him you were all his then too.

you get a second chance when you hear click of your front door unlocking.

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 year ago

Text

MDNI slight suggestive and language

Ghost definitely has a motorcycle and a truck. He'll drive the truck when he knows it'll be a long day doing intel and paperwork. But especially on a Friday when the workload is light, he’ll come in on his bike knowing he’ll be able to enjoy the ride.

He started riding the bike more when you gave the comment-

Guys who ride motorcycles are ten times more attractive with their bike

You didn’t say it to him per se but rather to a friend of yours on base, and he overheard. He likes to think that the bike is his good luck charm, as you agreed to a first date when he drove it. But despite you loving the bike as much as you loved him, he never let you on it. Always exclaiming it would be too dangerous.

He's in the garage, music playing lightly from the speaker as he cleans and messes with some of the gears. You watch in awe at the door. Never in a million years did you think you would be here. In Lt’s old t-shirt, sipping tea and watching him indulge in normalcy on a Sunday afternoon. When you transferred to the base, you always heard rumors about the man behind the mask and the name Ghost. But behind that was this man full of love.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” He said, looking up from the bike to see you.

“Just admiring.” You said.

“The bike or the rider?” He said smirking.

You admired and mirrored that smirk. Something you thought you would never see in your lifetime. But after trials of trust, the mask and guards came down, bearing all the luggage, and past to your welcoming arms.

“Both,” you said, walking over to him. He was seated on a chair and leaned back to welcome you in between his legs.

He peered up, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight that peaked through the window.

“Let me ride.” You said, peering down.

“You can ride me anytime.” He said, being cheeky.

You groaned at his antics and pouted towards him.

“Do you not trust me on your precious baby, Si?”

He looked between you and the bike. It wasn’t that he didn't trust you. He knows how dangerous riding is. He doesn’t want to let you on just in case something happens. He’s come to terms with something happening to him a long time ago. But you. He just got you and would put you in a bubble if it meant keeping you safe.

“I trust you. I just don't trust others.” He says, moving a piece of hair from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw. He guided you to his lips for a quick peck.

You leave your forehead on him while he moves his hands down to your hips.

He can tell you were annoyed with your answers. You guys bonded over this bike and he truly believes that being able to ride it one day was the only thing keeping you around.

That was far from the truth. You just wanted to straddle something other than Simons's dick.

He stood up and moved you to the side.

He pushed the brake down and moved to the back of the bike.

"We can start with basics. Posture and positions." He said looking at you.

Stunned by his answer and quick change in answers, you didn't move till he said, "Ok, I guess you don't want to." You feet quickly moved to stand by him.

He went through the basics, teaching you how to mount and where to keep your feet. After, it was your turn to demonstrate your understanding. You go to the side and lift a leg to straddle the seat.

Simon from the back saw how you were a natural at this. Your ass is plump on the seat you lean to hold the handles with a slight arch in your back. Simon thought to himself why he hadn't let you do this earlier. He was so caught up in how good you look he didn't even hear you ask him if what you were doing was good.

You looked over to see him in a daze. He quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo of you on his bike, clad in his boxers and old t-shirt; every inch of you screamed that you were his. And he never loved anything more than this moment right now.

He walked to the front of the bike.

"Is this alright Si?" You asked him when you finally are met with his face.

He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you.

"My gorgeous girl on my bike," He said in between kisses.

You giggled and removed your hands from the handles to his neck and shoulder.

"Get off the bike and get inside right now." He said, pulling away. Laughing, you got off and felt a slight smack hit your ass. This was definitely not your last time on his bike.

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 year ago

Text

MDNI. SMUTTTTTTT.

Ghost coming back from a rough mission. No one was hurt but it didn't go as planned. Your head snaps up from your phone as he burst into your room, footsteps heavy.

You're about to ask what's wrong when the large Brit just pins you down to your bed, phone being discarded god knows where.

He still smells strongly of gunfire, sweat, and cigarette smoke, most of his gear still on. He really came straight for you after getting back to base.

His gloved hands are shoving pieces of clothing up and off of your body to hungrily grab, squeeze, and knead you just rough enough to have you whining under his touch yet still arching up to his hands for more.

The balaclava is raised just enough for sharp teeth to claim purchase to your neck, collar bone, chest, anywhere that sinful mouth can reach and he is making sure the next person to look at you knows he was there.

Ghost only shifting his pants enough to pull out his throbbing cock, your underwear being practically torn as he pulled them off of you.

There was going to be exact bruise outlines on your hips as hard as he was gripping them. The sloppy hard thrusts filled the room mixed with the pitiful noises leaving you below him. The aggressive snap forward each time sent a delicious ping of pleasure through your spine.

You could barely see straight at this point as you watched him above you, tears staining your pretty face. It felt so good. Your body was trembling as the bed slammed into the wall from the force of the large man.

You damn near ripped the sheets from your grip as he came deep in you, rutting his hips hard and deep to make sure his load took.

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 year ago

Note

"I fear you'll regret this sooner or later." "How could I ever regret falling for you?" with the Oni from DBD since it gives Oni vibes.

— The Heart Yearns and Wants

M.List | Ask Box [open] | Commissions[OPEN] | Ko-fi | Patreon

Fandom — Dead by Daylight Pairing — Oni | Kazan Yamaoka Summary — You could never regret falling for the man, even if he was a demon. Content Warnings — angst Word Count — 833

The licks of the fire warmed your skin as you sat in the middle of the car graveyard. The games had begun to grow colder and the games growing longer, killers almost always seeming to scratch some sort of itch when they came across a survivor. Rubbing your gloves along your arms, you tried to seek warmth from the fire that never seemed to be warm.

A cruel illusion, one that had been manifested by the entity, whose eyes you could feel on the back of your head as you watched the blaze dance and weave. There was very little comfort that could exist in the entity’s realm.

“You know,” You muttered, feeling as another pair of eyes joined the fray, their constant anger and hatred for most things that surrounded him being one that made your soul shiver, yet, you knew that you were safe, “You can join me.”

The oni knew that you weren’t the type to break that easy. Tilting your head back to stare at where he stood, watching as the oni stood as still as the ever-lasting night, the staring contest the two of you had every time you met was broken as he shifted his gaze slightly to the right, breaking his direct gaze upon you.

“I already checked, there’s nobody else that should be here, except maybe the Wraith.” He was always hanging around his hunting grounds, anyway, it wasn’t like other places in the realms comforted him more than the little gas station that always seemed to be on Auto Heaven Wrecker’s land, but, it seemed to calm the oni enough, Kazan joining you by the false fire.

The kanabo was strapped firmly to his back, reminding you of what he truly was.

“You played well today,” The Oni finally muttered at last, your head barely meeting the middle of his ribs as he stood beside you, the warrior and the survivor staring at the false sense of hope as it flickered away. You hated going against him every time the two of you would cross in matches, always full of blood and rage and pain, your side still lingered with the pain of the katana, your hand ghosting over the wounds that had long since healed, only gripping fabric as your sweater got in the way.

“Yeah, I did.”

The air fell quiet again, the muttering of the entity still whispering in your ear, even when you tried to ignore it. It was always there, always causing you to fight, to run, to hide, to survive, yet, staring up at the Oni, his mask hiding whatever was left underneath, you let your hand drift up to his neck, brushing along the exposed underside of his chin, feeling the way his skin lit up in goosebumps.

An unusual lover, an unusual companion, your lips formed a thin line as you let your fingers begin to ghost themselves away — Kazan didn’t let you, however, his hand coming to wrap around your wrist and press your fingers back against his inhuman skin, you were able to feel the pulse of anger that simmered underneath the flesh, thundering things through the man’s head that you couldn’t even think of.

“That feels nice.” Touch, warmth, your fingers spread across Kazan’s throat as he turned to face you, your hand so small against his throat, against his collar bone, against his chest as you slowly drew your hand down to place it over where his heart was. Where his heart had once beaten with life. The hand remained firm around your wrist, yet, you could feel the way he lightly drummed his fingers against your pulse.

Counting your heartbeat, your own life force.

You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t help the way your body moved on its own to rest your forehead against Kazan’s chest, to wrap your free hand around his waist as you felt the way his body almost wanted to lean into yours, stopping itself short just before he could commit to it fully. You allowed your body to fully sink into him and all his rage, feeling the way his body shuddered with a breath that he almost forgot how to do.

“You’ll regret this sooner or later,” Kazan muttered, his free hand coming to brush some of your hair from your eyes, watching the holes of the oni’s mask burn brightly with a fire that you knew would never fade, that would never wither, but, that fire seemed to shift slightly from an inferno to comfort as he held you, his voice wavering with emotion that he couldn’t show on his face.

Even if you didn’t say it in words, even if you couldn’t even muster up the courage to say them, they remained on the top of your tongue as you leaned into his hold as he wrapped a firm arm around you.

How could you ever regret falling in love with the one thing that had been good to you in this world?

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make-a-supersonic-man-out-of-you · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! May I request something for Kazan Yamaoka?

During a match at the Yamaoka Estate where Kazan sees from a distance survivor reader is gonna go to a gen that's in one of the houses but she catches herself before she steps inside. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the door before going to the gen. Despite it being a realm different from the real world she still respects Japanese culture. And she does this every time she goes through any houses in his realm.

Idk I'm just curious how Kazan would react to this since none of the other survivors or killers (besides him maybe) respect this. But if not that's totally ok!

omg, I can't explain how much I love this request! I know it took me ages but I'm here! I'm looking to write more on Kazan because there's hardly anything on him.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, life-threatening situations, swearing, i hate editing so obviously it's not edited but i'll probably go over it one day

trope summary: fluff, slow-burn

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

You were the last one left. Did you know that?

It had never crossed your mind--- so no, you didn't. You had learned long ago not to care about those types of things when you were facing killers like The Oni. He was a devourer. Your teammates never stood a chance to begin with.

But you didn't know that.

The first time The Entity threw you into The Oni's world, you took off running. That's what your other teammates did, anyway. There had been a collective groan when the fog cleared and you all came to terms with where you were--- then a grim caress of fear that seemed to possess all of you. The sight of your teammates so flighty had struck you the wrong way and you weren't going to go about asking questions about it.

The primal roar in the distance said all that you needed to know.

What was this place, anyway?

It was like you'd time-travelled to Edo-era Japan. It was beautiful and antique and you'd never seen anything quite like it. But you'd always wanted to travel to Japan.

The Entity took that chance away from you.

You found yourself reminiscing over all those lost opportunities. You were never going to get them back. You should've gone even when you were sure you were going to be dirt poor afterwards. You should have taken the chance and travelled everywhere as soon as you got the money for it. You didn't even know what you were saving for. Everyone else was doing it, so you supposed you were supposed to as well. But what was the point of having so much money if you couldn't even use it to buy the things that would make you happy?

If you could go back, you would leap at the chance to travel somewhere here. But you supposed that 'here' wouldn't really exist in the real world. Not like this. Not at the peak of it's grandeur.

Ha! The irony.

Could you even call this a privilege when you were only here to die?

You heard Kate cry out in the distance. You flinched; you needed to wake up. Work on some gens. You were still running aimlessly, trying to get away---

Kate had just died, and here you were.

Admiring the scenery.

Idiot.

You'd always been little airy-fairy. Not quite there, sometimes too much in the moment, sometimes a little too far off. It meant you had a lot of delayed reactions, such as now.

Right now, you needed to be thinking of how to stay alive and keep your teammates that way, too.

So you headed for the house, running faster than ever. The doors were open and you could already see the gen.

"Quick," you muttered to yourself.

Before he catches up to you.

You hadn't seen The Oni, but you'd heard stories about him. Gruesome stories of his brutal, unforgiving nature, his mistaken dignity and honour. A true warrior who had been corrupted by his blood thirst.

You wondered how a samurai of all things learned such villainy. Weren't they all about honour? That's what you'd read in your books, at least. Now you weren't so sure.

Before entering the house with the gen in sight, you paused. You know you shouldn't of. You know that he was the last person in this hellish world deserving of respect when he was literally out killing all of you, but---

But this was different.

"It's the bare minimum," you reassured yourself. It helped comfort your warring fear that you were crazy. That you were empathising with a killer.

You took off your shoes and aligned them neatly outside before heading in and working the gen.

Too easy.

It was all too easy. Sometimes so much so that it got boring very quickly--- the same chase, the same screams, the same mindless fury that Entity infused him with. It wasn't as though he cared about the survivors in any way. He couldn't care less if they had families, let alone worth it personalities. But there was no more motive behind the kills. No more drive.

It was the ultimate disgrace to his honour---

But if Kazan admitted that, what would the Entity do?

It would be an insult. It would risk his life and extended existence, and there was so much he hadn't done yet. So much he was already doing that he had vowed to finish. One day the Entity would release him and he would resume his life and old purpose. Or maybe he would start all over again and honour his father better.

That was his secret hope.

You were the last survivor. He hadn't met you yet. Hadn't even heard of you, but he knew that you weren't fresh of the boat if you had eluded him so easily. You must have heard things or been smart to ask if it meant that it was your first instinct to run.

"Shoes...?" He muttered to himself.

He could hear you working on the gen. You were so diligent. So focused.

So naive--- how had you not heard him?

Well, Kazan had been taking his time with you. He didn't attempt to be quiet often. The kills were usually so quick that it didn't even matter. He was fast and they were prey and he would consume them before they even knew they were food.

But that was a thought for another day, because---

Because---

You had put your shoes outside. You had set them up neatly. It was a custom he had almost forgotten about and learned not to apply to the survivors. He never bothered to hold it against them, either. In this game of life and death, customary traditions were the last of any of their worries, even his.

And yet you had remembered.

Something dead twitched in his cold, hollow heart. It was small, but so significant that it barrelled into him--- a short breath escaped him in a husky puff.

Warmth.

He was feeling... warmth.

He looked up from your shoes. He watched you gently, the hardness receding from his gaze for that moment alone--- he observed your fixated frown, the nimble work of your fingers, the way you were still too absorbed to notice him...

Kill.

The Entity's voice startled him, even if it didn't show. It had been a while since she had spoke to him at all, and it was only at the start when he'd been summoned to this cruel arena of death.

Her voice was sharp. Cutting.

A warning.

Kill.

Was this all they were meant to do? To kill and consume, to die and be reborn, only for the cycle to continue until the end of eternity?

Could he really kill you now?

He would never admit it. Not allowed, unless he wanted to die. But the Entity's voice, it had disgusted him. It probably knew that. Somehow, even a fraction of his hesitance had amounted into something significant enough for the Entity to speak--- it knew all.

It knew he wanted to spare you, just for this small gesture.

But it knew he wouldn't.

Kazan killed you in cold blood.

He thought about you long after.

The Oni was said to roar when he killed. It was loud and brutal and everyone knew about it--- you became a sacrifice in his hands, and you died with honour.

Did he hate you?

Why had he killed you so silently?

One moment you had been working on the gen. The next you were dead. All you saw was a flash of a grotesque mask. It was drenched in blood but you were still able to make out the curving and elongated features of it, the bright red eyes that shone through and burned through your soul. You hadn't even had time to scream. To feel scared. He had grabbed you and killed you from behind and all you'd seen was the blur that the last seconds of living had afforded you--- in that way, you felt betrayed.

Had you insulted him by doing what you had thought would appease him?

You hadn't even intended to win his favour. That gesture had been out of respect for his culture. It had been more for you than anything.

Did he think you were shitting on his culture instead? What the fuck?

You were more angry about it than you had right to be. Jake was out doing his alone-time things in the woods when you bumped into him, kicking twigs and punching trees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," you grumbled. Jake didn't believe you, and you were terrible at hiding things. You sighed. "I hate killers! I hate them! What the fuck!"

Jake's usually impassive face betrayed the hint of a smile. "I know."

"Why are they such heartless pains in the ass?"

"They're built that way."

"Were they not people, once upon a time?"

"Hardly." Jake shrugged. He tried to end the conversation there, but you kept following him around and eventually he was forced to sit when you clung to his sleeve. "They have inhuman backstories. So I've heard."

"And what's The Oni's?"

Jake snorted. "He's bothering you?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

"He's not worth a backstory," Jake said. "Trust me. He's purely in it for the kill."

Somehow, that made you angrier.

You clung to Jake's sleeve harder when he tried to stand, and he looked at you, slightly irritated.

"Can I go now?"

"No," you said flatly.

"What do you want?"

You stopped. He sighed.

You let go of his sleeve and sat there, fighting tears. They fell anyway.

Kazan didn't understand you.

You didn't understand Kazan.

You kept unintentionally respecting him, and he kept killing you. he didn't really know how to react, actually. You were too...

Too-

Too kind.

He caught himself stalking you outside of trials. He covered it up by banging on the boundary that separated the killers from the victims and acting like he was trying to come after you. At first you were scared. He regretted scaring you.

Kazan did it again and again anyway. It had been a while since he'd felt anything. The more trials he had with you, the more things he was left to grapple with. He hated it.

He yearned for it.

So he kept seeking you out.

You were kind. A bit stupid--- how could you not see how the other survivors abused your purpose and skillset? Or did you know? Why did you let it happen if you knew?

You seemed to like the other survivors, though. He couldn't understand why.

He quickly learned that you were sentimental. Ah. That made sense. No wonder you bothered with things such as cultural customs.

Sentimental was not good. It meant emotional.

To be emotional in a place like this was to kill yourself over and over, and everyone knew it. It had established the natural order of kill or be killed. Survive or die. And yet you were there, uprooting it.

No wonder everyone borderline disliked you. You showed too much interest in doing more, being more. Connecting.

How long had it been since he'd connected?

He supposed he had Rin. His descendant. But that was a bit different, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is your problem?" You'd yelled out once. You'd startled him by coming right up to the boundary and screaming in his face--- he'd stopped trying to break it just to let you speak. "What the fuck do you want? Why do you want to kill me so bad? Are you okay? Are you good?" You paused to take a breath. You were panting, hot in the cheeks, sweat beginning to bead in your hairline. "Are you fucking okay?"

He should have been angry. Who gave you the right to talk to him in such a way?

Who?

Who gave you a right to make him feel like this?

Feel anything?

And who the fuck gave you the right to make him feel bad of all things when he caught you crying?

He wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't turned your head that slightest angle, the sun hitting the thing glaze of your tears. They were shining.

You seemed to realise you were about to fall apart the same time he did and retreated. Why were you embarrassed?

Why was he contradicting himself?

Kazan watched you run away into the woods. He growled when he saw that black haired one who often pretended to ignore you sigh to himself and then run after you.

He shouldn't have stalked the both of you as far as the barrier allowed him to. Shouldn't have hid when he heard you sobbing out loud, shouldn't have stayed hidden when that stupid survivor took you into his arms--- pretending to hate it--- and let you cry there as he battled with his red cheeks.

The next time he had a trial with Jake Park, he brutalised him again and again.

Jake didn't know why, of course. And would The Oni ever tell him?

No.

Because how would he even begin to explain what he was feeling when he didn't even know himself?

You'd had enough.

The Oni had made you his obsession over and over, saving you for last. It had made his kills twice as brutal and twice as painful because know you were always ready for them.

And recently he'd been coming on to you with a vengeance, like you'd done something wrong.

You were going to sort this out for once and for all. Somewhere along the way it had become incredibly personal and this undiscovered connection and had become intimate, even if it was mostly comprised of him killing you for more than just that, killing you. Somehow that alone made it all the more emotional, all the more addictive.

You couldn't run away; there was nowhere to go.

So the next time you had a chance, you went to his realm on your own. You hunted him down and yelled in his face--- he hadn't expected you, clearly.

He had been meditating in his temple and suddenly you had come flying out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" You shouted. "Why do you keep doing this? I don't get it. What have I done to hurt you so personally?"

The Oni scrambled--- ungracefully-- to his feet and stood up.

"Are you seriously going to kill me again?" you wailed. "Outside of a trial of all things? I just came to talk! Because you're a bully! A mean fucking bully!"

The Oni hesitated, his hand uncurling from his katana.

"I hate you!" You yelled.

He said nothing. Of course he did.

Now you just felt embarrassed.

"I hope I never get put in a trial with you ever again!"

That prompted the Oni to take a step closer to you. You were already walking away, though, and was surprised to find the Oni close behind, trailing at a modest distance away. You walked faster. So did he.

You walked slower.

So did he.

"Go away," you mumbled, shoving your feet back into your shoes. "You make me so mad. I don't know what I've done to piss you ff this much, but I hope it's worth it!"

The Oni kept following you.

It was quickly becoming aggravating. You stopped and turned around, probably to yell at him, but seeing him just standing there made you too mad for words and you turned back around to walk. You stomped your foot and screamed at the sky.

You hated this.

It made no sense.

You jumped at the feeling of a hand curling around yours. It was big and meaty and riddled with scars and veins. It was a human hand. The Oni's hand.

And he was touching you gently, like you could break at any moment.

Like he was sorry.

But Kazan would never say it.

"...Stay," he said.

You gawked. You hadn't even realised he could talk. You'd been sure his only language was punching and letting out battle cries. Still, over the revelation, you glared at him. "Are you crazy? What if you kill me?"

"I won't."

He held your hand slightly tighter. Was that a threat?

You pulled away your hand to test it; he didn't try squeeze it harder.

Not a threat.

"Um..."

Oh.

What did you do now?

You hadn't expected this.

"Stay," he said again.

"Why?"

"For tea."

You felt like laughing. Was he serious? Was he actually genuine? For tea? He wanted you to stay for tea? Huh? What? Why-

"Yes," you said. "Okay."

You were staying for tea.

The Oni was... Not what you expected. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was choked and gruff like he wasn't used to talking. And maybe he wasn't.

You were skeptical the whole time, but not once did he move to hurt you. He didn't even poison the tea that he made--- hand ground and the water boiled over a fire. He showed you his every move with distinct slowness like he knew you were watching.

"Does it ever get lonely here?" You found yourself blurting. "All alone. I mean, I heard you're related to Rin. Is that true?"

All you got was a nod. You weren't sure whether that was to the first or the second question, but you ran with it.

"Do you often make tea?"

He shook his head.

"Am I annoying you?"

The Oni looked at you again--- this time sharply, and you tensed and held your breath. You weren't expect the flash of deadpan attitude in his eyes when he sighed and turned away.

"So... I'm not?"

"Drink your tea," he said.

You did.

You should have never come back.

But the tea...

The tea was good.

Yeah, the tea.

So... Kazan may like you more than he thought.

It wasn't intentional; it had just happened. You kept coming for tea, he kept listening to you babble, and he started to crave your company the second you left. You had managed to fill a gap in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been vacant to begin with.

You were just so beautiful.

It had caught him by surprise. One day you came to his realm, took off your shoes and waited for him to pour you a cup of tea and it had struck him that you were the most stunning thing to exist in all his millennia of living, and could spend a millenia more of just admiring you if you allowed. But you never did.

You always thought something was wrong when he stared at you for too long. Always took it as your cue to leave.

Kazan regretted killing you over and over again.

Maybe if he didn't, you'd be more willing to trust him again.

"Yamaoka Kazan," he said one afternoon. It had slipped out. You were in the middle of talking and then he'd just said it.

"Pardon?"

"My name."

"Oh, well if I'm right, you introduced yourself with your last name first. Out of respect, should I call you Mr Yamaoka?"

That alone sent a shudder down his spine. Kazan barely managed to hide it. The only thing stopping him was his need for you to say it again, say it more intimately. Say it like you meant it. And not his last name.

"No," he said.

You were past that. You deserved more. Deserved everything.

But selfishly, he wanted something from you first.

Hesitantly, you tried his name in your mouth. "... Kazan?"

Kazan.

Suddenly he was just a man, not a killer. A man who had lived and breathed and felt things, and now he felt them for you.

"Well, if we're on that level, my name is Y/n."

"Y/n."

You looked away from him, and he smirked beneath his mask.

It seemed he affected you just as much.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

I swear to the universe the only thing i could think of with 'you were staying for tea' was that meme from mulan like 'would you like to stay for dinner' and then the grandma yelling out 'would you like to stay forever' but it's rin

I wanna write a pt. 2 for this but would you be interested in that?

As always, please reblog!

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