#ITS DONE AAAAAAH

[chaoscohort]

Fasciation, oil on canvas

[libraryfag]

im going to a Party !!!!!!!!!

[v-arbellanaris]

[slow realisation, horror] all of my ships are like. you think you are difficult to love? well, i love you so much that it changes the whole narrative. i change the whole narrative for you, and it is easy as breathing.

[quarklynx]

I have one month to finish two commissions and a cosplay.

No big deal, I've totally got this (lying)

[caramelstupid]

Uuuuugh a buddy of mine wants to read the lord of the rings in english (i think he got the german Version. He also has never managed to sit through a Single movie. Fuck off) (I got him a spotify link and the substack link!!!! Options!!! Free even!!!) But he kinda invited himself over to go get MY personal Edition and i didnt know how to say no and. Now he has my edition of lotr and i want it BACK do i just buy him one as a late christmas present. Like no sir thats my book qwq u will take forever to read it cause like u dont read. Give it back thats my 50 years special Hardcover U WONT EVEN APPRECIATE IT AAAAAAH. I never lend out books because people have a terrible track record and now someone has my favourite book and i HATE it but also. How do i get it back. And when. In a year????? How do i get it back without sounding like a complete asshole or toddler. Sir please learn to read social cues i was visibly UNHAPPY dont do that qwq

[killerpancakeburger]

PULL ME CLOSER

SUMMARY: After a mission gone wrong, Soap narrowly cheats death. When visiting him in his hospital bed, overwhelming relief emboldens you, making you do something you regret. So you flee, resolved to avoid Sergeant MacTavish until the end of your days. 

But Johnny is done letting you slip through his fingers.

Part 1. Part 2.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (reader has boobs, that's it)

TAGS: A pinch of angst, then tooth rotting fluff, Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Depressed!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, Desperate!Soap, Soft!Soap, mutual pining, first kiss, confessions, dirty talk, making out. Bit of a chase, but it's fluffy. Protective!Ghost bordering on controlling but he works on it. Swears, blood mention, injuries, miilitary inaccuracies, suggestive content.

WORDS COUNT: 5.6k

A/N: aaaAAAH F I N A L L Y! ITS KISSING TIME BABEYYY 💋 For @glitterypirateduck COD Vacation Mode challenge, prompts 32 with Ghost and 58 with Soap.

"Hey author, this is Soap x Reader, why is Ghost there...?" Because he just! Won't! Leave! 🙃 *you can now picture me trying to push him out of the room with all my meager strength but he doesn't budge an inch* 

As you pace around the office for the umpteenth time, you can tell from the glint in Ghost's eyes that he's seconds away from telling you to take a seat and stop writhing uselessly. 

When did you become so accustomed to the taciturn Lieutenant's expressions - or more accurately, lack of -, that you could figure out what was going on behind the mask? You couldn’t remember.

He's been keeping his gaze on you since you've sat down after learning the harrowing news; or, more exactly, since he's sat down and you've been fidgeting relentlessly.

You're feeling like a shark - to stop moving won't kill you, but it will cause the whole world to come crashing down. It will allow reality to become clearer, sharper, inescapable.

The arrival of Price in the room captures his lieutenant's attention before he can scold you. Gaz follows close behind. He offers you a reassuring smile before his captain addresses you.

“He's going to make it.”

Relief overwhelms you with just those five words; a colossal wave close to sending you tumbling down. Ghost's mask fails to hide his own calming.

Price sets his hands on his hips. His voice is gruffed but composed.

“All he needs now is rest… and some blood.”

“I'll do it,” you blurt out resolutely, taking a step towards your boss.

“No,” snarls Ghost, tone adamant.

You snap around to stare at him in shock and disbelief. He never raised his voice at you before. And, most importantly, he never tried to dictate your behavior. 

“Who do you think you are?! I'm not one of your fucking recruits-”

Price loudly coughs in his fist.

“Easy there.” 

He raises both hands in appeasement. “We don’t even know if you're compatible.”

“I'm a universal donor,” you counter immediately, determination unaltered.

“Course ya are,” scoffs Ghost derisively.

You glare at him with open animosity. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

“What is that even supposed to mean!?”

You throw your arms up in irritation.

“Enough! Both of you.”

John's tone extinguishes your shout with redoubtable efficiency. He's already not someone you would dare cross on casual days, but hearing him raise his voice makes you sheepish.

Nonetheless, you turn towards him, outraged and betrayed. "Both"!? Why both!? I'm not the one being an asshole for no reason!

“You've done this before?” the captain asks, looking at you.

You nod vigorously.

He indicates the door with his chin.

“Fine, then. Go see the nurses to set you up.”

You bolt out of the room without further ado, determined to not let Ghost get another word in. But you can still hear one last sentence as you hasten.

“As for you, Simon…It is none of your business.”

Giving blood has never been a walk in the park. Every time, you have to actively handle your nerves; resort to trusty relaxation methods, such as focusing on your breathing, or counting the tiles on the ceiling.

The stab of the needle is unpleasant, to say the least, but the wait between the jab and the removal is almost as challenging.

Nonetheless, you've done this before, you succeeded, and for Johnny, you'd be willing to do it for hours.

Power of will doesn't compensate blood loss however, and when you get up from the bed, you feel dizzy, your bandaged arm sore and stiff. The idea of meeting with Soap shortly helps you power through, and soon enough you’re sitting at a table in the canteen, empty at this hour of the day, stuffing your face with whatever snacks and drinks have been put aside to aid your recovery.

With nothing but concern for Johnny busying your mind, you end up eavesdropping on a couple of nearby cafeteria employees.

“You think that's really him?”

“Ain't that many guys going around with a skull mask.”

“I heard he killed a man with only a pen…”

Your eyes widen at the mention of a mask, and you groan in annoyance before turning around to see where the staff is looking.

Near the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Ghost is watching over you like an overzealous bodyguard. He finally swapped his mission outfit for his trademark black hoodie and grey sweatpants. 

Exasperation flashes through you and you proceed to fling at him a cake wrapped in plastic. Your aim's never been anything to be proud of, but he's large enough that you manage to brush his shoulder.

“Get away from me, you creep!” you yell loud enough to be heard by him.

He gives you an inscrutable gaze before leaving the room, probably settling right on the other side of the door, not one to admit defeat so easily.

Minutes later, you leave the room to visit Soap, and observe with spiteful satisfaction that you were right - Ghost adopted the same position as before, against the corridor's wall. You glower at him as you pass by, and of course he remains unfazed.

You scoff with irritation before deciding to ignore him and focus on Johnny, accelerating the pace.

“Wait.”

You halt with a vexed sigh.

“If you intend to berate me again, I'm not gonna stand there and take it.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

You pivot to face him, exasperated by his sibylline remarks. He moved away from the wall and approached you while you had your back on him.

“Once again, what is that even supposed to mean?”

His cryptic attitude makes your blood boil with anger, one that could almost mask the feelings of hurt and betrayal he begets inside you. At some point, you've genuinely started to believe that you two became some kind of friends. Turns out that you've been naively imagining things this whole time.

“The whole self-sacrificing bullshit.”

You stare in incomprehension, searching his concealed features vainly for a clue, wishing you could rip that stupid mask off his face.

“I'm not sacrificing myself. It's just a bit of blood.”

He crosses his arms.

“We have stocks for that. And it's not just that. When he got into trouble with Price for making you skip work, you tried to take all the blame.”

“He did it to cheer me up-”

He keeps talking like you didn’t intervene.

“And when he pummeled that officer, you pretended it was all your fault.”

“I-”

“Luckily for you, Price's no sucker.”

You wince with distress.

“I just wanted to help. I hate being… feeling useless.”

“That's my problem. I swear it feels like you’d slash your own wrists if you thought it would ‘help’.”

You grimace but do not contradict him. It's actually kind of scary how much he figured you out.

“Let him take responsibility for his actions. He may look impulsive most of the time, but he knows what he's doing.”

Arms folded, you gaze fixedly at the floor in silence, not knowing what to add.

“I’m sorry.”

He talked loud enough to be understood, but the content of his sentence makes you doubt what he said as much as if he whispered. You stare at him with wide eyes, speechless. It's not that you categorically believe Ghost incapable of self-reflection, but at the same time, he's always striked you more as the type to never admit any weakness - except maybe in front of a trusted superior and longtime friend like Price.

“Shouldn't have tried to boss you around. Only made things worse. What happened with Johnny… made me…”

He acts like articulating an apology out loud has on him the effect of enthusiastically biting into a lemon - an irresistible temptation to annoy him emerges inside you. No harm in a little well-deserved payback.

“On edge? Touchy? Cranky? Irrita-”

“That'll do. Go, now.”

You turn away with an amused smile on your lips.

Witnessing the wounded sergeant in a hospital's bed is like a punch to the stomach. Maybe an actual punch would be more merciful.

Inside you, gratitude for his miraculous survival battles against sorrow caused by his pitiful state. An impressive bandage is wrapped around his head, one arm secured in a cast, the other bearing a couple of compresses. His face is littered with scratches and contusions.

When he notices you, frozen on the threshold, he beams.

“How's my little firecracker doing?”

That nickname. That damn nickname. He started using it after he caught you red-handed giving the middle finger to a rude officer who was leaving your office just as Soap was entering it. You tolerated it until you realized it was a reference to his love of explosions and all things blow-able, which made you ridiculously pleased, yet self-conscious all at once.

Your legs were already unsteady, so the complimentary alias almost finished you off. 

“That's my line, you Scottish bastard.” you retort, voice devoid of hostility despite the insult.

Closing the gap between you two with a few strides, you stop at what you consider a respectable distance.

“Why, I'm alive and kicking. No need fer ye to look so dejected.”

You scoff, both annoyed and moved by the attempt to console you. It's unbearable to see him so shattered and yet so upbeat, while you don't have a scratch but came so close to breaking down.

“I hate you,” you mumble.

“Ye love me.”

If you only knew… you wouldn’t dare to joke like that.

You smile ruefully, despite yourself.

“I'm serious. For a moment I…I really thought you… you weren't going to… shit.”

You furiously blink to get rid of the rising tears stinging your eyes, looking away shamefully.

“Hey, hey, hey, c'mere.”

He pats one side of the bed with his free hand invitingly. You obey, positioning yourself near the mattress close enough to touch. He grabs one of your hands and gently squeezes it.

“M sorry.” 

His tone is gruff, maybe a bit abashed. A pang of culpability pierces your heart. 

“What could you be sorry for? You were doing your job. I need to get over it.”

You’re not mine to lose.

“Fer makin’ ye cry. I hate it.”

Why does he have to be so kind?

You persist in trying to prove that you’re the one in the wrong here, not him.

“I shouldn't be crying. You’re the one who went through hell.”

He snorts.

“What's so funny?”

“Not funny, just… Ye didn’t even shed a tear when that bastard jumped ye the other day. Yet here ye are, crying over my sorry arse. Yer somethin’ else.”

The compliment takes you aback, and as his eyes sparkle with nothing but honesty, you fiddle with the bandage you received from the blood donation in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

“What’s that? Ye hurt?”

The concern in his voice warms your heart, even if it is unnecessary.

Soap rises from his pillow to some extent, pain obvious in his restricted movements. You react immediately, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Before you can think twice about it, you set your hand between his pecs and push him back, careful to not harm him, but firm.

“I didn't give you my blood just so you could spill it right away!”

He shouldn't be so easy to put back into his place, even with his wounds. Yet he goes down smoothly, docile under your imperious touch as if he was the unassuming civilian and you the imposing soldier.

His eyes linger on your hand before setting on you, the intensity and the heat of his gaze taking your breath away. His expression is one of surprise, but not of annoyance or revulsion, or at least that's what you hope from what you can read on his face.

Sinking into the lagoons of his eyes, you stare back in a daze. You can feel the rhythmic motions of his well-defined chest under your palm, rising and lowering as he breathes. Suddenly the contact becomes intolerable as your cheeks catch fire. You begin to withdraw but he grabs you just in time.

“Ye gave me yer blood?”

The urgency in his tone takes you by surprise, and so does his expression, one that's contemplating you like you've just announced that you've run in front of a truck for him.

“Price said you needed it-”

“Yer. Blood. We have a stock fer that!”

“I know, I just- I was there and I wanted to do something.”

“And they just let ye?”

“I asked real nicely.”

“Would have liked to see that.”

There's a challenging spark in his eye that you choose to ignore.

“It's just blood,” you mumble, shying away from his gaze, embarrassed by his reaction. You didn’t do this in the hopes that he would express eternal gratitude, nor that he'd be admiring of you.

“It will reconstitute on its own.”

He scoffs, unconvinced. Yet he doesn't sound too mad. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he's looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Let's talk less about me, and more about you, ok? How are you feeling?”

“Parched,” he retorts while reaching for the water bottle on the nearby tray table.

Of course he's not expanding further. Johnny's the kind to dramatically whine over a paper cut for fun but somehow when it comes to serious, life-threatening injuries, he becomes stoically reserved, almost stingy with words.

You almost throw yourself at the bottle when you notice the slight wince of pain in the line of his mouth - despite his efforts to conceal it - and hand it over to him.

“Just ask me if you need something.”

“Oh bonnie, ye dunnae know what yer getting yerself into with promises like that.”

You openly roll your eyes. If he can make that sort of comment, surely he's not in that much pain after all.

“Let me guess: you’re gonna ask me to kiss your boo boos better.”

You regret your jibe the second you finish talking. You were supposed to only think those words, not pronounce them. He's the gorgeous individual who can take the liberty of flirting with anyone, but you… you’re not.

His only reaction is a chuckle.

“Hmm, what if ah did? Ask fer a kiss?”

His tone is provocative, his pout sultry and his eyes pleading.

You stare at him in thoughtful silence, cogitating your answer. 

He misinterprets your lack of response, and backpedals, stuttering while doing so. He starts to apologize, plainly, apparently convinced he went too far, ashamed by his own conduct.

You let him stew in his embarrassment a bit, not out of sadism but curiosity, rarely being granted the opportunity to see him so insecure.

This could be the chance to put an end to his flirting for good. The chance you've been waiting for. It's what you should do.

But there's a part of you that is fed up. Fed up of this pretty man and his pretty words, of this blue-eyed casanova that must see you as another conquest and nothing more. You’re sick of passively enduring his quips, his seduction, his winks, his smirks. So yes, you could ask him to stop.

Or you could give him a test of his own medicine.

Lifting his hand towards your face, you lock eyes with him to be certain he's watching, then tenderly press your lips to each of his scarred knuckles.

The ensuing quiet is deafening.

He half-opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. You never saw him so flustered. Is he… is he blushing?

Somehow, seeing his flush sets your own face on fire. The reality of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Panic surging inside you, you deal with the situation the way you know best when no other solution comes to mind - you flee. Pretending you don't hear Soap calling after you, you scramble out of the bedroom like the devil's on your heels. Ghost, settled on a chair in the hallway, throws you the closest thing he must have to a bewildered gaze in his repertoire as you storm off by him, gaze that you ignore vehemently.

The following weeks are spent visiting Soap only when he's asleep. Kyle is nice enough to let you know when that's the case. You can tell by the interrogative way he looks at you that a bunch of questions rush on the tip of his tongue: what happened, why are you not simply seeing his teammate when he's awake with the rest of them. But he's either kind or polite enough to not formulate his concerns out loud. Or maybe he thinks it's a private matter between the two of you.

Either way, you’re grateful, and you repay the favor any time you can, filling the break room with his favorite snacks, making him tea or ensuring his gear gets maintained first.

At some point Ghost half complains to you, half reprimands you - since Soap is one part of his current problem and you another.

“Fuckin’ hell, never been easy keepin’ Johnny in medical, but since ya visited him he's worse than ever. Care to explain?”

“I fucked up,” you confess, without adding anything else.

“Fucked up how?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He curses loudly, dragging a gloved hand over his face, appalled by your demeanor.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I'm taking my secret to the grave. All I can tell is that I made an absolute fool of myself, and therefore I can never appear in front of Johnny again.”

He half sighs, half groans, and rolls his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You dramatic little…”

Soap eventually gets released from medical.

You spend a couple of weeks avoiding him to the best of your abilities, even though you can tell that Ghost is frankly sick of your antics, Price is five minutes away from berating you, and even Gaz starts to look at you with something that resembles disappointment. 

You actively despise yourself for ruining a perfectly good friendship. Especially because of a five seconds long action decided on a whim and carried out out of spite. You find yourself on the edge of tears a couple of times, yet unable to cry. Familiar rooms and corridors feel empty and awkwardly silent with his absence.

There are a bunch of close calls, and the base, or at least the part of it that you’re accustomed to, suddenly feels cramped.

But you hold on. 

Until you don't.

You're caught completely unaware, entering the break room as usual to get some coffee.

Only to freeze on the doorstep. Johnny's right there. Barely two meters away. It's the first time you lay eyes on him in what feels like forever. You can’t help but drink in the view.

He's sitting at a table, elbow leaning on it, cheek resting on his closed fist. Your eyes linger over the blue cobalt shirt he's wearing, your favorite of his, and his black fingerless gloves, which you've always had a weakness for. The corner of his lips are down, his eyebrows lightly frowned. Staring into space, he seems sullen.

Your heart tightens at the sight.

However you barely get the opportunity to indulge into your guilt, because next thing you know, your gazes meet. He perks up, eyes widening in surprise. You tense like a deer in the headlights, holding your breath. Dread swells inside you. You’re no braver than last time.

You turn around and decamp.

It's fine, you can come back later. You just need to unearth a hiding spot for now. The object of your affliction - on top of your affection - will probably be vexed enough by your reaction that he won't seek to confront you.

Yes, everything is just fine, you assure yourself - for no more than a handful of seconds.

Without warning, brawny, familiar arms close around your shoulders from behind, pinning your back against a muscular torso.

“Gotcha.”

The word is barely above a whisper, more a growl than anything else, enunciated right into your ear, sending shivers all over your body. You don’t find anything to do but clutch with both hands one of the tanned forearms pressed beneath your collarbone.

Fighting him off doesn't even cross your mind. It's not that you think you'd fail - you trust him to let you go at the first stern summon. You just don't want to forgo his embrace. He hasn’t hugged you since that time you've been mugged and one moment was enough to make you realize how much you’ve missed it.

“Dunnae whether to be upset ye ran away again, or to find it cute that ye thought ye could actually outrun me.”

You gulp, heart pounding and cheeks heating up.

“Johnny…”

A host of pitiful excuses accumulates behind your lips, but somehow none manage to make its way out.

He briefly tightens his hold, but the gesture feels more like a hug than a restraint. Did he… did he just squish you? Like some kind of… cuddle toy?

“Got nothin’ to tell me?”

The question is a taunt as much as a hint at reconciliation.

You try to pace yourself, and think logically about this predicament of your own making. You need to devise a strategy to come out - more or less - unscathed of this.

Soap sounds more smug than mad, but still, passably angry. Maybe there's a way to fix this. Be friends again like nothing happened. Maybe he can forgive you.

First, do not worsen things.

Two, apologize. Properly.

Three, keep your fingers crossed …?

“I'm… sorry?”

He chuckles darkly.

“Gonnae take more than that.”

You try to resist the effects this sentence, his husky voice, his proximity, his laugh have on you, the way they make your stomach twist in apprehension and… indisputable arousal. Resist the temptation to close your eyes so you could focus on his voice alone, on the warm breath brushing your skin, on the lips so close to your ear; to let go in his arms, lean with your whole weight on his body.

Focus, damn it, you admonish and beg yourself all at once. On something else. Anything else.

You’re about to argue that he cannot possibly expect you to succeed in making amends when you’re in this compromising position, but you don't get the time.

Johnny hauls you away inside the nearest room. In a split second, he flicked the lightswitch on and nearly slammed the door behind you.

Cleaning products and exiguity surround you, illuminated by a cheap light bulb.

A closet, helpfully supplies your mind. 

You barely have time to digest this information that Soap cages you against the wall, resting his forearms over your head. He contemplates you with a mix of melancholy and longing that renders your knees weak and sends a pang in your chest.

“Been going bloody mad with thoughts of ye.”

His voice is smooth like silk, tone sweet like honey, caressing your ears, warmth dripping inside your chest, making your head spin; or maybe it's a result of his closeness; or a consequence of his cerulean eyes boring into you.

“Ye got any idea how it felt to see ye leave without being able to do a bloody thing ‘bout it? Wanted nothing more than to rip off the tubes, get up, grab ye and lay back in bed with ye in my arms.”

He's intoxicating. He has to be, with how high, euphoric you're feeling, all your problems swept away, insignificant.

“Tell me to fuck off.”

You blink in incomprehension. Drunk on him, you may have lost track a little.

“I'll back off fer good.” 

Bliss makes way to horror.

“Look me in the eye and tell me ye hate me. Tell me I disgust ye. Tell me ye wish ye never met m-”

“No!”

Your shout has the merit to make him stop, even if you didn’t mean to yell. Your scream disconcerts him for a second before an exultant grin stretches his lips. His smugness is back with a vengeance.

“So ye do like me.”

“How could I not,” you mutter, capitulating, but avoiding his gaze.

He refuses to let you, and cups one side of your face to make you look at him. As you meet his eyes again, his thumb tenderly strokes your cheekbone. You feel your insides melt at the gesture.

“I like ye. A lot.”

He licks his lips, as if to grant himself some time to mull over his next words, and you automatically follow the motion.

“And I want to kiss ye. A lot.”

His hand slides from your cheek to your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

“Can I?”

It takes a moment for you to regain your voice. When you woke up this morning, you most definitely didn’t expect to receive a confession from John Mactavish. Your brain goes into overdrive.

Is this real? Am I dreaming?

“Johnny, listen…”

The gaze he's aiming at you glows with hope.

“You don’t want to be with me. I'm…” 

What? A shell of a human being? Broken?

“…a mess.”

Expectation is replaced by resolve in his turquoise pupils.

“I know exactly what I want. And it's ye. Wouldn't be here otherwise.”

His patience seems to unravel with each passing second, as he stares at you with something akin to desperation written on his face.

“Want me to beg? S’that it?”

“What? No-”

“Cause I can. Beg real pretty. Bet ye'd like that. Saw how ye looked at me the other day when I got on my knees for ye-”

He keeps babbling sweet and filthy nothings that set your face ablaze. He saw how you looked at him? Mortification briefly flares up inside you before you notice the amusement in the corner of his lips, the playful glimmer in his glance, tangled with the neediness - he's joking around. You adopt a stern expression to chasten him but quickly realize he's way too busy staring at your lips to get the message. So you grab both sides of his face to get his attention - two can play this game.

The sheepish, sad puppy face he gives you in return barely makes a notch in your firmness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, right before diving into the unknown.

“Yes,” you profess - and before he can tease you for clarification - “You can kiss me.”

But as he leans forward to obey, an incriminating detail surfaces in your mind.

“Wait, wait…”

You cover his mouth with one hand. Then immediately regret it, with how his eyes devour you the way his mouth can’t, not helping your flustered state at all.

He gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand, before pressing a kiss into your palm, your wrist.

“Now, better say something, or I'm gonna kiss my way up.”

He hums pensively.

“Scratch that, I'm gonna kiss ye everywhere.”

Pleasant tingles travel your whole body at that. He looks up from your hand to stare at you, and there's a devious glint in his eyes that tells you he caught sight of it.

“I have never.. done this… before.”

This confession means a lot to you. It's a well-kept secret, as long as people don't already deduce it from your lack of social skills. You’d rather it stays this way, but you don't see how you can start a relationship while withholding this truth.

All you can hope now is that Soap will react in a manner you consider appropriate. If he judges you, if that fact makes you go down in his estimation, or if he starts seeing you as some sort of innocent, naive individual that he could get off on corrupting, you’re not sure you'll be able to recover from it.

All playfulness deserts his face. He observes you with a mix of solemnity and compassion.

“Oh, bonnie… I don't give a shite ‘bout that. We'll go as slow or as fast as ye want, aye?”

Stirred beyond words, you nod your assent.

Not wasting any more time, he presses his lips to yours. They're soft and warm. You expected a surge of unbridled desire, but he takes his sweet time with you, to become acquainted with your mouth. 

It only lasts a moment though; as he seems to gain in confidence and deepens the kiss, his motions fill with fervor, turn frantic. Hunger rivals devotion.

They say the greatest pleasure possible a human being can experience isn’t, well, pleasure; it's the end of pain - and he's kissing you like he's been aching for it, for so long, and he's finally getting relief. He's clinging onto you like the separation of those past weeks put him in severe withdrawal.

You probably would have let him continue if you weren't compelled by the imperative need to breathe. You turn away, panting.

Not interrupted in the slightest, he simply latches onto your neck instead.

Floating in a daze, you absently close one hand on the back of his shirt, and fondle his mohawk with the other.

“Hold on to me.”

The instruction takes a ridiculously long time to reach you. Thankfully, Soap picks up on that and grasps your hands to place them on the back of his neck. You only understand his goal when his fingers slide behind your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, wedging you between the wall and himself.

Once he gets his fill of your throat, he sneaks one forearm under your rear and lets go of one of your thigh, somehow managing to keep you in the air one-armed, to tug at the opening of your top.

Seeing him struggle to open your blouse one-handed, you reach down to assist; but just as you do that, he grabs one side of the clothing between his teeth, and pulling the other with his free hand, he rips off the first three snap fasteners in one go. Your eyes go wide, your mind torn between finding the gesture arousing or risible. 

You settle for a fond scoff.

“You animal.”

The name feels all the more appropriate because when he looks up at you, releasing the cloth, the hunger in his eyes is striking, and the wolfish grin he grants you is the one of a ravenous predator.

“You could have just asked-”

“S'faster,” he shrugs, at least as much as possible in his current position.

You barely notice the staple of your bra opening; he hauls you slightly higher, bringing your chest to mouth level, and dives between your breasts like a man starved. The contact makes you tilt your head back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your sensitive skin makes you coil: your fingers grasp the back of his shirt and his hair, pressing his head impossibly closer, your thighs clench around his torso, your toes curl.

“Fuck, Johnny.”

He moans your name in response, albeit a bit muffled. He sounds as afflicted as you are, if not more. The idea turns you on terribly.

You look down to see him, and the vision of his face feverishly pressed to your skin is almost unbearable.

Suddenly he recoils, eyes meeting yours, and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out, right in front of your nipple, holding still in silent question. Your crotch throbs with arousal and you bitterly regret your earlier assessment - this view is much harder to endure, by far. The deep, honest eagerness in his gaze, coupled with the absolute submission to your will he demonstrates…

That doesn't stop you from frenetically nodding your head in agreement. His lips close around your nipple and the flick of his tongue against it draws a whine out of you. His free hand softly squeeze your other breast.

If he wasn’t holding you, your legs probably would have given out.

A faraway ringtone painfully pierces through the torpor you’re deliciously lost in. Your ringtone.

Johnny swears under his breath and blindly gropes your ass to silence your phone lodged in your back pocket.

Your eyes snap open in horror as you abruptly emerge into reality.

“Shit, shit, SHIT! Put me down!”

You repeatly hit Soap's shoulders to get his attention and convey urgency, without putting real force behind it. He complies immediately.

Your soles barely reached the ground that you’re already whiping out the device from your pants. Your coworker's name is displayed on the screen. Turning your back on Johnny, you pick up the call in a panic.

“Hey… yes. Yes, I'll be there in a minute. …They're not here yet? Thank fuck.” 

As you sheepishly reassure your colleague that you’ll be there soon for the meeting that should have already started, you feel fingers fiddling with your blouse. Your first instinct is to bat Johnny's hands away, before grasping that he's actually putting your snaps back in place.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing bad. … I, uh… I just got held back. Anyway, see you soon.”

You hang up with shaky hands and a weary but relieved sigh.

The Scotsman's arms wrap around your waist from behind and he lovingly nuzzles his face against yours. His stubble prickles your skin, but the gesture is too endearing for you to spurn him.

“No more running away, aye?”

He exudes peacefulness, every muscle in his body content and relaxed. Where did Ghost's vicious attack dog go and who's this teddy bear?

“No more running,” you acquiesce.

“Good lass,” he purrs.

Normally, you would have gotten back at him for that patronizing comment, but you still feel bad for the way you treated him, so you just grunt.

“We'll pick up where we left off, hmm?”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you realize what he's referring to - his kisses wandering lower, to fulfill the “everywhere” part of the pledge he made earlier.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

[bearbirth]

For the build a birth 0: 🤰(male but we dont havw the male.pregnant emoji aa) 4️⃣🚗👖🧠

I had always had a bit of a chubby belly.

Unfortunately this fact led to this fateful night. I didn’t think I could get pregnant as I had been told I was infertile years ago by some bullshit doctor. I hadn’t seemed to notice my belly getting slightly larger over the months. It hasn’t popped however.

The last few days I’ve been having some issues with cramps. I had thought maybe it had been something I ate. Oh how wrong I was. I could never have foreseen having four babies inside of me all this time.

It’s a Friday and I’m driving back to visit my family for the weekend. I’ve been in some pain all day but I’ve pulled through even when a tums didn’t help. I breathe out as another cramp rocks my body and I shift forward in an attempt to alleviate my discomfort.

“ohhhhh….”

I let out a groan. The pain has been getting worse. I put a hand on my belly and rub it, trying to sooth the pain. I grip the wheel tighter. The pain subsides again and I sit back with a sigh.

“Fuck…. Ohhh god another….”

The next cramp comes so soon. I strain a little, feeling the urge to push. I just assume I have to use the bathroom. I’ll need to find a rest stop quick. The pain peeks then dies down again. But once more it starts up after just a few breaths.

“OH GOD!!! HHRGGGG!”

I cant stop myself. I’m pushing the head down my birth canal. I’m panting hard as I lift my ass up a little when the pressure suddenly intensifies. How could a man be pregnant without knowing?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH…! OH IM ABOUT TO POOP!!”

I cry out in pain as something nestled behind my entrance. I grip the wheel, sobbing as I push hard. With a scream and another push the head gushes out of me and into my jeans. I scream again, is that a baby?! Oh god it’s baby! I’m giving birth! The head turns and the baby rushes out of me and into my tight pants with a gush. I yank the wheel and pull over. I unzip my pants and shakily draw out the baby who has already started to cry.

“W-What…?”

I stare at it in shock, but I don’t have time to think. Suddenly I scream, there’s another. I place the first baby in the seat next to me and I sit back, my legs on the dash board. I sob as I try to pull my pants down a little but I’m having to push.

“NO I CANT BE PREGNANT!! OH IT HURTS SO BAD!!” My legs shake as I try to get the baby out faster. Suddenly the head shoots out then the shoulders and body. But as soon as it’s out I’m pushing once more. I grip the seat. I don’t have time to get the first baby out of my pants. The next baby is smaller and has already started to crown.

“AGGGREREGGGG AAAAAAH!!!! GET OUT OF ME!!!!!” I screech as the baby slips out into my pants next to its sibling. Finally I’m done… or so I think. I lower my legs and get the baby’s out. There’s a little twinge of a contraction but I ignore it. I call 911, and as I’m explaining what happened I have to push.

“Yes I’m on the side of the road, I- OHHH OH GOD THERES ANOTHER BABY!! OH PLEASE PLEASE HELP I CANT DO IT AGA-AAHHHHH AHHHHH!! OH IT BURNS!!”

I scream down the phone. The baby forces its way down me. I half stand up, pulling my pants down just as the baby crowns. It shoved my boxers down as it moves out painfully.

“ITS HHUUUUUUUUUGGEEEEE! ITS COMING OUTTTT OF MEEEEEE!”

Suddenly the baby pops half out. I’m sobbing with the baby half in me when the ambulance finally reaches us. They watch me give birth again as they pull open my door.

[captainnameless]

Could you bring something about the McLaren babies and Danny, pleeeeaase?

aaaaaah! i’m trying to keep my thoughts to myself cause i still need to write/finish chapter 2 of Twins & Tantrums so i can’t be spilling too much of the creative juice

but,

since you asked so nicely.

a lil something.

“Work with me here, bub.” Daniel says, squeezing Lando’s ankle as he tries to wrangle his foot into his shoe.

“Oscar,” Daniel says, gentle warning in his voice. “Sit your bum down, we’re almost ready to go.”

Oscar gives him a sheepish smile, shuffling back from where he’d almost gotten off of the storage box that Daniel has him perched on, Lando on a similar one as Daniel struggles with the tight laces.

Daniel can’t blame the youngest member of their little party for having the wiggles, he knew the stroopwafels, or the sugar in them, were going to catch up with him eventually, but he really does not want to be chasing down any of the boys after such a long day and Oscar can be a bit of a wanderer.

“How’s your tongue, buddy?” Daniel asks as he finally figures the laces out, catches Lando’s eyes as he forces a pout. Lando had burned his tongue on a stroopwafel earlier today, and while Daniel doesn’t like seeing him hurt, he selfishly was glad knowing that would put Lando off the sweet treat for today at least which meant he only had one potential sugared up child to deal with.

“Still hurt.” Lando says, sticking out his tongue. “See?”

“I can see buddy, Danny’ll get you a juice in the car, ok? That’ll feel nice.”

Lando nods and takes Daniel’s outstretched hand as he hops off the box, turning to wait for Oscar who doesn’t need prompting.

The boys race to the car, which is good for Daniel cause it burns off a little more of their energy.

There’s a debate over who got to the car first and won that Daniel ignores as he gets out a juicebox for the both of them, and the water wipes. It’s a bit of a drive as they’re staying outside of Zandvoort and Daniel figures if the boys fall asleep their thumbs might finds their mouths.

“Hand, please.” Daniel hums as Oscar offers up his hands, giggles as Daniel gets in between his fingers but squirms away when a new wipe attacks his face as well.

“All done,” Daniel soothes before offering Oscar his juice box. “Peace offering.”

He repeats the same routine on Lando before getting in the car.

Surprisingly, no one falls asleep, though Lando’s got his thumb in his mouth the second he finishes his juice box.

Daniel has to whistle Oscar to a standstill when he takes off in a sprint towards the hotel, coming to a halt a couple feet away from Daniel. “No running in the lobby, Osc. And please wait on your brother and me.”

Oscar groans dramatically and bounces in place as Lando gets out, visibly less energetic. “Go hold Oscars hand please.” Daniel instructs while he goes for their bags.

They take the stairs instead of the elevator, Oscars gets a green light for sprinting up them and it seems to have done its job because he’s heaving when Daniel and Lando catch up to him.

Daniel’d pre booked their dinner, so it shows up to the suite almost immediately which helps settle the boys and the promise of one episode of Trash Truck before bed if they shower quickly helps that process tremendously too.

Lando’s out 6 minutes into the episode, so Daniel makes a mental note to remember since he knows Lando’ll have something to say about missing it tomorrow and wanting to still watch it.

Oscar’s still awake when the outro plays but there’s not much fight left in him as Daniel brushes through his hair and gently brushes his finger over the bridge of Oscar’s nose watching his eyes flutter close.

“Good night, buddy.” Daniel breathes, watching Oscar squirm over onto his stomach, mumbling his goodnight into the pillow.

[coffeebanana]

Hi! ♡ Top 5 miraculous AUs?

aaaaaah this is hard! i'm not a huge AU person in ml actually (although i devour AUs in other fandoms...). i think just because... i love the OG identity shenanigans so much omg. but. i can do this! in no particular order...

kwami swap AUs i mean, this is a classic ml AU! and there's so many ways to play with it!!

loveybug AU this AU is SO COOL because of like. how much has been done with it. and because it's another layer of identity shenanigans. AND ALSO i adore how collaborative it has been since the start... like aaaah that's the magic of fandom that right there!!

adrien never went to school AU this can be really fun on so many levels! having adrinette meet in different ways, established or all-but established ladynoir... YUM

roommates AU OKAY IT'S PROBABLY A BIT OF A STRETCH TO CALL THIS AN AU BUT. I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT (also it CAN be an AU but i feel like. it has to start off that way for it to be a true AU. cause otherwise its just canon-divergent and yeaaaaah sure that's an "AU" as per ao3 tags but. is it? is it really?)

sapphic love square AU i read this fic that did such a good job of it. and i need more. i should probably try to write it one day too but--glances at WIPs in a panic--ANYWAYS NEXT QUESTION!

thanks for the ask!! 🩷💜

[wazzappp]

Hey since the suit is malleable, what if it has two forms. The infiltration form, which is the blue beetle stuff, and it’s a little odd, yeah, but like, still is approachable enough. Like, softer lines, no spikes, etc.

But imagine, after the invasion starts in force, and they don’t need to pretend to be friendly, or to be subtle, that’s when the bigger, more combat oriented changes happen. Thicker armor, more muscle. Spikes on the outer forearms and back and thighs. Claws on the hands and feet, larger, spiked upper forelimbs, with nastier blades on the tips.

Also, infiltrator form would probably have hella sensors, but combat form might not, and that takes material to take the sensors, as well as processing power to process that data, so combat form would probably trade off sensor acuity for heavier armor?

Maybe just a material issue (amount of material needed), or a thickness issue (sensors need to be on surface or near to collect data, but can only relay information through a certain thickness of armor to the human nerves before signal is lost? Idk.

OHHHHHHH YESSS THATS FUN THATS VERY FUN!!!!

eeeeheheheheheh big spiky battle mode. He only JUST got to feeling like himself in the armor and NOW ITS GETTING SWITCHED UP ON HIM ALL OVER AGAIN. AAAAAAH.

Being purposefully more spiny and scary looking. Pulling out that armor setting even after the reach invasion for the sake if fighting the really REALLY tough villians but also not really doing it often because of what that REPRESENTS!! AAA!!!

Hmmm I mean Khaji can rearrange molecules without much fuss tbh they might be able to just pull from the surrounding area to make the thicker armor. If you wanted to solve that material issue in a REALLY fucked up way, you could have it pull that material from his bones and muscles, then just replenish them when he's done fighting. ohhhhohoho you are made of the suit and the suit is made of you chucklefuck you are one in every way eeehehehehehehehEHEHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAMUUUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!

[fatallyaddictedtofiction]

Hiiii I just started watching Supernatural and I’m absolutely OBSESSED !!!!!!! (I’m on season 1 Episode 19)

Sooo who’s one of your favorite characters or one of ur fave episodes? :3

(AAAAAAH SOCIALIZING ON TUMBLR)

OMG HELLO THANK YOU FOR REACHING OUT!!!!!!! My favourite character has to be Dean- at least from s1&2, overall id have to think kuch harder because there have been a lot more side characters. I think hes my favourite because of his supposedly manly/macho exterior compared to how he acts when he's caring for someone, scared or upset!

I CAN ONLY CHOOSE ONE EPISODE????? My favourite episode from that area of the show (i have a LOT) is hhh its so hard to choose but i guess i have to go with 2x9 (Croatoan virus). Mainly because i love the way it was done, i love the character decisions, and it always breaks my heart to see Dean so early on in the show say that hes tired of that life :')

Thank you so much for asking! What are yours so far? Are you enjoying the show?

[looniecartooni]

How I think Zestial didn't get done in by Alastor

Alastor: Salutations, sinners! Tonight's broadcast will feature the screams of the overlord that thinks he can keep running away from me. Tune on in to hear the screams of Zestial Morde- Mwah Ha Ha Ha!!! Zestial: ... Alastor: Huh? Why... why aren't you screaming? Zestial: ... Alastor: Oh I see. Playing hard ball, are we? Well, this will sure get a wail out of you! AH Ha Ha Ha!!! Zestial: ... *summons tea and sips it* Alastor: Ha ha! It appears that this old man still has his sense of humor. I can respect that. Zestial:... *smiles and sips tea* Alastor: Well- its only a matter of time before he succumbs to the radio demon... Now scream, you old- Zestial: *flashes open his cape and hollers out a terrifying, high pitched shrill* Alastor: AAAAAAAAAH!!! Zestial: *quickly reverts back to his less scary form and finishes his tea* Alastor:... that... that didn't get recorded, did it? Ah sh**,it did. And we're still live- f***! Zestial: Would thou be interested in some lessons in instilling fear? I would be delighted to guide you through- Alastor: Enough! I'm going to get that scream out of you, by ripping your soul into tiny tethers and devouring it bit by bit until you beg for- Zestial: *shrills yet again* Alastor: AAAAHHHHHH!!!! Oh forget it- I give up... Zestial: Hmph *summons more tea and sips it* Alastor: Or so you think *attacks Zestial with full force* Zestial: *shrills* Alastor: AAAAAAH- oh for the love of -cut the feed!

[alastor-simp-page]

Aaaaaah I just read “you always lead” and I’m OBSESSED with the concept. Would it be ok if I springboarded off of that? With full credit to you, of course! If not, that’s ok!

Wait, you read the whole damn thing and you're supergirl96? THE supergirl96? You're a legendary Charlastor writer and you liked my work? EEEEEEEEE! Yeah, of course you can springboard off that with full credit to me. I will be using that concept in future fics though if you don't mind. Its fanfic and nothing is original anymore let's be honest. Nothing's claimed. It's all been done but it all depends on a new voice and perspective telling the story.

AHHH thank you so much! You have no idea what it means for that to be coming from you.

I should probably tell you I got inspired by their work: @/murmurmurena

It's a hard world out there for us charlastors AND I'm so happy to see that the writing for it is still alive. I don't know that's just a random thought.

Anyways, long ass reply short: THANK YOU!

[merakiui]

aaaaaah, this is so late but! wowza, your latest rollo fic. i was perplexed, like, how could your brain came with such banger ideas and symbolisms?? (not restricted only for your rollo fic but for all of your fics, that rook one also tho.. chefs kiss)

:O thank you so much!!!!!!!! Rollo activates the part of my brain that works in overdrive when I need to get something done. I wrote the fic and its symbolisms so quickly after looking through Bible verses on obsession/lust. There is just so much inspiration and opportunity for religious symbolism with Rollo!!!

✧ the bible verse about lust and temptation being evil and thus giving birth to death - it's a juxtaposition to what Rollo's doing in the fic: knocking you up when you're most fertile. So then if (by the bible's standards) lust gives birth to death, it will seem so when Reader inevitably falls pregnant (as she didn't want to get pregnant in the first place), but for Rollo this is the beginning of life and all great things. So from his perspective, his lust is giving birth to happiness and fulfillment, but for Reader it causes her immense grief.

✧ the number three (i.e. Rollo doing things in threes like answering on the third ring or knocking thrice) - symbolic of divine harmony and wholeness.

✧ the crow - a representation of death, destruction, and grief in the bible.

✧ the goat - often a symbol to represent satan/the devil. However, goats (and lambs) are often used in animal sacrifices, whether to appease the divine or darker forces.

✧ the winter weather - oftentimes, we associate death and gloom with winter because plant life shrivels, animals hibernate, and it becomes deathly cold and quiet. Yet the friendship Rollo and Reader have is so very warm and wonderful. It's also a fitting backdrop to mirror/contrast their dispositions: Reader is a warmer, happier force that balances Rollo's colder, darker force.

✧ Reader wearing all black (lipstick, dress) vs. Rollo's white (hair, pale skin) - the classic contrast of black (darkness) with white (purity), only the roles are swapped. Rollo thinks you're filthy because you drink and party and allow yourself to be led by your own temptations, while you think he's "pure" because he's been nothing but sweet and friendly to you. This reverses by the end of the story.

✧ wolf in sheep's clothing reference - this is just canon Rollo. He acts kind and cordial, but there's always more hiding beneath the veneer he curates.

✧ cat and mouse in partnership reference - the moral of this fairy tale is that cats and mice are natural enemies who will not change even if put in a dire situation. Though he will forever and always be sweet to you, it won't change the fact that he does (and will continue to do) terrible things.

✧ the orange that's part of Reader's breakfast at the end - sometimes a symbol of fertility and prosperity.

Aaaaaa forgive me for rambling about symbolism!!! orz I'm very happy you can enjoy the symbolism in my Rollo story and other stories as well!!!!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) the Rook story is one of my favorites I've ever written because it's just so dark and Rook is so horrifying in that kind of plot. I'd like to write darker stories with Rollo as well!! There are plenty of ideas and concepts stored within my drafts..... >:)

[dragon-of-timeless-blue]

ALRIGHT AS ALWAYS IM HAVING FEELINGS® WITH THE NEW CHAPTER

Skip to Loafer manga spoilers!!

THE CHAPTERS THAT BEGIN WITH MIKA'S PERSPECTIVE ARE ALWAYS AMAZING GODDDD

I love this panel and their dynamic so very much, they aré so silly

LOOK MIKA'S SMILE HEREEEEE ALSNLFKXLKFFKF ALSO, damn Mukai being in three clubs, that must be interesting, astronomy and geology are just so cool

SHES THE BEST 😭 MIKALOVER FOREVA

THIS!!!! THIS HAS DONE SOMETHING TO MY BEING, NAO-CHAN ATTACKS AGAIN, MY ENTIRE BEING IS RESTRUCTURED AND HEALING MORE AND MORE, IM SOBBING, ITS JUST SOOO AAAAAAH 😭😭🌟♥️♥️

Definitely ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ IM SCREAMINGGGH

THE SHADOWS, THE SMILE, THE EXPRESSIONS,GOD, I CAN FEEL THE SEA WIND AND HEAR THE CRICKETS IN THE NIGHT, THIS IS THE PANEL

THEY TINY!!!

THIS MAN IS A LEGEND AND THE BEST AND SO COOL AND THE ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART OF THE SHOW 🧡🧡🧡🧡 GORO-CHAN SUPREMACY

THEM THEM THEM, THEY ARE MARRIED THEY ARE THE BEST!! THE ONE AND ONLY COUPLE IN THIS MANGA ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

My soul? Cured

My body? At peace

My mind? trying to process feelings

My eyes? Bowling

I needed this ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

[noirandchocolate]

:) If you have the time and would like to, I wondered if you’d share some of your favourite j-pop / anime songs? I think you have excellent taste whenever you share your opinions, so I’d love to listen to your favs.

Oh my gosh! Thank you so much for sending this, I love getting asks and you're so sweet. PS your art is super cute, love your colors! (I'm gonna reblog some as soon as I'm done answering this. <3)

...wait. MEG!??!?!?! i THOUGHT I recognized that art style! OH MY GOD how long have you been following me and I didn't know?? ;___;!! Hello how have you been!? AAAAAAH!

Okay, I will calm down and. Answer the question asked. XD; Anime music! Here's some tracks I really love, in no particular order and also I'm all over the place style-wise.

"Blue" from Cowboy Bebop is one of my all-time favorites. Honestly the whole Cowboy Bebop soundtrack is amazing and lives up to the hype for sure with its jazz/Old West style with spacy and harder and more modern vibes.

"Ashita Kuru Hi" from Kobato. was the next one that popped into my head! This song gets several different versions throughout the anime, because it's a tune the main character sings all the time, different verses for different events. It even gets a Christmassy reprise in one episode! This is the full, basic version of it featuring music box. But this piano-opening version with more sweeping instruments plays over the finale credits... While I'm at it, I WILL plug the entire soundtrack. It is ADORABLE and is nice sweet background music for work and study.

Gotta give a shoutout to Mob Psycho 100's opening themes for sure. They're all so good and seat-dance provoking. "1" is my favorite of them, it's so intense!

"Yuzurenai Negai" from Magic Knight Rayearth is really nostalgic for me, being the theme from one of the first anime I ever bought bootleg fansubs of from a shady man at a monthly comics expo. XD It's definitely a "classic anime" kind of song, with that adventurous shoujo feel.

"Matsuri Uta" from Blue Seed is one I was introduced to without having ever seen the anime it's from and I still like it. It has a slow, quiet start and is just a very pretty piece. (I like to sing along to it, hehe.) Here's another arrangement without the lyrics but with more instruments.

WHILE I'M ON Megumi Hayashibara...I'll also rec "Give a Reason" from Slayers. It's so punchy and upbeat and really inspires a person to get up and GO! You know what? Here's "Get Along" too.

I could recommend any of "Cardcaptor Sakura"'s opening and closing themes, but "Hitorijime" sticks out to me as a funky little track that's just extra fun to listen to. In the same vein is "Groovy!" and the video features a hypnotically bouncing Kero-chan so you can't lose.

I could fill an entire post of its own with Sailor Moon music but instead I will gesture wildly at "Moon Revenge" from the R Movie and yell that it features one of my favorite things in any anime song--vocals by the cast.

SPEAKING OF...here's another one of my ultimate favorite anime songs of all time, "Yamerarenai Yamerarenai" from Tenchi Muyô! The entire main voice cast going absolutely ham in character singing about all the little pleasures in life. Absolutely delightful!

Okay last one for this post because this is probably way way too long as it is. "Party Night" from Di Gi Charat! Specifically the Hyper Parapara version. I love this shit so much. This is the music video version because I can't resist, but here's the full song.

Okay! I'm outta here! Thank you again for asking, it was fun to follow my stream of consciousness and just post whatever fun thing popped to mind next. XD