#how to murder pizza

[italeean]

About your pizza question...

Obviously you eat it from crust to tip.

-Pax Casimir (You just know XD)

...

You didn't even need to sign this.

[zevisly]

since im still kinda gettinh used to tumblr hereds some dooodle stuff from different stuff i liek

[local-diavolo-anon]

I inked those doodles from the other day and made some more! Enjoy!

Further context on the au under the cut for who is interested!

I won't begin from the start but assume he is living in the Pizza Plex's underground basement for the time being

After redesigning and building what will be new bodies for the 5 missing children, charlotte, and his son Evan, he had time to spare

While searching in out of order and backstage places, he found what remained of glamrock Bonnie and since there were pieces for him, Afton put him back together for fun

Mistake.png

Bonnie's head, which was what he first connected back to a battery, worked just fine, which meant he also started talking and bombarding him of questions at the speed of a machinegun

Considering the time Afton spent putting him back together they ended up chatting more than what he would have been otherwise comfortable with

Glamrock Bonnie is, therefore, also the first to know that 'Springtrap' isn't just an advanced AI like him inside of an old ass suit

His reaction was something along the lines of "you're like, mad creepy. Ya know that right? That you're mad creepy?" (Exactly these words, picture the beta glamrock chica voicetone for these, the country chica)

There is also a doodle of after he found out someone was tampering with the robots, when checking Moon's coding again after a second anomaly, he found pieces he did not put there

And of when after destroying what was of glitchtrap in the main network, he, gregory and freddy had to get rid of the last instance of mimic1, who is also burntrap

He got a bit mauled in that little stunt because of some nightmarionne staffbots that did not liked him

[doodliydoos]

We in spooky season now

I forgot that this was my blog to post whatever I want

--TAKE SOME SECURITY BREACH MYSTERY GANG AU

[thedeleteduser]

ngl i forgot i was a fan of murder drones

found this guy in the back of my photos

think his name was jeremy, and he was supposed to be like the mischievous gremlin counterpart to uzi or smth, except that he tried to pull a lego batman (y’know the hate relationship and all that)

yeah i sorta ripped off the noise’s look from pizza tower, as i used to be a pretty big fan of that too

let me know if you guys want me to redesign him

[kylejsugarman]

in "boxcutter", epileptic jesse had a seizure right after gus killed victor and bounced, and because walt was there and actually helpful instead of antagonistic about it for the first time, jesse further believed he'd done the "right" thing by killing gale and "saving" walt because now he was finally getting walt's approval even if it meant shattering his own psyche and surrendering himself to his illness

[lastnightonthecyclone]

Another fucking wip on fnaf because inconsistency is my skill

[homestuckdrowningarchive]

My favorite detail from the gay castle attempted drowning misinformation campaign was “the pizza got pool water on it and the water was gray cause people wore their troll cosplays into the pool.” It was really the cherry on top for me.

That whole post of microhierax's claiming to have been at the party is a literary masterpiece actually

[sonippep-hohu]

I am so sorry Pizza Tower friends but I am one of those ppl who babify Feppi/Bruno, I'm so so sorry

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hey real quick PSA: If you have food allergies TELL RESTAURANTS. I know it’s inconvenient and sometimes people are shitty but for real, please, tell waitstaff it’s allergy specific, don’t just order it without the allergy ingredient.

This was brought up in my mind again since my step-MIL would get furious if someone presented her with a food she couldn’t eat with her Crohn’s but she’d never told them in the first place what she couldn’t have or how severe her reactions were.

When I worked at the pizza place a ton of people would order pizzas without cheese for a variety of reasons, but only occasionally would they say it was because of an allergy.

This one day a white lady came in and ordered three pizzas with no cheese. I have no explanation for why I followed up, especially because she was extremely moody and snippy. But I asked, “Is this because of an allergy?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“If it’s for an allergy you should know we do use a small amount of cheese in the red sauce as well. Is the allergy severe?”

“What? Yes, he’ll literally die, his throat closes up and stuff.”

I stared at her. Someone she was serving pizza to would die on contact with cheese? And she didn’t even bother to tell us that?!!?? Why in gods name was she even in a pizza place???

“Don’t you have anything without cheese?” She demanded.

I ended up doing a garlic rubbed crust with toppings.

I had to scrub down all the counters and surfaces and grab fresh bins for all the toppings to try to avoid any cross contamination and the extra time made her roll her eyes in exasperation. Like I’m sorry safety protocols are inconvenient but I hope this person you’re trying to murder leaves your life.

But anyway. Please be safe. Disclose your allergies.

[hearts401]

i could write an essay on cass being abused by his siblings but him and barron specifically... ugh

[wizardpigeon]

im never going to recover from this one

[chaoticace2005]

Rules for the Hazbin Hotel, authored by Vaggie:

1. No drugs.

2. No fights.

3. No pranks.

4. No problematic language.

5. No murder (OR TERRITORIAL GENOCIDE WHAT THE FUCK ANGEL)

6. No smuggling in of drugs. Not by sticking them up your ass. Or by hiding them in a pizza box. Or by slingshotting them to the roof. Or getting someone else to. Not at all.

7. No sexual rendezvous with outsiders in the hotel. No SHOWING sexual rendezvous with strangers to people of the hotel either.

8. Make sure the pig/future pets stay in the patron’s room. (This includes eggs!!)

9. No singing Limit singing to once twice per day

10. Stop flirting with the bartender Angel

11. Don’t call Husk “Husker” unless he allows it.

12. No harassing the staff at all. This includes asking who tops.

13. Don’t suggest anything sexual/romantic to Alastor unless you want your head cut off.

14. NO CUTTING OFF PEOPLE’S HEADS

15. NO EATING PEOPLE

16. NO MAKING CHARLIE CRY.

17. Don’t ask me to put my spear “inside you” Angel, what the fuck?

18. Don’t turn the interior of the hotel into a swamp?! Keep it contained in your room if you must!

19. No stabbing staff or residents. No matter how much they look like bugs! (OR IF THEYRE NAME IS ANGEL)

20. Don’t try and stab bugs if they’re within 10 feet of another demon.

21. Don’t call anyone a “bitch” OR TALK ABOUT HOW MY NAME SOUNDS LIKE “VAGINA”

22. Limit Niffty’s access to sharp objects.

23. NO DEALS ALASTOR

24. No drinking. Limit drinking at bar.

25. No mentioning the Stock Market Crash of 1929. For everyone’s benefit.

26. Don’t blow a hole in the wall.

27. Try to keep roast battles OUTSIDE the hotel. (Or stop picking fights?? Please Alastor I swear to God…)

28. No spying on the hotel for outside sources or putting technology that can be used against us.

29. No evil laughing in the middle of the night, what the fuck Alastor?

30. No building weapons/war machines.

31. No eggs! (Fine the eggs can stay.)

32. Someone please keep an eye on Niffty. (And the eggs.)

33. Stop touching people ANGEL.

34. Don’t make other people storm off HUSK.

35. Respect boundaries.

36a. If Angel looks like he’s about to pass out/cry don’t comment. Let him do his thing.

36b. Don’t try to talk to Angel if he’s on the phone with Valentino. Honestly don’t even mention his phone calls with Valentino.

37. Please don’t call Lucifer “Daddy”

38. Don’t turn into a 20 foot tall demon-eating creature unless absolutely necessary.

39. Don’t cause angry loan sharks to show up at the front door.

40. NO EXPLOSIONS!

41. Rule #2, “No fights” can be broken if the person you’re fighting is Valentino. Or Adam.

42. Don’t lie to your girlfriend or hide the fact you were secretly an angel.

43. DONT TALK ABOUT PEOPLE’S TITS (or lack of)

44. KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING A BEDROOM ESPECIALLY IF SOMEONE’S HAVING MAKEUP SEX

45. Don’t give people makeovers while they’re sleeping, ANGEL!

46. Don’t pretend to eat someone’s pet, ALASTOR

47. Don’t die.

48. I never want to hear the words “cum-plete” again.

49. STOP HAVING FIGHTS ACROSS THE BUILDING LUCIFER AND ALASTOR!!

50. If Charlie is passed out on the couch LET HER SLEEP

51. No making bombs in the hotel Cherri!

52. Stop breaking rules and then saying it’s “FOR SIR PENTIOUS!”

53. Angel don’t try to shoot someone if they break spaghetti.

54. Don’t break spaghetti. Or “ruin” Italian food. Whatever the fuck that means. This apparently includes pineapple on pizza.

55. Don’t mention Valentino unless Angel brings him up first.

56. Don’t comment on Angel and Husk’s flirting.

57. Only call Angel “Anthony” if things are serious (or if you’re Husk)

58. Don’t use any of the nicknames Husk and Angel use for each other. This includes but is not limited to: “Whiskers”, “Legs”, “Kitty”, “Webs”, “Tony”, “Love”, and “Baby.”

59. It’s better not to question whatever facts Husk gives about his past.

60. Family dinners at 6 pm unless you can’t make it due to prior obligation. Game nights after on Sundays.

61. No hunting people for sport and NO KNIFE MONOPOLY.

62. Don’t attach knives to a roomba so you can have a “boyfriend” Niffty.

63. Keep Niffty away from Roombas.

64. Alastor, treat people with decency. Really, it’s not that hard.

65. No making giant ducks that breathe fire to chase people around the hotel just because they call you short.

66. Therapy. Everyone.

67. DONT HAVE SEX ON THE BAR WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?!

68. If Valentino enters the property you have permission to stab him.

69. “Hell is forever” is bullshit. You guys aren’t. You can do this.

[castillon02]

A firm knock at the door. 

Tim, sitting on the carpet, waist-deep in print-outs from Black Mask’s latest debacle, looked at the door. Looked at the pile of invoices, photos, blackmail, and stupid little evidence baggies from Mask’s stupid little torture party. Looked at his couch, which was Evidence Island for that thing with Scarecrow last week, and his coffee table, the last refuge of JL prototypes. Maybe whoever was knocking at the door of his top-secret vigilante hideout would just go away. Or maybe they’d have the decency to bring their own chair with them. He picked up his phone and accessed his front door security cameras. 

Red Hood, one arm occupied by a pair of Old Joe’s pizzas, knocked again. 

On the one hand, Hood might shoot him. On the other hand, Tim hadn’t eaten lunch and it was (he checked his phone again) 8:13 PM. 

Tim turned all of his thigh-piles into carpet stacks and made his way to the door, where he removed three physical barricades, three digital barriers, and four traps for the unwary. He activated his “If I die in the next ten hours, this is the last person I was seen with” failsafe. Then he cracked the door on its chain. “Sorry, I didn’t order any pizza,” he snarked. 

Hood huffed a robotic sigh through his voice modulator. “I need a favor.”   

“I’m aware,” Tim said. There was no other reason for Hood to show up. And it had to be something complex, otherwise Hood would just do what he’d been doing, which was texting him a casefile and sticking a “One month of no murder attempts” coupon to Tim’s door when Tim solved it for him. 

Hood held out the pizzas and waited. He didn’t even twitch his hand towards his gun. 

“Fine.” Tim undid the chain and opened the door for him.

Hood left his helmet on one of the hat hooks by the front door, revealing a wryly curved mouth and eyes that weren’t any more Lazarus green than usual. He even gestured to the guns at his side with a cock of his head. Leave those here too? A generous offer from a crime lord who loved shooting people. 

Tim shrugged. If it got down to violence, he’d rather Hood not be grumpy about it. 

Hood shrugged back, kept his guns, and followed Tim into the solarium, which was an antechamber that Tim mostly used when he wanted to taunt potential snipers. It had a breakfast nook, two barstools, a dead plant from his well-meaning decorator, and ceiling-length bulletproof windows. 

Tim tinted the windows with a flick of a wall switch. 

“One Canadian bacon with onion and artichoke hearts,” Hood—Jason—said, dropping a pizza box in front of the left stool. “And one basil and roasted garlic with extra pecorino.” He dropped the other pizza in front of the right stool and sat. 

Tim sat next to him. “Thanks for getting my order right.” He could be polite. 

“I asked Alfred,” Jason said. 

Proof someone else knew that Jason intended to visit him. Jason really didn’t want to kill him. At least at the moment. 

(Jason’s pizza order had changed from when he was a kid; he’d always ordered the meat-lover’s before, maybe for the extra calories. Food insecurity sucked.) 

(Tim’s tastes had changed too, but his pizza order hadn't. No one ordered “Canadian bacon with onion and artichoke hearts” unless it was for him, specifically, and it was…nice, knowing that whoever had ordered the food had thought of him. Mental insecurity sucked too.)   

They did justice to Old Joe’s thin-crust for a while, eating in silence. 

When he only had a couple of slices left, Jason took a deep breath and said, “None of this leaves here, aright? Tell anyone I asked about any of this and you’ll wish you were dead.” 

Tim waved his hand. “Duh.” 

“Right. Okay.” Jason rubbed his forehead. “You know how sometimes start-up companies get successful and then they suddenly realize that they have a million employees instead of ten and that they should probably have things like an HR department and a pension plan?” 

“Ah,” Tim said. Jason “Red Hood” Todd didn’t need the help of Red Robin, teen vigilante. He needed the help of Tim Drake, teen CEO. “You got your fiftieth employee?” 

“I have to know what FMLA is now,” Jason said, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. “It’s basically what I’ve been doing anyway, but there are so many subparts.” 

Tim made a sympathetic noise. 

“And I’ve been meaning to set up some kind of…retirement…thing…for the past two years,” Jason continued. “Pretty much since I started, but there always seemed to be bigger things, you know?” 

Tim nodded. Effective long-term policy or not, preteens addicted to fentanyl could definitely make someone put a 401k plan on the back burner. 

“And I had Gloria handling birthdays!” Jason said, obviously on a roll now. “Like getting cards for everyone on the day and getting them signed and all? But she had to move to Florida cuz her Mami’s getting up there, and no one else wants to get the cards and pass them around, but now I’ve got grown-ass armed adults who are miffed that their birthdays don’t get a card, and some other people think there should be cake too if we’re going to be revamping the birthday system anyway!” He looked at Tim, his eyes wild. “The whole thing is distracting everyone from killing traffickers and setting up community support systems! Grown-ass adults! Birthdays!” 

“Birthdays are the devil,” Tim said, sympathetic. The Wayne Enterprises R&D department had had a brief kerfuffle over them too. 

“Incarnate,” Jason said. “But also, no. I mean, I get it, some of us ain’t had people who celebrated our birthdays before! I want everyone to feel appreciated. But at this point, all Black Mask has to do is say ‘cake and ice cream’ and his goons will be able to set up shop while my guys shoot each other.” 

This level of chaos didn’t just happen; it was likely only the visible part of an iceberg of underlying dysfunction. “Gloria did a lot more than birthday cards, huh?” Tim asked. 

Jason winced. “I begged her to come back and she said she was tired of nagging me about the pension plan.” 

“Good for her,” Tim said mildly. 

Jason glared. 

“It got you here, didn’t it?” 

Jason glared harder, but he stuffed his mouth full of pizza instead of threatening Tim with bodily harm. 

Tim flexed his fingers. Gotham was better with a functional Red Hood gang and this would get him unprecedented access to Jason’s plans, but he also needed to come out of this alive. “If I help you with this, I’m going to need to know a lot about your organization.” He held up a pre-emptive hand. “I don’t care about your exact plans for Gotham’s drug trade, but we’ll be looking at your org charts—your chain of command—and getting nitty-gritty about it. Also, I want to be compensated as a consultant.” 

Jason frowned. “You want money?” He glanced at Tim’s ostentatious kill-me windows. 

Tim shrugged. “You can choose. I’ll bill you a fair amount, and you can compensate me with your money or with an equally valuable amount of your time—and I’ll know how much you value your time in an exact dollar amount by the time we’re done.” 

Jason snorted. “That your usual deal when you’re a consultant, or is that a Jason Todd special?” 

Tim smiled his best Janet Drake smile. “It’s the exact same deal I offer anyone in the JL or the vigilante community. The Jason Todd special is when I let people roll up in my DMs for the low, low price of not slitting my throat. Again.” 

Jason had the grace to glance away. “Gotcha. Better get started then. Like you fancy CEO types say, time is money.”

"Like we fancy CEO types," Tim corrected, and had the pleasure of watching Jason wince. Time for Red Hood to get his hands dirty with all the blood and ink that went into being a responsible twenty-first century boss.

[artytaeh]

a honorary thought about how theodore nott would be with you, mrs. nott, his wife— during those blessed first vacations as a married couple; your honeymoon.

warnings: includes smut, so obviously it's advised for +18 readers; read at your own risk. use of italian provided by google translator, if i have readers who speak italian fluently, please don't murder me! </3

honeymoon!theo who seems extremely relaxed, calm and unprepared for this first vacation with you as his wife, to italy— his home country. what you don't know is that theodore had been thinking and planning these weeks for months, maybe even years, during those mornings at hogwarts that he woke up before he needed to leave his bed and prepare for classes. unbeknownst to you, theodore is prepared to suggest names for your future children: that's how well theo has thought (and planned) for a future with you.

honeymoon!theo who doesn't give you much context or details over what you'll be doing during those weeks; you know that it'll be in italy, and got some advice over which clothes would be a good idea to bring in your luggage. if you expected one week of vacation— yeah, dolcezza, not happening. italy is a beautiful country; given the opportunity to show you around, theodore will make sure that his family's money is put to good use, and ensure at least three weeks of walking around.

honeymoon!theo who has most of the days planned; he made sure that three weeks was enough time to see part of italy's best spots, yet never giving you one day that makes you feel exhausted. at most, you'll see or visit three different places during the same day, yet not far enough that'll get your feet hurting from walking too much.

honeymoon!theo who had a hard time selecting where to take you during these three weeks— at the same time that he wants you to see how lively, colorful and amazing his homeland is, theodore doesn't want to have you exhausted in a matter of days. in the end, theo decided that he'd give you the best of two worlds: the beautiful cities, and the breathtaking countryside.

honeymoon!theo who makes sure that you'll have a taste of most of italy's native dishes. desserts, treats, appetizers, dinner and even drinks; theodore makes it a point to show you why he slandered hogwarts' food on a daily basis. however, if you're a picky eater or have a few food limitations, theo makes sure to only encourage you to eat what he knows that you'll like. never forces you to taste anything that you might not like, should it have any ingredient that you don't eat / don't like.

honeymoon!theo who will buy a slice of pizza, a cup of pasta or other treats as you stroll around the streets, making sure that you taste some of them and are never the slightest bit hungry.

honeymoon!theo who teached you a few sentences and phrases in italian, helping you with the pronounciation just right. simple things, really, like petnames, simple phrases (how to say thank you, how to say hello and good morning, even a few curse words should someone be a jerk to you and because you cursing on his native language turns him on).

honeymoon!theo who refers to you as mrs. nott. if you're at a restaurant— theodore will be a gentleman and make the order for the two of you, saying what he'd like to have, and what mrs. nott chose instead for today's meal. will teasingly refer to you as mrs. nott, if you ever engage playful banter or have a silly argument. if you're angry, well, being called mrs. nott dissolves any annoyance that you might have towards your husband.

honeymoon!theo who takes the chance of being in italy again, to buy his favorite brands of cigarettes; he promises to smoke a little less, though. one in the morning, as he waits for you to finish dressing up for the day— then one at night, leaving the windows open after you two were intimate, as you are comfortably laying on his chest. one hand holds the cigarette, while the other runs its fingers through your hair; here, theodore has each hand holding two of his biggest addictions. surely, if possible, theodore might sneak one cigarette during afternoon or after lunch; if you don't like the smell, theo will make sure to do it away from you. is there a shop you'd like to check? while you explore it, theo might smoke his second cigarette of the day.

honeymoon!theo who never gets his hands out of you. waist, lower back, holding hands or intertwined fingers; now that you're his, he has even less reasons to let go of you. italy is a crowded, famous country for vacations; between locals and tourists you walk together, as theodore guides you along, making sure that he never loses sight or hold of his wife.

honeymoon!theo that has a morning routine; lazying around in bed for a little longer, forearms feeling the softness of the pillow as he rests his head there— prompted up enough to see you. his gaze never wavers; theodore watches as you walk around the bedroom, each step being a soft pad on the floor, as you rummage through the wardrobe and seek for what you'll wear today; making your way then to the bathroom. if he's too sleepy, theo will take a light nap as he waits for you, lulled by the muffled sound of the water running for your shower; should he feel a bit more energetic, or more of a morning person, theo will follow you like a puppy, hugging your waist from behind as he kisses his way to shower with you.

honeymoon!theo who decides that his vocation is to help mrs. nott, his stunning, gorgeous wife getting ready for anything. oh, so you're preparing yourself to sleep? theodore will be more than happy to brush your hair, or to have you teaching him what products to apply, and how, to your hair— are you too lazy to take off your make-up? don't worry, theo does it for you; and even throws a dirty joke about removing your make-up in another, more elaborate and definitely much more pleasant, way. specially after a long day strolling around the streets, theodore will be more than happy to just let you relax, while he takes care of you.

honeymoon!theo who also loves to help you getting ready to leave, too. do you need this thing from the wardrobe or from your luggage? don't worry, he'll get it for you. are these the shoes you're wearing tonight? sit on the bed, bella, i'll tie them for you. do you need him to hold something or even help you with your hair? theodore nott is a very competent husband (or does his best to learn how to be very helpful for you). if you don't need help, well, theodore will sit on the edge of the bed, with those icy blue eyes gaining a new loving shade, as he looks at his bellissima getting ready to leave the room with him.

honeymoon!theo who took you to some window shopping with you, at venice and milan. two beautiful cities, where people proudly dress to impress; the shops didn't disappoint you at all. each dress or mannequin that you stared for more than two seconds got theodore to hold you by the hand, and gently dragging you to enter the shop; theo was more than happy to hold bags for you, one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other proudly holds his wife's bags from all the stuff you bought (correction: what theodore persuaded you to bring along, strictly using his family's money).

honeymoon!theo who perfected the art of convincing mrs. nott to agree with allowing him to spoil her; why shouldn't you be pampered by your own husband? in fact, theodore argues that doing so is a significant other's duty (and privilege). should you argue that everything's too expensive, well, theodore has two valid arguments for that: one, the nott family is ridiculously wealthy— one dress won't make his wallet lighter; and two, it's your money too, now. so why shouldn't you use it?

🗯️ : but teddy, darling— this is too much. i won't have enough space in my luggage to take all of these extra clothes with me.

t : don't worry about that, carina. if anything, we'll buy an extra luggage for you. fanculo, you know what? let's buy you a bigger one so you'll have to buy more things to fill it up. here, cara mia, look at this shop.

honeymoon!theo who takes a few nights to take you to dance around with him, strolling around some streets with good bars— a fancier version of those slytherin parties that you went together, except the lack of excessive green, besides lorenzo and mattheo's tendencies to start a brawl over flirting with an already taken girl. theodore dances with you, the two of you swaying with the rhythm, having the most fun, as you try to talk to each other sometimes or exchange a few comments here and there. if a younger guy has the audacity to look at you, theodore will glare at them in such an intimidating way, that the bloke doesn't even have to know about how theodore nott was a feared rival at hogwarts; should he be older, theodore will yell a clear threat in italian.

t : guarda ancora mia ragazza e ti garantisco che nessuno incontrerà i tuoi occhi dopo che li avrò cavati davanti a tutta la tua famiglia, stronzo del cazzo.

🗯️ : theo, what was that? what did you say? i didn't understand...

t : nothing, dolcezza; would you like a drink? here, let's go buy one together.

honeymoon!theo who translates anything and everything to you, specially if you ask him. if you're at a museum and would like to know what the description of some painting is, then theodore will explain or straight-out translate for you. don't worry, he's more than happy to do that— theo does it so patiently, that you would notice that he actually enjoys it. maybe he's returning the favor, for those few times that you've helped him pronounce a few words before class starts; maybe because theodore finds it heartwarming how you show such interest for his culture, and how endearing it is to see you trying to understand a few words here and there.

honeymoon!theo who separated these few days strolling around the city, walking around the streets and seeing a few attractions that he knew that you'd like (a few museums, for example); and got you to another city, one where he planned to have a more lighthearted routine. summer in italy is hot; to have you not enjoying the heat with one day or two to tan, to enjoy a pool or simply lazying around would be wrong; a waste, even. during those days, theodore made sure to let you rest on your chair, while massaging the sunscreen into your skin. those few days spent like that were fun; you didn't do much, but sometimes, doing nothing is the best.

honeymoon!theo who got to drink a few cocktails with you during those few days, sunglasses shielding your sights from the blazing sun, and swimsuits ready to have at least a swim together. conversation flows as easily between you as ever; taking a sip of your cocktail while the other talks, taking turns to share opinions or to continue the conversation. perhaps theodore took the chance to lightheartedly discuss what you'd do after these weeks— would you like to live with him to nott's estate, and leaving your shared cozy apartment for the time being?

honeymoon!theo who would only not shower with you if you two really had to get ready as fast as possible. otherwise, he's joining you; kissing your shoulders while you wash yourself, hugging your waist as he hums to whatever you're telling him. unless you'd rather wash your own hair or have a specific way of doing it, then theodore is more than happy to do it for you; as soon as he's done, he'll poke your nose with your shampoo's foam, signaling his concluded work. surely, theodore marvels at having you hugging him and washing his back at the same time— hey, where are you going? no, hug him for a little bit more; his back should be properly washed, you know?

honeymoon!theo who finds these weeks blissful. no quickies, no hurries; contrary to hogwarts, that even your own dorms weren't the most private places; or your daily life, where some of his friends are comfortable enough to visit without invitations— here at the hotel or alugada house you're at, there's privacy, time, and no restrictions for noise.

honeymoon!theo who takes his time with you. taking each piece of clothing with a calm movement, kissing every inch of skin in display; making sure that tomorrow morning, you'll have to complain or pout at him, due to those new bruises his lips will leave on your skin. neck and thighs are two favorites of his; however, there's something sinfully attractive and arousing about marking up your chest. a little dirty secret of his, one that only his eyes are allowed to see— besides yours, of course.

honeymoon!theo who gets a little insane in the head each. single. time that you have the audacity to speak italian to him, specially during these intimate moments. it doesn't matter if your pronounciation isn't perfect— even a single amore does things to him. whisper fanculo a me to his ear, and you might have to choose a more lighthearted agenda tomorrow, for the sake of your sore legs.

honeymoon!theo who becomes impossibly possessive. having been an overprotective boyfriend at times, making sure that each single student and their mothers knew that you're taken for life, these few weeks are feral. it becomes calmer as the days pass by, though; theodore takes some time to normalize the overwhelming reality that finally, finally you are his wife— mrs. nott.

so, honeymoon!theo who doesn't shut up. theodore needs to tell you how long he's waited for this, to have that ring on your finger; that same hand that he holds as he thrusts into you, or pleasures you in anyway— thumb tracing over the piece of jewelry exchanged on that day that you two got married. his fingers intertwine with yours, blue eyes bewitched by the sight of you under him, and even more intensely if you go on top. theodore nott is a shameless man; he'll only encourage you to moan louder for him, to tell him how good he makes you feel. theodore nott is so, so shameless, that he won't hold back any moan, any groan, anything he wants to say; this man will continue his rambling over how long he's dreamt about putting a ring on your finger, about being wed to you, about showing you his homeland— he'd say all of his in italian, though. if you're lucky, you'll catch up a few words; if not, well, theodore's voice sounds even better when he speaks his native language so fluently.

honeymoon!theo who doesn't have to hold back his baby fever anymore. will get you that final orgasm, with you sitting on his lap, his cock deep inside you, your back flushed against his warm chest; your hips feel those calloused, warm hands holding your hips down, making sure that the two of you can see the reflection of that mirror in front of the bed— one that theodore, shamelessly, requested to have it placed there. blue eyes lock their gaze there, where he disappears inside you, as you take him so well.

honeymoon!theo who doesn't shut up as he keeps you like this for a long moment, as praises leave his lips; 'you're stunning, cara mia, davvero bellissima— you'll look even prettier with our babies inside you.' as he speaks, theo presses kisses to your neck, one hand moving to rub circles on your clit; as if he wasn't already buried so deep inside you, pressing against that spot that has your legs shaking. theo doesn't let you stray much farther from his aching erection: 'brava ragazza, you'll take it all, won't you? we can't have a single drop leave your pretty little cunt.'

honeymoon!theo who secretly hopes that you'll come back to england with a baby in your womb; as much as he absolutely adores this life with you, on getting your full attention, falling into a domestic routine— theodore can't wait to see how your child would look like. theo can only pray that they inherite your lovely smile and beautiful hair, but keep his eyes. blue eyes, identical to the ones his mother, phoena nott, had. besides, if you do end up pregnant and keep the baby— next time that you go to italy, there would be a tiny human keeping you two company. theodore daydreams about that day.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪸 ’

౨ৎ calling out my name ♡ ͡

in the summer rain, ciao amore . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— spreading the 'theodore nott being a loving husband and slightly obsessed with the love of his life' agenda; this boy had the first draft of how your honeymoon would be after your fifth date with him.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[covenofagatha]

can you do something like a mafia au where Agatha is a mob boss and reader is her girlfriend and Agatha is in her office working and reader comes in saying that she misses her and things slowly escalate... ?🙏🏼thank you so much if you do

I had to do so much research about the mafia lol

Taking care of business

Word count: 3000

Warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, strap-ons, degradation, praise, mentions of illegal activity and (implied?) murder, slight cockwarming, mommy kink

“Knock knock,” you say lamely, walking into the back of the pizza shop your girlfriend, Agatha, owned. 

She’s sitting at a desk, right finger between her teeth, while she scribbles down notes in her book. She glances up and raises an eyebrow delightfully when she sees it’s you. The man at the door nods and lets you in. 

“What are you doing here, hot stuff?” Agatha asks as she leans back in her chair and watches you walk over. You perch against her desk and eye the bodyguard and the two goons that work for her in the corner of the room. 

Agatha Harkness is the leader of the Harkness family mafia, inherited from her dad, Vincenzo Harkness. The pizza shop, The Dough Don, is a cover for their illegal activities and a front for money laundering. 

You had first met Agatha when you had first moved to New York City, looking for a fresh start at the ripe age of 23, and you had wandered into the first pizza restaurant you could find. 

There had been no one else in there except for the dark-haired beauty and a pack of four men. They had been huddled around a table in the back, their hushed voices barely carrying throughout the building. 

When you had walked in and the bell rang on the door, they jumped up and scrambled to put whatever they were working on away. You hadn’t thought too much about it, had been too hungry to care, but the pizza was really good so you had kept coming back. 

Each time though, there was no other customer inside, just Agatha and a few workers. 

After a while, you had worked up the courage to ask why you were the only one who ever seemed to be here. 

“This isn’t a real restaurant,” Agatha had told you conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. “I’m a mob boss and this is our cover.” 

You had laughed. “Then why is the pizza so good?” 

“Our associates just happen to be good cooks, among other things,” she had said with a shrug. 

But you had never imagined that she was serious. 

Things did start to change after that, though. You would walk in and ask how the mafia business was treating her, if they had extorted or blackmailed anyone lately. She always smirked back, winked, and made a witty comment, like she was pleased that you were playing along. It seemed like she was seeing you in a whole different light for the first time. 

But she wasn’t the only one who noticed you. 

One of the cooks started to take a liking to you. One day, you were enjoying your pizza alone as usual when he walked up and introduced himself. His name was Antonio, but you could call him Tony, and he had a thick New York accent. He had slid into the booth right next to you, one arm stretching around it behind you, his other hand drumming on the table. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Surely you’ve got yourself a handsome fella by now,” he had said, trying to make his voice all smooth. 

Before you could reply and tell him that you weren’t actually into ‘fellas’ at all, a knife shot down in between his fingers and into the table. You let out a little scream and Tony jumped. 

It was Agatha holding the blade. 

“Shut your tongue before I cut it out,” she hissed, a completely different tone in her voice, and you started to think that maybe she wasn’t joking about everything. Tony, white from fear, got up and quickly scampered out of sight. You swallowed hard as Agatha’s glare had turned to you and she motioned for you to come to the back with her. 

That was the first time she had fucked you, just bent you over against her desk and took what she want, with you all too willing to give it to her. 

You hadn’t seen Tony since, but you learned early on to not ask questions you didn't want the answers to, especially around Agatha, who was actually, in fact, a mafia boss. 

And now you’re seven months into a relationship with her and she would still constantly tease you about not believing her. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to believe someone as hot as you was capable of murder,” you would mutter while entangled in her body after sex and she would toss her head back and laugh. 

“Oh, hon, I’m not the one killing people. That’s what I have the Soldatos for.” She had taught you all the positions in the mafia: she was the Don, the boss, and she had her Consigliere, the advisor, the Underboss, the second-in-command, the Capos, who oversaw the Soldatos, the soldiers required to carry out the violent acts (you wonder if she had sent them after Tony), and the Associates, who weren’t necessarily part of the family yet, but still helped out. 

It was a lot to remember, and one time, she had eaten you out while she made you recite all the members of her crime family. 

You were a liability, sure, but Agatha loved you and would protect you no matter what. And you knew that, as long as you stayed on her good side, you’d be alright. 

It was tricky business to get wrapped up like this with a notorious mafia boss, but you didn’t care. 

You’re happier than you've ever been in your life.

And maybe, just maybe, not that you would ever admit it out loud, you like when she tells you about the dangerous stuff she’s up to. When she comes to your apartment after work and, with a glint in her eye, tells you about the drugs she trafficked into the city and the money laundering and how she ordered one of her Soldatos to scare a loose cannon. 

It almost always ended up with you on her lap and her fingers buried in your wet and needy cunt. 

But one of the other crime families in New York, the Vidal Family, was making major moves, and Agatha was stressed. She didn’t tell you outright, but you could see it in her clenched jaw and faraway look in her eyes. 

She didn’t get home as early as she used to, and when she was there, she spent a lot of time drinking. 

And you started to miss her. 

So you decided to pay her a visit at work, just to spend some time with her. You didn’t care if she made you sit on the floor at her feet as long as you were next to her. 

“Thought I’d come see you,” you say quietly, fingers reaching but pausing an inch away from her hand holding the pen. She spins in her chair so she’s able to get a better look at you. Her eyes rake up and down your body. You put on a short black skirt and purple crop top, hoping for this exact reaction. 

“Oh yeah?” Agatha hums. 

You nod and begin to stroke your fingertips up and down her forearm. She’s wearing a pinstripe suit but the sleeves of her blazer are rolled up to her elbows. “I’ve been missing you,” you pout, trying to make your voice sound as small as possible. 

She smirks. “So my baby girl thought she’d come visit Mommy at work so she could get what she’s been wanting, hm?” 

You blush, shrugging noncommittally, and your eyes drop to the ground, feeling a little embarrassed with the three other men in the room pretending not to hear. 

Agatha reaches a hand up to grip your chin and tilt it roughly so you’re looking at her. “Tell me what you want, hon. Use your words like a good girl.” 

One thing you had noticed about her was how much she liked the fact that you were “good.” You weren’t involved in any shady business, other than her, and you hadn’t done as much as smoke a cigarette. It seemed to turn her on, almost as much as the fact that she had her hands dirty turned you on. 

There was no denying you two made a good pair. 

Hesitantly, you glance around to the other people and she smirks. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t want Gio, Sal, and Emilio to know how desperate you are for me?” You bite your lip, shaking your head. She leans in closer. “Don’t worry. They know better than to pay attention to us. Now, tell me, what do you want?” 

You take a shaky breath as her fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to fuck me,” you say and she smiles like she’s a cat that got the cream. 

“Right here? In front of them?” She asks. “Are you that desperate for me that you need me right now?” 

Before you met her, you would’ve never even considered it. 

But Agatha has changed you in so many ways. So you throw caution to the wind. 

“Yes,” you say and before you can add anything else, she shoots up out of her chair, grabs the backs of your thighs, and lifts you up so you’re sitting on her desk. A thrill runs through you and you gasp. 

Her hands hike up your skirt and her fingers rub your slit over your lacy underwear and she chuckles deeply. 

“You really need this, don’t you? You’re dripping,” she taunts and you weakly move your hips against her to try and get her to touch your clit. 

“Fuck,” a man’s voice whispers from the corner and both of your heads whip to the side to see both of the Soldatos staring at you. You blanch at him ogling you and Agatha so obviously and the one on the right clamps his hand over his mouth. 

“Boys, if you don’t want this to be the last thing you ever see, I would suggest turning around,” Agatha warns cooly, the threat obvious in her voice, and they instantly obey. That only makes you ache more for her, the way she just takes control like that, the way that she is so powerful no one has a choice but to do as she says. 

Power exudes from her, and you have her wrapped around your fingers. 

Well, not yet, at least. 

Agatha turns back to you, giving you a wicked grin. “Now that that’s settled, where were we?” Her hand finds its way back to your clothed pussy before you can make a smart retort, shutting you up. Your head falls back and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, but she tugs your bottom lip out from your teeth with a thumb. “I want to hear you.” 

“But–” 

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about them, hon. Focus on me.” And then she finally slides your underwear to the side and collects your wetness from your leaking hole and swirls it around your clit. You whimper louder this time, and she nods, seemingly satisfied. 

You begin to get more needy, the stimulation to your clit not enough, and you start grinding when she moves her fingers down to get them inside. 

Agatha knows what you want and puts her lips right next to your ear. “Beg for it, baby girl. Let them hear how desperate you are for me.” 

“Mommy, please, I need you to fuck me,” you say immediately, aching too much to care anymore. She chuckles and slides one finger into you, your walls clenching down on it. She curls it roughly and you gasp loudly. 

“Show them how good Mommy is fucking you right now,” she demands, fitting another finger into you and you groan. You can see how stiff the guys in the corner have become, and you can’t see the bodyguard behind you at the door, but you imagine he’s in a similar position. 

You don’t know why having them in the same room as you while Agatha is pounding into you with her fingers is making you more wet, but it is. 

Her thumb comes up to swipe at your clit and you whine, needing more than that. You roll your hips to meet every thrust and you can feel yourself getting closer when Agatha starts sucking harshly on your neck. 

Noises are falling out of your mouth left and right and you’re climbing closer, feeling so good because it’s been so long since she’s touched you, when all of a sudden, someone clears their throat behind you. 

Agatha sighs against your skin and you jerk around, trying to close your legs, but your girlfriend holds them open and lazily fucks you, slowing down her pace. 

The bodyguard has moved to block the person from view, but Agatha tells Gio to step aside. You recognize the interrupter to be Wanda Maximoff, the Consigliere. 

You don’t think you could blush any more when she begins to walk over to the desk, Agatha’s fingers still inside you, every thrust making a squelching sound. 

Wanda drops three black notebooks onto the desk, about a foot from your ass. It’s like she doesn’t even see you. 

“We need to go through some things, make sure the bookkeeper has been on it,” Wanda says disinterestedly. Agatha rolls her eyes and twists her fingers particularly rough and you can’t help but moan. Both women ignore you. 

“I swear, if Marco messed something up,” Agatha grumbles and pulls out of you, making you whine. You stare at her with wide eyes, pleading to not leave you hanging like that. She gently pats your face with her wet hand. “Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t forget about you. No, Mommy’s got something else for you.” 

You hear Wanda snicker behind you and you’re too humiliated to turn around. And yet, when you stand up, you can feel how slick you are on your inner thighs. Agatha sits down in her chair, unzips her pants, and you lose the ability to breathe when she pulls out your favorite purple strap-on. 

You forget that anyone else is in the room. 

“Come sit on Mommy while she works,” Agatha says, stroking the hand that was inside you up and down the length a few times. She doesn’t have to tell you twice, you straddle her lap and sink down on her, whimpering at the stretch while you put your arms around her neck. “Good girl. Now hold still,” she whispers to you and scooches the chair back to the desk so she can grab a hold of the books. You feel so full just having her in you like this, and the urge to move is almost overpowering. 

But you’re not going to break her rule. So you hold still, like the good girl that you are. 

Wanda begins to talk about numbers and inputs and outputs, but you don’t have an ounce of focus to actually listen. Each time Agatha leans forward to see what the Consigliere is talking about or to sign something, the toy shifts inside you and you have to gasp. Eventually, you get so worked up that you begin to roll your hips ever the slightest. Your muffled moans get louder and you’re just trying to grind enough so that your clit can get the pressure it so desperately needs. 

“Give me one second, Wanda,” Agatha remarks, finally making eye contact with you. “I have a desperate little slut I need to take care of.” 

Hearing her degrade you like that, like you’re not writhing around in her lap for everyone to see, makes your walls flutter around the toy. 

Agatha’s hand comes around your throat to gently squeeze and she puts her lips against your ear. “Take whatever you need, and don’t even dream of being quiet.” 

Given permission, you slowly lift yourself up her cock and drop back down once you get to the tip. The slow drag of her against your grooves makes your head drop back with a loud moan. 

“What were you saying?” Agatha asks, having taken care of the minor inconvenience. Wanda launches back into talking about the books, but you can’t hear her over your as you begin bouncing faster in Agatha’s lap. One hand comes down to rub at your clit furiously, the tightening in your body coming back in no time. 

“You know, that’s quite a pretty girl you’ve got there,” Wanda remarks and it takes you a minute to realize that she’s talking about you. Agatha smirks, looking appreciatively at you riding her. You can’t see Wanda’s face but you imagine she’s wearing a similar expression. 

You don’t hate the image as much as you thought you would. 

In fact, it only makes you try harder to show off, rolling your hips when you get to the bottom so you force Agatha’s tip deep against the spot where you so desperately need it. Your finger circles your clit so hard that it almost hurts but it’s so good. 

“She is such a perfect whore for me, isn’t she?” Agatha agrees fondly, and you preen, the praise making you tighten up even more around her. You can tell you’re getting closer, so close you can taste it. 

“Look at her, about to cum all over your cock in front of me,” Wanda says, and for some reason, that’s what does it. 

You let out a long whine as your orgasm explodes over you and you continue shakily fucking yourself on Agatha as the two women laugh at you. 

Agatha brushes a piece of your hair off your sweaty forehead while you breathe hard from the exertion. “Did you get what you wanted?” 

You nod, too worn out to answer. 

“If you can be a good girl for real this time, and you behave for the rest of this meeting, I promise you’ll get a reward,” Agatha says, raising an eyebrow promisingly. “Sounds good?” 

“Yes, Mommy. You’re the boss,” you say, voice trembling, and she looks positively delighted to hear you call her that. She gives you a playful thrust that makes you keen. 

“Yes I am.”