#goofy idea I scribbled

[singeamon-arts]

Copying her big bros

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[harvestmoth]

definitely not a shady merchant and can be trusted with your money

[motherforthefamicom]

random sparkledog drawn w oil pastels

[theartingace]

he hasn't seen barbie but it feels right

[skeeballcatt22]

Sorry for the scribbled nature of this but I am not in the mood to fight with procreate 😭

[laugtherhyena]

She's got these goofy looking ones too, i like them a lot

[fruity-cleric]

ZOMBIE BOYY

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[klausinamarink]

(saw this post and laughed at everyone’s tags and ended up writing this instead of my actual wips i should really finish whOOPs)

-

Eddie bopped his head lightly along to Mötley Crüe on his Walkman as he scribbled his ideas for the Thanksgiving oneshot. He managed to finish the gruelling biology homework and his English essay tonight, so he deserved a treat.

As he tapped his pencil against his desk, he looked up and happened to catch one Steve Harrington’s face at the window.

Eddie perked up, taking his headphones off. Steve grinned, gave his dumb finger wave, and pointed at the window. Eddie gave him a ‘wait a second’ gesture and hurried to close his door, peeking first at the living room where Wayne sat on the couch and read his newspaper. Then he swiftly moved his Mötley Crüe tape to his radio and cranked the volume up that would cover any discreet noise.

He lifted the window open, taking a moment to closely observe Steve’s face in his goofy awestruck glory. “What brings you to my balcony, Romeo?”

Steve shrugged playfully, “Doesn’t Juliet yearn for his lover to come at unknown hours under the moonlight?”

Eddie gave himself a second to turn away and cover his delightful shriek with a palm over his mouth. Goddamnit, his boyfriend is a perfect Shakespeare romantic. He leaned back in with a low whisper, “Sounds like Romeo needs an excuse to see Juliet.”

“That’ll be great since I’m literally tiptoeing on this box right now.” Steve laughed and heaved himself up with a ‘hup!’ Eddie stepped back to let his boyfriend shimmy in, but then his eyes widened in horror when he realized what was under the window in his room.

“Wait, Steve-!” Eddie cut off as Steve landed elegantly onto the small bookshelf instead of the bed because he had switched their places the previous week because his brain was on a weird day and Eddie had thought doing so might shut it up, so he has yet to reverse them.

The bookshelf toppled over on the floor, along with the lamp and other figurines. Steve himself pretty much crashed and rolled before he stopped himself on his side. He looked up at Eddie in bewilderment.

“Uhhh…”

Before either of them could say anything, Wayne burst into the room. Out of instinctive reflex, Eddie threw his bedsheets right on Steve, covering him but not really hiding him.

“What’s going on?” Wayne asked. His gaze landed on the mess and the very obvious Steve blanket lump on the floor.

“Nothing!” Eddie answered, too cheerily. “I was just dancing a lot and, uh, did this. By accident, sorry.”

Wayne stared at him, clearly not believing his ass. “…Right.” He said slowly. “Does Steve want to stay for breakfast in the morning?”

Eddie blinked innocently and, because he was the best liar in the entire world, said, “Who’s Steve?”

Steve made some muffled guffaw sound. Eddie subtly kicked him in where he hoped was in the shins. Wayne gave him another stare before coming to Steve the Blanket Lump and lifted the sheet up where Steve blinked just as innocently back.

“What’s your name, son?” Wayne asked matter of factly.

“…Steve?”

“Steve, would you like to stay for breakfast in the morning?”

Steve looked over to Eddie, who quickly shook his head no, then back at Wayne with his parent-rated charming smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind, Wayne.”

His uncle nodded and dropped the blanket, covering Steve again. He turned and walked out of the room, calling out, “Better not hear any more noises again!”

Eddie practically dropped to the ground, his face in his hands, and groaned aloud. This was so embarrassing. He felt Steve’s arms hugging his chest. “Eds, babe, I’m sorry but you know I would die for your uncle’s buttermilk biscuits and jams.”

He glared at his boyfriend half-heartedly. “Stealthy like a ninja, you say?”

Steve pointedly looked down at the fallen bookshelf. “Welllll, I could’ve sworn there was always a bed there-”

Eddie kissed him. “Well,” he said after they broke apart, “maybe I’ll let Romeo help me clean up and all shall be forgiven with our usual duties.”

Steve wiggled his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. “Clean up, you say, Juliet?”

Wayne hollered at Eddie to close his bedroom door.

[harvestmoth]

okay now for a bunch of scribbles im not finishing

[mosaickiwi]

Leaping In

Goofy mushy thing since it’s been almost a year of writing... them✨ I’m normal! 💥🎉 (sai’s froggydacted fic part 2 teehee)

Gender neutral reader!! <- idk when i stopped saying this but it applies to everything i write fjdsakljfsla

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Careful of their contents, you tore away packing tape on box after box of assorted items, then scribbled a description of the items on each one. It'd taken a while, but you finally got around to moving in with your long term partner. 

In your excitement to take that next step, the thought of actually labeling anything had slipped your mind during the few days off you scrambled to pack with their much needed help. So while [REDACTED] brought more and more boxes into his living room—suspiciously turning you into a prisoner from the way he piled them all around you like walls of a fort—you had to figure out what everything was to make sure nothing was forgotten from your crummy apartment. Before your landlord broke in to play finders keepers.

It was on what must’ve been the fourteenth trip back from the moving truck that he paused to watch you, setting down another few boxes to reinforce the barricade you'd just dismantled. 

“That one's all your Attack on Giants merch,” he said, arms crossed and fingers drumming atop the highest peak of the cardboard castle.

You stopped halfway through opening said box in your lap, then pried it open anyway. Sure enough, it was full of manga volumes, some figurines still in display packaging, and a few Haruko plushies. One in particular that they'd bought you on that first awkward date at the pier. The poor thing was a little frayed and flat from how often you slept with it held tightly to your chest.

Uncapping the marker in your hand, you wrote ‘AoG’ on a spot where the tape wasn't too damaged. You pushed the box to the side to grab another. But he spoke again. 

“Blankets,” they said about the large, flat box in front of your outstretched hand. “Dishes,” to a small one you stood up to grab from a further pile in your prison.

“Ren,” you huffed and looked up at him accusingly. “Do you already know exactly what's in all of these, then?”

“...F’the most part, yeah.” He smiled and pointedly tapped on the box under his arms. “This one's some of your other plushies. You didn’t leave anything.”

“And you didn't stop me earlier because…?”

They shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Easier t’keep you in one place.”

So he was trying to trap you. 

Without a word you walked over to label the box, the marker squeaking loudly against the tape next to his hand. You grabbed their arm once you finished—since they clearly weren't planning to leave—and gave him a label of ‘my spouse’ on the back of his hand, along with a few hearts around it.

His eyes glittered with more excitement than usual. You might've done a little too much. “Shit, don't tattoo that,” you quickly muttered. From the way he looked to the side with a pout, you could tell he seriously considered the idea. “Wash it off later, okay? I’ll give you something else.”

The hacker immediately smiled brighter as you carefully leaned over the tower of boxes to give him a better gift. 

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

[REDACTED] went back to unloading the truck, begrudgingly making an entrance to the cardboard fort before he left. You started unpacking your clothes first since he’d pointed them all out to you. As you finished arranging them in the closet and drawers of your room, you found a few things out of place at the bottom of those boxes. 

Some of the hats, beanies, and scarves that you'd ‘robbed’ him of. And of course he let you keep whatever you wanted, so eventually a handful ended up in your everyday wardrobe in autumn and winter while others went unused.

But they didn't need to stay with you anymore. You could take them again whenever you wanted now. Along with everything that was his, he was yours. 

You gathered them all into one of the smaller boxes and hurried off to his room. The prison in the living room hadn’t gotten much bigger, and your blue eyed boyfriend was nowhere to be seen as you peeked in to check. Probably trying to take the last few boxes in one trip, you supposed. 

The closet door was ajar in their room when you arrived and you slid it open the rest of the way with your foot. Always clean and neat, not a thing was out of place about his signature black—with hints of gray or dark blue, when they felt like it—clothing.

Save for the soft, knitted green froggy hat that caught your eye on one of the shelves. You set your box next to it and picked it up, toying with the puffed up eyes sewn at the top. 

It found its way into their everyday wardrobe, thanks to your occasional teasing after he went along with your prank. Once in a while he’d wear it, and you never even had to ask. Contrasted with his usual appearance it certainly stood out in a crowd. But it always looked comfortable and cute on him. 

The fabric felt softer than a plushie. You wondered how comfy it really was, seeing how you'd never worn it yourself. But you couldn’t get sidetracked. Reluctantly, you put the silly hat back and got to work.

Only a few items had been put in their rightful places when the prized possession caught your eye again barely a minute later. It looked so sad on the shelf all alone, the little sewn-on smile tugged at your heartstrings. You had to wear it. There was enough unpacking done already. You could stand to use a break, even for a second.

You hurried to grab it, humming to yourself as you lifted it into the air.

“Angel,” the hat’s real owner suddenly called. Their gentle, raspy voice sounded closer than you expected. You looked up to find your ever so silent stalker of a boyfriend watching you from the doorway with an amused gaze. Your eyes went wide and you froze, the froggy hat held high in your grasp as if you were crowning royalty. “Robbin’ me again, love?”

Your face felt warm. “...Um, no,” you lied unconvincingly, too embarrassed to sound calm. “I'm actually returning things.”

“Hm. ‘Think this one suits y’better than me, though.” [REDACTED] stepped closer to pluck the hat from your hands. The soft, knitted fabric slid over your head, then he gently adjusted the ear flaps. “Cute.”

Before he could make another comment, you scrambled to offer a different topic. “Did you finish unloading? You could help me with unpacking in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” His cool fingers moved to frame your face and lightly squish your heated cheeks. Pale blue eyes sparkled less with mischief, more focused now as they slowly looked you over in silence. He was probably tucking the sight away in his mind to tease you about later. “I'm real happy you moved in,” he said quietly.

Oh. You didn't expect that. “Me too.”

He smiled at your agreement and kissed your forehead, then leaned down. “Really happy,” he repeated between soft pecks to your lips.

Those few innocent kisses soon turned to longer and longer ones that left you wanting. Eventually you had to pull a few inches away with a hand placed to their chest. Tempting as it was to get distracted, there was a lot left to do.

He seemed to read your mind, cheeks tinged pink as he wrapped his hand over yours to keep you close. The doodled label you'd given them earlier was still proudly displayed on their skin. “So… kitchen?”

You nodded. And then got embarrassed all over again when he readjusted the hat that slipped to obscure your vision with fuzzy green fabric in the process.

“Maybe I should leave this here for now,” you said as you yanked it off. The hat plopped awkwardly in the box still full with the rest of his stuff and stared back at you. “I’ll put it away later, I swear. I’m not stealing it.”

Your partner said nothing, thankfully. Only smiled and led you out of the room by your entwined hands. You were careful not to smudge the inked letters on the back of their palm.

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {series masterlist}

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: You've only had two encounters with the man, something you remind yourself as you stare at the number he scribbled down for you. But what could you possibly lose in texting him the second your new phone was set up? He had kissed you goodnight after all and maybe...maybe there was more there to be explored.

Word Count: undetermined

Warnings: canon typical language, adult language, canon typical violence, some events may occur, past use of recreational drugs, narcotics, past drug use, drugs used as a coping mechanism (in the past), recovery, both frankie and reader were honorably discharged, na meeting setting sprinkled in, deep talk, deep connection, misunderstandings, adult content, smut, piv, protected and then unprotected piv, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, awkward interactions, quick feelings, parent! frankie, reader has some trauma (like frankie), they are so goofy with each other, fluff, more to be added as the story develops!

A/N: this started as a lil idea for a one shot based on the 1500 kisses challenge hosted by @janaispunk and it flourished into a series because these two characters have more to say and do and i am but a humble writer heeding their commands. excited to delve into another frankie fic!!

series teaser || chapter one || chapter two || chapter three

[northstarscowboyhat]

I had a stupid thought this morning. This is the product of said thought

I imagined Fucking Idiot (Affectionate) over here wearing giant nerd glasses like their Pa underneath their little shadow mask, so I gave them some (Oh my God I just realized that these are literally Clod Glasses because of how stupid they look in it)

Anyways, unrelated but this is the second time I've made some sprites and planned to send them in so you could see both it and the ones already made at the same time the day you react to the ones I already made. I'm not complaining, I just find it really funny. The first one was sending The Blusher with the Dark World Clovers

OHHHH MY GOD CLOVER WITH GLASSES. I am absolutely tickled I never even thought of them needing glasses but I'm absolutely addicted now. Look at this NERD!

Had to scribble something out when I saw this in my inbox because what a concept. Charmed by the idea. I cannot stop looking at their goofy little face. Thank you for this masterpiece.

[kivino]

Platonic!Task Force 141 x Eastern European!Reader

Word Counter – ~1.9k

Summary – a compilation of headcanons about how reader’s Eastern European background would affect interactions with Task Force 141 during an undercover mission together.

Tags/Warnings – Gn!reader, Eastern European!reader (obviously), Platonic!TF141, fluff, mostly.

A/n – RUSSIANS DNI (this is a personal boundary, so I ask you to respect it, if you don’t like it just scroll past this post). Very self-indulgent. Just showing more love to my fellow Eastern European readers. Since it is mostly based on my own experience growing up as a Ukrainian, I’m sorry if certain things don’t resonate with you! This whole thing was made for fun and fun only.

So, let’s assume our beloved Task Force needs to go undercover to get some information on Makarov and his merry band of goons. Obviously, they can’t do it without at least one team member, who is familiar with the way of living in Eastern Europe. So, naturally, Laswell introduces you to them – born and raised there, ready to help them and stop your sworn enemy from escalating an already pretty shitty situation.

“So, allow me to introduce your new team member for the duration of this mission” Laswell nods to the door when you walk in, saying your name and callsign, already catching some looks full of curiosity from Task Force 141.

First thing they noticed about you? Resting bitch face for days. Who needs a mask when you have a death stare that will give the heebie-jeebies to most if not all of your teammates? However, they feel even more taken aback when you suddenly greet them with a warm, welcoming smile and a firm handshake, not a trace of that sour expression on your face.

One would think that you’d spend hours preparing four of them for the mission by teaching them language, helping to memorize names and faces of contacts, Makarov’s trusted allies, and potential targets. Naturally, you did your job, but those precious hours were also spent with you standing next to a whiteboard, ranting about the politics and societal issues of your country, explaining certain national jokes, and teaching them swear words or poetry you studied at school. But hey, they’re not complaining (maybe a little).  

They were skeptical about this whole deal at first. However, there was a shared understanding between the four of them that they needed to do whatever it took to stop the spreading of Makarov’s influence and diminish his resources in other countries. With time, however, they’ve found things that made their life in a completely new environment a bit more enjoyable and interesting.

Soap would pick up on your native language the fastest out of the Task Force. Under all these jokes and goofiness Johnny’s a smart guy, inquisitive as hell too, which makes a pretty good mix. He’d try to write down how you pronounce things in his sketchbook, dedicating pages upon pages to making a small vocabulary of what you say, searching up the translations of words any chance he gets. Convinces himself that it just helps him to get more into his new way of life, and not at all because he likes seeing you all excited when he slips a word in your language somewhere in the conversation.

“So how do you say it?” he points to the sentence, messily scribbled on the page with the ballpoint pen he slipped from Gaz. There is a slight frown between your brows – the word looks unfamiliar, more like gibberish than something in your language. You can practically feel the gears in your head screech and come to a halt as you drill Soap’s handwriting with your eyes.

“Oh, wait. You made a mistake here. No wonder I have no idea what this is.” You quickly take the pen and scratch the right version of the word on the paper, while Johnny chuckles at your brutal honesty. He doesn’t say anything though. Some time passes and you’re already correcting other words he wrote down, explaining the right way to say them. And you can feel a pleasant warmth spread in your chest when you can see Soap’s utmost attention directed at you.

Johnny can’t help but feel that moments like these were somewhat of a way to bond for you two. He’d jokingly offer to give you some Scottish classes each time you playfully flick him on the forehead for a word he pronounced wrong. He never expected you to take him up on the offer until the five of you got stuck in a countryside safehouse and essentially had nothing to do while waiting.

On the topic of Eastern European countryside, Price is not an old man by any measure, man’s not even forty yet, but it would grow so massively on him that it’s concerning. When you finally got a good, reliable contact that gave you some useful information you had to lay low for some time in a safe house not far from one of many Makarov’s places where the next weapon deal would be held. And while you waited several days for his people to show up there, obviously almost all of you were bored out of your minds. Not Price though. The man went exploring. Of course, taking you with him (he only wanted company on his small journey through the cozy countryside, don’t blame him).

Soon enough, during your walk you two come across the abundance of berry bushes and fruit trees everywhere, and while you pick something to munch on from them constantly, Price only scolds you. You smirk in response, giving him a handful of ripe mulberries, your lips and fingers now a dark red color from the juice.  

“It’s going to rot if nobody eats it. People who plant these trees would rather someone enjoy them instead of fruits just falling on the ground, getting squished, and going to waste.” And Price takes note of that with a small smile. Soon enough the two of you find a spring the whole village uses, a willow standing tall beside it, providing shade for you two to rest, chat a bit, and cool yourself off with fresh water. The fact that there are not many people around also doesn’t miss him. It’s quiet and peaceful, Price finally feels like he has room to breathe with his whole chest.

“You know, I could get used to a life like this.” Price finally mutters, enjoying your simple, comforting presence, walking along the river shore, and hearing the distant sounds of a train passing through the village. You look at him with understanding in your eyes, as you see the tension in his shoulders finally slipping away. Your captain relaxes, which is a pleasant change of pace from the frown on his face that you got used to.  

All five of you had to live in the same apartment in an old panel building closer to the edge of town. Not the best place to live, but a good opportunity to blend in with the locals and find leads on Makarov’s criminal “friends”. More than once you’ve found yourself sitting together with Ghost on the balcony that creaked with each blow of the wind, in complete silence while he was smoking some cheap cigarettes that smelled more like burnt paper instead of tobacco.

“Can I join you?” Your voice is a quiet rasp, as you lean against the doorway, pushing the mosquito netting to the side. You couldn’t sleep. Not when the whole world will go down the drain if you fail your mission. Not when it’s been a month already and it felt like you were still right where you started.

“Knock yourself out” the man shrugs, patting the stool near him. You shuffle your bare feet on the newspapers that were laid out on the balcony floor, plopping down on the seat, your eyes immediately getting glued to the view, enjoying the breeze that seeped through the open window. You two sit in silence for so long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, quite on the contrary – weirdly calming and serene.

After that night these nightly smoke breaks became a sort of tradition for you two, a way to wind down after a long day. Ghost would nod towards the balcony, a silent invitation reserved only for you. Regardless of whether you’re a smoker or not, occasionally he would offer you a cigarette from his pack or a hit from the lit one. A gesture of camaraderie.

“Thought you’d be more talkative.” Ghost’s voice sounds gruff after the whole day working your asses off just to discover the lead that you had was absolute bullshit.

“And I thought you weren’t a type for small talk.” You grumble in return, just as annoyed about coming back to this dingy apartment with nothing.

“That I am” He lets out a low chuckle, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray in his hand, avoiding eye contact with you.  

Kyle found himself liking your cooking above everything else. The way he would eat anything thrown together in a hurry by you was quite flattering. So soon enough you offered to teach him how to make some of your favorite national dishes, and he couldn’t say no to your offer. So, you decided to start easy – picking out the fresh ingredients. And where do you go to do that? Not a grocery store, no way in hell. The market filled with tons of people is the place you need. A lot cheaper than your usual supermarket too.

The number of times you got discounts for fruits and vegetables on the market from older women just for Gaz’s pretty eyes was insane. He would just blink at you with confusion written all over his face anytime you glanced at him with that smile and refused to explain why you spent a lot less money than expected on the fresh vegetables. At some point, Gaz even questioned his ability to count before you told him just not to worry about it since you got a “very special bargain”. And, obviously, Kyle was the one carrying the plastic bags filled to the brim with fresh produce.  

“You know, your version of the dish is not half-bad,” You say, licking the spoon and giving Gaz a wide smile, which he immediately returns to you tenfold. Spending time like this with him was a pleasure. Each minute spent together made you loathe even thinking about the time when you’d have to part ways and you won’t be able to teach him your cultural cuisine like this anymore.

“Well, I have a great teacher to thank for that.” Gaz gives you a charming smile, so glad to finally have a distraction from the constant looming presence of Makarov in his thoughts. Right this moment he caught himself thinking that he was happy they had you here with them. It would be a lot harder if not for you supporting and guiding them through everything. He felt…thankful.

You’d bring the whole Task Force to different cafes that serve your country's most famous dishes, but Kyle would be the one to enjoy these outings the most, barely raising his eyes from the plate to participate in the conversation.

“Wow, are you in a hurry or something? The food won’t run away from you.” You chuckle, while Kyle ignores the odd saying coming from you and continues to eat with the huge appetite he had ever since this undercover mission started.

However, nothing lasts forever, so after finishing their business with you, getting all the information they needed, and “cleaning up the mess” Task Force 141 bids you farewell, returning to their usual duties. Saying goodbye is never easy, even if you knew each other just for several months you still got attached to them, just like they grew very fond of you (as much as some of them hated to admit that). But hey, they promised to visit you after they finish up with Makarov. They promised. And the four of them keep the promises they make.

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request!

[thatone-brightstar]

Amy's kinktober alphabet blurbs w/ special guest Carmy Berzatto! (6/6)

a/n: first of all, happy international chef's day! second, i got my internet conection back and that's worth celebrating with the last part of this hot as hell seriessss. you can totally tell i love carmy in uniform lmao

Don't forget to like and repost or comment with the one you like the most bc we will be getting a full length one shot of the winner! PS. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, choking, semi public, oral sex (both f and m receiving), knifeplay, spit kink, knife play, fingering,

V is for: Visuals.

‘-the time difference is kicking my ass.’ He heard your tired whisper through the speaker and sighed along with you while taking a drag from his cig. ‘I really miss you…’ You confessed even more softly, pulling a smile over his own tired face.

‘I really miss you too.’ He mumbled back and despite being completely alone, his face still flared up at the confession.

You hummed along with his response, then after a few silent seconds you asked: ‘what do you miss about me?’

Carmy chuckled nervously and ran his hand down his face, falling back against the kitchen counter..

‘I miss… your pretty face’ He began and closed his eyes to picture you on the other side of the phone; probably in your pajamas, biting on your bottom lip and trying to avoid the goofy smile his response caused. ‘I miss kissing you…’

‘Hmm… what else?’ You breathed out that made him swallow hard and stir his hips.

He couldn’t think of what else to say, he was shit at normal conversation and now the idea of phone sex had erased the words from his brain.

You were quiet on the other line for a while and he was almost sure you had fallen asleep, until he heard movement and a heavy sigh. 

Then his phone vibrated near his cheek and your voice whispered sweetly. ‘Does that help?’

His heart stopped at the sight of your full breasts on display and the rest of your body barely covered by the hotel robe, then his blood traveled south to the forming tent in his pants. 

‘What else do you miss, Carmy?’ 

W is for: Whites.

‘Ready to go?’ You called, walking in from the back door and immediately stopping in your tracks.

Carmen stood leaning tiredly against the marble bar, hair disheveled and chef white sleeves rolled up to his forearms, letting the designs on his skin peek from under. Despite the fatigue evident on his face, he still offered a loving smile towards you.

‘’M just checkin’ produce for tomorrow. Ten more minutes?’ He asked and reached a strong hand in your direction.

All you could do was nod and swallow the sudden dryness that invaded your mouth at the sight of him. He gave you a quick kiss and moved back to the scribbled pages.

You hopped on the empty space beside him and took a quick look around the empty room, then bit your lip and stared back at him through doe eyes. You’d seen him many times before in his chef whites, but something about the concentration in his eyes and the flexing of muscle under the material had you completely soaked, and the thin material of your skirt wasn’t helping.

He felt your intense gaze and flickered his eyes around your face, landing on your lips. ‘What?’ He asked.

You bit your lip and watched him swallow hard, taking the bait. ‘You look really fuckin’ hot right now…’

Carmy chuckled softly and shook his head. ‘What’s doin’ it for ya? The smell of onions or the Hollandaise stains?’

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the still pristine uniform and pulled timidly, eyes heavy on his.

‘...really?’ He asked again in disbelief and planted a hand near your naked thigh, leaning towards you.

You shrugged and parted your thighs where his hips fit perfectly, then threaded your fingers through his hair and watched him close his eyes, slightly groaning. ‘I like a man in uniform…’

X is for: ‘X marks the spot’

With your hands resting under your cheek and your chest flat on the bed, you could feel the line of goosebumps follow the soft graze of Carmen’s lips. They had started at your shoulder blades- pulling soft breathy giggles from your flushing chest- then down your spine, where they met his strong hands holding your waist.

‘Is it there?’ He asked for the fifth time, though you wondered if he was enjoying the search more than actually trying to find your sweet spot.

A soft whine came out when one hand curved past your hip, in between the valley of your ass and to the spot he knew would certainly bring you bliss.

‘No cheating…’ You mumbled back between a moan and the disheveled sheets, making him chuckle again.

You felt his hand move back to your hip bone and his body hover over yours before the warmth of his chest pressed against your back. Dexterous fingers ran through your scalp and the sultry kiss he placed at the base of your neck was enough for your nerves to spark alight and your hips to push back against him.

‘Found it…’ He joked, warm breath caressed your ear and another kiss had your eyes rolling back.

Y is for: ‘Yes, Chef’

‘Say it again-’ He instructed through a heavy breath and a jerk of his hips that had the words turning into a scrambled groan. 

You clawed against the cold counter hoping to find something to hold on to because fuck, he was making you feel so good you thought you might float away. Carmy raked his nails through your messy hair and pulled you up with a firm but gentle grip. 

‘C’mon pretty girl- you were so fuckin’ bold hours ago, what happened?’ You could hear the satisfaction in his words.

He stopped his thrusts long enough to give your lungs a needed breath, only to pull your knee up on the counter and bury into you at a deeper angle. The new sensation pulled a squeal from your throat and your head fell back against his strong shoulders.

‘You still gonna talk back in front of everybody?’ He sneered again and wrapped another hand over your swollen cunt. 

All you could do was shake your head.

‘You gonna be good from now on?’ Carmen asked while his fingers began circular motions.

‘Yes…’ You moaned a little too loud and his fingers sped up.

‘Yes what?’ He asked again and softly pressed the sides of your neck until your eyes rolled back and your breasts raised with your struggling pants. 

Z is for: Zesty.

With Carmy, it was always like the first time. There was never a moment where he was too tired, or too busy, or too in his head that having you bouncing on his cock couldn’t fix. The simple idea that you were his filled him with a new fervor, a fresh wave of energy that had his hands groping at your ass and pulling you up as he stood from the old chair. 

You squealed in surprise and circled your thighs tightly around his hips, then heard the sound of everything on the desk falling heavily on the ground before the cold wood touched your skin. His lips latched onto yours as he continued his frantic movements, on hand on your head to avoid you bumping against the top shelf while the other rested on your cheek.

When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glossy, even in the dim light you could spot the silhouette of your flushed face.

‘Tell me you’re mine.’ He muttered between peppered kisses that made you heave and smile.  

‘I’m a-all yours baby-’ Carmy’s smile grew at your immediate answer, thrusting even deeper into the spot that caused lightning bolts to course through your spine.

‘All mine…’ He muttered as he settled your back over the desk and pushed your legs up to your chest. ‘All mine.’

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