#cheap car chicago

[pcc-canada]

10% off Black Friday- All American Limo

https://www.allamericanlimo.com/

This Black Friday, ride in luxury with All American Limousine! Enjoy an exclusive 10% OFF when you rent one of our premium limos for over 4 hours.

[megalimochicago]

How Technology Is Shaping the Future of Limo Services?

Technology is transforming the luxury limo service industry, improving both the booking process and the overall experience. Here’s how:

Easy Online Booking

Mobile apps and online platforms make it quick and easy to book a limo.

Customers can choose the vehicle type, set pickup times, and request extra features like champagne or Wi-Fi.

Ideal for services like wedding limos or airport transfers.

Real-Time Tracking

GPS technology allows passengers to track their limo in real-time.

Clients can know exactly when their limo will arrive, reducing wait times.

Particularly useful for airport limo services, where timing is crucial.

In-Vehicle Technology

Many limos now come with high-tech entertainment options like surround sound systems, flat-screen TVs, and Wi-Fi.

These features enhance the experience, whether it’s for a wedding limo or a corporate event.

Passengers can enjoy music, movies, or stay connected during their ride.

Automated Payments and Customer Support

Automated billing systems allow for seamless payments through apps or websites.

Clients receive instant receipts and invoices, making the process more convenient.

24/7 customer support via chatbots or live assistants ensures help is always available.

Technology is improving the limo service experience by making booking easier, providing real-time tracking, enhancing in-car entertainment, and streamlining payments and customer support. These advancements ensure a smoother, more luxurious experience for customers, whether they are booking a wedding limo, an airport limo, or any other luxury transportation.

[allamericanlimo]

Hire Car Service in Chicago - All American Limousine

All American Limousine offers premium car service in Chicago! Whether you need transportation to the airport, a special event, or a night out in the city, we’ve got you covered. Experience luxury, comfort, and reliability with our professional chauffeurs and top-of-the-line vehicles. Book your ride today and travel in style!

[kmrealtygroup]

Is Chicago, Illinois Cheap or Expensive? Here’s the Answer.

If you’re mulling over a move to this bustling metropolis and scanning the “real estate for sale in Chicago, Illinois”, you’re likely curious: Is Chicago cheap or expensive?

Housing Costs in Chicago

When it comes to the housing market, the prices are as diverse as the city itself. A general consensus shows moderate costs compared to coastal cities.

Chicago’s Real Estate Market

From luxury condos downtown to single-family houses in the suburbs, Chicago has a range of accommodation styles. Naturally, the cost varies depending on the type and location.

Luxury Living in Chicago

If you opt for the high-end spectrum of “new properties for sale in the Chicagoland area and surrounding suburbs,” prices can reach into the millions.

Middle-of-the-pack Living

For more modest budgets, homes outside the hub can be attractively priced, providing excellent value in terms of space and amenities.

Cost of Living Index

Considering other living costs, Chicago’s index stands at 106.9, slightly above the U.S. average of 100. While some areas could be expensive, others are surprisingly affordable.

Food and Leisure Prices

Dining out in Chicago can be both a bargain and a splurge. Street food is wallet-friendly, whereas fine dining experiences can be quite steep.

Transportation Costs in Chicago

Getting around Chicago with public transit systems is reasonable. Meanwhile, parking and gas prices can significantly increase the commuting costs for car owners.

Verdict: Cheap or Expensive?

As seen, it completely depends on your lifestyle and where you choose to live and dine. By researching and budgeting, it’s possible to find cost-effective solutions.

Find Your Preferred Lifestyle

The housing options align with a wide range of budgets, whether you’re browsing budget-friendly homes or looking for extravagant properties for sale in the Chicagoland area and surrounding suburbs.

In Summary

Ultimately, living in Chicago can be cheap, expensive, or somewhere in between, factoring in your individual budget, lifestyle, and specific choices — particularly in housing.

KM Realty Group LLC — your trusted source for all your real estate needs in Chicago, Illinois!

[oharetaxi]

https://www.ohare-taxiservice.com/

Book Your Journey Now

[chicagolimoandblackcarservice]

Limo Service Chicago Will Provide a Place to Rest and Recharge

Don’t run out of energy; continue the fun with Chicago limousines to provide a haven of rest for weary travelers. Whether you’re traveling great distances or partying hard, a limo rental in Chicago will provide a place to rest and recharge so that you can continue in your efforts. With our services, you can enjoy long distance travel or enjoy a never-ending party while taking advantage of having a home base to which you can return.

Haven

We all need a home base, a place to which we can return in order to rest and prepare for whatever comes next. We offer a ride inherently comfortable where your group can do exactly that. As your traveling party enjoys Chicago Limousine Rentals wait in the wings with reclining seats, separate cargo areas, and roomy interiors. With this service, your stamina can be maintained to increase the enjoyment you all experience.

Party Rebound

Party Bus Rentals Chicago also offer a safe space in which travelers can rest and recharge for the next round. These machines offer a dance floor with pole; a bar with complementary ice, soda, cups, and water; a luxurious area of seating for multiple passengers; a high-quality speaker system; and superior televisions. Whether you party on as your ride or rest and get ready for what’s next, the machine provides a safe space.

No Need to Drive

Whatever model you choose comes with a professional chauffeur. You’ll not become fatigued from riding, and you can comfortably allow our chauffeurs control. They are trained, drug tested, and background checked in order to provide additional assurance for our riders in their competence.

High Quality

Being able to expect the company to be high quality is another aspect of professional transportation. We use only newer models with full insurance, licensing, and bonding. Regardless of your choice between charter or party bus or Cheap Limo Service Near Me, it will be high quality if it comes from our fleet because the entire fleet is impeccably well kept. You aren’t limited to one option for group transportation. The machine can match the purpose, and the quality will remain consistent with the change. Once you know the vehicle which you need, book easily online and enjoy your plans knowing that our service will provide a place to recharge and reset. Call us Now at (312) 757-4634

Source: https://chicagolimoandblackcarservice.blogspot.com/2023/05/Limo-Service-Chicago-Will-Provide-a-Place-to-Rest-and-Recharge.html

[dclimoandcarservice]

Chicago Airport Car Service at Affordable Prices with Limo Service DC

Visiting one of America’s biggest cities sure sounds like fun, but traversing through one can prove to be a problem for many of us. Thankfully, Chicago Airport Car Service can suit all of our needs when it comes to passenger transportation.

Safe and Reliable

Black Car Service Chicago has proven time and time again that they are one of the most reliable and affordable passenger transportation services you can hire. They did this by having one of the biggest and most imposing fleets of vehicles on the market. Of course, vehicles need to be taken care of properly in order to be safe for the road and you can rest assured that all of their vehicles are regularly maintained.

Now when it comes to safety one more thing is of paramount importance, passenger safety. In order to have a safe drive the men behind the wheel must be reliable and you can rest assured that all of the chauffeurs that will be accompanying you on your journey are well trained professionals with several years of experience on the road. The average cost for our O’Hare Airport car services range from $65 to $300 depending on the vehicle you select and the distance to be traveled.

Charter Buses Are Ideal for Larger Groups of Friends

With our private airport car service, you can save time by going door-to-door aboard late model sedans, SUVs, limos, or executive vans. Chicago Motor Coach Company is ideal if you have the need to transport a larger group of people anywhere in the States. They are accustomed to handling parties that count in the hundreds so renting out multiple Charter buses shouldn’t prove to be a problem. Limo Service DC service is, of course, available 24 hours per day, 7 days per week via phone or by visiting their website. Call us today at (202) 765-2350

Source:

https://dclimoandcarservice.blogspot.com/2023/03/Chicago-Airport-Car-Service-at-Affordable-Prices-with-Limo-Service-DC.html

[bullet-prooflove]

Pears: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Prequel to:

Bubble

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW)

Ironically the hellhole that’s stealing Carmen’s fucking soul is the place he falls in love with you. He’s been trying to source cheap organic produce for The Beef ever since he came back to Chicago and he’d found this eco-friendly little urban farm not too far away from the restaurant that’s willing to sell him their seasonal overflow for  next to nothing. It’s a win win because you deplore wastage and he needs the discount.

When you arrive at the back door with his order he has no fucking clue why you’re here because it’s late Christmas Eve and everyone else in the world is sending time with their families. Instead you’re standing in front of him, bundled up in a navy blue hat with a pompom with a matching scarf over your white quilted jacket.

“Christ, get in here.” He says tugging you inside because it’s minus who the fuck knows outside and he’s terrified you’ll freeze to death. “Why the fuck are you out in this? You should be tucked up somewhere warm with your family.”

“Because you asked me to asshole.” You reply, tugging off your hat so that your hair falls loose across your rosy features. “You called me up at stupid o'clock because you wanted pears for some seasonal shit you were trying out.”

“Shit.” He says, taking the box from you, because honestly he thought he dreamt that but now he realises he had another dissociative episode. They’ve starting to happen more and more recently since Mikey’s death. He wakes up and he finds himself doing weird shit, cooking plastic, re-organising the tins in his cupboard so they all face backwards, sorting his recycling into colours.

“Now we’ve ascertained why I’m here.” You say, stripping the gloves from your hands and tucking them into the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Christmas isn’t…” He hesitates because he’s thrown back into that last event, the one where Mikey was still alive, clutching that fork and his mother drove a car through the house. He doesn’t know how to explain something like that to you, someone who’s family isn’t as fucked up and dysfunctional as his is.

“I get it.” You say, your hand coming to rest on his arm and he finds himself staring down at it as your thumb traces lightly over the tattoo that’s etched onto his skin. “Christmas isn’t a great time for me either.”

He can’t remember the last time that someone touched him like this, with such care, such gentleness. Richie’s always clapping a hand on his shoulder, shifting him out of the way but it never feels like this. It doesn’t ignite something in his veins the way that yours does, it doesn’t sent a rush of heat flooding through his system.

“You wanna stay?” He asks you, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “I’m about to make hot pear cider.”

You have such beautiful eyes, he’s never really noticed until now despite the fact he’s been in your company a handful of times. It’s a brilliant, rich hue that leaves him completely captivated as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. His heart palpitates in this chest because that smile, it makes something blossom inside of him, something that Carmen has never felt before in his entire life.

“That depends.” You say, your thumb trailing over the scar that resides alongside his tattoo. “Are you going to feed me too?”

“I’d cook you anything you damn well want.” He finds himself telling you before he captures himself, his cheeks flushing at the boldness of his words.

“Surprise me.” You say and he surprises you both by leaning and kissing you instead.

Your lips feel soft underneath his mouth, he can taste the strawberry lip balm, feel the press of your body against his as your fingers thread through his hair drawing him closer. He moans at the sensation because it’s been such a long time since he’s touched another human being like this and you, you make it feel like his entire body is on fire, like he’s burning from the inside out.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” He says as he tries to pull away because he shouldn’t have done that, he knows he shouldn’t.

Your hands grip the fabric of his chef’s jacket, pulling him back towards you and he complies because this sensation he has, he wants to chase it, he wants to see where it goes, to hurtle head first into it.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, your fingertips ghosting along his cheek with a tenderness he doesn’t deserve. “We should do it again Carmy.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, Uber's (still) not profitable

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Bezzle (n): 1. "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it" (JK Gabraith) 2. Uber.

Uber was, is, and always will be a bezzle. There are just intrinsic limitations to the profits available to operating a taxi fleet, even if you can misclassify your employees as contractors and steal their wages, even as you force them to bear the cost of buying and maintaining your taxis.

The magic of early Uber – when taxi rides were incredibly cheap, and there were always cars available, and drivers made generous livings behind the wheel – wasn't magic at all. It was just predatory pricing.

Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar they brought in, lighting $33b of its investors' cash on fire. Most of that money came from the Saudi royals, funneled through Softbank, who brought you such bezzles as WeWork – a boring real-estate company masquerading as a high-growth tech company, just as Uber was a boring taxi company masquerading as a tech company.

Predatory pricing used to be illegal, but Chicago School economists convinced judges to stop enforcing the law on the grounds that predatory pricing was impossible because no rational actor would choose to lose money. They (willfully) ignored the obvious possibility that a VC fund could invest in a money-losing business and use predatory pricing to convince retail investors that a pile of shit of sufficient size must have a pony under it somewhere.

This venture predation let investors – like Prince Bone Saw – cash out to suckers, leaving behind a money-losing business that had to invent ever-sweatier accounting tricks and implausible narratives to keep the suckers on the line while they blew town. A bezzle, in other words:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber is a true bezzle innovator, coming up with all kinds of fairy tales and sci-fi gimmicks to explain how they would convert their money-loser into a profitable business. They spent $2.5b on self-driving cars, producing a vehicle whose mean distance between fatal crashes was half a mile. Then they paid another company $400 million to take this self-licking ice-cream cone off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Amazingly, self-driving cars were among the more plausible of Uber's plans. They pissed away hundreds of millions on California's Proposition 22 to institutionalize worker misclassification, only to have the rule struck down because they couldn't be bothered to draft it properly. Then they did it again in Massachusetts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/15/simple-as-abc/#a-big-ask

Remember when Uber was going to plug the holes in its balance sheet with flying cars? Flying cars! Maybe they were just trying to soften us up for their IPO, where they advised investors that the only way they'd ever be profitable is if they could replace every train, bus and tram ride in the world:

https://48hills.org/2019/05/ubers-plans-include-attacking-public-transit/

Honestly, the only way that seems remotely plausible is when it's put next to flying cars for comparison. I guess we can be grateful that they never promised us jetpacks, or, you know, teleportation. Just imagine the market opportunity they could have ascribed to astral projection!

Narrative capitalism has its limits. Once Uber went public, it had to produce financial disclosures that showed the line going up, lest the bezzle come to an end. These balance-sheet tricks were as varied as they were transparent, but the financial press kept falling for them, serving as dutiful stenographers for a string of triumphant press-releases announcing Uber's long-delayed entry into the league of companies that don't lose more money every single day.

One person Uber has never fooled is Hubert Horan, a transportation analyst with decades of experience who's had Uber's number since the very start, and who has done yeoman service puncturing every one of these financial "disclosures," methodically sifting through the pile of shit to prove that there is no pony hiding in it.

In 2021, Horan showed how Uber had burned through nearly all of its cash reserves, signaling an end to its subsidy for drivers and rides, which would also inevitably end the bezzle:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/10/unter/#bezzle-no-more

In mid, 2022, Horan showed how the "profit" Uber trumpeted came from selling off failed companies it had acquired to other dying rideshare companies, which paid in their own grossly inflated stock:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

At the end of 2022, Horan showed how Uber invented a made-up, nonstandard metric, called "EBITDA profitability," which allowed them to lose billions and still declare themselves to be profitable, a lie that would have been obvious if they'd reported their earnings using Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Like clockwork, Uber has just announced – once again – that it is profitable, and once again, the press has credulously repeated the claim. So once again, Horan has published one of his magisterial debunkings on Naked Capitalism:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/08/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-thirty-three-uber-isnt-really-profitable-yet-but-is-getting-closer-the-antitrust-case-against-uber.html

Uber's $394m gains this quarter come from paper gains to untradable shares in its loss-making rivals – Didi, Grab, Aurora – who swapped stock with Uber in exchange for Uber's own loss-making overseas divisions. Yes, it's that stupid: Uber holds shares in dying companies that no one wants to buy. It declared those shares to have gained value, and on that basis, reported a profit.

Truly, any big number multiplied by an imaginary number can be turned into an even bigger number.

Now, Uber also reported "margin improvements" – that is, it says that it loses less on every journey. But it didn't explain how it made those improvements. But we know how the company did it: they made rides more expensive and cut the pay to their drivers. A 2.9m ride in Manhattan is now $50 – if you get a bargain! The base price is more like $70:

https://www.wired.com/story/uber-ceo-will-always-say-his-company-sucks/

The number of Uber drivers on the road has a direct relationship to the pay Uber offers those drivers. But that pay has been steeply declining, and with it, the availability of Ubers. A couple weeks ago, I found myself at the Burbank train station unable to get an Uber at all, with the app timing out repeatedly and announcing "no drivers available."

Normally, you can get a yellow taxi at the station, but years of Uber's predatory pricing has caused a drawdown of the local taxi-fleet, so there were no taxis available at the cab-rank or by dispatch. It took me an hour to get a cab home. Uber's bezzle destroyed local taxis and local transit – and replaced them with worse taxis that cost more.

Uber won't say why its margins are improving, but it can't be coming from scale. Before the pandemic, Uber had far more rides, and worse margins. Uber has diseconomies of scale: when you lose money on every ride, adding more rides increases your losses, not your profits.

Meanwhile, Lyft – Uber's also-ran competitor – saw its margins worsen over the same period. Lyft has always been worse at lying about it finances than Uber, but it is in essentially the exact same business (right down to the drivers and cars – many drivers have both apps on their phones). So Lyft's financials offer a good peek at Uber's true earnings picture.

Lyft is actually slightly better off than Uber overall. It spent less money on expensive props for its long con – flying cars, robotaxis, scooters, overseas clones – and abandoned them before Uber did. Lyft also fired 24% of its staff at the end of 2022, which should have improved its margins by cutting its costs.

Uber pays its drivers less. Like Lyft, Uber practices algorithmic wage discrimination, Veena Dubal's term describing the illegal practice of offering workers different payouts for the same work. Uber's algorithm seeks out "pickers" who are choosy about which rides they take, and converts them to "ants" (who take every ride offered) by paying them more for the same job, until they drop all their other gigs, whereupon the algorithm cuts their pay back to the rates paid to ants:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

All told, wage theft and wage cuts by Uber transferred $1b/quarter from labor to Uber's shareholders. Historically, Uber linked fares to driver pay – think of surge pricing, where Uber charged riders more for peak times and passed some of that premium onto drivers. But now Uber trumpets a custom pricing algorithm that is the inverse of its driver payment system, calculating riders' willingness to pay and repricing every ride based on how desperate they think you are.

This pricing is a per se antitrust violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act, America's original antitrust law. That's important because Sherman 2 is one of the few antitrust laws that we never stopped enforcing, unlike the laws banning predator pricing:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/sites/ilr.law.uiowa.edu/files/2023-02/Woodcock.pdf

Uber claims an 11% margin improvement. 6-7% of that comes from algorithmic price discrimination and service cutbacks, letting it take 29% of every dollar the driver earns (up from 22%). Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi himself says that this is as high as the take can get – over 30%, and drivers will delete the app.

Uber's food delivery service – a baling wire-and-spit Frankenstein's monster of several food apps it bought and glued together – is a loser even by the standards of the sector, which is unprofitable as a whole and experiencing an unbroken slide of declining demand.

Put it all together and you get a picture of the kind of taxi company Uber really is: one that charges more than traditional cabs, pays drivers less, and has fewer cars on the road at times of peak demand, especially in the neighborhoods that traditional taxis had always underserved. In other words, Uber has broken every one of its promises.

We replaced the "evil taxi cartel" with an "evil taxi monopolist." And it's still losing money.

Even if Lyft goes under – as seems inevitable – Uber can't attain real profitability by scooping up its passengers and drivers. When you're losing money on every ride, you just can't make it up in volume.

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/09/accounting-gimmicks/#unter

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡 (𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

"I love you." And then he froze. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

tags: angst, anxiety, depression, drugs. word count: 810

0:31

Carmy often complained about how his apartment felt like a asylum, the closest thing to hell. Everything seemed out of place, disorganized, meaningless. Empty.

He needed to redecorate.

The bookshelf looked like something you'd find in a junkyard, piled high with trash. His clothes were scattered everywhere, shoes flipped upside down. The smell of his sheets and the clothes he had worn for days, even though they were past the point of being clean. Sometimes, the plumbing would fail, and he'd have to shout in frustration and accept yet another day without a shower.

01:29

He needed to move.

None of this felt real, normal. His parents fought constantly, his siblings complained, and his entire life seemed better on the other side.

He, himself, seemed better outside.

Everything looked perfect from the outside, with his talent and all the praise he received, even amidst the constant chaos of the restaurant—the shouting, the fights that made him roll his eyes. Nothing made sense.

2:00 AM

He needed a new life.

You: Carmy, I’m sorry. I fell asleep.

Her message interrupted his spiraling thoughts, forcing him to swallow hard and regain his composure.

Carmy: It’s fine. Don’t worry. I was still awake.

You: What happened?

The message glowed on his screen, read only a few minutes ago. She was waiting for a response, nervous, in another city. Just as messy as he was.

Carmy: Same old crap. Don’t worry about it.

He replied, breathing heavily, massaging his temples. His hair was a mess, as it always was in his usual chaos. He looked so beautiful, even in the disarray.

I should get therapy.

02:45

Carmy: One day, I’ll get out of here. One day, I’ll change all of this. I need you. I’m sorry for this.

You: Don’t apologize. Everything will be okay, one day. For both of us.

And so, another night passed. The day came and went, and the night lingered longer than it should. Like a torment that never quite leaves. Chef, Sugar, Mom, Sydney, Jimmy, Richie, Mike. What was wrong?

It was all so confusing, even the cars in Chicago seemed to move slower through his fogged mind. His head felt submerged underwater, the lack of oxygen warping his nervous system. Anxiety. How much air does someone need to stay afloat?

I should quit smoking.

"You know, I’ve always hated smokers," she started, her voice soft, a faint laugh following her words.

Carmy glanced at her, subconsciously lowering his cigarette as guilt weighed in his eyes. "If it bothers you, I can stop…"

"I’d look at those people with disgust, judging them, like I was better than them," she continued, her gaze distant, a sad smile tugging at her lips—one Carmy had learned to appreciate, despite its melancholy. She was broke, like him."I was so stupid. They didn’t deserve that."

"So what made you change your mind?" he asked, hesitant.

"I didn’t," she added, drawing a laugh from him. "Cigarettes are terrible, but at least they’re not as miserable as vaping or using needles."

"To the classics," he joked, raising his cigarette like a champagne glass, placing it poetically between his cracked lips, the cold air and dehydration of the night evident.

"But..." She took a breath, the warmth of her exhale mixing with the cheap cocoa butter on her lips. "You’re the only exception."

He smiled weakly. Her hair bounced as she looked at him, golden curls, eyes a deep blue—matching the sorrow of the world reflected in his tired gaze. Carmy was angelic, celestial. No image or sculpture could truly capture his beauty. That pure innocence, which wasn’t sensual but somehow carried desire.

"Thank you." He smiled, finishing his last drag before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. "But I really should quit. I’m just using it as a crutch."

"I can’t judge you. I buy expensive skincare, thinking it’ll make up for a good night’s sleep and healthy food." She joked, and he laughed—just for a second, everything felt right. "Carmy."

"What?" He looked at her, the neon lights from The Bear shining on her face. Two dreams collided in that moment, competing for space in his heart. Drowning in the blue glow of the city’s decorations.

"I love you."

And then he froze. Like the storm inside him had suddenly calmed, as if he were floating on still waters. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. The world stopped. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

"I love you too. A lot."

When he was with her, everything felt perfect. This was where he wanted to be. For the first time, he didn’t want to run from himself anymore, because she was there to embrace his mess. And that was what made Carmy Berzatto, Carmy.

taglist:

@aquazero divider

[gallaghersgal]

EVENTUALLY, lip gallagher (mkverse)

follow up oneshot to borderline, lip x bfs!reader (nickname, Mk)

TAGS & WARNINGS → NSFW 18+. smut!! making out, clothed grinding, lip cumming in his pants, f receiving oral. idiots in a situationship type deal 🤭

CHAPTER SUMMARY → the inner workings of your relationship with lip simmer, coming to a boil one night after his baseball game.

A/N → thank you so much for all the love on this series!! now you get to read about mk and lip getting down and dirty in a honda civic

WC → 2.4k

Summer has always been your favorite time of year. No school, shining sun, as many hours spent laying in the sun as you wanted. With Lip headed halfway across the country in a few short months, you were determined to make this the best summer of your teen years. Of course you were aided by a drivers liscense, working car, and two fake ID’s. 

You and Lip roam the city, Fiona doesn’t seem to mind since Lip turned eighteen, but your own parents scold the both of you enough to get the full experience. They do it out of love, you know. 

Lip kisses you often. His hands explore under your shirt, below your skirt, everywhere you want him to touch and nowhere at all, in the same moment. He joins a local summer ball league, playing at an old minor league stadium on the Northside. You go to as many of his games as you can, the tickets are dirt cheap and your regular paychecks from the movie theater plus some extra cash for babysitting keep you stable. You still squirrel money away for the upcoming year, but fresh out of high school all you want is your first taste of true freedom.

On the fourth of July you dress up in tight jean shorts and a loose flowing tank top in a deep shade of red. Two dark blue ribbons hold your hair in dorothy style braids which you nestle under a Chicago Cubs ballcap. Lipstick on and assets flaunted, you hop in your car and head to the field. 

Lip plays good, he always says you're his lucky charm, but he’s the one who led his high school team to a state championship. You know it isn’t luck. You don’t mind when he says it, though, especially when he talks about you to his teammates.

“Yeah man, my lucky charm right here,” Lip calls out to Torres, his closest friend on the team. He smacks an exaggerated kiss to your cheek, drawing a giggle from your lips before he opens the drivers side door for you.

Torres laughs, then teases Lip, “yeah? She y’r girl, or y’r chauffeur?”

You laugh at that one as well, slipping into the seat. Lip leans into your space for a second, “get comfy baby girl, m’kay?” You nod in response, eyes a little starry, and he kisses you quickly. A moment later the door is shut, you can half hear him talking to Torres, but you don’t pay him any mind. Your eyes focus on the mirror on your sun visor. You apply a vanilla coconut lip balm, knowing he’ll kiss you when he sits down. 

And he does, sliding into the passenger seat. He only takes a moment to close the door before he’s in your space, one hand on the plush of your thigh and the other cupping the back of your neck. He looks so good sitting there across from you, curls wild and messy. When he kisses you, you find yourself climbing across the center and into his lap. 

“Woah, hey there,” he says with a devilish grin. You get straight to the point. grinding your hips against his. His mouth falls slack, one hand resting on your hip as the other brushes gently under your shirt. You kiss that stupid look right off his face. 

That gets him going. His hand travels upwards to squeeze your breast over your bra. “Soft,” he mumbles, palming you with needy hands. One finger rolls around your nipple, then his other hand slides from your neck down to your ass. He guides your hips over his own, through your jean shorts you can feel the hardening outline of his dick, the length of it pressing into you. “Fuck—yeah, MK—shit,” he lets out a groan when you press harder against him. 

“We—we shouldn’t be—oh!” You yelp when his fingers dive below your shorts, you’d barely noticed him fumbling with the button. 

His teeth caress your neck, fingers resting against your pussy. Fuck, you wish he’d gone into your panties already. “Whatever y’wanna do, ‘kay?” he reassures you gently. 

You nod, fingers gripping his wrist. You can’t let him touch you like that, not yet. You can’t get too attached. “Kiss me again,” you say breathlessly. Barely a beat passes before his lips are on your own. 

Lip draws his hand from your panties, both palms landing on the curve of your ass. “This okay?” he asks quietly, soft breath fanning against your lips. 

“More than okay,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your tongue presses past his lips to lick against him, whining into his mouth. The kiss is hot, it’s heavy, and you find yourself rolling your hips against his in a desperate, needy fashion. When Lip groans in response, you know you’re doing something right. 

His hands leverage you against his body, his dick pressing againt the zipper of his jeans. “Fuck, tha’s it,” he encourages as you press your chest against his own. One greedy hand lifts the fabric, his lips pressing to the tops of your breasts where they spill over from your bra. He noses into the soft skin, unable to resist sucking a soft bruise into the flesh. 

You feel so disconnected from reality, the thoughts and worries that you shouldn’t be grinding on your best friend like this flown out the window. His hands caress your body, tracing every soft and supple place he can find purchase in. With one hand in his messy curls you pull him up for another kiss. You press your hips down harder and a needy whine escape your lips. 

Lip’s hands squeeze your waist, humming with a cocky smirk. “You like that, huh?”

“You like that,” you quip back, your hand moving between your bodies to rub at his aching cock. The sound that follows is desperate, heady, punched out of his throat like he’s never been touched before. You wonder how long it’s been since he had someone like this, how long he’s been waiting for you. You wonder… “Have y’been thinking of me?” you ask quietly, kissing from his neck up to his ear. You continue in a sultry whisper, “when you touch yourself?”

You can’t believe the sight, your face pressed close to his own while he nods eagerly. “All the time, a-all the fuckin’ time, Mk please,” he whines.

Barely a breath passes before you seal your lips to his own, grinding your hips down. “I think about it too. Think about us,” you whisper between messy kisses.

It sends him over the edge. Your lips on his own, tits pressed to his chest, warm cunt grinding down on his dick. He can’t believe you’re real. His thighs shake as he cums in his boxers. A string of apologies follows, “fuck, ‘m sorry, s-sorry,” he. stammers out.

You kiss him through it, mouth slowing to a gentler pace as your tongues tangle. Warm hands trail up and down your back, and when he catches his breath he begins to kiss down your throat. He maneuvers himself away from your lap and leaves a sloppy trail of kisses down your sternum, lifts your shirt so he can kiss your stomach, then his face rests between your thighs.

“What’re y’doin–oh, ohmygod–Lip!” You whimper as he licks a stripe up the center of your panties. 

“Repayin’ the favor, he mumbles against your pussy. He adjusts himself in his messy boxers, then two strong hands are gripping your thighs. Lip fucking Gallagher is looking up at you through his lashes, mouth pressed to your hot center. “Say no, right now, an’ I won’t go any further. I promise.”

You think about it, try to weigh the consequences, but your mind is so hazy with need.“Fuck, Lip. Take ‘em off,” you whine, “please—”

That’s all you have to say. Your black thong pools by your ankles, Lip tries to pocket them but you kick him lightly, “cut that out, y’freak,” you tease. Though, the idea does get you a bit hot and bothered. But god would that be uncomfortable in jeans. 

“Another time,” he mumbles against your thigh, and your heart flutters.

Another time? You don’t have time to dwell on it, white hot pleasure searing through your body as he laps messily at you. His nose bumps against your clit and draws a sweet whimper from your mouth, hands flying to his curls. You tug on the soft strands while Lip wastes no time flicking his tongue over your sensitive clit. 

Your eyes flutter closed, back arching involuntarily. Your core presses to his face, and you feel him smirk against you. “You like that, huh?” he asks with a cocky tone, kissing your thigh for a moment as he catches his breath. You can only nod in response, as one of his thick fingers slides inside you.

“F-fuck, yeah, ‘s’good,” you babble, tugging sharply on his hair when he bites your thigh. The action pulls a broken moan from him, the sound vibrating against your center. He’s so close, one finger slowly crooking up inside you, breath fanning over your pussy. “Please, ‘m close,” you whine pathetically. God, this is humiliatingly hot. 

“Yeeaaahhh,” he murmurs, drawing out the word while his fingers speed up. He’s added a second now, his lips attached to your puffy clit. He laps from you like a man starved, the coil in your core winding tighter with every second. 

This is… fuck. It’s so much better than you’d imagined. You often wished your pleasure was drawn from his own fingers, not your own. Your daydreams and delusions were right, his thick digits feel like heaven. Little do you know, the sounds you’re making are Lip’s own heaven.

He pairs every thrust of his fingers with a swirl of his tongue, drawing the prettiest moans from your parted lips, painted cherry red. Oh how he’d love to see that hue smeared at the base of his cock, your cheeks flushed and eyes teary. Lip has to focus again on you, chasing down your high to keep his dick from making a second appearance. 

“C’mon, c’mon Mk,” he grunts into your pussy. You’re messy, fucking dripping for him, he could bust right then and there. Theres a desperation in the way he laps at you, his sounds almost whines.

A burst of your arousal floods his tongue, your fingers grip his hair so hard it stings, but Lip doesn’t mind. Your sounds are like music to him. He withdraws his fingers and pushes the muscle of his tongue inside you, lapping up every drop like it’s nectar, and when he’s finished he rests his head on your thigh and simply stares. You’re so beautiful in his eyes–chest heaving, thighs parted for him–a picture perfect Goddess, a woman after his own heart.

He kisses the softness of your stomach before maneuvering himself over to the driver’s seat. “Guess I should drive you home, least I can do since y’made me cum in my pants and all.” You flush at his words, still awestruck at the orgasm he’d given you. “Y’with me, MK?”

You manage to breathe in, pulling your shorts and underwear up from where they’re pooled at your ankles. You fasten the zipper and button with trembling hands, “y-yeah, get me home Gallagher. I need a cold shower.”

He chuckles at that, cranks the engine and puts the car into reverse. Somewhere down the road while stopped at a red light Lip turns to you, fingers resting under your chin. “You’re all sticky,” you gripe, and duck away from him. 

“Ah, quit that, ‘ve got you all over me,” he leans over with a smirk, and you can’t say no when he kisses you. You taste your own arousal on his tongue, and his hand massages your thigh gently. A green glow interrupts the moment, and Lip puts his hands back on the wheel as you continue towards home. “Hey uh, y’wanna go to ihop?”

“You’re fucking joking,” you say, the words followed with an incredulous laugh while you look over at him. Lip looks dead serious though, one eyebrow raised in question. He begins to smirk when you stammer out, “j-jeez, let me shower first. I guess you did work up my appetite.”

The light turns green, and Lip howls with laughter as he presses the gas. 

After separate showers—much to Lip’s disapproval—and a shared plate of bottomless pancakes, you sit across from each other at a small booth crammed in the back corner of the crowded ihop. Lip smiles as he tears one end of the wrapper off his unused straw. He blows the rest of the paper at you, earning him your signature glare. You can’t help but laugh too, admiring the pretty pink blush on his cheeks.

“So uh, ‘ve been thinkin’ about some things,” he says after your giggles calm down.

“Uh oh,” you tease. “What’s up?”

Lip fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, avoiding your gaze for a moment, then looks up at you with those icy blue eyes. “I’m not gonna go to MIT.”

Your eyes widen, “w-what do you mean? It’s perfect for you, and you—”

He cuts you off, shaking his head. “Too far, I wanna be closer to home. That way I can chip in with the bills, watch the kids, y’know.”

You’re in disbelief, your stomach churning. “Lip, you were given a once in a lifetime scholarship. Why would you give that up?”

Lip shrugs, “I got the same kinda thing here. Figured it’d be good to stay in the city, help out Fiona.” He looks down before continuing, “and it’ll be nice to have you ‘round too, yeah? Both of us at UChi?” Your heart flutters when he looks up again, gauging your reaction.

You put on a smile, covering all the conflicting emotions that swirl inside you. You’re happy for him, and you tell him that. Happy to have him around. Right?

You offer to drive, so you won’t fidget with the weight of your nerves. The ride home is fairly quiet, the only noises coming from the radio. Lip kisses you again by your door, hands flirting with the hem of your top but never quite going under.

“Hey,” you murmur curiously, pushing him back just slightly. You bring your arms up to his shoulders, and duck backwards when he tries to kiss you again. You have to hold back a giggle when his needy lips brush your jaw. “What’re we doing,” you ask softly. 

He shrugs, that infuriating grin on his face. “We’re friends MK, like we’ve always been.”

“Friends with benefits,” you correct. 

“Yes ma’am. Friends who kiss,” my murmurs, lips sealing over your own. “Maybe even, friends who fuck, huh?” He scoffs at the playful shove you give him. 

“Good night,” you say firmly as you unlock your front door. He gives a two fingered salute before jogging off across the street. You sigh, closing your door behind you. It’s been coming for a while now. You might as well let it happen.

THX 4 READING → beta'd by @carmybrainworms :))

© gallaghersgal, 2024. div. by cafekitsune, nicodefresas

LET IT HAPPEN → coming soon

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Second Hand

Scott and Hector didn't want to go to this stupid school dance at all. But their parents both insisted. They said it would be an unforgettable event and that they would draw on it for the rest of their lives. They had even both been given money to buy new tuxedos. A crazy 500 dollars each. What weed they could have bought with that! But still, the two of them now needed a tuxedo. “Cheap tuxedo Chicago” Scott googled. The first result was an address with carnival costumes. That didn't seem appropriate. He scrolled a bit. And then came the entry of a second-hand store. He knew the area. There was a guy around the corner who occasionally supplied him with weed to smoke. This had to be a twist of fate. They would spend the $1000 today. And come home with more than two tuxedos. The two congratulated each other on this excellent plan and their luck. Hector donated the last weed he had and the two smoked in joyful anticipation of plenty of supplies.

It was almost a 30-minute bus ride. The area looked bad. Most of the shops were boarded up, rubbish was lying on the streets, and there were wrecked cars at the side of the road. Only the second-hand shop made a well-kept impression. The mannequins looked extremely old-fashioned. But the clothes they were wearing were decorated in such a way that any hipster would have jumped for joy at the retro fashion. Unfortunately, Scott and Hector were not hipsters. They were fashion grouches. They just wanted a cheap tuxedo. Nothing else.

When they entered the shop, an old-fashioned doorbell rang. The shop was empty. Oldies were playing on a radio. Music they knew from their parents. They looked around uncertainly. And then the voice came from offstage. “Bros, what can I do for you?” A young man had appeared out of nowhere. He had a cool mullet, which was back in fashion. Although somehow it looked different on him. Somehow… vintage? Yes, that suited him, like his clothes. Hector's mother had a thing for an actor named Something Fox. Or something like that. He used to have to watch old movies with his mother with this small-framed actor. And the salesman here in the store looked like he had been an extra in one of the movies. “I hope you can help us, dude,” Scott said with a slightly dry voice. ‘We have to go to some stupid ball and we need a tuxedo or whatever that stuff is called. Something cheap!’ The young man asked what ‘cheap’ meant to them. Scott had no idea what to say. He wasn't really into poker or haggling. “We have $100…” ‘Guys, don't worry, we'll find two tuxedos for you!’ the salesman interrupted them. Hector nudged his buddy in the ribs. It was really their lucky day. They had said that they each wanted to spend a maximum of $100. They would never have dared to dream that they would get two tuxedos for that price.

“My name is Michael, by the way,” said the young man. Hector had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Michael J. Fox! Exactly! That was the name of his mother's favorite actor. Michael took the two of them to the back of the store. Here suits were hanging on the racks. ‘Guys, I don't have much of a selection when it comes to tuxedos right now.’ He took two suits off the rack. Here, this is the best I can offer you at the moment.” In one hand he held a tuxedo made of cheap polyester, in the other something made of leather or faux leather. Even though the two of them knew little about fashion, it was clear to them that the two tuxedos were mercilessly out of fashion. They must have had rather horrified faces, because Michael replied immediately, ‘And because of the Black Friday stuff, both are available for 80 dollars together’. And with a wink, he added that there was also a bit of weed as a bonus. Scott couldn't help grinning. That sounded like a deal. He grabbed the leather tuxedo and said, “Mine, dude.” Hector acted offended and took the other one. He was quite happy. He thought a leather tuxedo was kind of gay.

Laughter came from Scott's dressing room. “You okay, buddy?” Michael asked. Scott stepped out of the dressing room, wearing only the tuxedo pants. The pants were way too long and flopped around on his skinny pothead legs. Michael grinned and said that maybe they needed to be shortened a bit. He turned up the waistband and asked Scott to turn around. “But your muscular ass looks great in these pants.” ‘My what?’ Scott thought to himself. He turned to the mirror. What he saw was out of this world! The shiny black material stretched around two perfectly shaped ass cheeks. Without warning, Michael reached into his crotch. Scott winced. ‘Dude,’ Michael said. ”Never get dressed without a jockstrap. Otherwise you can see every detail of your beast through the material!” Scott tried to correct the fit of his cock. Yes, you could see everything. His cock wasn't even hard. Not yet. But he would have the same problem with any pair of pants. But hardly any would fit so perfectly. He turned in front of the mirror. The pants fit his narrow waist just as well as his muscular thighs. He hadn't thought he'd find something that fit so well in a thrift store. Michael came back and threw him a jockstrap. Scott reacted a little too late and the jockstrap landed in his face. Shit, where had he left it again? It was still warm and damp from the last workout. Hell yes, he would recognize the smell of his jockstraps anywhere. “Then I'll try the tuxedo top,“ he said

“Hey, Michael, can you help me?” Michael followed right into Hector's dressing room. He couldn't help grinning. Hector looked like a ten-year-old had put on his father's tuxedo. He literally sank into the fabric. “You really don't have anything else? Shit, it doesn't fit at all!” Hector said. Michael walked around Hector, pulled on the fabric a bit and said that it would look different if he wore a real shirt and not his pothead T-shirt underneath. And in terms of length, Hector would need it. He's quite a giant, after all. How tall is he? 6'2"? “It's 6'3", to be honest,“ Hector replied, shooting up at that moment. “Speaking of shirts, will you bring me one?” Scott's bass boomed through the shop. “XXL or XXXL?” Michael asked, kneeling in front of Hector, trying to pin the waistband. “Better bring XXXL,” Scott replied with a laugh. But Michael was distracted. On his knees, Hector's crotch in his face, the smell of sweat and musk from his trousers. He got a hard-on. And so did Hector, obviously. Instead of continuing to fix the trousers, he opened Hector's fly, whose cock popped out like a jack-in-the-box. Michael had Hector's glans in his mouth faster than Hector could see.

On the radio, Night Ranger's “The Secret Of My Success” was playing, from the soundtrack to the new Michael J Fox movie. Michael had trouble swallowing Hector's cock. He often had true stallions as customers, but that was a premium cock. He looked up and saw far above Hector's muscular torso, his face contorted with lust. Michael grasped Hector's firm ass cheeks and shoved his cock all the way into his face. Hector let out a loud moan as he shot his load. A second load hit Michael in the neck. Scott had been looking for his shirts and had watched the two of them jerking off.

Michael was in seventh heaven. He rarely had such horny customers to serve. And both bought brand-new tuxedos with all the trimmings. He had lusted after a hot cock and made almost $1,000 in sales. He could be more than satisfied. Scott and Hector, however, were more than satisfied themselves. They looked at themselves in the mirror. The tuxedos looked hot and fit like a glove. Their hair was perfectly styled, and they were about to make a first-class appearance at the premiere of the new Sylvester Stallone movie, Over the Top. Both had had a small part in one scene and had competed against each other in the background of Sly in an arm-wrestling contest. Of course, they hoped that this would be their breakthrough. If Arnie and Sly made it from the gym to the silver screen, why not them?

They made a few local papers. And there was actually a photo in Variety. Okay, they misspelled Hector's last name and gave Scott's age as 32 instead of 28. But hey! Better wrong publicity than no publicity!

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 22: Lipstick Prints

Photo: From Pinterest, JAW getting ready for the Golden Globes

Bearblr Promptober Day 22: Costumes

Summary: Carmy's getting ready for a costume party, and he learns he likes his girlfriend's lipstick prints on him. Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, mentions of The Devil (Chef David), mentions of Donna Berzatto, Carmy is startled, comfort, fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (1,611 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

22 Oct 2024

“Fuck me, Bear, you can’t go looking like that,” she said.

Don’t ask me how it happened (okay, maybe it had to do with her confessing that she wants to have children with me, what the fuck is my life), but I decided to accept Darling’s invitation to a costume party that people from her work were putting on. I don’t know, I had a weird sort of confidence that evening.

Had.

I froze while buttoning up my shirt, a sheer black number that I was pairing with a black suit. My stomach lurched. Did I break a social rule? The fuck did she mean, I couldn’t go looking like that?

“I-I’m sorry?” was all I managed to get out.

“I want to eat you.”

Oh. Oh, I suppose that was valid. I felt myself start to shrink, dammit.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t weird confidence. Maybe I was just fucked up enough to do something crazy in some asinine attempt to ward off gnawing guilt from refusing to pick up 3 calls from ma and then refusing to talk to her when Nat wandered into the kitchen with her on the phone. It was eating a hole through me, those stupid little bubbles on my phone and then Sug’s sad eyes. Missed call from Mom. The number of times I thought about blocking her number or deleting it, and then thinking better of it because surely, surely at some point Donna Fucking Berzatto was going to have a crisis bad enough that she’d call me, and I didn’t know if I could live with my guts twisting into knots knowing she—I don’t know—bled out in a car wreck because she was driving drunk again and I just happened to have her phone number blocked at the time.

Only to then not pick up the phone. To just stare at it while it buzzed at me, frozen in space, drowning in flashes of her tear-soaked face, the smell of stale cigarettes, cheap wine, that old, shitty perfume she wore to cover up the smell of booze. That sting from every time she hit me across the face in my agonizing eternity in that house. I would’ve thought I had enough of my shitty little life figured out to at least pretend to want to hear from her, to not care about her emotional manipulation, her gaslighting, listen to her spun stories, get lulled by her laugh only to get bit by her insults. I could certainly do it while I was in New York, so what changed in Chicago?

I hate admitting it, but I was more bulletproof in The Devil’s home.

Maybe it was because he never stopped whipping me. Kept the armor in check, the drawbridges up, the archers at the ready. And then when it stopped, the exhaustion set in.

And when Darling set in, the exhaustion amplified.

“Pretty boy?” She sung.

My attention and gaze snapped to her. Doorway of the bedroom, long plum-colored dress with a black cloak, a little witch’s broom slung over her back. Hood pooled around her shoulders. More eyeliner, darker, brought out the color in her eyes. Black lipstick. Why did I like that so much?

“Hi.”

“Hi. Hey. Sorry,” I mumbled. Raked back my hai—

“No, no, no don’t ruin it!” She hissed. She darted forward, brushed my hand out of the way, and messed with my hair. “It looks gorgeous right now; I wanna try to keep it that way.”

That’s right. She’d tackled my hair with water and some kind of leave-in conditioner or something, so it actually had a curl pattern instead of whatever bird’s-nest bullshit it ended up in from me dragging my fingers through it a thousand times a day. She had her mother of pearl necklace on. One new to me, a fine gold chain with a little medallion, was just barely visible above her cleavage.

She then started adjusting my shirt collar. “I didn’t think you would have something like this.”

“I own nice clothes. Just, uh, don’t have a ton of opportunities to wear them here.”

“No, I mean a sheer black dress shirt.”

“Yeah, I don’t really, um, have an explanation for that…”

She smoothed her hands down my chest. I fought to keep my eyes open. It was a problem now, how fast my eyes would drift shut if she touched me, how hard it was to stay focused on anything when she had her hands on me, or when I could pick up her scent. It wasn’t just that airy vanilla and citrus note either, there was a scent to her skin. Warm, musky, maybe a bit salty like an arid coastal town that barely qualified as coastal except for when the surf was rough, and that saltwater-laden air would drift further inland. It drove me insane.

“I like it,” she murmured, now tracing her thumb over my lips. “Very witchy. And I didn’t have to buy you a shitty costume.”

I hooked her chin, leaned in for a kiss, she pulled back, and—it was entirely instinct, maybe because of the whole phone call situation, maybe because of other past experiences—I jumped back. My heart shot to my throat and my face flooded with heat. Thinking about it now, the only logical reasoning is that I still had the phone ordeal on the brain because I was expecting her to snap at me. Or swing at me. Not once—not a single time, not once, not ever, no matter what happened—never, ever did Darling make me feel unsafe. Never. It’s why I could love her so much. Why I could crumble apart in front of her, why I could crawl to her after taking a beating during service and just lie on the couch with my head on her stomach and her hands in my hair, soul smarting, stinging, sometimes screaming in pain. I was always safe. Darling is safe.

A look of horror flashed on her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” It came out as a whisper. “I’m sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t want to get lipstick on you.” She raised her arms a little. Slowly.

And I collapsed into them. She squeezed me—I keep forgetting how fucking strong she is—but the tight hug was needed. Felt like it was holding me together. My heart was still pounding, and it was a million fucking degrees, but I pulled her flush to me, buried my nose in the crook of her neck, and drew in the deepest breath I could, focused on the vanilla, citrus, the warmth. She mumbled apologies repeatedly, pressed her lips to the side of my neck, somehow held me tighter. I wanted to tell her that she’d apologized enough, but words didn’t occur to me. It was honestly just nice to be held. I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed it all day.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just. I dunno, it wasn’t you, it was-it was other stuff today.”

She pulled back to study my face. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“No, I’m-I’m okay.” I rubbed my eyes. I doubt it helped her feel better. “I just. I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

She leaned to the side. “Oh. I left a print on you.”

I turned and looked in the mirror. There was a black lipstick print on the side of my neck. It wasn’t perfect, a bit smeared from the angle she was at when she left it. The warmth drained from my face. Was replaced with a comfortable coolness.

“I like it,” I declared.

Her reflection arched her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I stepped closer and studied the print. It still looked identifiably like her lips, dark gray all over with more of a black around the outside edge and a few little lines near the center of the print. Looked almost like an interesting tattoo. It was a strange sort of feeling, the feeling of being claimed, of being marked as hers. She’d been leaving those marks—lipstick prints, hickeys, bites, scratches—in places clothes could easily cover up for months already, but something about the imprint being so plainly visible, unmissable on the side of my neck, it was an addictive prospect.

Fuck, I could get a tattoo of it.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I-I like it a lot.”

She stroked my cheek with her thumb. Giggled. “Should I start giving you kisses on your neck to take to wo—?”

“Yes.” I met her eyes. “Yes. Please.” Please, leave a mark on me that makes it obvious that I’m yours. Please, Darling, my love, my sweetheart—I need to show people I belong to you. I don’t know why, I’m not interested in knowing why, I just need it to be obvious to anyone and everyone, most of all, to myself, that I am yours.

It took a moment for a wicked grin to appear on her face. She tipped my head back, pressed her lips just to the side of my throat, right over my carotid. I swallowed a pleased sound and tried to ignore the stir of heat in my core—we needed to actually go to this damned party, after all—and was rewarded with a perfect lipstick print on the other side of my neck, visible from the front. She smoothed my shirt over my shoulders. Leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“There. That one’s for you to look at.”

I bit my lip. Nodded.

I was going to wreck her when we got home.

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O’Hare Airport Car Service Will Make Your Wedding Memorable for Your Guests

Remove Potential for Wedding Frustration with Midway Airport Car Service. Remove the frustration potential from the wedding experience for your important guests making reservations for prompt and peaceful Midway Airport car service. The frustrations and stress that stem from traveling by air aren’t new phenomena. The reasons that these issues occur are common and results of necessary processes and procedures.

This stress can be compounded by the length of the wait time, potential for travel delay, and this lessened satisfactory experience can detract from the calm and enjoyment of the wedding experience. As your traveling guests arrive for your wedding, plan ahead and reserve Midway Airport Car Service to provide an appropriate welcome and secure the beginning of wedding joy.

Take Away Their Anxiety

Efficient travel is a need for wedding guests, but it is a need that will lessen satisfaction experienced with the wedding and the days surrounding it. Punctual and pleasant O’Hare Airport car service will make sure that your wedding guests ride with positive enjoyment that is timely and positively memorable. Our chauffeurs oversee flights in actual time, ensuring the schedule is respected and followed.

With a clear appreciation of the streets, destinations, and traffic patterns of the area, the driver provided for your wedding guests’ travel will be ready and able to deliver appropriately. We provide thorough background checks and substance abuse screening as well to ensure that drivers are ready and proven. With stringent guidelines, we provide the best, fastest, and most satisfying travel arrangements to ride stress for the potential experience of your wedding guests. Also you can search the “Cheap Limo Service Near Me” on Google and find our website to make your reservation today.

Positive Wedding Joy Is Critical

While getting ready to marry, you won’t want to worry about negativity playing any kind of role in your day. As guests arrive, they should have a sense of positivity, without stress or frustration, which Chicago Limousine Rentals encourage. Their arrival experiencing a glamorous ride with lessened frustration guarantees that the experience will do away with stress and anxiety. We provide wedding worthy vehicles that are designed to lessen stress. Valuable vehicles with immaculate cleanliness, glamour, and quality performance with comprehensive insurance coverage should be expected and considered appropriate for such an important day.

 We Cover Practicality

Providing your guests with an experience removed from practicality is possible when you arrange for luxurious and comprehensive professional travel arrangements. We handle the details of transport in every way with customer support that is detailed and guided by customer preference. With 24-hour customer service, we make it simple to please your wedding guests, and online reservations with quick billing make it a snap for you to provide this considerate gift for your important wedding guests.

Call us today at (312) 757-4634

Source: https://chicagolimoandblackcarservice.blogspot.com/2023/02/OHare-Airport-Car-Service-Will-Make-Your-Wedding-Memorable-for-Your-Guests.html