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Totally didnt make a TADC oc having only seen the teaser and not the pilot (ill watch it eventualllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy)
[UPDATE: I have watched it twice and i may watch it a fifth time soon]
#tadc#the amazing digital circus#the amazing digital circus oc#oc#art#young artist#cup#original character#oh crap i made a mistake#OH WELL#enjoy#artists of tumblr#artist of tumblr
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#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#orv spoilers#yoo joonghyuk#kim dokja#han sooyoung#omniscient reader#yoohankim#this one caused me trouble but i persevered for the noble goal of placing yoo joonghyuk in a Situation#i tried to give him a slightly er0t1c facial expression but i might have gone too far into full ah4ga0 face. oh well#<-censoring because ive made the mistake of putting crap in the tags that gets my art blocked from showing up lol#if you read this far youre a real one i give you one gold star
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I have been listening to this cover on loop for.. a long time now.. I should also preface with the fact that I'm incredibly emotionally unstable and tender today... 😶😶 so.... 😶 I have an abandoned idea and hopefully that'll come out right. How do we feel about fake dating, severe emotional conflict and also a bit of angst that will turn out well? Bit of.. hm... you know.. references... on the side.. 😶 I'm me.. everything is horny with me.. if you were around long enough you would have lived through it.. Warnings: Mild. Very mild. So mild that the water isn't even warm yet. But it's still a bit of non appropriate content for the childrens so.. you know the drill.. Word Count: TOO EFFING MANY! HOW MANY!? SIX THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINETEEN MANY! YES I'M A CRIMINAL AND I'M SORRY
"Are we good friends?" you lift your head up from the papers you're going over and look at him, he's standing there serious and waiting for an answer. "No, I hate your guts. Why do you ask?" you say with an eye roll that shows you're joking, and he rolls his back, "I'm serious. Answer me. Are we good friends? Are we close friends? Are we on that level of friendship?" you look at him suspicious.. why is he asking all of these things? And how do you answer? Are you? You haven't been working here very long, it's long enough that you've grown comfortable with everyone though, you have to deal with all these men on a daily basis and you've learned how to handle each and every one of them. You like him the best, mostly because he's quiet and when you have to deal with so much testosterone? You want quiet. Plus, he's unfairly funny too. He's not the most extroverted, keeps to himself, but god is he hilarious once you get to know him. And you have. You've gotten to know him very well, you've probably grown closest to him out of everyone of them. In part because of how respectful he's always been, and in part because.. you shake your head and look at him, you suppose that.. "Yes. I think so? I would consider you a good friend, but do you consider me a good friend?". You list it out mentally: you text often enough, you have inside jokes, you feel comfortable with him, he's warmed up to you, you're totally comfortable to tease each other and bicker a lot. Yes, he's a good friend. But what if.. his voice breaks your pondering again, he's serious and quick, "Of course I do. That's why I need your help." oh... this isn't going to end well for you, is it? He's asked for help before.. it never ends well for you...
"I can't believe that I'm actually doing this.. I don't even think this is allowed! Do you understand how much trouble I'll be in if anyone finds out!?" and he just shrugs and laughs it off, scans the racks of dresses again and looks at a few before shaking his head and putting them back, "I'll cover for you the way you cover for me. You'll be fine, no one will fire you." and you scoff again, "Staff isn't allowed to date within the company! It's literally in my contract!" he just looks at you, smirking smugly, "Well, good thing that we're not dating." and pulls out another dress, looks at it from all angles, presses it into your hands and says "Go try this one on, I think the colour and cut will suit you." you sigh, exasperated, but walk away and do what he tells you to. Why did you agree to this again? Oh, yeah, because you're ''good friends''. And ''good friends'' help each other in times of need. You can still hear his pleading voice and you feel contrived. Yes, good friends help each other with mild tasks. Not with faking a relationship! You can't even legally do it, your contract states just that! You think... you can't remember exactly but you're pretty sure that's what clause 18 means.. too many clauses to remember.. you ignore clauses and huff as you take your clothes off and try the dress he handed you. He's going to a family wedding, needs a date and he wants you to fake being with him. Why can't he just take another girl that won't lose her job over this? Oh, yes, because he doesn't want to, right. "I'm just tired. I don't want to date. I don't want a relationship, I really don't, my last one was awful.. and that was years ago, I just don't care for this anymore. I want my family to stop bothering me about being single, I just need you to fake it this once with me and I'll never ask a favour again! Swear!" and he did look cute, holding his hand over his chest like a little boy scout, you'll give him the fact that he's adorable at times. Even if he would likely choke you for calling him adorable. You take a deep breath and stand up to face your reflection "Holy shit." this is.. not the dress you would have picked for yourself. It's gorgeous, yes, but there's a lot of chest.. tasteful, but you don't usually show your cleavage this openly.. can you even wear black to a wedding?? You open the door and walk towards where he sits, "Can I wear bl-" and he shakes his head, "Yes, you can. Trust me. At least three of my cousins will wear black. Plus, it'll match my suit the best and I think we should match. That's something couples do, no?" and you just look at him.. "I.. guess?" you really aren't sure, you've never been serious enough with anyone that you were matching for weddings. But in any case, it's his money. He's buying this dress so.. you'll take a pretty, expensive dress when offered.. besides you look kind of nice in it. Maybe... '"Stop being insecure." you look up at him, realising that he could notice you fussing and trying to hide yourself, "You look beautiful. I like how this dress looks on you. You hide yourself too much.", and you just look at him. You didn't know he.. noticed you like that. You don't think any of them notice you, that's your intention. But he did anyway. A warmth starts spreading in your chest and you just turn back "Okay, we'll get this one. It's your choice anyway, Mr. Moneybags, you know your family best." and quickly walk into the dressing room to change back.
"Oh god, why did I say yes again?" you're shaking, you're so nervous. You're walking through the pebbled path as you make your way into the giant private garden his cousin rented for his wedding. You're terrified of meeting his family. You're going to be introduced as.. what? Lord knows what. He has barely told you anything this far besides "I'll pick you up at home, be ready when I get there." and "You don't need to stress, my family is incredibly relaxed and they don't care for pomp. You'll see." sure.. you'll see... you'll see that apparently his cousin is also incredibly rich! Or at least it looks that way. God, you're going to make a fool out of yourself in front of all of these people... you should leave, you can fake sickness, you can-.. you can feel his hand engulf yours. A massive, strong hand suddenly snaking around your trembling one. His thick fingers force yours apart and lock them with his. It cuts your breathing for a second and you look up at him, "Please, stop that. You're safe. I wouldn't ask you if I thought anyone would be rude to you. My family will love you, I'm sure my mother will lose her mind. My father isn't a monster, even if he looks more intimidating, he'll be delighted with you too. He's been telling me to settle down for years.. they'll love you. I trust you completely and I want you to trust me too." he's looking into your eyes and you feel the urge to cry suddenly, you don't know why, there's just something there.. "I know it doesn't always come across that way, it's my temper, but I really like you. You're a good friend, I trust you. I've open up to you a lot more than I've opened up to some others I've known for years. I would have never asked if I didn't think we could fake being a couple well enough. Don't be scared, I'll be right here and you're safe with me. Okay? I don't need you to do anything major. Just need you to act like you don't hate me and that you would, if bribed and begged enough, sleep with me on occasion." he says it with humour, trying to make you laugh, but there's no humour in you right now. There can be none. Because you don't need to pretend that you don't hate him. And you definitely wouldn't need to be bribed into sleeping with him. You'd do so gladly. You'd even offer first. 'You want him' there's the traitorous voice that has been haunting you lately, whenever he's near, and that voice is correct. Which is a thought that scares you even more.
You're not okay. You're just simply not okay at all. You have drank enough that you've let go of all your inhibitions. You're watching him dance with his cousin's bride, lost his jacket and tie a while back, his sleeves are rolled up and he's the freest you've ever seen him. He's beautiful. He's so handsome. And he's hot as hell too. The reception has been beautiful, the speeches were lovely. His whole family nearly dropped in shock when he introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend. His mother shrieked in delight. His cousins did too. Even the bride, who has known him for years and watched him grow up, came over and gave you a huge hug, "Oh, I'm so happy to meet you!! He's a dog for hiding you from us, but I'm glad that you're finally taking him off the streets.. he's been evading love for too long." and she side eyed him, called him a sneak for keeping you hidden from them and he pouted and told her to get off his back. She treats him like a baby brother and it makes him huffy when he's treated like a child. All of his older cousins do, and they've ribbed him all night about not telling anyone that he was dating 'such a gem'. You're a gem. You've never been called a gem. Or beautiful this often either. His mother has hugged you and danced you with like she's known you for years. His father, tall and intimidating, has smiled softly at you often and asked you to dance with him too. They've been lovely and keep telling you how happy they are that he's finally found someone. "You're such a lovely girl, I can tell, and.. he deserves it so much. He's been alone for too long, he deserves a girl that will treat him right this time." it's tumbling in your head. What happened with his previous relationship? Something awful that everyone keeps avoiding but mentions in passing as something to never be spoken of openly. It must have been horrible if it put him off of dating for so long. You focus on him again, dancing with one of his baby cousins now, tiny little toddler that twirls her dress when he spins her gently. Your heart beats it's way up to your throat and you feel it threatening to come out. 'God, don't... you're faking this, just don't. You don't even know for how long he'll ask you to fake it, nothing makes sense about it.. but just.. don't.. be a good friend and don't.' yet.. you still swoon and sigh at the way he lifts his baby cousin up in the air and she squeals with delight, says his name in that baby tender way children do, and melts into his embrace as he kisses her a million times. He looks straight into your eyes suddenly, smiling as he kisses this baby, and you feel your heart again. You smile back at him, fondly and in love, and you lie and tell yourself that you're faking it.
"I need you to be free this Saturday, please tell me you are." you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear his voice behind you. Drop all the supplies you'd been grabbing from the cupboard and turn around, startled and a little angry, "Can you stop doing that!? How do you walk this quietly!!?? Are you a spy for some special organisation!??" and his hearty laugh turns your legs a little into jelly, "Are you free on Saturday or not, girlfriend?" your traitorous heart speeds up at being called girlfriend, you ignore it and ask him suspiciously, "I think so? Why am I being asked this.." and when he gives you that angelic smile you know you're in trouble again.. "My mum has invited us for lunch. Dad's cooking.", you give him a neutral look, "I promise he can cook! I swear men in my family are great cooks! It's a cultural thing.", and you watch him get smug, your blood rushes faster in your veins, but you choose a frown instead of swooning, "Do I really have to..", he looks a bit taken back by that but says softly, "I wouldn't force, of course, I would never do that. But.. we are dating. And my parents want to know you better. You have to remember that I did sort of just drop this on everyone out of the blue.." he looks dejected, you've never seen him this way, you don't like how it makes you feel.. "I don't mean that I don't want to, I'm sorry, but I'm just scared.. what if they don't like me? And what if I put a foot wrong? At the wedding it was easy to pretend. I wasn't the focus, and you cut all the questions down. But.." you say his name softly, "This time is different. They'll expect me to answer questions too. What if I don't know what to say and give us away?". he does it again.. his hand reaches for yours, holds them gently while his thumbs softly stroke your skin in a soothing gesture, "Hey, I'm right here. I'll be with you the whole time. I won't let you drown. We can do this together, I know my parents. They will only ask you questions about yourself, you can answer that, I'll answer what needs to be said for us.", you nod, his voice is so soothing, it makes your whole body relax, but you still say, "You can't always be doing that. We need to work a plan for how we met, how we started dating, all the details. We both need to know exactly what to say and it needs to match. We can't wing this. If we're going to pretend, we need to do it well.", he smirks at you, amused, "You're so cute. Always so obsessed with details, always want to do every little thing right. I love that about you.", your breath catches your throat and you watch him get closer to you, "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight and we'll discuss the details? I'll cook. I swear I'm good at it!", you barely find the breath to say a quiet 'of course' as his name is called from down the hall, he smiles, kisses your cheek with all the casualty in the world, and says "I'll pick you up at seven, girlfriend!" and starts to stroll away, suddenly looks back and adds, "By the way.. I like that dress, it makes your eyes sparkle. You should wear it more.". Leaves you standing there, heart hammering in your chest, thinking 'why did I say yes again?'..
He wasn't lying. He can actually cook. It's a simple meal but it still made you feel warm inside when he said "I'm making my favourite for us, I hope you'll like it.", before you watched him cook dinner for you. He doesn't let you touch anything, just told you to sit and relax, "Let me handle everything.", and you grabbed the glass he gave you and walked to his couch. You don't always drink, but he has impeccable taste and this wine, something you don't ever think much about, is very light. "White wine goes best with what I'm making, so I hoped you'd enjoy it." it tastes.. expensive. You don't know how you know that, but the bottle is so non-descript that it has to be expensive. His house has to be expensive too. You don't recognise a single thing in it, but the minimal decoration, neutral colours and the feel of the fabrics just says 'yes, he really paid several amounts of money for this grey couch'. You're afraid to spill wine on it, so you get back up and go sit across from him at the bar stools by the island. You take small sips as you watch him, relaxed and free, in just a basic black tshirt and grey joggers. 'Even that's expensive' you notice the Boss logo so that one you know for sure, but regardless of the price.. it's not really the logo you're appreciating. It's the way his body looks in that tshirt. The way his butt looks in the joggers too when he turns around to grab something from the fridge.. "Do you have any allergies?" you look up at him quickly, he definitely found you starring at his butt if the smirk is any indication, and you turn pink, say quickly to hide your embarrassment, "Not that I'm aware.", his voice is thick with amusement, "Let's hope we don't find out tonight." and goes back to cooking. "How did we start dating?", you ask emboldened and he doesn't skip a beat or look surprised, "I'm going to be honest, I think the best way is for us to say that we just started to grow close at work and one thing led to another. There's no need to give a lot of details, the less we say, the better it'll benefit us in the end.", and you nod, take a longer sip and stay silent. He's right. The less details you give to anyone, the easier the lie is to keep up. It's the logical, correct approach. And if it's the logical, correct approach.. why are you disappointed that there's no romance to it?
His body is warm against yours, his lips are soft as he kisses your neck. His hands are roaming your body and you moan openly when he sinks deeper, legs tightening around his hips, you cling to him and melt as he whispers in your name in your ear. You're so close. He's so good, he's always so good at everything, of course he'd be good at sex too, but.. he's just so good.. you want him so badly, you want it all so badly, you whine and moan and beg and.... wake up. Startled that your alarm went off. Nearly fall out of bed and look around, confused and frantic, trying to find out where you are. Home. In your bed. Alone, as usual. 'Right..', you sigh and get up, start to get ready for the day as the images play in your mind. You had a lovely dinner, you sat on his couch talking for far too long to the point you lost track of time and he even offered to let you sleep over "I'll take the couch, you can take my bed. I'm a gentleman, always." you can hear his voice so clear and that made your stomach twist again. You didn't want him to be a gentleman.. so you shook your head and told him you'd rather go home, made up the excuse that you can't sleep unless it's in your bed just to hide how disappointed you were. He's.. honest. That's the problem. He's been honest the entire time. He asked you a favour. Asked you to fake a relationship with him just for a while until his family stops bothering him and then he'll inform them you broke up, go back to being solitary as he's content to be. He told you that, in those exact words. And.. it stung. Even if you know that it shouldn't. Because, the truth that you are having a harder and harder time ignoring is: you like him. You had a crush on him before you started working there, you knew who he was. Of course you did. And working closely with him just made it worse. This is making it worse. Because now you get to experience what would be like to date him, yet.. you can't date him. No one can even know about it at work, granted he doesn't seem to care. Everything about this can, and will, end up horribly. Especially for you. You go to work feeling like a zombie, do your tasks mechanically, can't stop having flashes of your dream. How warm he felt, how good he felt. It makes you feverish and you're out of sorts all day. You're distracted and you keep reading the same line over and over until his voice breaks your trance "Are you free on Saturday or no? You never told me." you just nod, absent minded, "Yes, I am. Where do I need to be and at what time?", you're colder to him than he's used to and it makes him frown a little, "I'll pick you up as usual. Would you like me to buy you something to wear? I'm not insulting you, just offering if you'd like a new dress or a new outfit just in case.", that hurts your fragile ego given how you're feeling, "I have enough clothes and they'll suit just fine, thank you. Your parents surely won't be mortally offended to see me wearing high street, not if they're no pomp people the way you said.", he scoffs ,"No, they won't. No one cares about branding in my family, but thanks for thinking that poorly of us.", "Thanks for treating me like your poorly dressed sugar baby in a need of a make-over.", his eyes turn cloudy and he says, curtly, "I wasn't trying to imply that at all, I just made an offer. Given that you're doing all of this for me, I just thought it would be nice if I did something for you.", it offends you more, you interpret that as a being seen as a gold digger, "I don't need your money, I make my own. I can buy myself clothes, even if not with the price tags you can afford. And besides, I don't need anything from you, I agreed because we're good friends, remember?", he just nods and walks away without a single word. And you get up, walk to the bathroom, and lock yourself in one of the cubbies, sobbing quietly, for a good 15 minutes.
The ice has melted by the weekend and you both play the part beautifully. His parents truly are delightful and you do love spending time with them, they're so kind and sweet to you. You warm up more and more around him as the meal goes on and by the end you're sitting in his lap on the couch. It feels so natural. To have his hands on your body, his breath brushing your hair, to have him nuzzle you and place kisses on your temple from time to time. His father's words haunt you even when you're back home, all alone, "I haven't seen you smile like this in so long, son, I'm so happy you found each other." It makes it so much harder. Everything makes it so much harder. Because it starts a flood. The lunch is only the beginning. You start to spend more and more time with him after that. Get invited to go out with his friends and their partners, get invited for family birthdays. You have to watch him be himself around the people he loves the most, pretending to be his loving girlfriend. And you are. At some point it becomes less fake and more real to you. Something changes in him too. He's so free, so tender and touchy with you, his hands always seeking yours, nuzzling you, kissing your face in front of others. You do everything but kiss. Until you're pushed to. Another cousin gets engaged. Yet another family party happens. You're lightly tipsy, keep getting roped into doing shots with his mates. They like you, and you like them too, they're hilarious and they tell you all sorts of embarrassing stories about your "beloved" in his youth. You're just.. happy.. and he's happy too, holding you close, his body tightly pressed to yours, as you dance. You're looking into each other's eyes, you've never wanted to kiss someone as badly as you want to kiss him, and suddenly his cousin, the oldest one, shouts from across the room, "Will you just kiss the girl already!?" and he tells him off, laughing, while you turn bright pink and freeze. Suddenly all of his cousins and mates start shouting, hooting and encouraging him, "Come on, kiss her!", "Are you going to wait until the wedding day to kiss her in front of us!?", "You've never been this shy before!" and he wants to play it off, make sure that you're comfortable and don't feel forced, he whispers softly in your ear "Ignore them, they're being dicks.", but when he looks back at you.. your hands just wrap around the base of his neck, slide up into his hair, pull him down and you kiss him. Hooting and clapping erupts around you but you don't care. You're kissing him. You're actually kissing him. You feel on fire, you've never wanted anything so badly. You melt into him as he keeps kissing you back, hungrily, and it makes you burn even hotter. He pulls back so fast when his cousin, the engaged one, shouts playfully "Get a room!" and you're mortified that you just put on a show. He isn't. Just tells him off and says "You wanted me to kiss my girlfriend, didn't you? There you have it!" and you shiver all over at the mention of girlfriend again. You can't stop looking at him for the rest of the night. You're so into him. You're so desperate. You need him, you just can't play pretend anymore, you need more kisses, more touches, more everything.
It's not your fault that you fall into bed that night, it was simply inevitable. There was so much sexual tension between you after that kiss, or at least you felt it that way. He drives you home and you can't help when you kiss him at your front door. And the way he kisses you back just as quickly, just as desperately, just as willing, has you beg him "Come in. Please.". He does take you inside, you're tipsy in a way that makes you stumble a little, but not in a way that inhibits your judgment. It doesn't matter to him because he refuses to touch you like that, but.. you didn't stand on the same high ground as he did. Touching him made him feel something too, it turned him on and made him break his resolve. Falling into bed felt so natural, so right. Like it was meant to be all along. Feeling him, skin heated, above you as he whispered low in your ear, touching you, kissing you everywhere, sinking deeper and deeper with every thrust, making you arch up into him and moan and whine, his name falling freely from your lips along with begging, driving you both to the brink of sanity and watching it all fall apart as you collided into each other. Two bright balls of fire no longer capable of holding back. It left you euphoric, needing more and more, and he fed off of that energy. You fell apart together more times than you probably should have and you ended up falling asleep on his chest, exhausted, breathless and deeply sated. You dreamt about it in your slept.. imagined the beautiful life you could have together while sleeping safe in his arms... that's why it was extra crushing when you woke up all alone. Naked in your bed, cold in your sheet, with only a small note on your bedside table saying 'I'm so sorry'.
You're focusing extra hard on your work. You sobbed, felt like something was ripped from you, pulled yourself together and got dressed before leaving for work. 'It's fake. It meant nothing at all. You're an idiot. You're the one that fell in love. God, you're so stupid. This is all your fault. Why did you even say yes!? Stupid stupid stupid'. You copy some more lines and scan your work for errors. You might have messed up on other areas, but you're still professional above all. "Hey." his voice feels like a bucket of ice water now, you're no longer happy to have him around. You lift your cold eyes up and pierce him with a glare, "May I help you?" and he at least as the decency to look embarrassed, "I'm so-" you hold up a hand and cut him off, say coldly, "You can cut the crap. I don't give a shit. You can leave and go back to your training. This was it. I'm done, I don't care if you need help. Tell your family that I broke up with you.", you can see panic in his eyes. Good. You want him to hurt the way you're hurting, "I didn't think-" "No, you clearly didn't. I'm glad we agree on that. But none of that matters now because this is over. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted, so we can both part ways now. Just inform your family that it's over and tell them that I did it. I want them to think I'm the bitch instead, that will make you look better. See? Aren't I nice to you, good friend!" your voice drips with sarcasm and he suddenly turns cold, "Of course. Thank you for your help." and just turns his back and walks away. It's a good thing that the bathroom is so close.. because you're going to hide in the same cubbie as usual and cry all through lunch again.
It's needless to say he feels sick. This isn't what he wanted at all. He freaked out and he knows. But that's exactly why he wanted to talk to you. Because.. he loves you. The previous night was just too much for him. He's been trying to push down all these feelings that have been bubbling inside him and he couldn't push them any longer. He didn't mean for anything to get so far, but you were so.. enticing. He wanted you. He just couldn't push at that anymore. You willingly wanted him too and he gave in. Even for a night, he had to have you, he needed to know what it was like to truly have you. He just wasn't good with the aftermath when all his feelings came crashing down on him and you were sleeping peacefully, no longer an anchor to help guide him on what to do. He responded the way he always does when he's afraid: by growing cold. He left you, all alone, in your bed and only wrote the cowardly note to appease his own conscience that he was doing things to protect you. He's been broken for so long that he doesn't know how to be whole again now. She messed him up, it skewed his views of himself and he didn't want to bring that into your plate. But he's fucked up even more than he would have if he'd been honest and faced the truth. He loves you so dearly, you've brought him so much joy.. he turns the volume higher as that song starts to play, drives home, sings along and feels sorry for himself as he remembers all the moments you've shared. All the times he wanted to kiss you, all the times he's wanted to confess he was falling for you, all the times he's wanted to say 'What if it was real? What if we stopped pretending? What if we truly did this?' but silenced those thoughts instead. He just wanted to talk, wanted to finally expose himself, pull the curtains back and show you all that's him, the rawness that he feels when he's with you. You're like wearing a woolly sweater against his naked skin: it was uncomfortable at first but it brought him so much warmth that he started to miss it even before taking it off. Having to face being in a relationship wasn't easy, it was painful even and he took control of it all on purpose, but as he started to taw out and let you take the wheel it just became easier. You're not like her, you're nothing like her, and you woulnd't hurt him. But he hurt you. It was so easy to love you.. you did it so honestly... with such a freedom and sweetness.. and.. he's in love. And he's waited so long to be in love... he's been so lonely.. he can't. He can't let you go. Not when he's grown this attached to you. Not when you gave him hope.
The incessant knocking on your door is pissing you off. The delivery guy needs to be joking right now, he can't be in much of a hurry. "Fucking hell are you late for the train!?", you swing the door open and it's not the delivery guy, "Yes, I am." he pushes into your house, holds your face in both hands and kisses you fiercely. Resists all your pushes, kicks the door shut behind himself with his foot and doesn't stop kissing you until you grow pliant in his hands, just the way you were the night before. You moan into the kiss and he immediately breaks from you, "I can't tell my parents you broke up with me.", you want to throw him out of your house, you're going to argue but, "In fact, I can't tell anyone that. Because you're not breaking up with me. I'm not letting you.", and he kisses you again, this time even longer, slower and sweeter, and you feel your brain completely dissolve and disappear. "We're not breaking up. We can't and we won't. I fucked up. I was a fucking asshole for leaving like that. I'm sorry. I panicked. I'm in love with you and I panicked.", needless to say that's not what you're expecting to hear at all. You stand there, looking at him like a fish out of water, and he continues, words pouring out of him like the rain that's finally pouring outside after threatening the whole day, "I love you. This started as a way to shut up everyone, to distract them so they would leave me alone again after I told them we broke up and that I just am not meant to be in relationship. But that's a lie. I wasn't mean to be in a relationship with her, but I'm mean to be in one with you. You humbled me. You showed me all these things about myself that I'd never seen. You showed me so much love. You showed me that someone can want me for me. I saw you fall in love with me. I pretended I didn't notice, because it scared me so fucking much. She left me completely fucked up, but you showed me that it doesn't have to be that way. You're honest and you're real, you made me see that I could be too. I want this to be real. I know I've fucked up things with us but I'll spend the rest of our lives correcting this if you let me. So, no, I can't tell my parents that you broke up with me. Because I never even got the chance to really date you, we can't break what never had the room to start."
You swallow and ask softly "What did your ex girlfriend do?", and he inhales sharply, "Fiancée. We even got engaged... because I'm an idiot. She didn't.. she just..", you realise that this is deeper and harder for him to open up about, you take his hand, the way he's done with you many times in the past, "I'm here, remember? You're safe with me. And I'm right here.", you watch him nod slowly, for a split second he looks like a child that's trusting you with all he has, and he sounds more hurt when he speaks again, "We met through a friend. I thought she was the world. I don't know why but it was like... immediate, you know? I just felt like she was what I'd been waiting for all my life. And god, I was so wrong.. but I didn't notice. I trusted her and I did everything she asked me without asking questions. I was eager, I wanted a wife and a family, I don't even know why I was rushing.. probably because I got so swept up in every dream she sold me. But she didn't love me. She just wanted the fame, the cameras.. she wanted the lifestyle, she wanted all this shine.. and that's not the man I am. But I offered it to her still. I proposed because she kept showing me rings and mentioning everyone around us marrying.. I didn't even notice they were older than us, I just started to feel like I had to do it too. We had everything. We got all the details, set all the dates, did the whole rehearsal.. everything. Only two days before we were supposed to marry.. I found her fucking my friend, the same one that introduced us. Turns out they'd been doing that all along.", your heart sinks when he tells you this, you want to find whoever this girl was and hurt her even more than she hurt him, you hold his hands tighter, "I'm so sorry, that's so cruel. You deserve so much better than that." "She told me I didn't. She had told me over our time together that I'm too stubborn, too difficult, too hard-headed to love.. she made me believe she was the only one that could ever put up with me and love me..", you push into his space, hold his face and say softly "You aren't. Yes, you are stubborn. Yes, you're hard-headed and at times that makes you difficult. It's pointless of me to lie to you, but you know what? None of it matters because you are worthy of love. You're easy to love when you're yourself. You're worthy of so much love, because you give so much of it back too. You made it so easy to love you.... I tried so hard to just pretend, to keep it to the lie, to make sure nothing was getting out of control but.. it was so easy to fall in love with you. That scared me so much..", you're so close together, you can feel each others breaths, "You hurt me so badly this morning. I felt my heart being ripped out of my chest. I carelessly let myself fall in love with you and you did that..", his eyes get watery, his voice sounds quieter and shakier, "I'm so sorry. I truly am. I was so scared, but I never meant to hurt you. Please let me make up to you. Let me fix this. Don't push me away now, not when I've finally opened up and allowed you inside. I need you. I don't know what to do without you, it sprung up on me so fast and I'm so lost.. let me fix it, I can fix it, give me a chance. Let me do things right this time, let me show you the love you deserve. Let me make up for everything. Just.. you are my happiness, you're in all of my dreams. Give me a chance to try again, give us a chance at an happy ending. Please.". You're looking into his eyes. All the vulnerability in them for you to openly see. You feel everything he feels right now, as if his emotions are your own, and you nod. Your voice comes out softly, "Yes. I love you. Yes.", and he kisses you like you just made all of his dreams a reality. And maybe.. you have. You'll have a whole life ahead to see if to that.
#i made this far too dramatic..#but oh well welcome to my brain i like strong emotions#as always.. ignore mistakes if you spot them and..#I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG I WRITE EVERYTHING OKAY!? I CAN'T SHORTEN NO MATTER HOW I TRY#YOU *HAVE* TO SEE THE VISION THE WAY I SEE IT TOO THUS SO MANY WORDS ARE REQUIRED#so many words for all this crap in the end anyway... sucks to be y'all reading this and i'm sorry in advance 😭#adventures in a clown's dreams#creative writing with Sunny#football imagine#football one shot
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baby daddy jason for when the one parent-teacher conference the sweet unassuming teachers like “mrs. Todd” and you’re “uhhh we’re not married”, but Jason, despite not being up to the commitment, likes the idea. He definitely would not correct the teacher like you immediately would.
Actually idk where I was going with this I had an idea but then it kinda stopped soz
MINORS DNI 18+
You’re not even sure how it happened. In your opinion, it’s best that BABY DADDY!JASON TODD stay far away from you and your daughter. Maybe he sifted through your mail the last time he snuck in, maybe he intercepted your calls, maybe he followed her to school to add himself to her emergency contacts—all completely feasible when dealing with someone so meticulously thorough and annoyingly committed. You’re face to face with him outside your daughter’s teacher’s door.
“What are you doing here?” you seethe in a whisper, avoiding a scene.
Jason’s face twists in feigned confusion, pointing to the flyer on the wall. He reads out its words as his finger follows along, “‘Parent teacher conference.’” He points to himself finally. “Parent.” A smug curl forms on his lips, standing tall in outsmarting you even though it’s not what you asked.
Your nostrils flare as you suck in a breath. Unfortunately, Jason is exceptional at getting on your nerves. You wonder how he managed knocking you up. Advancing on him, he mirrors you, meeting you in the middle as you engage him, “Jason, I don’t want you here—“
The door swings open, and you jump in place, leaning away abruptly. Jason coolly inclines back, shoving his hands in his pockets, he’s got nothing to hide. Your daughter’s teacher greets you both with a cheerful grin, beckoning you in. “You made it! Come on in, come on in.” You exchange a warning glance with Jason, but you clutch your purse strap and duck in while he trails leisurely after.
The meeting goes well, the teacher rants and raves about your daughter, especially about her art skills, showcasing that talent with pictures of it. You open your mouth to speak, but Jason beats you to it, “Takes after her mother, huh? What do you know?” he says with pride, and you witness a genuine grin on his lips as he leans forward to take a closer look at the mess of glitter and stickers in the teacher’s hands.
Your heart skips a beat, and you fiddle with your hands in your lap. One reason you try to stay away from Jason is because of times like these. Makes you second guess your decision to end things with him, and that’s exactly what’s most dangerous.
“So, Mrs. Todd—“ the teacher’s voice breaks you from your stupor, gaze snapping up to her as you furrow your brows.
“Oh, we’re not married.” you object, interrupting her starkly, and she flushes, setting the artwork down with a nervous smile.
“Oh! My mistake. You two just seem so close…”
Jason sighs, raising an arm to wrap around the back of your chair. “Well, not yet.” he says with certainty, and you turn your attention to him, glancing at his arm placement and how the sleeve of his biker jacket brushes your hair. His hand cups your shoulder, which you stare at, and glare when he starts stroking your skin with his thumb. What makes you the most angry is not the entitlement to touch you—which he’s always had—but how he’s clearly messing with you on purpose. This is just like his brand of cruelty, embarrassing you further in a social situation. You tune out whatever crap he’s telling the teacher about the fake wedding and you peel his arm away from you, shoving it back into his lap.
“No, that’s not happening.” you object again, harsher this time and Jason merely scoffs through his nose as you deal with the poor confused teacher.
After the meeting, you’re practically corralled out of that room bickering. You somehow end up on the back of his bike instead of in the car you drove here. Somehow, further, letting him inside your place. Shouting over each other about how inconsiderate he is, and how serious you are, curtly removing your outerwear.
“Would it really be that bad?” he yells, that loud voice that gets you weak in the knees booming through your apartment. You’re lucky your babysitter still has your daughter. “Being married to me, would it really be that bad?”
“It’s not about that, Jason! You know that!”
Your objections are drowned out in how his big body herds you into your bedroom, how his hands push you down to rip off your jeans. How he palms your mouth to shut you up while he’s kissing on your neck, clumsily searching for the give in between your legs. His tip eases in as you lazily bat at his hefty shoulders and thick biceps. “Don’t wanna be Mrs. Todd, huh?” You relax under him the longer he’s inside you, rutting into you with patience as you jerk your head away from him. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t want my name? Don’t wanna be a happy little family?”
Your fist bangs against his rotator cuff and he laughs, husky and light in your ear. His teeth latch onto your lobe, playfully tugging on it while he bottoms out, and you emit a noise from your throat.
“Mrs. Todd,” he chides, “So wet for your husband. S’almost like you want it.”
#1k#indy: drabbles#ch: baby daddy!jason#jason todd drabble#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd imagine#jason todd fic#jason todd fanfiction#baby daddy!jason#baby daddy jason todd#red hood smut#red hood x reader#reader insert
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So I just watched Panda Redd's new video about how the Joker accidentally made this genius chess move by killing Jason and can't be touched by Batman
so what if Bruce was just a little more unhinged by it
Joker needs funds kidnaps Bruce Wayne takes him to a hide out
Joker then makes the mistake of being alone with Bruce and in the course of insulting the Bats, insults the memory Robin (Jason Todd)
Bruce, who for the last few months lost his son, almost lost Dick from it, had Barbara shot and paralyzed, her father his friend James Gordan kidnapped and tortured, and has been taking out his grief on the criminal underground because he couldn't get Justice for Jason and it started this spiral, just snaps and goes full John Wick on his ass
Bruce: Go ahead and tell, but no one will believe you. Getting the crap beaten out of you by Gotham's Brucie Wayne, who would lose in a fist fight with a fly? You'll just seem like even more of a joke than you are.
Hours later Bruce turns up a few miles from the warehouse in a new suit from a hidden stash and explains to the police how Batman rescued him
Police see the bloody mess of the still somehow breathing meat pile that is Joker and accept it because he was going around bragging about killing Robin and Batman has been getting more violent towards criminals lately honestly the guy had it coming
so like a few years later the Joker tries to rob a gala and freezes when he spies a familiar face Bruce with his stupid Brucie smile that doesn't touch his eyes
Bruce: Oh did somebody hire a party clown?
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Rave Baby
Spencer Reid x Reader
After a long case, some of the team pitstops at your apartment, and Morgan takes the liberty of searching through some memories. He comes across some scandalous photos that light a fire in Reid.
This last case was challenging. To make it worse, the power had gone out in DC due to a blackout. With a chirp, I told the team that I always had a generator and that we could cool with some coronas in my fridge. Hotch had declined, stating the necessity of returning to his wife and son. I had thrown open all the windows and cranked the AC, attempting to push out all the hot air. With my permission, Derek had distributed beers from my fridge and found a bag of chips.
A battery-powered radio was located, and my CDs were run through to find something to unwind with. With a sigh, Emily sank onto my couch and sipped her beer.
"Uhh, I can't tell you how nice your apartment is."
"Yeah," JJ groaned from the corner, holding her hair up and sticking her face in the AC vent. Derek was still looking through my belongings when he came across a Scooter CD.
"Well, well, well, where did a girl like you find this type of music?" I looked at the album cover.
"Oh, that's from my college days." I tried to dismiss it. This isn't the sort of stuff I would share with my coworkers.
"Really? Let's go ahead and pop this in."
"No don't!" I tried to launch it at him before he could open it, but it was too late. A few photos I took the night I bought that CD slipped into his lap.
"Woah ho ho!" Spencer, who had been content to sift through my shitty romance novels, peaked his head up like a prairie dog at the sound of Derek's chuckle. "What do we have here?" He held up one photo, and I hid behind my beer bottle.
"That was years ago," I whined
"What is this?" Spencer came to the group, attention fully peaked
"It's (Y/n). At a rave." Spencer snatched the photo out of Morgans's hand like a cat but Emily nearly yelled
"Shut up, let me see." she slammed her glass bottle on the table and grabbed one of the photos from him
"No way," JJ stated, following Spencer into the circle to look at the evidence. "I could never imagine you at a rave. I've seen you get upset that you left your clothes in the washing machine."
"They'll get moldy," I whined
"Holy shit. Where was this?" Emily inspects a photo of me in a bikini, fluffy leg warmers, and a matching bucket hat. "Look at your butt where were you hiding this." She makes an attempt to check me out, but I sink further into my couch
"I don't know, I was never sober in the 72 hours around a rave."
"Oh yeah? What did you take?" Morgan begged
"All sorts of crap, mostly hallucinogens. My rave mentor told me music is better when you're high."
"So why'd you stop going?" Emily asked
"I grew up."
"You grew up?" JJ asked, putting the photo on the table
"Yeah," I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh and sighed. I wasn't entirely ready to trauma-dump the team, but here I was. "My uncle, who basically raised me, passed on Thanksgiving in the sophomore year of my bachelor's. Hallucinogens made it easy not to grieve, and loud music blocked my ability to think. I would dance around and tell everyone that 'tonight was the night,' and I was 'finally free,' but I would just see him after a while. He would ask me, 'Why are you doing this, my dove?'. I couldn't ignore him anymore, so I just stopped. Put all my teeny bikinis in a box and put it past me." I cleared my throat, realizing that I had put a damper on the mood
"We could play the CD. I think I'll still remember the rhythm." I switched in the discs and let the synth radiate through my living room. Immediately, I felt the groove, letting it carry my limbs airily around me. I felt myself disconnect as the beat continued to pump. Before I could drift away wholly, Emilie's voice brought me down to earth.
"You packed all this away? That means you still have it?"
"Yeah, in a box in the back of my closet." before I could discover my mistake, she darted to the back of my apartment, and JJ took off with her.
"Oh hell, I gotta see this." Derek got up and dropped the last of the photos. Reid dutifully packed them up and sifted through the photos, stopping on one.
"What did you find, Spence?" I crawled toward him slowly. I gasped at the photo. My Rave mom, Zoe, who was only 4 months older than me, and I were posing together. He sifted through the images with it and stacked them. I gasped at the image. The photo on the top was of Zoe throwing up a peace sign, showing the neon pink paint on her palms, and a green hand was playfully on my throat. Both of our bodies had been splattered with neon ain't, but noticeably, I had two big hands brink on the triangle bikini we wore. One pink, one green.
The picture below was of Zoe and I very dramatically kissing. Zoe had made smudged hand prints on my ass. I had a leg up on her hip, and you could see drool and lipstick around each other mouths.
"I hardly even remember that night, and I thought it was trendy to act gay." I pulled the pictures from his hand and returned them to the case. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Why are you apologizing? Y-you had fun."
"Yeah, but you're my colleague. This is embarrassing and you probably are ashamed of me."
"Actually, I'm jealous. In college, I had no friends and didn't go to parties. I was, I am, a loser. You had fun."
"Did you not hear my spiel about using drugs not to think?"
"Yeah, but you were hot." That shocked you. He was only two beers deep, and Reid was spilling his secrets.
You laughed in shock.
"Spencer, you can't say things like that." I slapped at his chest playfully.
"WELL!" I could hear Derek's strained voice. "This!" he put the giant plastic tub on the floor next to us. "This is one heavy bucket of slutty clothes."
"I want to try something on!" JJ greedily popped the snaps on the cover. With giggles, JJ and Emily started pulling out bikinis that looked like they were made out of spider webs.
"Woah ho ho!" Derek giggled, holding up a low-rise thong. "I hope you wore a jacket."
"Alright, that's enough!" I grabbed it from his reach
"Hey, could I borrow one of these?" JJ asked. "Will has been asking for something new."
"Yeah, but don't borrow it. I don't want it back." I made a face of disgust
"Yeah, I might want to just wear one around my apartment?" Emily held something balled up
"Take as many as you want. I won't wear them again. I should sell them. I could finally go on vacation."
"Woah woah woah, if you sell these, what will you wear on vacation?" Derek joked
"Clothes." I snatched another piece of hosiery from him. My knees cracked as I stood and got another beer from the kitchen. "Now, get out of my panties." I swatted him with the bottoms as I walked by
by some stroke of God, the lights flicked back on, and across the street, I could see the surrounding building come back to life.
"Well, I've got to get to my house before my ice cream spoils." Emily stood and collected a few pieces of fabric.
"Yeah, and completely unrelated. I have to call Will." JJ juts out her lip in an admission of guilt. They snuck out the door, giggling and tucking crazy fabric in their bags.
"I should get going too, wonder boy. You need a ride home?"
"No, I should be fine. There's a train in the next hour." Reid was still immersed in the photos.
"Well, don't bug her too badly." He left with a wink
"Why are you still looking at those? They're ancient."
"The date on the back says 1998, making you 20 years old. You're 28." Finally, he puts the photos down. "I'm having a hard time picturing you going to a rave. You only read sappy novels from the seventies. I saw three copies of Tuck Everlasting on your shelves." All the talk from my coworkers and the five beers in my system made me more than angry and bold.
Stupid ideas were my biggest export when I was inebriated.
"Well, I know the FBI has kept me in shape. I'm going to my bedroom and try these on." I gave a coy smile as I took a handful of sets and strutted off to the back of my place.
"W-what do you mean you're going to try them on."
"I've gotta see if they still fit."
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epiphanies over hotpot
james potter x gn!reader ✮ 1.6k summary: james comes to an illuminating realization when he sees you do something so unexpected for him. cw/tags: established relationship, james is SUPER whipped, mention of food, but the vibes are cozy and domestic :> also, we acknowledge the fact that james is a little diva !
note: inspired by smth i saw on twitter that went like, “yeah sex is good and all but will u clean my glasses for me when im wearing the wrong type of shirt” HAHA (...will u?) anyway, hope u enjoy reading this!! <3 i enjoyed writing it sm hehe
James has always been a chatterbox. In fact, it’s usually a cause for concern whenever he goes nonverbal. He’s almost animated with how often he talks with his hands, or how his face contorts into various expressions—each one of them successfully depicting his emotions well.
You had always been a listener; always preferred to be silent, always preferred to just listen. In fact, you were a good listener; always supplying enough replies to keep the conversation going, asking questions so they could continue talking because you’re genuinely interested in what you were listening about.
This makes James—the hopeless romantic that he is—convinced that you were both made for each other. But aside from that, he’s also a firm believer of the “opposites attract” phenomenon. He likes to think that’s what makes the two of you so special, too.
Presently, he’s in the middle of bringing you up to date on the latest gossip in his workplace that you’ve been waiting to hear an update from. James is, as usual, using everything he can get his hands on—chopsticks, the few empty dishes on your table, paper napkins, the table itself—to recount to you what he witnessed as best as he could.
Slightly out of breath from all the enthusiastic talking, James pauses to take a sip of his water. Then, when he continues, he raises a bowl of the steaming hot soup up to his lips. But the hot steam causes his glasses to fog, and he cuts himself off in the middle of his storytelling.
“—Oh. Well, dammit. Now, I’ve gone blind.”
You chuckle into the glass of water you’re drinking, eyes trained on James’ fogged up glasses, and the massive, goofy grin on his face as he, too, laughs at his unfortunate situation.
But he’s nothing if not dramatic about it first.
James sighs, exaggerated on purpose, though the smile is still plastered onto his lips. “Ah, well there you have it. The light of my life, laughing at my own expense. How it pains me!”
You roll your eyes affectionately at his little act, setting the glass of water down in front of you. “Oh, I’m so sorry for laughing at you, my love. Will you ever forgive me for my grave mistake of doing so?”
Your boyfriend, still sporting his foggy glasses, tilts his head slightly to the side as he rubs his chin in thought, feigning consideration.
“Hmm, well, if you’re offering to compensate me in some way… I have a few suggestions,” James smirks.
You let out a snort of laughter. “Of course, you do.” He only chuckles in response, only deciding now to take his glasses off and get the fog out before he’d actually go blind. James was already bordering on the line of being legally blind, and he’ll be damned if he unintentionally made his eyesight worse by something so stupid as letting it get foggy, and refusing to clean it up after.
Most of all, though, he strives to maintain his eyesight as it is right now so he could keep seeing you in all of your loveliness.
“Crap,” Your boyfriend frowns, stilling as he looks down at the white dress shirt he was currently wearing. Miraculously, it was still spotless. You supposed he was looking down at some spot where he’d finally managed to drop some food on when he continued.
“I can’t clean my glasses with this,” James says, his frustration clearly evident with the adorable pout decorating his lips. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight of it.
“Technically, you’re not supposed to clean your glasses with your shirt, Jamie.”
He grumbles under his breath. “I know that, duh.”
Then, he pauses briefly, and starts looking around the table for a clean paper napkin. “But I don’t really bring the case and the cloth with me anymore because I wear ‘em all the time anyway.”
You sigh from exasperation. “Then it’s your own fault that you can’t clean your glasses right now,” You replied, reaching over the table to take his glasses from him.
James was already halfway through another defensive reply when he felt his glasses be taken away from his grasp.
“Hey, what are you—“
Wordlessly, you start cleaning the lenses of his glasses up with a small, seemingly soft cloth you’d brought out from your handbag. It catches him off guard, and his heart pitter-patters with the feeling he always gets when he sees you for the first time after being apart for so long, or when you kiss him silly in your slightly bolder moments.
As if it was just natural that you were doing this for him, you continued. “I mean, honestly, James. You’ve been wearing glasses for ages. You should know better by now.”
He’s suddenly feeling a thousand different things, and thinking a thousand different thoughts, all at once. No, he wasn’t being dramatic this time. It was real. This was real. He was currently watching you, a literal angel sent from the heavens above and so lovingly bestowed upon him as his lover, clean his very own glasses for him.
Just for him. Like, what?
So, maybe James was being a little dramatic. All you were doing was clean a pair of glasses anyway, there was nothing groundbreaking about it. You weren’t down on one knee and asking him to marry you.
No, no. That wasn’t it. Actually, he may as well propose right then and there. This simple, yet so warm and thoughtful, gesture of yours had single-handedly made him fall deeper in love with you, so much so that he feels it strongly, he’s starting to think it’s not just the spice of the brothy soup you’ve both been sharing that’s making him feel a little woozy, and emboldened.
“Marry me,” James blurts out with a breathless, almost dreamy sigh.
“Sorry, what?”
His heart kind of drops to his stomach at the nonchalant tone in your words, taking it in an entirely different context than yours. But James knows you really hadn’t heard him, of course. It was more like a murmur than anything that had come out of him.
He suddenly falls over his words, increasingly getting flustered as you hand him back his glasses. He takes it with slightly trembling hands, prays that you don’t notice, and puts it back on in a rush.
Once a much clearer sight of you finally comes into his view, James suddenly forgets how to function like a normal human being. Instead, he just stares at you in silent, but unabashed awe.
“Er, James?”
“Er.. yes, love?”
“Are you alright?”
“What? No. Yeah. M’fine.” He replies at once, mashing all the words in one quick breath.
“O…kay,” You say, clearly suspicious of his suddenly odd behaviour. “What were you saying earlier? Couldn't catch it, really.”
“Bury me," James answers, unblinking. "I said, ‘bury me.’”
“‘Bury you?’” You clarify in a surprised huff of laughter. “Why would I do that?”
Because I almost proposed to you and nearly put you in the hot seat.
“Because this broth is just so good,” James punctuates his answer with a quick sip from his bowl of the aromatic, spicy beef broth that he’d been wanting to finish since a while ago. Before–well, before he suddenly felt like marrying you on the spot.
A beat passes as you try to piece your boyfriend’s vague statements together. “You.. want me to bury you… in the soup?”
“Yep,” He confirms. “I want you to bury me in the soup.”
“James,” You chuckle. The corners of James’ lips twitch upward like a reflex reaction to the sound. “I am not burying you in hotpot. That’s ridiculous!”
“I don’t care. I mean, since when am I not ridiculous?”
You nod your head thoughtfully. “Okay, true.”
James continues. “It’s just so good that I wanna take it with me to the afterlife. Heck, I think I’m even gonna ask for its hand in marriage right now.”
Way to go, Potter. Real subtle.
He foresees the teasing comment in your smirking lips. This time, he doesn’t know how to feel. On one end of the spectrum, he kind of wants to throw caution to the wind and kiss you until you forget about teasing him altogether. But on the other side, he’s resigned to his fate; and besides, it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the added attention, anyway.
“Oh, so you’re just gonna ask for its hand in marriage right now? Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I just said.”
“So what am I to you now?”
“The love of my life,” James answers in a heartbeat, shrugging nonchalantly as if the answer was common sense. “Why are you asking this?”
“Well, since you’re marrying this array of—“ You gesture around your table of various dishes of Chinese cuisine, emphasizing the boiling pot of soup in the middle. “—well, our dinner, I figured I must be out of the picture by then.”
Your boyfriend’s jaw drops, gasping in mock-horror as he clutches his chest dramatically with his hand. You bite your lip to trap the giggles that threaten to erupt from your mouth.
The two of you continue to tease and play along with each other for the rest of your time at the restaurant then. All the while, James becomes more aware of the little box sitting in his drawer back at home, containing the beautiful diamond ring that he’d bought on the very same day he’d seen it for the first time.
It made him think of you just as quickly as how you, who wordlessly cleaned his glasses for him, made him think of proposing on the spot.
can i just say that this relationship is the kind that i want 4 myself ,,, fuck 😭 anywayyyyy thank u sm for reading! likes, reblogs, n comments are always appreciated <3
#james potter x reader#james potter fluff#james potter#james potter fic#james potter oneshot#james potter drabble#james potter x you#james fleamont potter#james potter imagine#marauders era#marauders#harry potter marauders#harry potter fanfiction#foodiegoogie writes
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WHY has no one talked about these panels. fuck it its 12 am (at the time of me "finishing" (<- not even close) writing this, its nearly 2 am) im going to talk about them
ahem.
before i get to the Main Point i wanna discuss chils tendency to spiral into his thoughts
like, sure, yeah, he's a reasonable guy. real logical-- but he tends to rush through so many possibilities and in this scene even berates himself for his tiny mistake. every thought in this scene goes so fast to me here, just "snap snap snap, call for help, no thatll attract too much attention- wait is there a switch? crap its too far away- nevermind lets just wait for marcille- but can i trust her with that?? god im so stupid, am i just gonna be trapped here until morning???" and it takes a moment for him to stabilise and snap out of it
like... he even has a little pep talk about it
i guess you could take this as him merely being a quick thinker? but i highly doubt it -- look at this fucking guy.
anyways. hes always got to be eased out of it one way or another, whether that be complainerism (self-explanatory), strategising with another person (that way all the insecure thoughts get pushed to the back in favour of working together), reassuring himself (discussed above) or...
you. could.
distract him.
place a brick wall in front of that zooming train of thought and watch it crash and burn :)
he doesnt even respond in that first pic, by the way. in fact, he doesnt say anything for another 3 (and a bit) pages, and by then the topic has been safely switched (granted those three pages are just marcille and laios making the familiars, but i feel it still stands that there was no response at all, not even visually)
secondly, in that other instance -- see how his eyes go wide as saucers when contact is made? and how they turn into pinpricks once he looks back**? god. and. like.
oh. fuck. ive gottta continue this in a reblog since ive reached the picture limit on mobile -- i am not even a THIRD of a way through all my thoughts on this- we didnt even get to my footnote!! sit tight everyone :)
#yeah i think theyre touchy even if they dont realize it#like poke poke nudge nudge pat pat#(not to mention the fact that theyre often Right Next To Eachother)#um. ill main tag this cause i want people to see it soooo bad (+ im in need of more chilaios warriors...)#dungeon meshi spoilers#dungeon meshi#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#laios#laios touden#<- i apologise#and last but not least the star of the show...#chilaios#heehee#ohh all the normal people are gonna look at this post and squint but as long as i can drag in a FEW people my life will have vastly improve#also hello chilaios nation ! WE NEED TO DISCUSS--
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AS SAID BY JASON TODD/ROBIN/RED HOOD * assorted dialogue from multiple dc universe sources, adjust as necessary
i did it once for dramatic effect and it just got to be a habit.
you can't tell, but i'm dozing off under this mask.
a whole night in paris... and i managed to not kill anyone. not bad.
you made the same mistake everyone does when it comes to me.
i want to warn them... but i know i can't.
don't know, don't care. i got my hands full.
do you remember the last time we were together?
looks like you guys could use a hand!
i'm looking for someone.
i'm afraid it's about to get much worse.
the angry, reckless vigilante bit is my thing.
i'm not good or bad. i'm just practical as hell.
you and i are more alike than you realize.
i get it. starting over is scary as hell.
i don't even need to turn around to know that's you.
thanks for thinking of me. i'm happy to help. honored, even.
i generally have several madness-inducing hallucinations before breakfast.
nothing in the real world can be as frightening as what we can imagine... right?
you don't think i understand what it's like to be abandoned? forgotten?
i'll be damed if my best friend is going to die... because he was dumb enough to trust me.
i'm sorry. i'm never going to be the hero you want me to be.
next time i see you, i'm going to kick your butt for this dying crap.
you have ten seconds to walk way. nine... oh, screw it.
there are better ways to spend your energy.
that looks like it's gotta hurt. well, i say that like i'm speculating or something. i know it hurts.
we chose to be a family.
if there's hope for us... there's hope for everyone.
you still haven't figured it out?
life's just a game... and this time, you lose.
i seem to have made myself an enemy of all the bad guys.
it's too late. you had your chance.
i'm just getting started.
hard to forget that night, huh?
in a way, this was the site of your first great failure.
ah... memories.
you can't stop crime. that's what you never understood.
you want to rule them by fear, but what do you do to those who aren't afraid?
i'm doing what you won't.
i'm taking them out.
now tell me... how does it feel?
is that what you think this is about?
i don't know what clouds your judgement worse. your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality.
i forgive you for not saving me.
he took me away from you.
i am no one's son.
what do you think this was all about?
welcome to planet earth, baby.
fear isn't the answer.
you son of a bitch.
we were friends, helping each other pick up the pieces of our lives.
it might not be a popular thought, but not everyone wants to be alive.
can you hear it?
funny, i actually escaped death.
the past keeps dragging me back.
they're not monsters. they're victims of programming, abuse, and trauma.
they can change.
fact is, they're just like us.
we became something else.
you hurt a lot of people.
we don't discriminate here.
sometimes you don't know what you want 'til you learn what you don't.
trust? you? i'll give it a try. but i'll tell you right now, i'm probably going to screw it up.
guys like us? the life we lead? we're never truly alone.
i have no idea who you people are.
you pompous ass.
before i kill you, i want the truth.
i'd like to think i'm an open-minded guy.
sure it was fun. but does that mean it was right?
sometimes i wonder if i'm just part of the problem.
i'm not doing one more damn mission with them unless you get me someone i can trust to watch my back.
knew you couldn't do it.
it's official. class is in session.
#rp meme#mcflymemes#rp memes#rp prompt#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#jason todd#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters#red hood#GIFT FOR YOU BLYTHE ILY!!!!
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omg sex worker miguel o’hara? 🤧🫡
grande | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader
❛ pairing | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader.
❛ type | extended drabble; 2kish words; explicit
❛ summary | you probably shouldn't tell a man that he's small. even if you've known him a very long time-- and especially if you see him fuck every day.
❛ tags | sex worker au, improper use of belts, male receiving oral, slight disagreements, workplace argument, Spanish is not translated
❛ sy’s notes | ...i now have an escort!miggy x rich girl!reader in my drafts to be finished at some other time because it became a bit depressing and plotty. needed something light to get back into writing for a bit.
He doesn’t play fair. Most women understand that about him. They know Miguel to be the man who bends the delicate boundaries of rules for a good fuck— be it a place, be it a position. Miguel would do what he had to for a better clip.
“Miggy?” You said, hands behind your hips. He should have known then that you were up to some shit. You hover somewhere in his vision with a sugar-sweet smile. You’ve worked with him alongside him since he chose this profession. Most days, he watched you sit by your favorite window that cast a warm midday sun, tacking away with fingers that flew across the keys. Some days, you’re watching him-- mounted on another woman. He cocked his thick brow at you.
“What?”
“I… it’s just… fuck. Elena had something come up.”
“Like I said she would."
Miguel set his fist to his cheek, swirling his protein shake in the other hand. This woman was your idea, not his. There’s a reason your voice choked on the words. You were anxious about your news the way your hands rounded to the front of your body, clammy hands plastered onto your tablet.
“I just thought—“
“I know what you thought. You thought my followers would like her.” He took a swig of his drink. “Not if she’d like me.”
That was exactly the issue. You do too much worrying about what the viewer likes, not enough about what he would like. He was well aware from every ping from Elena and the contorted little face you made that she was scared of him. As to why, he was not certain. He's grumpy, not dangerous.
“She does like you— it’s just your dick,“ you fumbled with your tablet, nearly spilling it over on his lap. “I told her you weren’t that big. She’s just— dramatic.”
“Not that big?”
You’re not winning this fight. He threw a look at the tablet, finding your suggestion more egregious than your description of it. Too thick! She complained. He’d stretch her out. Or, so she feared. He sincerely doubted that. She took enough dick that if that were the case, she’d have an issue long before now.
He’s not that big in real life. All that big dick crap is just marketing. I see his dick all the time.
Then you fuck him!
His mouth flattened into an unmoveable line, clearly unappeased with your response. For a moment, he did not move. He did not fidget. Nor respond. He simply stared down at you with those sharp, unhumored eyes. What little security you had in convincing him flitted away. He abandoned his drink on the table and leaned in close. Close enough that his thick strands of dark hair tickle your skin. Enough that you can smell the perfumed oil that lingered on his tanned skin. He always smelled so good.
“Until you’ve fucked me onscreen,” he brushed past. “Don’t tell women who will what I’m like.”
Oh. You made a mistake.
You don’t like it when Miguel is angry.
Most days coming to work, Miguel has a hot coffee on the table for you as you edit his finest ball-busting work. When the days stretch a little too long, he tells you when enough is enough. And, if you were lucky, he hovered at the stove and made you something to eat. It gave you a perfect sight of his toned shoulders and the long column of his spine-- which he so graciously allowed you to drool over day by day. Today, there was no half-dressed hunk making your delicious meals in sight.
He’s still angry. You pulled up his socials, scrolling through the responses to the latest video. A teasing blooper of a clip with a woman with Miguel’s length halfway down her throat, coughing up his seed all over her chest as you mistakingly giggle behind the screen.
“Keep laughing and see what happens,” Miguel drifted to yours, eyes hazy and soft, chest rising violently with the sundering sensation of his orgasm. He watched for the span of only a few heartbeats, a decadent warning exchanged between the two of you immeasurable before the camera. He reached for a tissue.
“Perdóname, papi.”
Does anyone know if they’re fucking? A user asked. It’s as if Miguel’s co-star was but a fading character. Any chance of seeing him fuck her?? Whats her @?
She’s just his employee.
Need this.
Just an employee. The words pulled on a string of connection that could at any time be cut. Miguel had no interest in wielding the scissors to do so, rather, over the past few years the string only became stronger. He’ll get over it. You stared at the reflection of your poorly made cup of cafecito, undrunken because no one made it like Miguel made it. He’s there, hovering around the sink, but you feel all the more alone in the room. Producer, editor, friend-- your eyes fell back to the cup.
“Are you done?” Miguel hovered by your coffee cup. It was cool to the touch.
“Ah. Sí.”
You gazed up at him, regret seeping from your features. If you apologized yet again, he’d simply leave the room. There are no good words. No ones that would make sense, no words that would… be good enough to make him come back when he’s in this mood, unmoveable and distant. You’re so close to him-- but all alone.
He takes the cup away.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Miguel dropped his phone on your office desk. It thumped over the tablespace, his expression morphing into something wrong. You turn his phone upright, knowing the contents before the information actually registers in your mind.
“It’s a picture of me,” you closed the top of your laptop and whirled around in the chair, knocking your knees against his. He’s closer than he’s been in days.
“Yes. But what else?” he rumbled.
You’re not stupid, remembering the launch of merch that Miguel sincerely doubted anyone would be seriously interested in. How many people wore a male sex worker’s merch? This was all your idea, of course. Your lip is bitten fat, stripped of skin. Your eyes wandered across the table to the cabinet with an array of different cameras. Miguel rapped his scarred knuckles over the table, blocking your desperation for an escape. He wanted a substantial answer.
“You told me to make sure it sold.”
“And that meant model with your ass out on my page.”
“You don’t like it?”
"Dios," that’s not the point. He breathed a forceful breath, navigating your rolling chair up against the bed in the room. Typically the bed was used for a late night at the office or one of Miguel’s performances with any number of women you cast him with. Or, as you preferred, when he masturbates by himself-- squeezing his hand along his length as your phantom hand poured more wet lubricant over his cock. The sheets are always stained and consequentially changed.
“I don’t like that they know what you look like,” Miguel supplied, his chest cresting into a fall. His gaze fell to your hands, settled in a clasp over your short skirt. Now he knew what you looked like. “Do you know how many requests I have to…”
“Fuck me.”
“Sí,” Miguel said, your name dying on his tongue. “To fuck you.”
“Then do it. You have a camera.”
What-- his gaze read. It’s in the way his brow pushed together, how his lips fell just so lightly apart. He would say something more, but your hands are on his dark slacks, tracking up toward his sturdy leather belt. In only an hour or so, Miguel was meant to record with Elena, who, you convinced. He should be saving his stamina for that, not this. Even so, his hands hovered atop your own, grunting slightly in response, unable to stop what you were doing.
“Don’t ask me to ruin you.”
“I think you already have,” you murmured, finding his soft cock. You stroked him through his pants, drawing along his length, getting him where you want him. With every scene you recorded, you knew what Miguel liked. You knew he liked scenes where he could take his time, as short and far between as they were. You want that too. You drew the belt loose and unbuttoned the little spry button. So close, you could almost taste him.
“Are you going to record it?” You gestured toward the desk, pulling his cock into the free air. He’s an impressive length, just as you recall, you think he has to be to be an adult actor. The real treat is Miguel’s thick girth, swirled with delicious veins. You had seen his dick at least a hundred times, delighted in watching him meet his orgasm time and time again, and touched yourself to the thought of being just like his many girls.
“No,” Miguel pulled his belt from the loops and tugged it around his wrist. He let the other hand find the back of your head, weaving through smooth locks of hair, guiding your lush lips to his cock. “This is all for me.”
When he spoke like that, all you wanted was to make him happy. Your moist mouth separated, warm breath tickling the length that he shoved into your wet mouth. Maybe Elena had a point, you think, suckling around his length once, drawing to his fat tip. He hums in response, bucking back deep into your mouth. Miguel didn't want to wait, causing you to gag over his length, a terrible coughing resonating about his dick. Now that he had you here, he would show you how wrong you were.
“I thought I wasn’t that big,” Miguel’s hand left your head, stretching his belt across the back of your neck. Bucking forward, you gagged around his length, scratching his clothed hip for some mercy. If he wasn’t so big-- you could take it, couldn’t you? “Just like that. Hm? Cómo?”
He was gracious enough to allow you off his cock, gasping for air as you were, the depth of his plunging cock having pricked a few oversensitized tears on the sides of your eyes. You’re beautiful like that, overwrought and needy. Your heart rattled in the confines of your ribcage, wheezing as you jerked him pathetically. How certain you look now, tugging on him for a moment of relief.
“I’m sorry--”
“Ya sé.”
Your eyes fluttered shut, guiding him back into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed out, drawing him in fast and hard. If not for the belt around the back of your neck, he might have stumbled, stuck between the warmth of your mouth and the pleasured groans tickling his length. You’re well-accustomed to what the girls do, stretching your palm around his dick.
“Harder,” he remarked, throwing a half-chewed-up curse aside. Unlike with the other girls, he’s weak before the pleasure, usually focused and refined, his jaw clenches. He’s gotten weak-- has it been that long since he’s had sex outside of the roll of the camera?
“Miggy,” you pulled back, your sloppy tongue swirling about his fat tip. He catches the moan in his chest, refusing to let it crest over, not yet. His eyes catch yours, muscular stomach flexing, he’s listening. “I want to taste you. Can I taste you?”
You’re such a good niña. Miguel forces you back to your rightful place on his cock, the band stretched so tight around his fists that he might break it. Your name becomes an unbearable, pleasurable slur on his tongue. He’s a trained man, knowing to cum when you say to come on each shoot. In many ways, he's your trained dog: cuming when he's told to.
His length pulsed in your mouth for one final thrust before he gave you what you wanted, strands of release spraying the back of your warm little mouth. You suckled him up, even as he tried to pull free. You cleaned his cock, sucking him nice and clean. Miguel brushed off your attempt to zip him away.
“Don’t bother,” Miguel breathed, pulling at the black-tie strapped to his throat. His white dress shirt was soaked, causing him to roll the sleeves up to his elbows. His voice dropped, well-fucked out but nearly ready for another round. “Your cunt is next.”
“But Elena is on her w--”
“Fuck her,” Miguel waved his hand, slouching into your chair. “Fix the camera. We have a video to shoot.”
If nothing else-- now you can tell her how big he really is.
#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara/reader#atsv imagines#atsv imagine#atsv fic#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#miggy x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara imagine#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara smut
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Animal I Have Become
Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.
I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.
I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.
I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:
“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”
… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.
Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.
Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.
I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.
I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?
Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.
“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”
Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.
I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!
But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...
My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.
Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.
The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...
No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!
Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”
I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!
And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.
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18+ Tim Bradford x YN
Warning: SMUT, throat grabbing.. think that’s it!
Never written smut before so please enjoy!
You watch as he slams the door of his locker, clearly agitated being your TO. You hold back a sigh and an eye roll, knowing it’d make the shift longer.
“Grab the gear, boot.” He snaps as he walks out.
He’s barely said 2 words to you so you’re unsure of where this attitude come from, but knowing his reputation you weren’t surprised. But it’d be easier to hate him if he wasn’t so easy on the eyes. Grabbing the gear and putting it in the shop. You climb into the passenger seat whilst he sits waiting for you.
“What’s the plan today, sir?” You ask as nicely as possible.
“Patrol.” He replies in a huff.
The next few hours pass through very slowly so low priority calls, but nothing can break the tension rising in the shop. You notice how his jaw twitches and his hands clutch the steering wheel tighter if you utter a single word. Your tether close to snapping, TO or not you wanted the respect you deserve. But you can’t help but notice the warmth pooling down below at his anger. You think about that hand being wrapped around your neck whilst he fucks you.
After more silence, you decide to give in and ask,
“Why do you hate me?”
“What was that, boot?” He seems distracted and you snap.
“I said why do you hate me? I know you’re my TO and I need to be super nice to you to better my chances here but goddamn I deserve a little respect, you talk down to me and treat me like crap! If you’ve got an issue with me just come out with it already!” The words come tumbling out too fast and you realised your mistake.
The shop is suddenly being parked in a layby and you’re forced to be face to face with Officer Bradford.
The tension is at an all time high, and rather than shouting at you like you expected, he kissed you. It took no time at all for you to kiss him back. Both grabbing at each other, careless to the fact you need oxygen.
“I wish I hated you, then I wouldn’t put us in the position” he whispered against your lips.
“Fuck..” you whispered and kissed him again.
Without care to the outside world, you climb over to his lap. You unbuttoned his shirt whilst he was kissing your neck, finding your soft spot. Causing you to rock against his lap with a breathless moan. You could tell how hard he was under all the clothes and couldn’t wait anymore. Running your fingers down his naked chest and unbuckling his belt.
“Pull them down.” You demanded.
“Fuck, whatever you say, YN” You noticed momentarily he called you by your name and not boot. But the moment passed when his hard erection was pulled from his pants.
He wastes no time pulling your trousers and pants off, both of you ignoring the awkward movements of undressing in the car. The need for him was too great to care. Before you had a chance to line him up he ran his finger through your folds, circling the clit.
Your head is tossed back, moaning and hands gripping his shoulders hard. His free hand touches your cheek and guides your face so you’re looking at him.
“Keep watching me,” He whispered as he lined himself up with you.
Slowly you sit down fully and the sensation of him filling you was so intense. He was so hard and felt so good inside of you, like you were made for each other.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck YN” Tim groans as his hands find your waist. He pulls you down on his cock harder and you gasp.
“Tim, Jesus, fuck me hard please!”
He kisses your lips swiftly and begins thrusting upwards whilst pulling you down on his cock. Your insides fluttering, you’ve never been fucked so good before. You’re both breathless as the car steams up. As you feel your high coming, you needed a little more so you grabbed his hand and wrapped it round your throat. He gave a little squeeze and groaned at the reaction of you tensing on his cock.
“I need to cum” you whine.
“Cum with me. YN. Fuck you feel so fucking good.”
You knew you were going to be sore tomorrow the way he was pounding in you right now. But you didn’t care at all. You never wanted to stop this.
His free hand made its way downwards and started circling your clit, without any warning your orgasm tore through you, with the clenching of your pussy around his cock, he came with you.
Once the stars had faded from your vision you looked at him properly, and realised he was smiling.
“You’ve never smiled at me before.” You say, running a hand through his hair.
“I have, I just don’t let you see. I don’t want to ruin your career with this. I want you more than anything but I can’t ruin your future.” He looked at you earnestly.
“You will never ruin my future, Tim. I want you. This is what I want.”
He kissed you again, but this time savouring the moment. Only when you broke apart did you realise where you were. Quickly redressing before being caught.
“Hope you turned your body cam off.” He laughed.
Joining in with his laughter you slap him on the arm.
“Just drive, sir”
“Whatever you say boot”
Sorry if it’s bad!! I’ve never written smut ever but there’s barely any smut about Tim Bradford and wanted to try! Please let me know what you think.
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flip it back - l.n
Warnings: Angst, Fluff!
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader
Summary: Y/N panics and makes a BIG mistake
A/N - Little project I did with @maxiemclaren, she’s doing the alternate with Oscar and I’m doing it with Lando, check hers out too xx
“Hey Y/N,” Oscar smiled at you, sitting beside you in his drivers room as you smiled at him. “Hey, how was media?” you asked, putting your phone down. “More rumours about us dating,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Again? Do they ever get tired?” you snorted, you did like Oscar, just not as a boyfriend, simply a friend. “Do you even like anyone?” he laughed, turning to you as your cheeks filled with colour.
In truth, you had the biggest, stupidest crush on his teammate, Lando. Not that you’d ever even think Lando would want anything to do with you. “I-I do,” you said, Oscar could probably tell from your reaction to the question anyways. “Wait, really?” he said, eyes wide, “who?”. You opened your mouth, no sound coming out. “Promise you won’t snitch,” you pleaded as he firmly nodded. “Lando,” you said quietly, only to frown at Oscar’s smirk.
“Knew it,” he smirked, seeing your shock. “I’ve seen the way y’all talk. He definitely likes you back,” the Aussie said as you scoffed, “yeah right, have you seen him?”. You and Lando had a fairly decent friendship, you got on well and talked a lot. He messaged you a few times a day, if it was to send you reels, memes or just to chat. You didn’t mind, but he was surely just a celebrity crush.
“Hey Y/N,” a voice said, behind you, making you look up, seeing Lando. “Oscar, media need you again,” the Brit said, watching his team mate groan. “Sorry dude, it’s about the race,” he grimaced at Oscar. “Media making up shit with you and Oscar again,” Lando said, sitting down after Oscar left. “Yeah, they never get tired of it,” you rolled your eyes. “They’re pretty darn annoying,” Lando laughed, making you chuckle.
“D’you like Oscar?” he asked, turning to you. “As a friend,” you confirmed. “More than that? D’you like anyone, Y/N?” he asked, hands clasped together. Immediately, you flushed. You couldn’t tell him the truth, you’d die of embarrassment. “I…yeah, I, um, I like Oscar,” you said hurriedly, making him nod slowly. “Oh, right,” he nodded simply, “I see,”. You gulped. You’d just lied. “I’ll be off, Y/N,”.
Lando had changed. He no longer messaged you during the day, only sending simple things such as: ‘busy, practise’ or ‘busy, gym’. Why had he changed? Did he not like Oscar? You felt horrible for lying. But of course, the only way to remedy a lie was to tell the truth. You’d made a plan. You would bring Oscar and Lando to one place, and you’d tell them the truth.
And then you’d leave and probably never talk to Lando again. Rather that than him living and thinking you liked Oscar. So you texted them. Oscar, as usual, with his usual ‘alright y/n, I’ll see you then <3’ message. Lando - a simple acknowledgment in the form of a thumbs up emoji. “Hey you guys,” you smiled awkwardly at the pair of them. “Hey Y/N,” Oscar said brightly, much opposing to Lando’s, “hi,”.
You still didn’t realise why he sounded so…downbeat ever since the ordeal. But anyways, you had a matter at hand, and you intended to deal with it. Maybe savour it slightly, this was going to be the last moment you saw Lando and got to speak to him without dying of embarrassment. “So, I told you guys who I like,” you began. “Mhm, you told Oscar about your little crush on him?” Lando snorted. “Mate, what? What the hell you on about?” Oscar rolled his eyes.
“Dude, don’t give me that crap. She told me she liked you,” Lando raised an eyebrow. “Wait, listen,” you said, before Oscar could retaliate. “What?” Lando asked, frowning at Oscar, before turning to you. “I told Oscar I liked you,” you said quietly, not making eye contact with either of them as Lando’s jaw dropped. “You told my team mate you liked me, and told me you liked him?” Lando said, trying to wrap his mind round it.
“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, cheeks flushed. “Wait, so he thinks you like me?” Lando blinked, “yes,”. He paused. “And I think you like him,” he continued, “yes,”. He paused again. “Oh shut up, dude,” Oscar shoved his team mate lightly as he interrupted his third question. “Better question, which one of us do you actually like?” Oscar asked, squirting. “I mean, I-,” you started, not sure how you were gonna say it.
“I don’t wanna say it,” you said, hugging your body and looking down. “You gonna make us pull it out of you?” Lando asked, blinking down at you again. “I dunno,” you shrugged, cheeks red. “Oh Y/N,” Oscar shook his head, “we really have to interrogate it out of you?”. You didn’t like this, it made you uncomfortable, and soon you’d have to drop the bomb. “Is it actually either of us?” Lando asked, tapping his chin.
“Yes,” you nodded, looking up at him as he continued to think. “Does he have brown hair- ow!” Lando gasped as Oscar elbowed him. “I dunno, mate, I think he has blonde hair,” the Aussie said sarcastically, making you laugh. “That was a purposeful question, I wanted her to laugh,” Lando rubbed his ribs as you raised an eyebrow, he definitely wasn’t intending for you to laugh. “Is he ugly?” Lando continued. “What?” you gasped, neither of them were ugly.
“If it’s a yes, sheesh, good luck with Oscar, girl,” Lando said, narrowly dodging another jab in the ribs. “C’mon Y/N, be straight with it,” the Aussie said. “It’s not me, I know that,” Oscar scoffed. “It’s Lando, and you want to say it, I can tell,” he said, pulling your hands from your face. “Wait, what?” Lando asked, eyes wide, “you like me?”. You turned to him, “yes, I know, it’s embarrassing you’re probably horrified and I-,” he cut you off.
“No fucking way. Y/N, you like me?” he repeated, he was so gonna laugh at you. “I…yes?” you shrugged. “You’re having a laugh. Nuh uh, you’re having a giggle,” he backed away, this was worse than you had pictured. “Y/N Y/L/N, you like me back?!” he said, his lips forming into a smile as your eyes widened. “Back? You like me too?” you asked, a smile on your lips too.
“Fuck yeah, have you seen you?” his hand covered his mouth as Oscar snorted. “Right, well whilst you two flirt the fuck out of each other,” Oscar said, “I’m gonna mentally prepare myself for this,”. Lando raised an eyebrow at you, then Lando. “For what?” he blinked. “Lando, if you may follow me for the ‘if you hurt my best friend’ talk…” the Aussie trailed off, gripping Lando’s shoulder as he gulped. “So long Y/N,” Lando grimaced as you burst into laughter.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando norris smut#f1#oscar piastri
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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2
Previous Part, Next Part
Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.
Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic
Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇
Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006
“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”
Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.
“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”
He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.
But he made a mistake.
The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.
Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.
No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.
But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and
“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”
Fuck, he was getting soft.
Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.
That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.
Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.
His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.
He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.
Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.
Oh God, he was going to blow.
Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.
Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.
First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006
Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.
He had to know more.
Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.
All the better for him to keep observing you.
As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.
He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.
But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.
He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.
He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.
“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.
You were American. How adorable.
“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”
You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.
Must have been Farleigh’s idea.
Anyway, back to you.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.
Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.
Except that he was.
He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.
Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.
It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.
My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋
Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.
By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.
“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”
“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”
Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”
Felix just shrugged.
“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”
Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.
“Merry Christmas, indeed.”
A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.
“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”
“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”
“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”
Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.
“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”
Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.
Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.
Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.
Manchester, December 2006
You were having the time of your life.
Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”
But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.
Oxford Dining Hall December 2006
You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.
“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.
Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.
“What?” you croaked out.
“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”
“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”
“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”
You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.
You hated feeling small.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”
He rolled his eyes at your concern.
“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”
You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.
His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.
When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.
“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”
“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”
Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.
“Look, are you coming or not?”
You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.
“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”
A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”
“Don’t push it.”
You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.
His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.
“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”
When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.
“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”
“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”
“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”
“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”
Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.
“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”
You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”
“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.
“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”
Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.
“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”
“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”
“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”
“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”
Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.
“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”
“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”
You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.
“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”
“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”
Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.
“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”
“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.
Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.
The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.
You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.
When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.
You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.
But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.
Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.
At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.
Well – everyone except one.
Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.
Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.
Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.
“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”
You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.
“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”
If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.
Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006
In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.
He had to get out of here.
In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.
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If Luffy accidentally made you cry
Reader: gn
Headcanons of if Luffy made you cry on accident
A/N: I’m leaving how he made you cry completely up to you so your silly little head can envision whatever you came up with and not have to comply with what mine did and possibly dislike it because it’s cringe 👍
As soon as Luffy saw the tears begin to form in your eyes he frowned, backtracking immediately.
now he’s not the brightest guy on the seas so if he doesn’t realize he hurt you—cut him some slack- he’d say something like, ‘hey! What’s going on?! Why’re you crying?”
if you react more harshly because he didn’t register that it was his fault right away, and shout at him, smack, whatever- he’s gonna be confused and a bit hurt himself. The situation’ll probably escalate quickly if you do this and I’m talkin in a bad way. Worse if you walk away because now he can’t get context from you. ‘I don’t get it?! Why’re you so upset all the sudden?!’ Is likely his next response.
let’s say you finally get it through his head that it was through his actions and/or words that your crying. He’ll be in a quick moment of shock as in, ‘I did that? I did do that didn’t I?! Oh no, I did!’ But Luffy’s a man who owns up to his mistakes when he’s wrong, undoubtedly and honestly. So you get a bunch of apologies immediately after. ‘Sorry! I’m sorry! Sorry! I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it! Sorry!’
this is where he’ll try to comfort you physically, if you’ll let him. He’ll start with an arm on your back in case you get defensive, but if you sink into his touch he brings you into a tight hug. He doesn’t stop apologizing throughout all of it. How could he have made you cry?! He loves you! How could he have hurt you?!
he promises to get you all your favorite things to try and cheer you up. He promises never to do/say what he did to make you cry ever again too! Definitely! In fact, he’ll never make you cry again! Not that either!! Do you want Sanji to bake you a cake to help you feel better? Food always makes him feel better! ❤️🩹
rewinding back in time a bit! 😅 let’s say you didn’t go the aggressive reaction route, and your still crying from whatever he did or said to make you. But he’s also still confused as to why you’re crying. It’s likely you’re still upset that he didn’t get it, but you have more patience. You tell him what he said or did to hurt you and to be honest from there it’s pretty much the same reaction!
something that would also change the scenario up a bit is if he realized it was him that hurt you from jump. But again, not a big change. He’d be really upset with himself that he hurt his lover, apologize like a man, then comfort you. <3
if you don’t cheer up right away he’ll keep trying and trying until he sees your visibly happy again. He won’t leave your side for an adventure or any kind of fun until he sees you’re alright. It just doesn’t sit right with him to leave you crying on your own. He’s a man who takes care of those he loves, why would he?!
If he indirectly made you to cry—example, he did something and his actions ended up hurting you, he would do whatever he can to fix it immediately. He was playing in your room and accidentally broke something precious to you?! Crap! Usopp! Franky! Can you fix it?! How about we glue it back together?? You were saving up that gold for something really important?? Uhh- he spent it all on meat by accident- SORRY! He’ll go steal a bunch more gold right now so don’t cry okay?! He’ll be back as soon as he can!
in case you really couldn’t think of a reason he’d make you cry I listed those :)
honestly these are real short because even when going into detail Luffy is a man about things and will always apologize in the end. These are headcanons of if he makes you cry and I really don’t write angst like that, meaning I could extend these and do a scenario where he disagrees that it’s his fault but I ain’t gon do allat. Goodnight.
-Brook YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOO 🏴☠️
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Bodyguard!Valeria
Okay first of all I kinda hate this, I'm posting it again bc I had posted it privately (bc I'm stupid like that) Uh and it's not proofread so sorry in advance
Valeria was no stranger to hard work, everything she had achieved was because she had broken her back and cried tears of blood but she did not complain.
Right now she was cursing her life and all her ancestors though, she couldn't conceive that you were the most difficult thing of all, you were unbearable, so annoying and stubborn that sometimes she wanted to just vanish into thin air and forget about her damn plan, that's how much of a pain you were for her.
Not only were you putting your life at risk but also hers, you were the wife of the spider's son and one of the reasons why she had been almost forced to watch over you was so that that fucking man wouldn't beat the crap out of you anymore because of his jealousy, however, you weren't making it easy for Valeria.
You were so manipulative, you knew very well how to use your beauty to your advantage and you were so persistent that you managed to get her into your bed and it was so inevitable for her not to give in to your pleas, those caresses that drove her crazy and those kisses that she still couldn't forget.
That night was permanently on her mind, torturing her and reminding her that even though she always had you close, she could never touch you again or her plans would probably be ruined, she had already gained the trust of too many people to make such a carnal mistake as giving in to her impulses.
“Please, it's just a-” You slurred your words out of drunkenness and she rolled her eyes, her hand pressed to your throat, you could see she was upset but you didn't give a damn, like usual.
“Shut your damn mouth, do you want to get killed? Behave". Valeria snapped and she was so sick of you, you could see it, she was tense and her jaw clenched as she looked around to make sure no one had seen you as you rubbed against her and tried to kiss her, luckily the VIP area of the club you two were in was quite secluded and no one was paying attention to you.
She kept her distance for the rest of the night, she stayed alert and watched you to make sure you didn't do something stupid but she didn't let you get too close until you arrived back at the mansion, she helped you go upstairs because you could barely walk properly and when she was going to leave you in the room you pulled her in and closed the door behind her, your husband was not there and you always took advantage of that, or at least that's what you tried to do.
"I have to take a shower". You murmured and kept pulling Valeria by the arm until you got in the bathroom, you weren’t letting her escape from you. “And you have to take care of me, what if I fall and hit my head? It will be your fault.” You grinned cynically at her and she scoffed as she shook her head, the worst part was that you were right and she hated it.
You got in the shower as soon as you undressed, the cold water ran through your whole body and made you shiver.
Her gaze inevitably ran over you from head to toe and she had to swallow hard and remind herself that the woman in front of her was forbidden, having you once had been greedy of her, she couldn't allow herself to have you again even if she wanted to... and oh how much she wanted to.
You, on the other hand, knew very well what you were doing, you slid your hands over your breasts, over your stomach until you reached your belly, you felt the heat between your legs as intense as ever, you had never been in a situation this erotic and you felt breathless, just like Valeria.
The only thing between you was the glass door, she couldn't take her eyes off your body even if she tried. It's not like she wanted to, she felt enchanted as if she was in a spell.
"Don’t do this to me". Valeria spoke almost out of breath, her voice was strained by everything she was feeling and you smiled as you put your hand between your thighs, you leaned against the shower door, the glass fogging up from your gasps and you began to massage your swollen bud that was soaking your fingers, your soft flesh was begging for another touch, it missed her hands. The water that fell on you was cold but not even that helped calm the heat you felt, the burning throughout your body.
Valeria was frozen in place, she couldn't stop looking at you, the way you touched yourself, your face, your whole body, she wanted to get into that shower and taste you until you couldn't stand up anymore, she wanted to turn you into a needy mess and feel your skin and your body against hers, it was a necessity at this point.
She couldn't control herself anymore and since she knew how things would end she preferred to run away, she left the bathroom and went into the room that your impertinent husband had assigned her, if you were sober enough to torture her that way then you were sober enough how to finish taking the damn shower without killing yourself.
She wasn't calming down, she was still panting and saying she was dripping was an understatement, she lay down on the bed and took a couple of deep breaths before cursing under her breath, doing that was giving in to all your fucking teasing but she couldn't help so she unzipped her pants in an attempt to calm the longing she felt for you right now.
And you went into the room, just what Valeria didn’t want... She growled, the tension she was feeling was enough to put her in a bad mood and now you were there to just make her feel even worse, it was a bad night, it was a bad job.
“No, get out.” Valeria spoke and you couldn't help the mischievous grin that adorned your face when you heard her, you knew that voice very well, you nibbled on your lip as you approached her bed, straddling her, your hand wrapping around her neck and the other going down her breasts, all over her torso until you put it inside her pants, you could feel how wet she was just from brushing her underwear with your fingers, her walls clenched around nothing, craving, longing to feel something inside, it was painful.
She was staring at you as she let out heavy pants, her body felt on fire and she knew she could take you off her lap if she really wanted to, you weren’t the strongest woman so she could just push you away, she could.
The question was... did she want to?
You gently caressed her over her underwear and put your hand inside, rubbing her flesh that was unusually soaked and you narrowed your eyes at her as you bit your lip, you were finally touching her again.
You lowered your fingers to her entrance and slowly sank them inside her, her walls clung to you, milking your fingers and your breath hitched in your throat, she was never this wet and the realization made you smirk, this was a first and you promised yourself right there that you would enjoy it.
“Oh… Are you ovulating?” You murmured in a mocking tone but Valeria didn't answer, she just glared at you as she gasped and you curled your fingers, rubbing that spot inside her that made her feel helpless and she whimpered. “That's why you're wet like a bitch in heat, right, honey?” You whispered softly, increasing the speed with which you massaged her g-spot.
“Screw you.” She snapped, feeling breathless, her moans were more audible now and it was killing you, you had never seen her this turned on, it was just making you feel desperate and needy.
You started grinding your hips against her thigh as you massaged her insides and she was so tight you felt like she would rip your fingers off, which meant she was close.
You pushed your thumb against her swollen nub, her thighs started to shake and you brought your lips to hers, you were doing what you wanted with her, but it wasn’t enough.
“I want you to get me out of here”. You spoke hoarsely as you kept working your fingers inside her, the heat of her insides were driving you insane. You loved feeling pleasure, but the most exciting part about having sex with Valeria was pleasuring her, making her weak until she couldn’t stop squirting.
“I will.” She breathed out, her arms clasping around your waist so she could feel you closer as her orgasm was crushing her whole body, you could feel it in your hand, the way she was tightening and tensing up, it was hot. And you moved your fingers harshly, harder just like you knew she liked it.
“I want to be with you, I don’t want to be with him”. You spoke close to her lips and she nibbled on your bottom lip, her body felt like it wasn’t hers anymore, it was yours, yours to control, to posses, she gave you the right.
“We…” Her words were silenced by her own moans, she couldn’t keep quiet like she intended to just a couple minutes ago because the feeling was overwhelming, it wasn’t just her wet cunt that was sensitive, it was her entire self, her nipples were stiff and you couldn’t see it because her bra was hugging her chest, it was uncomfortable, she wanted your soft hand around her breasts, circling her nipples, playing with that delicate skin you loved so much.
The sound of your fingers fucking her was so obscene, and soon enough you could hear how wet she was getting so you knew it was time to took them out.
Your gaze fell over your fingers, glistening with Valeria’s’ juices and you felt thirsty, you put them in your mouth and moaned as you felt her taste spread across your tongue.
The front door creaked and took you both out of the little cloud you were in. You quickly got off Valeria's lap and snuck to your room, just in time for your husband to come in and lie down next to you, thinking you were asleep or maybe not even thinking about you at all.
And you couldn't help but smirk as you imagined how happy you would be when this nightmare was over, just you, Valeria, and the empire you knew she would build.
#valeria garza#valeria cod#valeria mw2#valeria garza x reader#valeria x reader#cod x reader#valeria thirst#valeria x f! reader#valeria x you#wlw#lesbian#call of duty#cod mw2#sapphic#wlw post#cod x you#cod
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