#It's fine Michael shut up

[meat-huge-pain-endless]

i hate the emergency room so much bc WHY is the fucking SECURITY GUARD nicer and more helpful than any of the nurses here

[asterdeer]

writing my silly little jonmichael fics like “yes this fic/series is all about michael and jon finding ways to connect and see each other beyond the roles they both knew/expected from the other, i can’t wait to explore this a little deeper so they can hold hands and then sit next to each other and then cry in front of each other and—“

and then iTS MICHAEL&TIM ENEMIES-TO-FRIENDS SUBPLOT WITH A STEEL CHAIR

[william-austin]

the amount of times I've cried in a bathroom is fucking unhealthy and it needs to end

[quietwingsinthesky]

Paradox of the dentist: my cavity did not hurt before I went in but now it does because they stuck a fucking drill in there

[actual-changeling]

So, I was rewatching the kiss scene frame-by-frame, as one does, and I realized something. First I thought, well, Alex, you probably saw that wrong, let’s keep going. A minute later, however, I was confronted with the reality of no, not mistaken. 

Maybe I am late to the party and everyone has already seen it and knows about it, but in case there are people that haven’t: Aziraphale not only puts his hand on Crowley’s back, he puts his left one on his waist BEFORE that.

Not just that, he slides it up and also uses it as leverage to pull Crowley closer. I could go through those few seconds one frame at a time, but that would take forever, so I will give you the highlights in chronological order.

His hands flutter around at first and don’t settle anywhere, which is actually really useful since it shows us what the angle for that looks like.

Now, the next time his left hand moves up, look at the progression. It does not go down the same way as before. Instead, it moves inward and against Crowley’s waist. And it STAYS THERE right up until he moves both of his hands away.

Look at the angle!!!! Look at how it moves INWARD and towards Crowley instead of straight down like before.

Still moving towards Crowley with a slight downwards drift because he is aiming for his waist.

Now it is too low for us to see but I think it is very obvious where his hand has settled. Maybe I am going insane after only thinking about this show for almost a month straight. Maybe not. Call me crazy but the angle here is DIFFERENT. The second one very much looks like he is holding onto Crowley.

Aziraphale kisses back. Fully kisses back. Somehow, that wasn’t enough for Michael Sheen, no, he had to fully commit to it and *close his eyes* when he reciprocates, too. Look at this!!! The way his eyes flutter shut when Crowley first grabs him, then open, and then CLOSE AGAIN when he starts holding him in return. Kissing back with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around him. The last picture is right before he moves his hand to his waist/the frame after the camera angle changes.

Anyone else losing it right now? No? Just me? That’s fine, although I most definitely am not. Fine, that is. Michael Sheen I’m sending you my fucking therapy bills.

[seattlesellie]

Jealous. 🎀

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

cw: mean dom!ellie sub!reader, jealous kinda toxic ellie, eating it through the panties, orgasm denial, spit play (literally spits down ur panties like), exhibitionism, some dude named michael.

an: pls be gentle, i haven’t written in a long time! 💗 credit to angel gbc for the mod used in the picture above <3

something we can all agree on is the importance of aftercare — right?

Ellie is big on that obviously, as she should. Caressing her slim fingers down your body, planting wanton kisses on your shoulders, running her palms across your shaky thighs, whispering words of encouragement in your ear;

“Did so good for me, babe”

“I love you, so much”

“Need anything? hm?” She’d murmur against your skin whilst cradling your body from behind.

And she always insists on cleaning you up. She consistently renders you nothing but an achy mess, dried up juices staining your wobbly jelly thighs, combined sweat on your breasts and ribs, back of your neck. The ritual of bringing a wet towel to bed, swiping it’s fabric across your inner thighs, your face, your behind — is a sacred one for her. Not solely because she loves hearing your sweet, exhausted sighs of relief as she cleans the soil away, but also not solely because she gets to see your naked body in all of its glory again.

It’s the act of taking care of what’s hers. In a way, when she wipes your cum away, she’s taking care of herself — too.

Here, lays a solid proof that she can break things apart and put them back together again. She’s not a total fucking fuckup.

The ability of making you scream and cry, then moments later have you whisper in that saccharine voice of yours an airy “love you s’much, Els…”

It’s fucking exhilarating.

She loves it every time, she does it every time.

But today… today you pissed her off. You poked the bear, for real this time.

There’s this new Michael guy in Jackson. He’s handsome, tall, has coal black curls that somehow stay soft and shiny even in this apocalyptic hellscape. He told Ellie and you where he was from, what he did, why he came. Ellie didn’t listen to a thing he was saying. It was like he turned into a fly and started loudly buzzing in her ear. He kept looking at you weird. Smiling at you, smirking, laughing at your jokes, even the ones that weren’t all that funny. She knows you have this affect on people, that damn charm, hell — you have this affect on her.

And she’s usually just playfully jealous, manages to keep it relatively tame and simple by tightening her grip on your waist.

But you just wouldn’t stop bringing him up. “Michael” this, and “Michael” that, “Michael invited us for dinner”, “Michael said this funny thing earlier”,

For all Ellie knows Michael could die in a ditch and she wouldn’t give a fuck.

You're on your way back home from the Tipsy Bison on a chilly Thursday night. Jesse was there, Dina, Maria... and Michael. She thinks of his name and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, tart, pungent.

"Meh, I'm more of a Tequila girl, Whiskey tastes like shit" you announced with a giggle. Michael rested his hand on your thigh, and agreed with a nod and a chuckle. For you, it meant nothing.

For Ellie, it meant everything.

Her blood pressure was usually low, steady, healthy as a bull. As of now, Ellie felt like she just ran a marathon. The blood rushed to her head and her brows furrowed without intention. She cracks her neck and moves it left and right, takes a long and burning sip out of her Whiskey and shuts her eyes. She repeats a mantra in her head; "I'm not angry, I'm not angry, It's fine."

But you're so damn intuitive.

"Els? y'tired?" you murmur towards your auburnette girlfriend. She suckles on her bottom lip and considers saying no, but she lies.

"Exhausted"

You leave the humble bar hand in hand, wrapped up in her big coat that smells of mint and wood and Ellie. She prays you won't mention his name, prays you could just go home and forget about this whole thing, but you do, innocently.

"Oh, Michael said one of the horses is sick, I'm thinking of helping out in the barn tomorrow an—"

She stops you mid sentence with a scoff and a tightening grip on your hand. "Oh, mhm, Michael said that?"

Her voice mocks your own a little.

You stop and shift your gaze towards Ellie who has her lips tucked in a tight line. Internally, she's cussing herself out. You don't deserve her anger, but she can't help herself. Your answer is an unsure hum. Her grip tightens even more, and it hurts your palm but you keep on walking side by side, quietly. Five minutes manage to pass with no words being muttered by no one. That's until she shakes her head and lets go of a husky chuckle.

"Did I do something?", you mutter doe eyed. Ellie stops in her tracks and inhales. She grabs you by your waist and walks towards you, making you have to clumsily pace backwards until your back meets a cold grey brick wall with a resounding thud. "Uhg!" You hiccup, breath catching down your throat. You even sweetly giggle, thinking in your head that this could possibly be just a sweet attack of PDA.

But her eyes are dark, gone from emerald to pine, pupils pitch black as big as a button. Her warm whiskey breath meets your nose and your top lip, you gulp. Why isn't she laughing? teasing?

"El?" your voice is still candied, always. Ellies mouth is agape, scarred eyebrows scrunched and furrowed as if she's confused, or pissed, or provoked. Her forehead meets yours so automatically, you attempt to connect your lips with a kiss but she backs away meanly. Albeit her taunting position, how intimidating and truly scary she looks whilst you're caged within her frame, your'e still smiling, you're still thinking she's just teasing.

You're not used to this, she knows, but god knows she yearns to teach you a lesson.

You don't fuck with what's hers.

She licks her bottom lip before she starts speaking.

"Take off your skirt"

Her voice nearly renders you drunk, It's huskiness, gruffness, it's depth, and really, you've only had one shot. Your cheeks heat up and your ears feel as if they're nearly burning. Her lips are so damn close to yours and she still won't let you kiss her.

"Wh... we're in public, we can't—" you stutter, eyes shifting downwards towards the knee she has shoved near your barely covered crotch. When she brings it upwards just to brush delicately on your inner thigh, you let go of a small gasp.

She responds to your gasp with a barely audible "Mhm?", her eyes sharpening with intent.

"Yes we can", she tsk's, and her voice taunts. Her eyes graze over your face, and you expect her next sentence to bite like the last one did, but her voice goes softer. "For me?", she cocks her head to the side.

And it simply pushes you over the edge.

You peel your skirt off of your body, asscheeks plastered over the brick wall as her body squeezes you further back, and you're left half naked with a piece of fabric scrunched below your knees, resting on your shoes. She eyes your body up and down, meeting your pleading and still confused eyes — and for a moment, thinks of just carrying you home and taking care of business once you get there. No jealousy, none of that.

But it's still bitter down her throat, and she can still picture his disgusting hand meeting your soft thigh, her soft thigh — as your body is hers, so that thought is ever so fleeting. It's either now or now.

Her cold as ice finger traces faint circles on your lower tummy, making the fine hairs of your body rise like soldiers. You whimper quietly as her finger snaps the elastic band of your panties and lets it smack down your pelvis. You rub your thighs together, but you're ever so pliant as she makes your legs spread wide with a boot covered foot opening up your calves like a gate.

She whispers in your ear. "Are you wet?", it makes you shiver.

"M'cold" you whine.

She scoffs.

She kneads your bra cup with her palm, squeezing an erect nipple with her thumb and middle finger. "Didn't ask that"

Her eyes meet your gaze and again she reconsiders this whole thing — because you truly look so needy, and your lips are so pouty and sweet and red with cold, you look as if you'd die if she didn't kiss you right now so how can she even be worried, let alone be jealous?

She knows how much you love her, how much you yearn for nobody but her, how her touch leaves you speechless time and time again.

But it's like something takes over, a dark figure, a figure that's thirsty and starving and wants to prove a thing it already knows.

It's an internal struggle, she doesn't want to be possessive,

She can't help it.

Your panties are striped with pink and white, and she looks at them as if they're the most expensive lace in the whole entire world. Her breathing gets heavier as she curls her fingers inside the cotton fabric, pupils darkening when she notices a sweet clear string of your arousal clinging from the entrance of your cunt to the bottom of your underwear.

She chuckles, followed by a sigh of relief that you notice. You are wet, right in the middle of the street where an innocent soul could catch you at any given moment. "Didn't answer cause you're shy?" She knows you so well. You bite your lip and nod, butterflies fighting in the pits of your stomach. A chaste kiss on the lips is all you get from her, and you deeply whine into the air. "At least kiss me!" you beg, — god, you're so cute when you're pissed.

Before landing on her knees, Ellie looks from side to side in order to check that there's truly nobody around, and no — not because she's scared to get caught, but because she'd die before she let someone see her girlfriend half naked with her skirt down her thighs.

Ellie is face to face with your quivering, pantie covered cunt. A wet patch greets her — a fuckin' pleasure, one she can't help but swipe her tongue across. Your choked up, terrified sound of a moan is a symphony to her hears, fuck Mozart. Her eager muscle of a tongue is so warm against your pussy you nearly forget it started snowing yesterday.

You buck your hips inwards, she groans. "No moving", she warns — simply to assert a dominance that has already been asserted. She kisses your little clit, coo's at the way it slightly pokes out of the fabric, erect and pumping on her tongue. "Ellie... Ellie... Ellie", you babble like a prayer, which she nods to. "S'my name, that's fuckin' right", she groans as her husky voice is muffled by your soaked panties.

"Ellie..." you repeat, thighs beginning to ache as you try and spread them further apart, almost sitting on her face.

Ellie, not Michael.

She smiles, greedy, triumphant.

She flicks her tongue on your clit, once, twice, three times before biting on your meaty pussy lips. You bite your knuckles in order to keep your voice down, but she glares up at you. "Do that again n'I swear to god I'm stopping" she growls.

You're not used to this side of her at all, but her voice makes your hole leak a small stream from deep inside. She feels it's wetness on her tongue, eyes closing in ecstasy as she audibly suckles your sweet, tangy, heavenly juices from the now sheer fabric. Her own spit runs down her chin, she doesn't even bother to wipe it off. All you can hear are your breathy, whiney moans, tiny begs of "take 'em off, please", regarding your panties, and Ellie's throaty groans. You're so wet from your own juices and her saliva it nearly gets uncomfortable, but then again you're so goddamn close to cumming.

You try taking matters to your own hands, attempting to peel off your panties from your waist with a shaky hand but she snarls and slaps your wrist away.

"Nuh uh, pussy's fuckin' mine, don't touch it"

With relentless sucking on your drenched clit, and soiled panties, she opens her eyes to merely glare at you again with a warning look. "When you're close, you let me know" she bites.

You don't respond.

A stinging slap meets your pussy, which makes your thighs shake, whole body jolt, and throat ache with a high pitched yelp.

"You're not listening" Ellie warns.

"You listen when I talk" she warns again. Her tongue meets your clit and it pushes it further and further up. You shake, eyesight gone blurry, you're close, you know it by the way the coil down your stomach threatens to snap, and by the way it tickles down there so damn bad.

"M'close" you brokenly wail.

She grunts deeply and stops completely. your heart nearly breaks, no no no no no. "Ellie, Ellie, Els, no!" You try and buck your hips forward but she holds you in place with an iron like grip. You buck them again and she peels off the fabric of your underwear, slightly rising up as she stares inside at the mess she made of you. There's a devilish smirk that creeps up from her lips, apple of one cheek rising. You let out a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps she'll actually fucking eat you out properly instead of letting you suffer inside a warm, wet material of a mess that truly doesn't look like something wearable anymore. Instead, she audibly spits inside with a "Ptu'", letting the band snap shut. Her saliva mixes with your warm sleek. You're so confused she nearly feels bad, but she's such a cunt that she really doesn't.

"Were going back inside," she murmurs so casually as if she didn't just fuck you up in the middle of the street, as if her chin isn't shiny with your precum. "N'if Michael puts his hand on you again, I'm eating it in front of him"

[hydrobunny]

i can't say anything to your face (cause look at your face)

tags: established relationship, fluff

a/n: wrote this within a day in a burst of inspiration somehow,,, enjoy fellow kaiser lovers

------------

"are you trying to make me look stupid?" michael kaiser asks, barely an inch away from your hands.

automatically, before you can really think about it, you snap back. "that's not hard."

with an expression of dramatic hurt, he leans away from you. "excuse me?"

the eyeliner in your hand wobbles. only one of kaiser's eyes sports his signature red swoop.

he does kind of look stupid.

you bite back a smile.

unfortunately, kaiser is much more observant than he seems. his mismatched eyes narrow.

his hand snaps out to latch around your wrist, stopping you from bringing the eyeliner any closer.

"i don't trust you with this," your boyfriend snarks. "i have to go out with it on my face."

you weakly try to pull your hand out of his grasp. "you asked me to."

his eyes linger on yours. "that was when i thought you actually had hand-eye coordination."

you gasp with mock offense. "my coordination is perfectly fine, thank you. you haven't even seen what it looks like!"

he lets go of your hand, leaning back onto the wall. "i can already tell you're unsteady."

you glare at him. "it's a little hard to be steady when you're refusing to stay still."

he looks extremely unimpressed. it's a lot dumber with the mismatched liner.

an idea sparks in your head. before you can convince yourself otherwise, you .

"what-"

"stay still," you warn again, and shift yourself onto his lap.

kaiser stiffens like a rock. it's a little flattering.

"there you go," you whisper, smiling.

his eyes are dead-focused onto your own as you bring the pen closer. "careful," he mutters, voice low.

his hands lock themselves around your waist.

and in a single motion, you swoop the flash of red under his eye.

he blinks. you admire your handiwork.

"see?" you laugh. "only needed you to cooperate!"

you move to get up- his grip doesn't loosen.

kaiser tilts his head. from your proximity, you can trace every stroke of ink marked into his skin.

"you have places to be," you remind. "things to do."

he hums. "i'm fine where i am."

"you're really annoying, you know that?"

he flashes you a lazy smile. "i've heard worse. and better."

you roll your eyes. "whatever you say. can you let me go now?"

he shrugs. "you came here."

you shift your weight, still annoyingly trapped on his lap. the eyeliner pen falls to the floor, its purpose done.

"i think you need to stop arguing with me," you sigh. "it's annoying. just sit still and look pretty."

"i don't-"

you shut him up the only way you know how: pressing your lips onto his.

you can feel him grinning into the kiss- because it was obvious what he was going for from the start- and it only motivates you to press further.

"you're so gonna be late," you grumble.

he only laughs into your mouth. "worth it."

in the next movement, you rip yourself away off of him. he blinks up at you. the remnants of your lip gloss have left a shine on his lips.

"and your eyeliner's uneven."

there's a pause. you turn on your heel.

"wait, what?"

[leeloooonfire]

first kiss

There are many rumours about Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Steve only gets his weed from the freak because he gives good discount and sloppy heads. (That rumour is on the jocks of Hawkins High. yes, Steve gets his weed from Eddie, no he doesn't get sloppy heads from Eddie though he thinks the metal head would probably be good at it.)

They've once raced against each other and Eddie won. Beamer against shabby, rusty Van. It's said that Eddie pushed Steve off the road and then left him in a ditch. (The truth is that Steve crashed the beamer one night in '85 after weeks of nightmares and the need to drive through Hawkins to make sure that no demodog would attack his kids. Eddie merely helped him and the beamer out of the ditch.)

They've been friends looooong before the Upside Down. (This is from the kids, specifically from Dustin. And it is anything but true.)

Steve and Eddie made out once in 1981. With their hands down their pants, tongue far up in each others mouths. (This is from a cheerleader who graduated in '82).

This is...well...true. To a point! No hands in pants, but yeah, Steve and Eddie onces kissed. To be specific, it was Steve's first kiss, for both of them really.

Winter '81 at Michael Carvers birthday party where Steve was invited as the youngest basketball player in the team and Eddie was there to sell weed.

Somehow, Steve got pulled into a round of 7 minutes in Heaven by said cheerleader (which had been a trick, a little prank on little Stevie because there had been no 7 minutes in heaven, just some giggling cheerleaders and a perplexed Eddie Munson selling weed out off Carvers pantry).

The moment Steve was shoved into the tiny, dark space with no one but the freak, he had 2 options: run and be the joke of the school or stay and become an enigma in his first year of Highschool.

So, Steve stayed.

'Pre-rolled or a baggy?' Eddie, sitting on a chair, had asked with a drawl which would have been intimidating if his voice hadn't broken right then.

'7 minutes in hell' Steve simply said, ignoring both the lunchbox on Eddie's knees and the funny crack of his voice.

the other boy leaned back, head tilted like a confused puppy, 'Isn't it 7 minutes in Heaven?'

Steve shrugged his shoulders, 'probably depends on who's with you, you know?'

And that made Eddie laugh, head bend, eyes squeezed shut, a nice, rumbling sort of sound escaping his lips.

'Good point', he'd said and closed the lunchbox before leaning closer, 'What'cha intend to do about it?'

Until this very moment, Steve didn't know, hadn't had a clue, but when the laughter of the cheerleaders from the other side of the door reached his ears, he shrugged again and said, 'probably kiss you until the 7 minutes are over and then buy a pre-rolled.'

'You don't mind that they might called you a fag?'

For a moment, Steve thought about it, but then shrugged again. He wasn't one, liked girls just fine and if anything, he thinks Lucy from geography definitely would like to hold his hands.

'Nah, I don't mind.'

And before the other boy could say anything, Steve marched closer and bend down, one hand on Eddie's knee, the other on his smooth cheek.

'But I'm not gonna kiss you if you don't want it,' he said right against Eddie's lips. Eddie, who looked startled and wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Steve knew that he sounded far more confident than he actually felt, and he was just so very grateful that his hands weren't as sweaty with nervousness as the lower part of his back. He just hoped that he smelled nice.

'5 more minutes,' someone called out and Eddie jerked against Steve’s hands.

'OK,' he said quietly, sounding so small and Steve felt for him, so he said, honest and with a bit vulnerability, 'it's my first kiss.'

Before Eddie could say anything, however, Steve kissed him. Just a light pressure of lips against lips. He stopped, leaned back to look at Eddie only to find him with his eyes closed, so Steve leaned in again. One peck, two, a third, and then Eddie's hand closed around Steve's waist to move him closer, right between his parted legs. Another hand reached for Steve's head, slightly cold fingers curled into his hair and Eddie's thumb began to brush almost gently over Steve's ear. It felt electrifying. He hummed. This time, when their lips met, they opened and Steve carefully let his tongue run along Eddie's lower lip. He's met with a heavy exhale and something like a quiet whine. It's sounded like heaven, so he did it again only to feel Eddie's tongue against his. Wet, Steve thought at first, a bit slimey, but then Eddie grabbed his head harder and opened his mouth wider and with it, Eddie's tongue brushed against his, and it felt like nothing Steve's ever felt before. Warm and fuzzy and lovely, and Eddie tasted like mint gums and spit. He groaned. Steve reached for Eddie's hair, short and curly and so soft against his hand and somehow he's not standing anymore but sitting on Eddie's lap, their chests touching. When Steve's teeth accidently dug into Eddie's wonderfully plush bottom lip, he moaned into Steve's mouth. It was as if the sound echoed through Steve's bones. So he did it again. And again, nails digging into Eddie's neck to keep him close. The hand on Steve's waist trailed along his waistband and then under Steve's shirt to tickle his stomach and before thinking too much, he pressed into it.

Eddie tilted his head and brushed his tongue against Steve's and then against his teeth and lips and before he knew what was happening, Eddie's beautiful, unskilled mouth, left his lips and trailed along his jaw to his ear, gently biting into the flesh behind it. And Steve outright moaned loud enough for the sound to travel outside of the pantry.

'30 more seconds' came a snickering answer and the two boys jumped apart. Eddie's cheeks and neck were flushed bright red, his lips shiny with spit, his hair a mess and Steve knew he probably looked just the same. They both panted, Steve's heart running a mile a minute.

'Oh,' he said, still feeling Eddie's touch against his skin (and wanting more.)

He wanted more!

Both of them tried to put their clothes and hair in order, breathing heavily and just as Steve put his hand on the doorknob to leave the tiny room, Eddie said, 'You were my first kiss, too.'

5 years later, after battles and almost dying, Steve lies on Eddie's new (thankfully clean) mattress and says with a small smile, 'best first kiss ever,' only for Eddie to smirk and say, 'We could repeat it, you know?'

They've been best friends for the last few months, similar but so much different from how Steve and Robin are best friends, but when Steve looks at Eddie and his pink lips and the way his cheeks are hot and his eyes twinkle with something more, he knows that they could be so much more...

[aemsgirl]

"The genius, Michael Gavey."

Michael Gavey x Reader.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, foul language, loss of virginity, cum control.

English is not my first language, so I hope you will forgive me if there are any mistakes.

Michael’s good at a lot of things, and he knows it. Brilliant, really. Genius, if we're being honest. Maths? Please—he’s never even touched a calculator. Numbers are his domain, his sanctuary, the one place where he feels entirely at ease. Books too—though never fantasy; he’d rather lose himself in something real, something concrete. But everything else? Social skills? A complete disaster, really. Painful to watch.

It’s not as if anyone’s queuing up to see what’s behind those smudged glasses or that same red sweater he pulls on every Monday. And that's fine. Honestly, it is. He's made peace with it. It’s their loss, isn’t it? That's the mantra he clings to, the thread keeping his fragile ego intact: They're the ones missing out. And God, doesn’t he need to believe it.

When you arrived in Oxford, it hit him hard. Why? Because even when he was buried in the silence of the library, there you were, watching him. Always watching. Maybe intending to read a book—upside down, no less—or lounging with your legs thrown over a table, headphones blaring as if you couldn't care less about the world around you.

Michael Gavey isn't used to being seen. For fuck’s sake, he’s Michael Gavey. Nobody. Invisible, as he’s always preferred. But then you came along, and suddenly, invisibility wasn't an option. You became something else entirely: a problem, a distraction, a bloody nuisance he couldn’t seem to get rid of. And maybe, deep down, that’s what scared him most.

So, naturally, his response was to start staring back. Maybe if he leaned into being a proper weirdo, you’d back off. But no, of course not. You didn't flinch. You just stared right back, unwavering, unbothered. It didn't take long for one of the teachers to step in, warning him, of all people, to knock it off. And you? You just smiled. Smiled like you'd won some secret, twisted game, baring all your teeth like a predator who'd just cornered its prey.

When he squinted at you, furrowing his eyebrows in some attempt to decode whatever the hell was going on, you simply glanced at the table, still grinning like you had a secret you were dying to keep.

What was your problem? Were you planning something? Was there a game being played here, something sinister he couldn’t quite see? The questions clawed at him, gnawed at his focus, and yet, no answers came. Only that smile. God, he hated it.

Things weren't improving, no, they were deteriorating rather quickly. And it all took a turn for the bizarre when, in the dead of night, he awoke still half hard, with his shorts drenched in cum and his mind? Cluttered with vivid memories of a particular dream from the previous night. Never had he scrubbed a piece of clothing with such fury in his life; this treacherous body was doing him in. And the most egregious part? His cock was a bloody jest, because even after such mortification, he had to wank off once more just to make the torment subside.

That day, the Oxford corridors felt like they were smoldering beneath him, each step fueling the inferno inside his chest. His sneakers might as well have been on fire for how much he burned with rage. And then he saw you, loitering by your locker, looking infuriatingly calm as always. It was like you wanted to drive him insane.

He stormed over, slamming your locker shut with a single hand, his nostrils flaring like he was ready to tear you apart—not literally, of course. Well, maybe a little. He was unraveled, utterly tormented, and you? You were only making it worse.

“Stop.” The word came out flat, almost pitiful, his voice cracking under the weight of his irritation. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, were clouded and bloodshot, as if they’d been scorched by his fury.

“With what?” you asked, tilting an eyebrow, that insufferable smirk tugging at your lips. Carefree. Effortless. It made his teeth grind in pure frustration. He didn’t even understand why he felt so unhinged—just that he did.

“What the hell do you want?” he barked, his voice echoing down the corridor. Heads turned, a few people pausing to glance at the scene, but you didn't so much as flinch. No fear, no embarrassment. You just leaned lazily against your locker, staring at him down like you had all the time in the world.

“Your number, to start with, would be great.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His pupils dilated so fast it felt like the world had tilted. If darkness swallowed everything right then and there, he was convinced he’d still see you.

And that’s when everything shifted. You weren’t messing with him—not in the way he’d thought. No, you were interested in him. The realisation hit Michael like a slap, and even then, his perpetually self-loathing brain struggled to piece it all together. For once, his stupid mind was just that: stupid.

But then the messages started, tentative at first, and something clicked. You actually got on—really got on. It was strange, almost unnerving, how much you seemed to have in common. You liked some of the same nerdy things as him, and he found himself listening to bands he’d previously written off because you mentioned them. Slowly, the conversations moved out of his phone and into the library, where you started sitting at the same table.

People noticed, of course. Curious glances trailed after the two of you, some even daring to linger when Michael—Michael Gavey, of all people—was caught smiling. Not a smirk or a grimace, but an actual smile, albeit half-hidden behind his hand. But it was there, and for once, he didn’t mind. Not entirely.

And then, on a Friday night when everything seemed eerily serene, the text message arrived. 'Do you want to come to my dorm?' Panic ensued. Perhaps it's a tad presumptuous to assume you want to fuck him, isn't it? Yet, he was presuming precisely that. But the truth is, Michael has only kissed one girl in his entire life; otherwise, his knowledge comes from pornography, books about the human anatomy, and the hushed conversations in the men's locker room. And it's not that he didn't want to; in fact, he wanted to, desperately so, but the truth was that no one seemed sufficiently captivated to offer him the chance. But you, you were offering. Maybe. What does one do with that?

He took a shower, donned his usual jeans and a white shirt, slipped on his sneakers, and even spent time before the mirror wrestling with his blond hair, to little avail, of course. He decided he wouldn't be a coward; he had this chance, maybe, and he wouldn't squander it with timidity. He made his way to the girls' dorm on campus, garnering more than a few disdainful looks from the passing girls. It was just because it was him; if it were Felix sneaking in, they'd be all smiles. But who cares? There was only one person he hoped would truly appreciate his presence. He reached your door, his breath caught in his throat, and knocked so feebly that perhaps he thought you wouldn't even hear. Pathetic, honestly.

But you heard him, and when you opened the door, he froze for a moment. You'd just taken a shower; your skin was still slightly flushed from the hot water, wearing an oversized shirt, once black but now faded to grey, and some pajama shorts that honestly looked more like his underwear than actual shorts. He swallowed hard, managing a crooked smile. You leaned against the doorframe, your smile much more genuine.

"You came." The words slipped from your lips with such ease, rolling off your tongue with a genuine satisfaction that straightened his crooked smile.

"Yeah, well. It's not like I have anything better to do, of course." His reply lacked the sharpness he'd rehearsed in his mind, accompanied by a glance at the floor and a stupid, silly smile.

"Yeah, of course." You laughed, rolling your eyes, and turned your body to give him space to enter, if he wanted to, though he looked as if he might bolt at any second.

But he didn't run away; no, he actually stepped inside. The room was like most others, yet he was struck by how orderly it was. Like any typical dorm, there was the TV, the two single beds, a small table, and in the corner of an adjacent smaller room, the bathroom. The scent of cleaning products lingered, indicating you'd taken the time to tidy up before inviting him over. This shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did, but it did.

"Just take off your sneakers before you lay on the bed," you said with that nonchalant tone of yours, picking up the TV remote from the table.

He glanced at the paused movie on the screen before turning his attention to the bed. His mind wasn't exactly racing as he sat down, beginning to untie his sneakers, but his focus soon shifted to the side of your face. He was transfixed by how your hair framed your features, how your lips were so perfectly shaped, and how your eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He had to run a hand over his face, nearly knocking off his glasses, to bring himself back to reality, blinking several times to refocus on removing his sneakers.

"I chose 'Evil Dead,' but they didn't have the classics." Your voice drew his gaze upward again. You casually made your way to the bed beside him, practically throwing yourself down, causing the mattress to bounce. "Is that a problem for you?" you asked, turning to look at him, your eyes locking with his.

His throat visibly tightened as he swallowed, while you didn't even blink. For a moment, he found it a rather amusing jest. What could a girl like you, with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, with lips that curved into the brightest smile he could imagine, possibly want with him? He was either the luckiest bastard in the world or the biggest delusional of the year. But that was fine, at least for now.

"No, it's not a problem at all," Michael mumbled, unsure if he was referring to the movie choice or something else entirely. But it would suffice either way.

He saw you smile widely, and you felt you should, noticing his blue eyes dilate behind his glasses. Looking down where you had crossed your legs beneath you, you tried to focus and simply pressed play on the movie. The low noise from the TV soon filled the room, the colors of the film painting your faces and reflecting in Michael's glasses. The silence was comfortable, as always. The sounds of calm breathing filled the space, but well, his eyes weren't really on the TV; they were on you. To the point where he had to rest his hand on his face, just to appreciate it, perhaps.

"You know, watching a movie works better when you're looking at the screen," you commented, your eyes still fixed on the screen, though you felt the heat from his gaze on your cheek.

"I prefer to watch you." His words were barely above a whisper, but they reached you, making your smile widen even more.

Your eyes flicked to him, while his remained steady, though he felt his palms sweating against his cheek. He was nervous, and his attempt at an impassive expression wasn't fooling you. The words that left his lips were just truths, and seeing you smile, it was good to see you smile, it brought a subtle curve to his own lips. Sighing, you drew your knees up to your chest, resting your chin there, unsure of what to make of his words or of him. Just as he was unsure of what to make of you or how much you unsettled him.

"I hate almost everyone here except you." Your words mirrored his in tone, quiet, perhaps too intimate to slip out.

They made him pause, just looking at you, wondering. Time seemed to stand still, the screams from the movie not reaching your ears; things were quiet, almost silent. And that's when his hand rose, wrapping around the back of your neck, perhaps with the most courage he'd ever mustered in his life. Your lips parted slightly when you noticed him shifting on the bed to get closer, and you responded in kind, leaning towards him, your hand hesitating before also reaching up to the back of his neck, slipping between the golden strands to hold him firmly. Bringing your faces close, your breaths began to mingle, and soon all that was reflected in his glasses were your lips, all his attention focused solely on them.

"You're trouble, and you want to know why?" Michael whispered, your gaze falling to his lips as they formed the words. They were thrown at your face, raw and direct. "Because it seems like after I met you, there's been something wrong with my brain." He lifted his thumb to trace your bottom lip, as if to commit it to memory.

"Yeah?" Your response lacked strength, not truly. "That's good, because it seems like after you I'll never be the same." Whispering another confession, now it seemed more than fitting, even with your breathing too rapid to say much more, or what you truly wanted to.

A faint smile touched Michael's lips, perhaps an attempt at composure before he leaned in closer. Tilting your heads in opposite directions, your noses brushed against each other, the taste of each other's breath mingling on your lips, shared. His lips were the first to part, capturing your lower one slowly, almost tentatively, until yours responded, capturing his upper lip. The kiss started slowly, your lips moving together with an unhurried grace, despite your quickening breaths at the contact. His free hand found your waist, attempting to pull you closer, while your hand tangled in his hair, gripping it almost in a fist.

But it wasn't enough, far from it. Leaning forward, Michael guided you both down onto the bed, supporting himself with each hand on either side of your head, positioning his body between your legs, which parted to welcome him. One of his hands slid down to your thigh, lifting it and pressing it against his side, your hips naturally seeking each other, and his already hardened cock brushed against your increasingly aroused intimacy. Sounds escaped between kisses, your hands sliding to grip his back, when Michael pressed your bodies together again, rolling his hips and drawing out a sly moan from his own lips, making it difficult to continue kissing you.

Your hands reached for the hem of his shirt, attempting to pull it up, but his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head, fingers intertwining there, as he pulled back just enough to look you squarely in the eye. His heavy breathing made his chest rise and fall, sweat causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

"I..." the words seemed reluctant to escape as he gazed down at you, your lips flushed and your chest heaving. He didn't want to dissuade you, but he had to say it. "I've never done that."

Your only response was to lift your head from the bed, seeking his lips and succeeding in a gentle capture, with him lowering himself to return the kiss. Though not deep, your teeth nipped at his lower lip, tugging gently, perhaps trying to draw him closer. Your fingers pressed against his above your head, yearning to be free, you just wanted to touch him, feel him, it didn't matter if he was inexperienced, if you had to guide him step by step, or if this was all you would have, feeling him like this above you.

"Just touch me, I don't care," you murmured against his lip, without the strength for more words, which in response prompted him to roll his hips against yours again, closing his eyes with a moan, just as your head tilted back, lifting your hips to meet his movement.

His hands released yours, and you quickly grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and off him, and he reciprocated, lifting yours inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. Without a bra, your breasts were bared to him, making him pause. His lips went dry as he took in the sight of your hardened nipples, ready for attention, despite his momentary hesitation. You saw it in his eyes, in how they flickered to meet yours, and your hand reached to caress his cheek before grabbing the back of his neck, gently guiding him toward your chest, arching off the bed to ensure he understood your consent.

And he understood more than clearly, leaning down to kiss the space between your breasts before moving to one, enveloping it with his mouth entirely, using his hand to squeeze it firmly. The sensation of your skin against his mouth elicited a low sound from him that vibrated through your body, prompting you to grind your hips against his already hard cock. His tongue followed, swirling around your nipple, sucking as if his life depended on it. His mouth salivated, saliva running down your chest, glistening your skin with his essence. His free hand went to your other breast, squeezing it tightly, his lips trailing kisses to the other side, his tongue sliding along until it reached your other nipple, circling it with fervent enthusiasm.

"Fuck," you murmured, your intimacy throbbing, squeezing as you leaned on the bed to create friction against his erection, making him to bite the nipple in his mouth to stifle a loud moan.

His lips left your chest, observing the glistening, swollen flesh from his attentions. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, going straight to his core. He looked down to where his hardness met your shorts, stopping himself from climaxing right there, taking deep breaths.

"Tell me..." his words trailed off, his lips struggling to draw in breaths. "Tell me how to be good for you." His whisper was broken, he was too far gone to really care about it.

You smiled, even in the throes of your overwhelming need for him. One of your hands took one of his, slowly guiding it to your core, and he watched intently as you slipped it inside your shorts and soaked panties, biting his lip as his expression contorted with pleasure. Slowly, you positioned his fingers perfectly over your clit, starting to move them in circles, making your breathing quicken further. Fortunately, Michael was a quick learner, or perhaps just desperate enough. Your fingers left his as he took over, moving them faster, circling over your soaked clit. You tried to reach for his hardness in his pants, but with his free hand, he caught yours and pinned it to the bed.

"Don't." The words came out swiftly, a desperate command because he knew well that if you touched him, he would cum right then and there.

You accepted it, not attempting to touch him again. Feeling his fingers slide over and over your most sensitive spot, the sounds began to fill the room, the wetness so intense it seeped through your pajama shorts, and he could hardly believe his incredible luck. His eyes moved to your face, noticing your parted lips, your cheeks flushed red, and your breasts, still glistening from his saliva, seeming to beckon him. One of your hands gripped his wrist, and he could see from your expression how close you were. The hand that had been holding yours to the bed released it, moving to the back of your neck, lifting your head to make you look down.

"Watch," he murmured, sliding his thumb perfectly over your clit, and you felt like stars were bursting behind your eyes even as you complied and stared.

You saw his hand moving inside your shorts, the veins in his forearm pulsing with the effort, the muscles there flexing. His hand held you tightly, almost encompassing your neck. And when his fingers started moving side to side, you knew you were finished. Your lips parted completely, a groan trapped in your throat escaped, you tried to throw your head back but his grip prevented it, and then, your walls clenched, he could feel the pulsing around his fingers, your belly flexing as you reached your climax, clamping your legs around his forearm.

Your body goes limp on the bed, your thighs still trembling as his hands slide from your neck down to your thighs, smearing his taste there. He grips the hem of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties. When his eyes meet your pulsing, glistening pussy, a sigh escapes him, eyes closing momentarily to regain control. You hear the sound of his pants being unzipped, him kicking them off along with his underwear. Your eyes open just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, bringing the head to your sensitive clit, eliciting a tight, desperate moan from you.

"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, dragging the precum-slick tip of his cock across your clit, making your walls clench as he watches. His free hand runs down the inside of your thighs, ensuring they're coated in your own wetness.

He squeezes his eyes shut in pure ecstasy, rubbing his cock from your clit to your entrance, gripping the base tightly to stave off his climax. Your thighs tremble, your hands gripping the sheets, but nothing seems to alleviate the intensity, there's no escape. You're consumed, completely. Your hips start to move desperately for contact, even as your body protests, your fingers threatening to tear the sheets apart. He rubs once more, the almost sinful sounds echoing off the walls, mingling with his low moans and the contractions of his stomach. You can tell he's doing everything in his power not to cum.

"Can I?" He opens his eyes to whisper, looking directly into yours, and with no strength left to speak, you simply nod.

He sighs deeply before positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside, feeling your walls resist yet yield as he presses in until fully seated, your groins meeting. A drawn-out moan escapes your lips as his head falls back, a soft groan leaving his throat followed by a sequence of breaths that made his entire body tremble. Michael pauses, trying and failing to calm his racing heart and the overwhelming sensation of your hot, tight insides. Leaning forward, he rests one hand on the bed while the other removes his glasses, setting them aside. Your hands rise to the back of his neck, bringing his forehead to yours, holding it there as he makes the first thrust. Both of your lips part, your moans and breaths mingling.

His thrusts were deep, yet slow. He would withdraw almost completely before sliding back in, each time making your eyes squeeze shut tighter and your head press against his. The sweat on your foreheads seemed to meld you together, turning you into one entity. His eyes opened, burning into your face, and you met his gaze, your eyes filling with tears of pure pleasure as he thrust even deeper.

"I like you," he murmurs, cupping your cheek as his other hand grips the headboard, making the wood creak. A smile graces your lips, almost cut off by his cock sliding in deeper.

"I like you too," you manage to reply between ragged breaths, your fingers tightening around the back of his neck as if it's your lifeline.

He brings his lips to your forehead, giving you a long, lingering kiss, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he brings his hand to your mouth, and with that signal, he starts thrusting with all he has, making you scream into his hand, which hopefully muffles the sound. He rests his own mouth there to also muffle his moans, feeling sweat run down every part of his body, mixing with yours. The bed bangs against the wall, your eyes roll back when he hits that sweet spot inside you, your hands lifting to dig your nails into his back. As your walls clench around him, he feels your climax spill out, soaking the sheets and his lower abdomen. With a louder moan, he quickly pulls out, his cock spilling his cum over your belly.

He releases your mouth and the headboard, letting his full weight rest on you, his head finding solace in the crook of your neck. Your arms encircle his neck, keeping him close as your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of pleasure. Both of you are exhausted, both satisfied. Michael's thoughts drift back to the early weeks of knowing you, how he wished you would vanish, and now, how he dreads the thought of you leaving, like everyone else. The irony might have drawn a bitter laugh from him if he weren't so physically spent.

"I wasn't bluffing," you hear him murmur into your neck, capturing your attention amidst the sensations still coursing through your body. You slowly turn your head towards him.

"What?" you whisper, perhaps fearful that even a slight increase in volume might make this moment slip away, just as much as he is. His eyes, those blues that most people overlook, capture your senses.

"I really like you." Hearing those words again, this time not in the heat of the moment, did something different to you stomach, perhaps quickened your heart more than the entire act itself, burned your skin more than anything else.

Drawing him closer with your hand, you adjust his position so he lies on your chest, where he places a gentle kiss. Your fingers delve into his hair, and you cast a brief glance to the side where his glasses still rest. A smile graces your lips because the truth is, you are utterly and hopelessly in love with the genius Michael Gavey. The irony is that he doesn't seem genius enough to realize it.

[meat-huge-pain-endless]

you guys ever think about the indigo girls or is that just me. because for the record they were right about everything

[mitsouya]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

including michael kaiser, rin itoshi, and reo mikage with fem!reader

he sits beside you on the couch, engrossed in the random shows on tv. you, on the other hand, are busy reserving a table for your date at the new restaurant downtown. the sheer delight in your voice makes him glad he succeeded in emptying his tightly packed schedule for you.

[saturday night at 7 is available. would that be okay?]

a bright smile adorns your face upon hearing the employee's query. securing a table feels fortunate; it's not always easy on weekends, after all.

"alright, let me ask my husband first," you say to the phone and raising your eyebrows in silent expectation, demanding for his response.

⌗MICHAEL — the second that word comes off your lips, best believe michael is already grinning like an idiot.

him, your husband? seriously?

he never thinks too deeply about marriage—though he does want to tie the knot with you when the time's right—but he loves how endearing it sounds when you call him that. there's a mischievous glint in his sapphire eyes before he moves closer to your body.

"her husband says yes."

being the menace he is, he announces directly to the speaker, loud and clear, earning soft giggles from you.

"do you hear me? her husband—"

you cut him off and quickly apologize to the poor employee, all while suppressing the laugh that threatened to spill out of your mouth. he will tease you about this for the rest of the evening, and you will spend hours caged between his tattooed arms, listening to him yapping about his dream wedding. not that you complained.

⌗RIN — convinces himself he maintained his facade well, but the subtle dusting of red on his cheeks betrays him. he's unable to focus on the tv screen because did you really refer to him like that without warning?

realizing you're still waiting for his answer, rin fakes a cough to even his tone and mutters, "fine," loud enough for the employee on the other side to hear.

immediately shoots you a questioning glare after you hang up. he tries to act unaffected (which he fails miserably) and asks, "what was that?"

"what was what?" you playfully hum.

"you did that on purpose."

"i don't know what you're talking about, baby."

the slight pout on his lips amuses you more than you want to admit. he hides his burning face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something you can't pinpoint.

when you chuckle at his sudden clinginess, he looks up to you with those big, sparkling round eyes that remind you of his younger self. he's going to wife you up someday.

⌗REO — you know damn well reo's sickeningly in love with you, and somehow you think it's okay to casually address him as ‘my husband’? are you trying to make him explode?

the tv show is long forgotten and he's all over you in an instant, giving you a bone-crushing hug along with a sweet, dopey smile that you adore so much. you can whine and say it's just a prank, but it's too late to take it back. he already envisions the whole wedding thing.

"whatever my wifey wants," he speaks to the phone, all giddy and lovestruck. "rent the entire restaurant if you want, wifey. or buy it. or don't. actually, i'll just build you one."

before his rambling causes the employee even more confusion, you shut him up with a kiss and proceed to finish the reservation.

[demonictacobeard]

Adam, coming out of his room for the first time:……Alright what the fuck do you guys even do here? Therapy, or some shit

Lucifer who had been waiting for him by the door: Charlie has activities usually, and is more then willing to talk to residents about their feelings and how they ended up in hell so that’s like therapy. I’m surprised you know about that, has heaven finally implemented it?

Adam, grumbling: No Heaven doesn’t fucking have therapy, but for the last ten years the newer winners have been asking why and the older angels had to find out what the fuck it is

Lucifer, humming: I do have to wonder how all the therapists up there don’t fall from utter frustration

Charlie, watching them come down the stairs excitedly: Hi Dad! Hi Adam! I’m so excited you came down. How are you feeling today, do you think you might be up for an activity? Or ooh, I never got to show you around the whole hotel just to your room. Whatever you feel like! Adam, stepping back: I knew she was excited during the meeting but Is she always this fucking cheery? It’s like Emily has a long lost twin from Hell

Angel Dust, from the bar: It’s the new resident joy, you’ll get used to it lambchop!

Husk, snorting: You act like you don’t adore that girl

Angel, pointing at him with three pointer fingers: You, shut up

Lucifer, beaming with pride: She’s very passionate about her work, always has been

Adam, groaning as Charlie looks at him with glimmering eyes: Dear fucking god, shit alright, fine I’ll take the tour

Vaggie, walking up to them with her spear: Good, because todays activity is Alastor’s idea and I don’t trust him not to ‘accidentally’ scar you emotionally instead

Charlie, gasping: Vaggie! Come on, Alastor wouldn’t do that

Lucifer and Vaggie, deadpan: Yes he would

Adam, crossing his arms: I don’t know the fucker, I just beat his ass, but yes the shit he would. Do you see that smile he has going on all the time? I haven’t seen one so fake since Michael’s

Lucifer, gaging: Hech Mike

Adam, nodding: Fucking Mike

Vaggie, vaguely remembering the angel: Do you mean….the Mike who was your bosses boss, the one who came around and inspected the exterminator’s once every ten years. That Mike?

Adam: That’s the bitch, Vag

Vaggie, her cheek twitching in anger: The ARCHANGEL MICHAEL?

Adam: Adding his title doesn’t unmake him a bitch

Lucifer, laughing: Nothing can

Charlie, smacking her head: Awful uncle Mike! Dad told me about him, don’t worry Adam Alastor is nothing like him. The smile is just….a tool for him? It’s harmless

Adam, rolling his eyes: The bartender just looked at you like you lied to gods face and then fucking spat on it, but whatever. I’ll do the activities and shit, later, but only ones you’re in charge of- why does your face look like that?

Charlie singing to Vaggie, after grabbing a confused Adam’s elbow and happily dragging him on the tour: He trusts meeeee!

Adam, flushing: ONLY MORE THEN THAT FUCKING DEER!

Lucifer, following them: Thats still a little, you know

Angel, laughing at Alastor when he walked in ten minutes later: Hey Alastor, guess what sheep boy trusts the devil and the devil’s daughter more then you. How’s that make you feel?

Alastor, his smile becoming more genuine: Positively ‘devastated’

[escapenightmare]

blue lock when you ignore them.

isagi reaches out to place a hand on yours, mumbling, “baby, are you mad at me?” as he gently rubs his thumb back and forth across your knuckles with a concerned furrow to his eyebrows. when you don't reply, he unconsciously juts out his bottom lip just a little bit in a worried pout, “c'mon honey, don't ignore me.”

nagi doesn't care, he just clings onto you tightly, pulling you to lie on top of him on the couch as he sleepily nuzzles against the crook of your neck before deciding to settle with his forehead against your shoulder. “lemme sleep, pretty,” he murmurs tiredly, placing lazy kisses on your skin. “don't ignore me when i wake up.”

michael lays down with his head in your lap, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes. “mein liebchen,” he all but whines, “pay attention to me.” when you don't reply he maintains eye contact with you as he takes one of your hands in his and brings it up to his mouth, peppering teasing kisses from your finger tips all the way to your wrists, doing anything he could to get a reaction out of you.

bachira sits on your lap with a contagious grin and presses kisses all over your face, trying to get you to cave. “this is fun,” he giggles as he places his hands on either of your cheeks and squishes your face— not enough to make you annoyed, but enough to make your lips pucker slightly. he giggles even more at the sight and brushes his nose against yours, “babe… you're so pretty”

rin glares at you, frowning. “you really want to do this?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. when you don't reply, he places a hand on your shoulder, rolling his eyes, “come on, we both know you can only do this for so long.” he sighs, almost dramatically, before using the hand on your shoulder to gently pull you back towards him, wrapping an arm around your waist as he huffs, “fine. be like that then.”

reo is dramatic for no reason whatsoever. he grabs your hands and holds them tenderly, looking heart broken and overcome with sadness as he asks, “do you not love me anymore, baby?” his eyes look as if they're almost tearing up, but all he wants to do is press your buttons up to the point where you have to acknowledge him, even if it's just so you can tell him to shut up.

sae stares at you from across the room with narrowed eyes, unimpressed. “so, how long are you planning on doing this?” he asks in a deadpan voice, folding his arms across his chest as he stares you down. when you don't reply he rolls his eyes but his demeanor only lasts for maximum twenty minutes because the next thing you know, he's wrapping his arms around you from the back and placing his chin on your shoulder.

oliver grins at you, shaking his head with a chuckle, “you're really gonna try to ignore me, baby?” he laughs at your silence, almost teasingly continuing to trace a finger in circles on your hip, grin still on his face as he leans in tantalizingly close. “you can do this all day baby, but i'm not going to give up just yet either.”

[happy74827]

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

[chiipay]

Scary dog privilege with Kaiser & Isagi please?

Sorry about the wait. I have a hard time with people around me who keep gaslighting me.┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

SHOOOO - MICHAEL KAISER.

KAISER is mad furious right now. He looks like a grumpy puppy and it's scaring the people who are just passing by the bakery shop. You pull your hoodie to hide off your face in there.

KAISER who would just glare at anyone who looks into your way. KAISER who didn't care that you were embarrassed of how he looks like an angry puppy who's going to bite someone.

KAISER who saw the whole situation of you getting stalked by someone earlier- KAISER who doesn't want to worry you that he literally punched your stalker in a fast but quiet motion from behind so you won't notice that you even had a stalker.

KAISER who dragged the stalker unconscious body and left it on some alley as he texted NESS to deal with the stalker instead of him. You on the other hand who had no idea and still just going to the bakery not knowing you got saved by your mischievous partner.

KAISER and you walked out of the bakery shop as you let out a big sigh before facing him-

” what happened? Why are you so grumpy today? Did i do something wrong?”

You look at him worrying if you have done something he didn't like. You are always the kind of partner who apologizes first even if it isn't your fault. KAISER look at you for a sec before pulling your hoodie up and grab the ropes that connects to your hoodie as he pulls it making the space smaller. You barely could see.

” nothing,Schatz. Just...tired.”

” mph-? MHMMHHPPHH!!!”

MUNCH MUNCH!- ISAGI YOICHI

” are you okay? I'm sorry i wasn't able to come faster-”

” I'm fine- it's just a small slap.”

ISAGI touches your now red cheek. ISAGI who just witnessed KAISER slapped you while everyone is on the field. ISAGI who blurted out a whole paragraph of slurs on KAISER while you tried to drag ISAGI out of the field.

It happened when KAISER slapped you because you did something wrong. You weren't mad though because you admitted it was your fault. It's just ISAGI....

ISAGI who is now blurting every single slur he could create and glaring deadly towards KAISER who gave no damn. You had to drag him out before ISAGI got cancelled because of much slurs he said on CAMERA.

” I'm so sorry- are you sure you're okay? Let me beat the shut out of him- I'm going to curse his whole generation-”

” I'm fine dude- you're gonna get cancelled if you keep slurring at people-”

[bomber-grl]

Mike Schmidt relationship headcannons !

Pairing(s): Mike Schmidt x Gn!Reader

Note! Has some plot | This is my relationship headcannons for movie Mike, stating this because I just might make video game Michael Afton headcannons aswell in the near future

Very closed off and not looking for a relationship

He had hired you to take care of Abby when he was away and that’s how you two began getting closer.

Not the best conversation starter, however when you gave him the opportunity to speak about the dream theory he starts going on about it.

Then he apologizes and begins feeling a bit unsure and awkward.

It never really advanced from there and he’d almost constantly apologize and reassure that he’d pay you soon, but you never really cared for it.

Really peaked his interest when he realized that Abby had really grown to like you and began inviting you to do things with the both of them.

You, of course accepted and eventually Mike had started developing feelings for you.

Just as you did for him.

He didnt act on them at first.

Primarily Because he doesn’t see himself in a relationship, especially not with someone like you with him.

You were amazing, and he was a sad grown man who had to care for his little sister, and not even in a way he saw proper.

So of course he shuts it down, telling himself it’d be better off that way.

However, some way, somehow you got involved with Freddy’s pizzeria and you not only managed to save him but also Abby.

Then from there it just went uphill.

He got a better job, better pay, and is able to connect with Abby easier.

Not only that but the custody battle has been leaning in his favor.

He had no one to thank but you.

You’d take Abby to school, occasionally cook for them, and you were always reliable.

One fateful evening you and Mike were just hanging out in the living room.

Talking and just watching whatever was on TV.

Then he brought up your relationship, and stated that he’d really like to start one with you, a romantic one, that is.

You of course, said yes, and he was relieved and happy at your reaction.

But then Abby came to mind, what would she think?

You asked him this almost immediately.

But he reassured and said that the final push was actually when Abby hinted/teased her older brother about your potential relationship, then ran off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and an awkward atmosphere hung in the air but then Mike went to hold you hand and it made it semi better.

The next morning you almost immediately told Abby and she was so happy.

Which really relieved the both of you.

-

Things had changed, albeit subtly.

And although Mike wasn’t the most physically affectionate, probably due to him being pretty much touched starved and traumatized.

He tried his best to convey his affection towards you with teasing and joking around.

You’d often just enjoy the others company and bond mostly with Abby around.

If you were to ever do something even a little bit flirty around her she’d immediately be grossed out.

Which was funny, and was mentally noted to ever do again in her presence, even if it was just a kid friendly comment.

Your guy’s first kiss was pretty intimate

I mean Mike had never seemed much interested in kissing or doing anything further down the road.

However, after a particularly draining day, and horrible weather outside, Mike had offered you to stay for the night.

Abby was so excited and the three of you played with her just a little bit over her curfew then sent her off to bed.

When you were finally able to be alone, Mike, very awkwardly and a bit bashful, offered for you to sleep in his bed.

You, like the amazing person you were, rejected and said that it was fine and that he should just sleep there.

Not completely understanding that Mike didn’t mean separate, but together.

Once he bashfully explains that all you can do is mutter out an “oh” and go along with it.

Pretty awkward as you both just lay down as stiff as rods in silence.

Then you guys begin talking.

And it’s just you two talking about whatever at like 2 a.m, trying your best to keep it down.

If you decide to be bold and make a move by asking if you could cuddle with him, then he’d hesitantly agree.

Again, not because he hates you, but because he’s an awkward guy.

So once you’re settled in each others arms you start talking about each others traumas and mostly hidden things.

It’s the sleep deprivation getting to you guys.

Well once you’re both finished venting and just being vulnerable you decide to make a move and lean forward, giving him plenty of time to move if it’s not wanted.

But he didn’t, and the clash of your lips followed soon after and how drawed out it was won’t be mentioned by either of you either.

Things not only start changing and he’s side hugging you more (publicly)

Although not really into pda

And be more affectionate (as he can)

I’m sure at one point you get so comfortable with one another that although awkward moments occur, most of them spent together is just you saying cringe stuff and making him regret ever making it out alive of Freddy’s.

From then on, not only do you tease and get a worthwhile reaction but he’s always hugging and giving you cheek kisses in private.

He’s also grown fond of cuddling, just because of how close he gets to be to you.

If you were to ever tell him he’s hot.

He’d get really taken back but then laughs it off and says whatever.

(Saying this because I know those fans of him exist 😭)

Honestly it’s kind of hard for you to tell when he’s being sarcastic or not😔

He’s always making snarky and joking remarks and hard to tell when he’s just being his sassy self.

Honestly home dude is just trying his best and his relationship with you really lightened up his life even more.

Note! Should I make a pt 2 with Mike as your husband?