#i love moth pan

[fallenaither]

Bugtober 2024- Days 17/18: Recipe/Beetle

A little late due to tech issues, but I decided to combine these two days since it felt fitting!

Pan usually has Apollyon taste test any recipe they’re making, but Apollyon will pretty much enjoy anything Pan has it try. ^^;

[witchthewriter]

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...

Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.

This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')

Da = Johnny

Papa = John P.

Dad= Simon

Daddy = Kyle

School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.

Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).

Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.

And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.

None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.

Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.

Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.

Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"

After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.

Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.

With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.

The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.

When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.

"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.

You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.

"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.

Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.

"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.

All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.

"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.

"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.

"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.

"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.

"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.

"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.

"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.

"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.

"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.

"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"

The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.

Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.

"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."

"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)

Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.

"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.

"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.

It was always hard to hang up.

It hurt.

But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.

'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.

"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.

"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."

"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.

You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.

"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."

[hezuart]

Little Nightmares characters as Tinkerbell Fairy Talents! 

After speaking over it with @ciipher-arts (who knows more about the Tinkerbell movies than I do) With her advisement, I decided to assign talents via colorscheme instead of any other truer association with their darker original powers. 

I caught COVID this past week and sketched these out while I was sick in bed. It was therapeutic. 

*Mono's color scheme is a fight between olive green and brown depending on the lighting, so here I decided he'll represent brown.   *Noone, the last character, is from the Sounds of Little Nightmares. We don't know what she looks like outside of having a dress and a head silhouette. (And the silhouette has a purple background) So It's likely this depiction is inaccurate, but there were no other orange-schemed characters that fit the "animal" talent. Plus, Noone always loved moths as a child, so it may as well be her. (I'll make an official design page for her at some point, but I heavily based her design off of Jane from Peter Pan 2) 

Six, Mono, the runaway kid, the girl in the yellow raincoat, the pretender, Noone, Low, Alone (C) Little Nightmares 

[ckret2]

Hey, so you've mentioned that Bollford will eventually play a small part in the fic... and that got me wondering. What exactly are their sexualities? Bill isn't technically any human gender (I don't think? Like he just says he's male becuase its easier?) could human sexualities apply to him? And becuase of that... what would it make Ford? Obviously he only ever loved Bill becuase he's a monster fucker... but what now? Is he actually plansexual? What's your take?

This is Bill's own answer about his sexuality, from the reddit Bill Cipher AMA:

Because the original comment was removed, a lot of later readers assume that Bill is talking about what his own gender is; but the original comment actually asked what his orientation is.

Since Bill's reply says "my dimension has" rather than "had," and he talks like he COULD file his paperwork if he were so inclined, I'm assuming that by "my dimension" he means the Nightmare Realm, not Euclydia. (If I tell you something about "my town," I'm talking about the town I live in, not the hometown I left a decade ago. Why assume Bill does differently?) So he's talking about trying to figure out his orientation in a context of mingling with alien genders, not his orientation within the context of his home dimension.

From his answer, I can conclude three things:

His orientation isn't whatever was considered normal for his culture (example: straight in a heteronormative culture), because if he was attracted only to The Things He Was Expected To Be Attracted To and never attracted to The Things He Wasn't Expect To Be Attracted To, that would be pretty easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't ace/aro, because if he was attracted to NOTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't pan, because if he was attracted to EVERYTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

So he knows for a fact that there's some genders he definitely feels attraction to and he knows for a fact that there's some genders he never feels attraction to, and they're not the genders considered "normal" in his species, meaning he can't just make a sweeping "yes" or "no" declaration about his attraction to as-yet-unknown genders.

That's as much as we know about his orientation and that's as deep as I care to take it. He knows some things he likes and he knows some things he doesn't like and sometimes he runs into something new and discovers whether he likes it.

As for Ford, I personally headcanon him as somewhere on the ace/aro spectrum—whether that's ace-ace and aro-aro or something a little more demi/gray depends on my mood, the weather, the stock market, and what house Mercury is in.

Is he a "monsterfucker" in the sense of "experiences sexual attraction to monsters" or the sense of "has a kink for monstrosity and is turned on by the excitement of (sexually) exploring something new and strange"? He couldn't tell you.

Has he ever fallen in love? He doesn't think so. Could he ever fall in love? Is he going to fall "in love"? Define "love". What's the dividing line between "emotionally wrapping yourself around someone who fills you with awe and excitement and the contentment of being understood and fantasizing about the wonders he'll show you and the ways he'll impact your life" and "love"? Define the dividing line between platonic friendship and queerplatonic friendship. Define the dividing line between romantic love and queerplatonic love. What's the precise difference between a crush and an obsession. What's the precise difference between a special interest and a romantic interest. If your answer involves criteria like "the desire to kiss" it's no good. Ford's made out with his special interests. He's spent fifty years trying to figure out how to kiss moths.

As far as he can tell he's like this

Ford's a busy man of science, he's got better things to do than search for his precise microlabel*. (*Ford doesn't know what microlabels are.)

This is how he sees it. Forget about the actions and rituals people assume automatically come with "love" and "attraction" and "desire" and "relationships" and "orientations." You don't need to know what your orientation is. For example you wouldn't need to know you like women in order to Like A Woman, your body would just make you like her. An orientation is just a label used to categorize your observations of your body's instincts. So focus on your instincts rather than your label.

You find somebody. You like them. They like you. You want to do things with them. Don't waste time trying to figure out if you're "in love" by comparing the things you want against a hypothetical list of things that somebody in love would want: just pay attention to what you want to do with them.

Kiss? Go to movies? Talk about interdimensional quantum mechanics for eight hours straight? Hold hands? Sleep together? Bring them to family reunions? Play board games? Live together and jointly make decisions about finances, careers, education? Live next door to each other so you can see each other every day without having to cooperate on so many parts of your lives? Get joint filing tax breaks? Entrust each other to make medical decisions if one of you is in a coma?

These are a few of many possibilities. Maybe you want some of them but not others. Maybe you want some things that aren't listed. Maybe you hate this entire list. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Just figure out the things you want to do with them. They figure out the things they want to do with you.

Maybe you don't know whether you're "in love". Maybe one of you is "in love" and the other one isn't. It's irrelevant! The only benefit to knowing whether you're in love is that it provides a template with a list of things you probably want to do (kiss; sex; marry; babies; whatever)—but wouldn't you prefer to do the things you WANT to do rather than do the things you think you SHOULD want based on how you THINK you feel? You just figured out what you want from the person you like all by yourself, so who NEEDS "love"! You have a list!

Now you two can compare lists! You decide which things you both want to do and which things you don't. You compromise. You reach a mutual agreement on a way to conduct your relationship that will make you both happy. You have made...

... a plan.

(In the fic, I plan to continue addressing Bill's orientation by having him crack jokes about paperwork and answer questions like "do you like boys or girls?" with "sometimes"; and this chapter is probably as deep as I'll get into directly addressing Ford's orientation: "I only know there's been too many aliens for me to be straight." With Bill currently in human form, Ford sees him as "Bill (triangle) stuck inside a human puppet" rather than as "Bill (human)," so how Ford feels about Bill has no relevance to how Ford feels about human genders and vice versa.)

[evieelyzabethh]

Love your work. <3 Could you write something with reader x spike where they're kinda' pining for one another, but one night he gets injured and has to stay over at her house? She patches him up and maybe offers him a bite? Doesn't have to be nsfw but +5 cool points if it is. <3

Hello, my loves, long time no see!!! I hope this is to your liking <3

Spike is so incredibly reckless. You knew this, he knew, everybody knew that Spike was a walking accident waiting to happen'. He likes to think he can handle himself. "I'm bad, baby," he'd tell you, "M' the big bad slayer killer. I can handle a few scratches." But you were never worried about what he could handle, you were worried about the fact that his blood was always staining your couch. That and the fact that his lack of self-preservation kept you up at night.

Usually, he has some decorum. He doesn't come to you with every scrape and bruise, even though you handled him with much more care than he was capable of extending to himself. It was his way of punishing himself, depriving himself of your head scratches and soft hands for bothering you too much. You scolded him for this, of course. It seems like its every other week (more like every other day) when you and he argue, most often in front of the Scoobies who waited anxiously for you take your arguments to the bedroom, about him leaving you to worry about whether or not he was ash.

"I mean, fuck Spike. Is it really that hard to just give me a call if you plan on bleeding at your place. A little 'Hi, yeah, I don't think I need my wounds treated with modern medicine, I'm gonna take my chances with old whisky and tetanus like the good ol' days'." And every time he takes his well-earned lecture with a smirk and a bowed head.

"Yes, mother, next time I'll break your door down at three in the morning for some pretty pink bandages."

"If you were so ashamed of the pretty pink bandages, maybe you should think before you run into knives!"

Spike has maybe told the truth a grand total of two times in his whole life, so his word means absolutely nothing. He continues to ignore your street like the plague unless it's an absolute emergency.

Now was an emergency.

You barely heard the faint knocks on your door from your bedroom, where you sat on your bed, music blasting from your stereo and some reality court show droning on in the background, catching your attention when someone decided to be particularly messy. You had thought it was your neighbors blind dog scratching at your door again until something large and loud hit it. Quickly arming yourself with a frying pan, you crept to your door, tearing it open for a very injured Spike to nearly fall flat on your floor before he caught himself using your doorframe.

His left hand clutched at his bleeding side and he walked with a limp over to his couch which now had a plastic cover. His dead heart was touched.

"Aw, you were waiting for me, " he croaked out. He fell on his back, one of his hands falling over the side and his eyes closing as soon as his head at the pillow. His shirt had claw marks that were lined with blood and his duster had barely escaped the carnage, a few holes separate from the preexisting moth holes sticky with some supernatural substance.

"Have to be prepared when it comes to you." You patted his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and arouse some consciousness. "Can't have you fallin' asleep on me. You might not wake up." You weren't going to leave his side until you were sure he wasn't going to die in your absence.

He babbled unintelligently, his mouth moving but having no connection to his brain to form any sort of actual thought. His eyes flit between closed and aware, his head moving to catch up with the spinning room, his mouth impossibly dry, and his head pounding. In his head, he insisted he was fine, but the words wouldn't come out right. He spat them out garbled and messy until he was too choked up to even try anymore.

He was barely conscious when he felt your wrist at his mouth. He had enough sense to shake his head and nudge away your wrist with his nose, but his lack of strength made his attempts futile. "No," he mumbled.

"You'll feel better," your voice swam around in his head until the words lost meaning and he just smiled at the sound of your voice. You swiped your thumb across one of his canines, the red contrasting with the pearly whites of his teeth swiftly wiped away by the pink of his tongue. After the taste of your blood was on his tongue, his sense was surrendered to instinct as he brought your wrist to his lips.

You didn't know what you were getting into. Vampires get their life force from blood, so it just made sense to have him feed from you to expedite the healing process. The more he drank, the louder your heartbeat grew in your ear and the closer he pulled you to him. You had only done this once before, when you were both drunk and dizzy and jokes being whispered in your ear turned into tiny nips from your neck that Buffy nearly walked in on.

In complete shock of what had happened then, you never brought it up, halfway convincing yourself that it never happened in the first place. If it did happen, he had enough sense to pull away then and you hoped he had the sense the pull away now, but now was much different. Now, there was a newfound hunger. A desperation. Like he had been starving himself for years and you were the first bite of food he had eaten. Had to have been good food to, with the way he inhaled you, indulged in you like you were some ambrosia or golden mead.

"Spike," you moaned. "I'm getting a bit light-headed." Your voice was high and thin, fearful as you made attempts to pull your arm from his lips. Through his haze, his fangs contracted back, and his tongue swiped whatever lingered on your skin.

"I'm sorry." Sorry for going too far, sorry for almost turning you into an empty Capri Sun pouch, sorry for being reckless again.

" 's ok."

You wobbled a bit as you stood, fingers wrapped around your wound as you shuffled into your kitchen in pursuit of your first aid kit. "You gonna tell me what happened?" He only groaned from the couch.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired." You laughed on your way over to him, wrist already covered in gauze with an all too familiar needle and thread in hand.

"You're tired?" The smell of your blood was all too pungent, still. He turned his head towards the wall, studying the numerous music posters and paintings you had hanging.

"Going out to fight evil is a very hard job." You chuckled.

"I know. That's why I stay in here to patch you up." Your fingers were like magic. They always had a way of calming him down. Especially the way you hummed to yourself while you worked. You were never content with just silence. "I expect an answer in the morning." He smiled.

"Yes, ma'am." He fell asleep before you even finished and by the time you were done, you were too tired to walk the down the hall to your bed. You laid your head down on his chest, with no heartbeat to thrum and no breath to rock you, you still fell asleep just like that. Who knew cold bodies were so comfortable.

[lovifie]

Hey there Lovifie.

I hate to bother you but can I ask for a request?

You see the thing is that I’ve been having a few bad weeks lately and the news I got today just really pushed me to the point that I can’t stop crying now.

Long story short, I’ve applied again for another promotion within my department for my job; this would be the third time I’ve tried for one and for the third time I was passed over for someone else. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing wrong; why they're not choosing me. I’m doing everything they’re asking for, going above & beyond for them and more but apparently it’s just not good enough for them. I just don’t know what else I can do.

Now I feel like I’m not good enough for anything; I'm confused and it hurts. Can I please request a comfort fic of John Price or Poly141 comforting a curvy, Mexican female reader who just feels like she's not good? Please? 🙏🏽 💔

My dear, you are never ever a bother. I’m really sorry to hear you have been having the last couple of shitty weeks, I sent you a message before and I hope this cheers you up a bit and everyone that may be having a rough time 🩷

I did it with poly141 because if we are looking for comfort we are going all out!!

The boys are back home and you know it, they got home last week, spending most of the time together, bathing in each other comforting proximity, helping them decompress after their deployment. 

You didn't tell them about what was troubling your mind, they already have enough on their plate and you didn't want to bother them. Or that's what you thought it would be, a bother. 

That's why you are standing before the door, knowing you have to enter but trying to recollect your feelings to be able to portray a happy face when you finally open the door. 

But the door opens before you want it to, Simon's brown eyes staring at you. “What are you doing, lovie? The motion camera is going nuts…” he trails off, looking at how you try your hardest to look fine. “Everything alright?”

You quickly nod, walking past him, kissing his cheek standing on your tip toes. “Yeah, all good. Was trying to remember where I put my keys.” You laugh, thinking that it is believable as you enter. He doesn't buy it but chooses to stay quiet. You will talk when you need it. 

You leave your bag on the floor next to the door, taking off your shoes and Simon helps you take off your jacket, hanging it on the hook next to Johnny's. “How was work?”

“Horrible.” You think, but instead, you sight and murmur. “Tiring.”

“Did I hear somebody say they are tired?” Johnny's voice beams in the room when he walks to you like a happy puppy, hugging you from behind and hiding his face on your neck. You move your hand back to pet the back of his head. “You tired, mami?”

You nod, with a smile on your face. Closing your eyes when he kisses your cheek squishing your face with his. “Then eat dinner and straight to bed.”

“No shower?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, you are still clean for a couple more days. Right. Or are you stinky?” He says, moving his head back with a confused expression on his face, only for him to hide his face again in your neck making you chuckle when he sniffs your smell dramatically hard. “Yeah, not stinky.” 

He pats your butt, as in signing the deal that you don't need to shower and you smile shaking your head. 

His silliness is almost enough to make you forget the hardness of your day. Almost. 

“Is she home?!” Kyle's voice sounds from the kitchen and you follow his voice like a moth to the light. Hearing Simon tell Johnny to go shower his stinky self, making him whine. 

“Hi, Riri.” You say, using the nickname he hates so much. 

He groans, scrunching his face at you making you laugh. “I'm not Rihanna, love.”

“Hm, but you sound just like her when you shower.” You say hugging him from behind, he is standing in front of the stove, taking care of dinner. Some kind of pasta getting boiled while he works on the sauce on the pan right in front of you. 

So close to it, that when Kyle moves, threatening to tickle you for teasing him, you move your arm to shield yourself. But your forearm crashes with the pan, making it fall and burning you in the process. 

Kyle manages to catch it by the handle just in time before burning himself or spilling it all over the floor. He turns off both of the stoves, to make sure nothing burns while he checks on you. 

“You alright, love? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stood so close.” He says, but your eyes are glued to the spot of sauce on the ground. Almost nothing fell from the pan, barely enough to fill half a glass. 

But the thought in your mind makes you write it at the top of the list of things you have fuck up. And it makes your eyes tear up with the feeling of simply not being good enough.

“Sunshine.” Kyle calls you, cupping your face so you will look at him but his eyes follow you, seeing the sauce on the ground. “Hey, hey, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice cracks making you inhale to try and calm yourself down. “I'm sorry, Kyle.”

“Hey, what happened to Riri?” He asks with a kind smile on his face. “Don't apologise, love. It's okay, there is more sauce stuck to the spoon than on the floor, love. No problem, alright? Everything is fi- you are burnt!”

He cuts himself off when he sees your skin red with the burnt, he grabs your wrist pulling you to the sink to move your arm under running cold water. “I'm sorry, love. Poor baby…”

“Hi, mami.” Price says entering the kitchen, he must have just come out of the bathroom. Possibly kicked out by Johnny, because he enters the kitchen only wearing his pyjama pants, hair still moist. You look at him, eyes wet with tears making him furrow his eyebrows in worry. “What happened?”

“Little cooking accident, nothing to worry about.” Kyle answers, rubbing circles on your hand still under the water with his thumb. “Can you pass the mop, please?” Kyle asks, pointing with his face to the sauce on the floor. 

“I'll do it.” You say, trying to pull your hand from Kyle's grasp. “I spilt it, I'll clean it.”

“Nonsense, you and I are bothering Johnny to grab the burns cream from the bathroom. Let's go, we might see his bubble butt if we are lucky.” Kyle jokes, winking at you, trying to get you to smile. 

But you are already too deep in your own thoughts to do so, you sigh, rubbing your eyes at the sting of your tears and shaking your head. “I'm fine, I'm just… I'm just going to go to bed.”

“Without eating?” Simon walks into the doorframe, handing the mop to Price who cleans the floor keeping an eye on you. “Are you grounding yourself or what, love?”

And you try your best to not cry, to hold it in, at least until you are in your room, with your privacy to cry yourself to sleep. But then Johnny also walks in, talking about if anyone knows where his towel is; and his blue eyes catch yours, shining with worry when he sees your tears.

“What happened?” He asks, repeating Price's words without knowing it. 

You look at them, the four pairs of eyes looking at you, expecting an explanation, worry and curiosity clear on them. And it only makes your eyes sting more with a new batch of tears that easily roll down your cheeks. 

It makes you cover your face with your hands, sobbing softly against your palm. One of them hugs you, pressing you against his body and you know it's Price for the warmth emanating from his naked torso. 

“Let's go to the living room, the kitchen is too small for five people.” Simon comments, his hand resting on the small of your back, caressing comforting circles on it. 

When you don't move, Price moves his hands under your armpits, raising you to hold onto him like a koala. Crying on his strong shoulder like a baby, a big baby.

He sits down on the sofa, moving you so you are sitting on his lap sideways, your face still hidden on his neck. You feel everyone else find their place around the two of you. Kyle is sitting next to Price on the sofa, your feet resting on his lap, his warm hand resting on your calf under your trouser warming you up. Johnny is sitting on the armrest of the sofa, his hand resting on your ribs, moving up and down as well, moving slowly to help you breathe slower. And Simon is kneeling on the floor behind the sofa, one arm bendt on the backrest of the sofa to lean his head on it and the other hand petting your head, brushing your hair. 

But no matter how comforting his touches are at the moment, the door holding the tears in has been opened and they are rolling freely down your face into Price's exposed shoulder. 

It's long after that, that you manage to breathe normally again. Still hiccuping but now oxygen getting to your lungs. 

Simon is the first that you look up, moving your hand from Price's shoulder to grab Simon's finger, the man curling his finger pulling your hand to his. A soft smile on his face. “Hey, pretty girl.”

Price looks over your shoulder, using his thumbs to dry the tears from your face, kissing your cheek. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, the only answer he gets from you is in the way of shrugged shoulders. 

Simon stands behind you, letting your hand fall onto Kyle's and groaning when his knees pop as he stands up. He sits on the opposite armrest from Johnny, next to Kyle and looks at your face when Price moves you lower so you are resting your face on his chest. 

“What's wrong, love?” Price asks looking at you, his hand petting your thigh. 

“I… I just keep fucking everything up…” You admit, voice tiny, afraid that if you speak any louder the tears will return. “I ruined dinner, I ruined tonight, I ruined everything…”

“What are you talking about?” Johnny asks behind you. “You haven't ruined anything, lass. Everything is right.”

“Surprisingly, Johnny's right, love.” Gaz says, Johnny making an offended noise behind you. “Nothing is ruined, love…”

“Did something happen at work today?” Simon asks, regretting the moment you lock eyes with him and your eyes glisten with tears. 

You nod again, melting into Price's arms. “We are proud of you, you know that right?” Price says, making you sob again. “We were proud before today, we will be proud tomorrow, we were proud of you weeks ago and we will be even more proud of you in the future.”

“You don't even know what happened…” you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

“We don't need to.” Johnny says. “We know you. And we know that you always try your best, that you work your ass off and that you are a bloody good worker, love.”

“Yeah, I just need to make my boss see it too.” You mumble, sadness being replaced by annoyance. 

“We can always murder him.” Simon says, earning himself a group groan of his name. “I'm just saying.”

“What Simon's trying to say.” Price says, turning to you again. “Is that if all four of us can see it… he will eventually see it too.”

“Yeah, it's his fault he is so stupid it's taking him so long.” Gaz says, smile on his face.

“But I'm tired of it…” You admit, pout on your face as you lean your head back onto Johnny, the man resting his hand on your face, caressing your cheek. 

“That's normal, love… How about we take care of you, him?” Johnny asks, making you look at him. “Let's have dinner, then you and I take a stinky bath, and then… a movie? Some cuddles? Sounds good?”

You nod before answering. “Yeah… sounds really good.” 

All of them but Price stand up at your words. “Dinner time it is, boys.” Gaz says, walking into the kitchen as Johnny and Simon set up the table.

“Should we help them?” You ask Price, looking over his shoulder. 

“Nah, they can themselves.” He answers, cupping your face to give you a peck on your lips. “You are amazing, love… don't forget it, alright? You are more important than your job, a promotion or anything going on, alright? We love you, cariño.” He says, accentuating the “r” to make you smile.

And later, when you are sitting down with the four of them at the table, the only thing you can think about is about how lucky you are.

[woniverse-writes]

"Moth to a Flame (part 1.5)"

Bada Lee x Reader

part 1 ⟵ part 1.5 ⟶ part 2

series masterlist

summary: all teams react to the first episode of street woman fighter season 2

word count: 1.7k

warnings: surprisingly no swearing lol, uhhhm I don't think there are actually any warnings for this chapter, not proofread

The members of Jam Republic settle in on the couches and chairs of the dance studio lounge room surrounded by staff as they get ready to watch the premier of Street Woman Fighter Season 2. Kirsten already has her phone out and ready, Latrice is on face time with her brother, and Ling is taking pictures of the three youngest members as they pose and mess around. The camera crew is doing some last-minute sound and lighting checks, even though this would just be some extra reaction content posted on the choom’s YouTube channel. 

A few miles away was team Bebe, were all cuddled up together on their couch in the Just Jerk studio lounge. They were waiting for Tatter and Minah to arrive, seeing as they were both in a class at the moment, but both were supposed to get there right as the show would be starting. They were offered some energy drinks while waiting, which the team gladly took.

Once the show started playing everyone was screaming and cheering in excitement, all phones having pulled out to record the introduction. After getting past the initial shock of seeing themselves on TV, the girls returned to their seats and got comfortable again. The team introductions and reactions were shown first leaving some laughing in annoyance at the reminder of the comments, while others stressed out about the things they had said only for the sake of the competition.

When Jam Republic came on the screen an uproar in almost every single team space occurred. They all restated their previous positive opinions of the team- like how Kirsten was well-known, Audrey had the face of an angel, and y/n was a princess. But they also brought up y/n’s initial anger issues. They all remember how scary she seemed back then, and now they all laugh at it because while it is still scary, she’s very cute. The editors put scary music over her at first when she started glaring, but then cut to her pouting a few minutes later and put a kitten meow over it, which caused y/n to roll her eyes and giggle while all of her teammates burst out laughing. The reactions of other teams were quite similar with them all dying laughing as well and calling her cute.

“Our baby” Tatter cooed making grabby hands at the screen, causing everyone else to tether giggle or chime in. Bada surprisingly didn’t really say much, she just smiled and giggled, looking extremely in love

They show Bada and redy’s battle and jam republic is reliving their emotions that occurred a few months prior when the show was shot. y/n giggles and leans on her hand hiding behind it as she rewatches the scene. she smiles shyly at the older girl’s moves, reacting much more tamed this time compared to her original reaction. Said reaction was aired immediately after the battle ended, including the part where Kirsten pointed out her intense blush which caused her and all her teammates to laugh, y/n somewhat lowering her head and laughing softly in embarrassment. they also happened to air what was said shortly after when y/n said “The way she got up in Redy’s face- UGH I WOULD’VE DIED” causing y/n’s eyes to widen briefly before she immediately buried her face in her hands as the rest of jam republic died of laughter

Team Bebe’s reaction to the battle was as usual- hyping Bada up and laughing over the drama, but they were definitely more interested in the reactions, especially y/n’s. When the screen panned to the small girl with her hand on her forehead as she stood in a daze, the blue team instantly burst out laughing, including Bada who had no idea this was how y/n had been reacting to her. Then as they heard her say she would’ve died if Bada got in her face as she did with redy, Bada hid behind her hands and smiled embarrassedly as her teammates ‘ooh’ed and teased her

“With that logic, I can’t believe she’s still alive…” Lusher mumbled but everyone heard it, causing another uproar of jeers and claps from the team

“I can’t believe I didn’t listen to you back then” Bada muttered still hiding behind her hands as she glanced over to Lusher, who just smirked and shrugged her shoulders. Shortly after that the battle between y/n and Lusher comes on and the editing overdramatizes the whole thing making it seem like y/n was going to pick Bada by adding long pauses and cuts in between her words.

Everyone thought your interaction beforehand with Lusher was cute, as you shook hands and wished each other good luck- seeing as your reaction was that of a slightly breathless fangirl who just met her celebrity crush. Other teams giggled and cooed at your bright smile and wide eyes

“y/n just looks so happy to be there-” Lia Kim said with an endeared smile and the rest of her team agreed all sharing a similar reaction. Bebe is hyping Lusher up even as they rewatch the battle that already occurred, loving how fired up she had gotten during it- It showed the part where she ruffled y/n’s hair before the switch and everyone freaked out

“I hope you know I really thought about killing you for a hot second in that moment…” Bada joked with Lusher who chuckled and nodded her head

“I did it more so to provoke you than her” the younger girl responded causing her leader to scoff and roll her eyes while letting out a sarcastic ‘of course’- but when y/n started dancing lusher was the first to get even more hyped

“YEEEAH THAT’S MY BABY GIRL” the girl was hyping up her then-opponent, now-friend, as if she weren’t the one in a battle against her. Her team laughed at her antics before they all began excitedly chattering about how amazing of a battle it was, and how y/n’s power and personality were showcased perfectly. And just like y/n’s reaction was aired, Bada’s gay panic sent every single member of every team into an uncontrollable fit of laughter when it was shown immediately following y/n’s ‘razzi shots’ move

“Oh my god, I’m crying- that was the funniest thing ever” Redlic wiped tears from her eyes, still trying to calm her laughter.

“I never thought I’d see Bada react like that” Mina Myoung stated, amused and lowkey satisfied by the usually cool leader’s anything-but-cool reaction.

“We’re usually the ones reacting to Bada like that, so it’s definitely refreshing seeing that she really is just like us-” “and toward y/n, which is absolutely justifiable” the two biggest y/n supporters- Redy and Harimu- conversed aloud. Of course, other teams’ reactions were shown to her dancing, but the editing specifically highlighted Bada fumbling to pull herself together as y/n sexily finished her half of the battle. Just like everyone else, team Bebe was laughing hysterically- all except their dear leader of course, who was now curled into a ball on the couch, covering her head with her arms as she hid behind Lusher and screamed in denial

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY REACTED LIKE THAT” Bada screamed into Lusher’s shoulder as her members only laughed harder at her muffled stress

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY ACTUALLY AIRED IT” Minah responded practically crying with how hard she was cackling. When Jam Republic saw it they all freaked out as well but screamed and shook y/n around as she sat shell-shocked in her spot in between Audrey and Emma on the couch. y/n’s eyes were as wide as possible as her jaw practically lay on the floor. They ended up having to pause the episode because even the older members couldn’t bring themselves to calm down. y/n sat completely zoned out for the next seven-ish minutes, trying to calm down her heated face. While Bada was also zoned out for a while, it was because she was having an internal mental breakdown.

The episode ended right as Lia Kim and Mina Myoung were about to battle, leaving the audience in suspense as they wouldn’t be airing it until the following week, which left everyone annoyed but excited for the next episode. After it ended, everyone debriefed for a few moments but they were mostly talking about the connections. The teams discussed how there was a lot of history between certain contestants- like Mina Myoung and Lia Kim, Bada and Redy, and then Harimu and Redlic. After talking about the old relationships, they all somehow managed to have similar conversations about building new connections with other dancers

“I was surprised at how reactive Bada was, especially towards y/n…” Mina Myoung snickered, still grinning away at the thought of Bada losing her composure.

“Yeah but everyone was reactive toward y/n-” Gooseul commented in reaction, but was immediately cut off 

“Right, but Bada is usually pretty chill and reserved… her reactions to that girl were anything but reserved” They all laughed and agreed

In the Jam Republic space, all the members were doing the same as every other team by debriefing.

“I think we got a pretty positive reaction out of them!” Kirsten happily noted with a lifted tone of voice

“We definitely proved them wrong, especially with our secret weapons-” Emma moved to ruffle Audrey's hair while squeezing y/n, causing the two youngest to complain but the older members to chuckle.

“I guess they did really like us, huh y/n?” Audrey smugly observed and prompted the other to respond

“Hm, it sure seemed like it.” the youngest chuckled with raised eyebrows, still slightly in shock by how much cooler she looked on TV- loving how she could see everyone’s reaction and hear their comments. It really boosted her ego when she realized that was Bada’s first impression of her… they had known each other for a while now, so it was pretty normal for her to see the older girl have similar reactions to the ones she did in the episode- but it didn’t hit y/n right away that this was all months ago before the two girls really knew each other. They had been through a lot since then and were still recovering from some of it, but y/n and Bada definitely had a better understanding of each other now.

taglist (open): @tinybada @angel-hyuckie @violetinferno @jesuschrist2006 @1luvkarina @uwulyn @justandloyal2961 @deadgirlwalking3 @heeheemich @squidvoldyvoid @vivzyo @ouhaika @jksjx @ocyeanicc @marianamartinsthings @jxrdxnh @luvjanexx @lorenztired @khjssss @heavenlycloud @loisje123 @starchasermyloves @zhivaxo @grinnwolph @notyourd0lly @stinkbvgs @nermandiiiii-blog @abllucena @arujee @idontknownemore @thatgayinsomniac @l-a-u-r-a--b @fruitr0llup @cgriffin9797-blog @woooooya @kaaylvst @ssc7514 @astoreea @linda-botello @kpopgirl-97 @erikook @majookim @okjaeminn @misszoldyc @sammisregrets @jysai @moonsvrse @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog @tikitsune @aestrelle19 @laaaasanielzz @randomhoex @tswisal1 @leasha25823 @unpretty-reader @charlesswife

accounts in bold were unable to be tagged

[14dayswithyou]

heyyy sai! the pinned post sent me here! ^^ i luv ur game & i hope ur doin well :) smth i was curious abt was what if Angel & Redacted (in a relationship) were the completely opposite of each other? Like, Angel is optimistic, early bird/morning person, loves the outdoors, extrovert, empathetic, not to mention, knows how to cook LOLL. Would Redacted like it? Orr would he be slightly annoyed because his bae is wanting to leave the house to do errands at 5:30 in the morning while he’s sleeping 💀

✦゜ANSWERED: Thank you for reading da pinned post!!

I don't think [REDACTED] would mind in the slightest what Angel's personality is like, considering the reason he's so in love with them in the first place is because it makes them who they are. He'd never be annoyed with Angel in any capacity, and any form of irritation would be at the behest of their friends or the inanimate objects they interact with.

Alongside that, [REDACTED] is also more than willing to adjust himself to suit Angel's personality. If they wanted someone who was similar to them, he could easily change his outlook on life and put up with it to make Angel happy.

Like... Taking his "Ren" persona into consideration; he's already acting optimistic (seeing the bright side of sleeping on the floor and getting wet in the rain), waking up early (for his date with Angel), doing extraverted things (visiting libraries, cafes, and piers), pretending to be empathetic (when talking about Moth's social situation), and being able to cook (a whole stack of perfectly made pancakes vs one burnt one stuck to the pan).

[brewed-pangolin]

Captain Master Chef

OG Captain MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

Captain Soap MacTavish is, contrary to popular belief, an absolutely amazing cook.

His mastery at the savory side of the culinary world is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For example, his take on Beef Wellington is bar none better than your mothers (you'll never tell her) and you'd be lying if you didn't fall head over heels in love with him the moment you took the first bite of his Haggis.

Even as he expands his cooking repertoire into more unfamiliar horizons, you're never left unsatisfied or turning up your nose to anything he manages to put on a plate.

--

"Oh my God, honey. This is delicious."

You praise with a quiet moan. Taste buds blissfully overwhelmed with the succulent flavor of rice, muscles, and saffron as the remaining accents of his newly mastered Paella dance their melody along the length of your tongue.

"Hm. Thank you, love. Quite proud of me self if I'm bein' honest."

You take another bite, eyes rolling back as the taste of the perfectly crusted and savory socarrat hits your tongue like an aromatic tsunami.

Your eyes linger on him, casting him a doey eyed stare that the Captain returns with his own distinctively confident gaze. Silence falling over you both as you take your time enjoying each other's company and savoring the masterful delicacy he so elegantly created.

Reluctantly, your eyes begin to shift. Turning towards the kitchen as you take in the absolute disaster that sits atop your granite counter tops and stove.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, returning your gaze back to your Captain lover as he wipes his mouth with a flavor filled napkin.

"John, I love you. But goddamn, do you need to learn how to clean while you cook."

"What? It's not that bad, love."

"Not that bad? My kitchen's a disaster, John!"

Soap takes a long glance at the kitchen, surveying the damage before shifting his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Least there's no'a lobster on th'ceiling."

"Nothing will ever beat the lobster, John. That was truly a legendary experience."

"Yer mother didnae think so."

"Yeah. Because you threw the lobster at her!"

"The fuckin' thing pinched me!"

You exhaled an amused sigh, shaking your head with a smile that only he could pull to your lips.

"Thank God she had the pan in her hand, or I feel you'd have been excommunicated from any further family gatherings."

"Aye. Yer mother's got quite the swing, love. Better for me to stay on her good side, yeah?"

"I'd highly recommend so, John."

You gently scrape the last morsel into your mouth with an enamored and muffle moan. Wiping the corners of your lips as you take in one last look at the monstrosity that waits before you.

"Alright, honey. This mess isn't going to clean itself."

"No, it ain't, love. But I was cravin' a bit'a dessert before tacklin' that."

Your eyes narrow, brows knitting together while you shift your gaze over the counter tops for a sign of this hidden last course.

"What dessert? I don't see anything."

"M'lookin at it, sweetheart."

You pause. Rolling your eyes under heavy lids, you're met with the icy blue confidence within his stare that never seems to not have an amorous effect on you. Shifting in your seat to quell the ache already beginning to throb deep within your core.

"John MacTavish. You sneaky little bastard."

"Aye. I am. Now bring that sweet ass over here, lass. Yer Captain wants ta taste ya."

Your body then moved on its own accord. Easily snared into his hungry gaze and rolling timbre like a moth to a flame. The languid come hither of his fingers making your legs weak and breath quicken as you slowly sauntered over to your illustrious Captain.

The kitchen remained untouched the remainder of the night. Left in a culinary mess and disarray as Soap MacTavish feasted on your sweet nectar and filled the need to have your silken walls wrapped around his stiffened cock.

The dishes could wait. Your Captain would not. And you'd be daft if you ever denied Soap MacTavish what he wanted when you treated him so graciously to a feast that only you could provide.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @jynxmirage @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @haurasha @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

[sneakysnowmannightshade07]

"Like a Villain" Had to be Written by Rhian to Rafal

The song:

The artist is Bad Omens.

Look into my face, then look again We are not the same, we're different To tell your tales and fables, you couldn't wait You need a new clean slate without the dents A place to put your pain, your consequence When you look into the mirror, are you even there?

This goes back to the twins having "the same face" or at least most of it, and the whole part near the end of Fall where Rafal says "We are the same, brother" and Rhian replies "We are not the same." The fairy and fables reflect the world they live in and the school of which Rafal assumed he was master of. The "new slate" could be Rafal's new good streak. The pain could be the inevitable difference after witnessing a horrible war-- or the pain Rafal caused others. And technically, he is a person of consequence.

I don't wanna know all your secrets 'cause I'll tell It's hard enough being alone with myself I don't know how long I'll be holding on I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant well But you pushed me to the edge and I slipped, and then I fell I don't know how long I'll be holding on

The first line reminds me slightly of naive Rise Rhian and the second how much Rhian wanted friendship and love throughout the prequels. Rhian would be holding on to goodness, but in Fall, that goodness starts to slip away and he gradually becomes the villain. The fourth and fifth lines can be related to Rafal at the end of Fall and how he meant well, but had pushed Rhian to his edge, where he finally commits the crime of fratricide. It also can be Rafal's whole relationship with Rhian, where he meant well, but ended up hurting Rhian's mental health severely than helping him.

So write a brand-new page, then write again I know your act is staged yet you pretend All while you're turning tables with missing legs I think you've overstayed your welcome in So go the fuck away, don't come again I'll see your face in the fire and burn it out

This sounds very Storian-esque and the development of Rhian's aggression towards his brother. It also reminds me how Rhian acts like he is the master instead of Rafal-- I'm sure in Fall he wanted Rafal to fuck off (pardon my French) and if he was crueler he could have burnt Rafal's face out. he has the dragon fire, and he is associated with blue. Blue stars are the hottest, if I am not mistaken. Rhian had his brother's body cremated. Rafal also tries to lie to Rhian during the moth-letter opener confrontation, which could fit this section.

Like a villain, I couldn't be I didn't need it, it needed me Like a villain, I couldn't be I didn't need it, it needed me

I think this shows that Rhian, at least for me, now rules Evil as the purely evil twin. he is a commander of armies and even james can't control his magic. It also feels like a sense of embracing the inner darkness in you, like what he did in Fall before Pan shot Timon.

[lias-writings]

Feminine girlfriend headcannons

request: no

pairing: bella ramsey x fem!reader

tw: fluff, feminine!reader, mentions of public affection, mentions of men,

summary: headcannons of Bella having super feminine girlfriend <3

a/n: before anything, i do not want people to think I am gendering makeup, dresses etc. “feminine” becase idk how else to call it and regardless of if you’re a female/male/non-binary you can dress/wear makeup how ever you want, okay I hope you understand, enjoy<33

masterlist

🎀 first of all I just know bella would love watching you getting all dolled up even to just go shopping

🎀 bella being hot, rich actor would definitely spoil you as much as he can, they would buy you any clothes or makeup you desire

🎀 sometimes she would let you do their makeup or skincare but just becase he can’t say no to you

🎀 I feel like bella would love when you wear mini skirts/dresses, but hate when others, especially men are staring!!

🎀 even tho your closet is mostly pastel-coloured, you love wearing bella’s baggy tomboy t-shirts

🎀 and they would love you wearing them even more

🎀 most of the time bella’s amazed with the magic you can do with makeup or the complicated hairstyles you’re able to create on your head

🎀 whenever you get the opportunity you love to curl their hair cuz they look amazing with the waves (the gif🧎🏿‍♀️)

ANYWAY

🎀 bella loves to show you off so whenever she has some event going on, they take you to the red carpet with her and always make sure you two are matching

🎀 if you are also famous she’s at all of your important events/premieres!!

🎀 one of bella’s love languages is gift giving so whenever he sees you admiring a new bag or a fancy dress, few days later you have it laying on your bed in a gift bag/box with a small gift-card from your lovely partner <33

🎀 whenever a dude in a public is staring at you they always wrap an arm around your waist and hold you closer to them

🎀 bella loves shopping with you, their favorite part is when you get home and you’re trying on all the stuff you bought putting on a little show

🎀 you have matching bracelets you made for the two of you awwh

🎀 talking about bracelets bella loves buying you a fancy jewelry, they definitely got you a promise ring on your either b-day or anniversary

🎀 let’s stick to the rings; whenever you buy a new ring for bella they wear it for next interview and whenever the interviewer mentions their ring she’s always like “yeah, my gf got me this!”

🎀 bella’s definitely a sucker for thighs so when you’re wearing short skirt it’s hard for them to keep their hands to themselves

🎀 if you’re the type of person that would say “there is nothing in there” while staring at the closet filled to bursting with clothes they’d would just raise an eyebrow and give you one of their comfy grey sweatshirt <33

🎀 matching earrings!!!

🎀 you stealing one of their t-shirts and them asking you after like 6 moths if you don’t know where that t-shirt is

🎀 when you and bella officially announced that you are a couple people were shocked cuz you “didn’t look gay” ( no because how are we fem!lesbians/bi/pan girls supposed to look gay? )

🎀 if you are not famous, you definitely had a social media and dating an actor kinda helped raising the numbers up so you may or may not started thinking about posting grwm’s/makeup tutorials if you do bella’s always commenting something like “first” or “can I get a hi🥺”

🎀 last but not least you two would definitely became the “it couple” as the perfect example of masc! and fem! or some shit like that. 😍

[nolita-fairytale]

it's perfect, chef | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | bonus smut scene from 'still into you'

summary: carmy surprises you with a ring & an engagement dinner, but you're not hungry yet. bonus scene that takes place after the last chapter of 'still into you' sunday (you'll want to read this first)

warnings: fluff, engagement smut, swearing, 18+ only

wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: here is the long-awaited bonus engagement smut that i owe @carmensberzattos. i think this is the spiciest smut scene i've written them yet. also, hypothetically, if i wrote some cute fluffy shit about them getting married/planning... would you read that? y/n?

(^^ this is NOT an amatriciana BUT this scene is 'chef' is the same energy so it felt right.)

And you think to yourself, that maybe, this was always how it was supposed to be.

You can’t stop smiling.

Your eyes flicker from the ring on your finger to where Carmy stands over the stove. He’s put his apron back on, very serious about this engagement dinner he’s got planned for you. You watch as Carmy begins pulling the sauce together, giving the pan a shake over the gas burner in your shared apartment. Carmy uses the wooden spoon to evenly distribute the onion and guanciale mixture across the bottom of the pan once more. 

It’s perfect, really, that he’s decided to make you an amatriciana for your engagement night. The man knows you love a Roman pasta, and you love that they’ve managed to play such a special part in your love story. 

You glance back down at your phone, seeing a slew of messages in your group chat with Syd and Sugar, in response to the picture of the ring you snapped earlier:

Sugar: HE DID IT!!! HE GAVE YOU THE RING!

Syd: We did good, huh?

Sugar: You’re welcome ;)

Syd: It really is a beautiful ring. We love you!!!! Go enjoy your night, but spare us the details please. 

You’re so focused on your group text with Sugar and Syd that you don’t notice how close Carmy hasn’t gotten to where you’re perched on top of the kitchen island.

“Health code violation, don’t you think?” he teases you, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

You look up from your phone, letting out a small laugh as you lock eyes with your now fiance. While grabbing the bowl of tomato passata, he maintains eye contact, the smallest smirk on his face as he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

Carmy takes a few steps away from where you sit, causing your heart to beat a hell of a lot faster. That can’t be all he came over here for you, could it?

“Good thing our place is not a restaurant then,” you reply, your gaze following him as he returns to the stove.

Even though he’s gone back to cooking, Carmy’s touch lingers on your skin. You can still feel the pads of his fingers along your inner thigh and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get your heart rate back down. You clear your throat in an attempt to collection yourself before offering:

“Need any help?”

Your ears fill with the sound of the tomato sauce hitting the searing hot pan as Carmy responds, “I got this babe.”

He steals a glance your way, before giving the sauce a shake in the pan. You swallow, watching as his forearm muscles flex prominently as he grips the hand of the saucier. He swirls the pan a few times, creating an emulsion of the ingredients inside, and it suddenly feels five degrees hotter in the room. You’re like a moth transfixed by a flame as you hop off of the kitchen island, taking a few steps to where he stands. 

“Can I at least watch, then?” you ask, suggestively.  

A smile spreads across Carmy’s lips as he feels your hand snake around his waist, your fingertips dipping underneath the hem of his shirt. He hisses in response to your touch, as your fingertips hit the hard planes of his abdomen. 

“Baby…” he sighs out, a smirk on his face as you press your forehead against his shoulder. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothin’,” you answer innocently, even though there’s not a single innocent intention behind this. You bite down on his shoulder blade gently, earning another laugh from his lips. 

He chuckles, “Doesn’t feel like nothin’.” 

You giggle, “Just testing your focus, is all.” 

You pull away from him almost instantly, pulling off to his left side. You press your back against the counter, leaning up against it as you watch what he’s doing. As Carmy leans over the stovetop, reaching for the salt crock towards the back of the stove, you can’t help but notice the newly exposed skin the hem of his shirt has revealed. 

Did his perfect vintage jeans always sit that low on his hips? 

Down girl… you remind yourself. 

“You tell Sugar and Syd yet?” Carmy asks, changing the subject. 

“Yeah. They’re very excited that you gave me the ring,” you reply, trying to distract yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We have a group text, actually.”

“Uh oh,” Carmy sounds, shooting you another look. 

You smile wickedly before reassuring him, “Nothing to worry about it. They’re happy you finally, and I quote, did it right.”

“You three in a group text? Got nothin’ to worry about. Sure,” he replies with a playful eye roll, completely unconvinced that this group text is nothing to worry about. 

“I thought maybe we could call Liz and Maya after dinner. Or maybe tomorrow depending on what we get up to tonight,” you suggest. 

“Oh yeah?” Carmy replies, a hint of amusement in his ask. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows he’s winding you up, teasing you till you’re begging for him to fuck you. And you hate that you love it so much. 

Carmy leans towards you, his piercing blue eyes holding your gaze for a moment, watching you squirm. 

“I uh-, need to get a spoon,” he says, gesturing towards the drawer you’re standing in front of. His lips are inches away from yours and you forget to breathe for a second. 

His lips practically ghost over yours when you don’t move and you have to admit that you're so turned on by this little game of cat and mouse. But you’re not going to let him win. Not yet. You bite back a moan, nodding your head and stepping aside, murmuring a ‘sure.’ 

You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Carmy grabs a spoon, returning to where he’s planted himself in front of the stove. He dips the spoon into the sauce to taste for seasoning, and you can see the gears turning in his head. 

“A little more salt,” he murmurs to himself, before adding another pinch. 

“Can I try?” you ask, bold enough to get close to him again. 

You’re not sure if you’ll have the self-control to resist him, but you’re not sure you’ll care by then. 

He laughs dryly, dipping the spoon back into the sauce. 

“Let me know what you think, chef,” he replies, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He holds the spoon out as you open your mouth to taste. He doesn’t look away and neither do you, until the tangy, salty tomato sauce hit your tongue. 

Fuck. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“It’s perfect, chef,” you answer, opening your eyes. 

Carmy smiles smugly in response. 

Because he knows it is. 

Because he knows he has you right where he wants you.

The only thing that could rip him away from you in this moment is the sound of the pot of water he has on the stovetop coming up to a boil. It feels near-impossible to rip his attention away from you, but he does, throwing handfuls of salt into the stock pot, with his deli container of dried rigatoni following.

He sets a timer, before stirring the pasta water a few times.

You’re hungry. Sure. But between his perfect amatriciana and this little game you’ve been playing, you’re not sure you can wait any longer. 

Dinner will just have to wait. 

“Carm?” you ask, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. 

“Hm?” he hums in response, completely satisfied with just how worked up he’s gotten you. 

“I… need your help with something,” you drag out, as he turns to you. 

“Yeah?” he asks, coyly. 

“Yeah,” you answer. 

Using your left hand, that left hand, you pull him towards you so that he’s dangerously close to you now. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips before reaching up to press your lips to his. Carmy kisses you with the confidence of a man that knows he’s got you in the palm of his hand, pulling you in towards him for more. 

“This what you need help with?” he asks, as you feel his lips twist into a smile against yours. 

“Yeah,” you answer, in between sucking on his top lip. 

“It’s just…” you start innocently, tugging his hand to follow you. “Nat and I had some snacks right before I got back. Didn’t know my very sexy chef fiance would be here making me dinner and asking me to marry him again.”

In between kisses you manage to continue backing the two of you up against the kitchen island now.

“Think I need a little help working up an appetite.”

You hear him laugh against your lips, before turning his head towards the stove. 

“But what about the pasta?” he teases, cockily. 

You pull away for a moment, and with a shake of your head you reply, “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Carmy laughs again before grabbing you back the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. In an instant he’s hoisting you up onto the kitchen island so that you’re seated there once again, nudging your legs open to make space for him. 

“You set a timer right?” you manage to ask, wrapping your legs around his waist. You run your hands down his chest as Carmy’s eyes follow, focused on the engagement ring he’s just put on your finger. 

Fuck it. 

The pasta can wait. 

“Yeah, but that means we got ten minutes,” he finally answers, looking up at you. 

You smirk, satisfied, “That’s plenty of time.”

He can’t believe this is real. 

He can’t believe he deserves this, and yet, you make him feel like he does. 

He grabs your hands to stop them, before focusing all of his attention on your left hand. He looks down, focused on your body and everything he wants to do to you. 

His fiance. 

His future wife. 

His Mrs. Carmen Berzatto. 

“This what you want, pretty girl?” Carmy rasps, kissing your ring finger. 

You watch as he bows he head to you, his mouth leaving slow kisses up your arm. He’s gentle in the way that his lips brush against the tattoo on your forearm, and then into the crevice of your elbow. You sigh as he drags his lips up your bicep and your shoulder, before burying his face into the space between your shoulder and your neck. 

“This what you need help with?” he asks you again, his voice low and sultry. 

“Yes, baby,” you whimper, as he leaves a gentle bite on your neck. His tongue snakes out, quick to soothe the sting of his teeth, and you’re leaning your head back, offering up more of yourself to him.

Carmy’s hands trace up your thighs, tugging on your hips so that they press up against his. You grind your hips against his denim clad hips, searching for any kind of friction you can get. With the movement of your hips, Carmy chuckles confidently. He knows he’s dragging this out, teasing you for distracting him and possibly ruining his flawless amatriciana with your desire for him. 

Finally, finally, he crashes his lips into yours again, letting out a groan as surrenders to his own desire. Your hands are everywhere: in his hair, wrapping around his shoulders, grasping greedily at his back as he bucks his hips between your legs. 

“Wanna move this to the bedroom?” you pant, in between kisses. 

“Nah,” Carmy smirks in response, watching your face twist into a look of confusion. But he can’t deny you for too long, his next words sending you into a frenzy. 

He grabs a handful of your hair before whispering against your lips, “I wanna take you right here.”

“Carmen,” you gasp in surprise, feeling him pull on your hair. 

“In all the kitchens we’ve worked in together,” he starts, fire in the way his voice sounds. “Can’t believe we’ve never done this.”

“Think that’d definitely be a health code violation,” you tease him, before bucking your hips against his. You can feel how hard he is, if the tent in his pants and progressively tight-feeling jeans wasn’t enough. 

“Think about that a lot, Carm? Hoisting me up over my prep station in the middle of my mise and taking me right there?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans, feeling you bite into his chest. 

He gives you a half smile, before he’s untying his apron, throwing it somewhere on the kitchen floor. He returns to you in an instant, and you’re practically ripping his t-shirt from his body along with yours. Your mouth is on his again, your tongues tangling in a dance for dominance. Carmy’s hand is in your hair, his hips pressed against yours, and he’s laying you back on the kitchen counter. 

He thanks his past-self for cleaning up earlier. He’d hate to have to break any of your favorite ceramics by shoving them off of the kitchen island, his mind completely clouded with his need to consume you. He lets himself get lost in the heated makeout. He loves the little noises you make, the way your skin tastes underneath his tongue when he kisses your neck, the way you run your fingers through his curls as you whine his name. 

“Baby,” you sigh as his mouth moves from your neck to your breasts. 

Carmy’s pulling one of the cups of your bra down, exposing your right breast. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, as you feel his tongue snake out to draw circles around your nipple, causing your to arch your back. He’s hard at work, earning moans from you with his mouth pressed against one of your nipples when the timer for the pasta goes off, interrupting you.

“Fuck!” he practically shouts. 

“Shit.”

You laugh, flattening your back against the kitchen counter before sitting up. Carmy looks so upset that it’s almost funny. He swears again before returning to the stovetop. He’s quick to use a mesh sieve to pull the rigatoni noodles out of the boiling pot of water and into the saucier. You laugh again, watching him, because of course he can’t help himself. 

“You okay, Carm?” you tease him. 

He shoots you a playful glare, shaking the pan a few times. After giving the pasta a few tosses in the pan, he’s practically slamming the stainless steel pan down on the stovetop, flicking both burners off, before returning to you. 

“Now where were we?” he asks, his voice gruff with lust. 

You’re more than happy to pick up where you left off. 

“I think somewhere around here,” you say, pulling your bra off in one swift motion. 

“Jesus,” Carmy groans again, his hands moving up to your breasts. 

“And I think… you had me on my back,” you say flirtatiously, as you lay back over the kitchen island. 

“Fuck, babe,” he hisses, his hands snaking up and down your torso. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you confirm as he glides his hands over you. 

And he’s back to work, consuming you with his mouth and tongue as you arch your back off of the kitchen island. You let out the most surprised gasp as Carmy practically yanks your shorts off, tossing them and the pair of panties you’re wearing onto the floor to join the rest of your discarded clothes. 

Carmy takes his time, leaving kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, and you know this is payback. He has you breathless, dripping wet and squeezing around nothing before he’s even put his mouth on you. He’s got you so wound up that when he finally licks a broad stripe up your core, you’re screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He’s gotten so damn good at this over the years. It’s not that he’s ever been bad at it… but the way he’s memorized everything you like, what makes you tug at his hair when he’s between your legs like this, what makes you come undone, has you cumming faster than you ever thought you could. 

Carmy’s got one hand palming at your breasts while the other holds your opposite leg open as he eats you out. Your legs are practically shaking as you cum, and he’s not letting you go anywhere. Not letting you have a single moment of relief as his tongue works you over, his fingers buried deep inside of you. 

“Holy shit, Carm,” you sigh, trying your best to catch your breath. 

He finally looks up at you, his mouth wet with your slick as he wipes it against the back of his hand. 

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” he promises, his eyes locked in a gaze with yours. 

Before you can pull yourself together, he’s wrapped your legs around his waist, and he’s dragging you off the kitchen counter and over to the couch. You want nothing more than to ride him as he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you. You watch as he removes his jeans and briefs, stepping out of them. You swear your heart skips a beat as you see his erection standing hard against his abdomen. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg, sitting up on the couch. You reach for him, wrapping a hand around his dick, earning a hiss from him at the feel of your soft hand. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he smirks, because he has other ideas. He makes his way down to the couch with you, moving you so that you’re on top of him. “Not yet at least.”

You shoot him a look of confusion as you straddle him, before letting out a yelp as he moves you up his body. You practically have to catch yourself on the edge of the couch with his movements, as soon as you realize what he’s doing. Carmy’s got you straddling his face, wrapping an arm around your waist, so that he can taste you again. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that you cry out as he pulls you down against his mouth. 

“Carmy, I can’t-. I-, I’m too sensitive,” you wince, feeling his tongue move over your clit in feverish circles. 

He shakes his head, earning another moan from you as you feel the drag of his mouth against you. You try to sit up, try to pull away, but he must’ve known you’d try something like this as the arm wrapped around your waist catches you from moving any further. 

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, scolding you as he holds you in place. “You said you wanted me to help, sweet girl. So I’m helping.” 

You know it’s no use, as those are the last words you hear him say before he’s pulling you down to him again, his mouth and tongue back on you. You feel the tip of his nose bump against your clit, and you’re begging him to make you cum again, surrendering to the beautiful, pleasurable torture he insists on inflicting on you. Carmy’s hands move to your ass, keeping you pressed against him as he works you over, refusing to let up.

Two can play at this game, you decide. 

You bring your fingertips up to your mouth, sucking them for a moment to gather enough saliva, before reaching back behind you. Your wet fingertips meet his hard cock, aching to be touched. With your back arched, you use your saliva and his precum to stroke his length, earning a groan from Carmy against you. You can feel him bucking up into the hand you’ve wrapped around him, moaning against you as you continue to ride his face. The vibrations are too much as another orgasm rips through your body, as you let out another sob of pleasure. 

Satisfied, Carmy finally releases you, and you’re not sure how you manage to hold yourself up over him. Breathless, he slides you down his body, your knees straddling his hips as you kiss him. You can taste yourself on his mouth, as you drop your hips, dragging your pussy against his hard on. 

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, because you feel too fucking good. 

“You gonna let me ride you yet?” you ask, your voice low and sultry. 

“Please,” he replies, his pupils completely blown out in pure lust. 

Your knees dig into the couch as you sit tall, grabbing his thick cock before guiding him into you. You both gasp at first contact, and the way he feels inside of you sends chills down your spine. You start to move your hips slowly, grinding against him as Carmy closes his eyes in pleasure. 

He’s enjoying this too much. 

And he gets to do it forever. 

With you. 

With one hand on his chest, bracing yourself, you begin to speed up the motion of your hips. Carmy lets out another moan, bucking his hips up into you. You close your eyes, throwing your head back in pleasure when you feel the slightest pressure on your neck as a tattooed hand wraps around your throat. You moan, beginning to fuck yourself faster on your boyfriend. 

With a groan, Carmy sits up straight, both arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. The change in angle makes your eyes roll back as he begins to thrust up into you with a fervor you’ve been wanting all night. 

The room is filled with the sounds of the kitchen overhead fan, the sounds of slapping skin, and both of your moans as he pushes you closer to your third orgasm. 

“Jesus Christ, baby. You feel so good,” he murmurs, lost in pleasure. “Always feel so good. Like you were made for me.”

“I love you,” you whisper back, tangling your left hand with his right. 

Carmy glances over to your ring, then back to you, his eyes trained on yours as he explores this deeper angle. 

“I’m gonna come, pretty girl. Shit,” he swears, his thrusts becoming more and more desperate. 

“Me too, Carmy. Fuck… make me come again,” you beg him. 

You let him fuck you till you’re squeezing around him, gripping his shoulders, with your face buried in his neck as he follows suit. Carmy grunts, filling you up, pausing the motion of his hips while he’s still inside of you. You pull back with a sigh, trying to catch your breath as you brace yourself on his shoulders.

He leans in, planting one more kiss to your lips, a fucked out grin stuck on his face. 

“Hungry now?”

You laugh, “Absolutely.”

*

Carmy fills two pasta bowls with a sigh, using a microplane to grate over more cheese for garnish. 

“Doubt it’ll be al dente but…” Carmy apologizes with a shrug, though he’s not sorry that you took a much needed sex break. 

Still shirtless, you watch your boyfriend move towards you, bowl of pasta and a fork in hand. He’s slipped on a pair of sweatpants while you wear one of his old Original Chicagoland Beef t-shirts you found in the clean pile of clothes. 

He hands the bowl to you, where you sit on the kitchen island once again, a smirk on his face as he remembers what transpired here moments ago. 

You dig your fork into a rigatoni noodle, before raising it to your lips and taking a bite. Instantly, you’re met with the taste of what you swear could be the world’s most perfect amatriciana, even if the noodles are cooked past al dente. You can tell he’s watching you, searching for a reaction as you close your eyes with a groan. 

By the time you open your eyes again, a stupid smile plastered to your face, all you say to Carmy is:

“It’s perfect, chef.”

*

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[annaphoenix1994]

No Stone Unturned

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»»-------¤-------««

To say I was nervous was an understatement - I was nearly in a panic attack every time I got a chance to look at the time. I wasn't a very social guy and perhaps never would be, but if I wanted to advance further into Kiera's life, I had to grow out of my social anxiety at some point. I had met her parents yesterday, and I was quite relieved to see how laid back they were. Her father welcomed me with a firm handshake and an offering of whiskey while her mother welcomed me with open arms and told me to get comfortable in her house. Her father, who goes by Bud, was a retired E-9 Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps, and he kindly shared stories with me of his time overseas as well as asking me how different my military career was. I felt no judgement from him or his wife, and I was relieved by it, especially when they didn't ask questions about what intentions I had with their daughter. 

As the days went by, I assumed that Kiera picked up on my daily habits: coffee, sitting on her back patio to myself, and insisting conversation for whenever I felt like it. She gave me my space, and I appreciated it, however I hated it because all I wanted was to be around her at all hours of the day. The Wyoming weather failed to make up its mind towards the end of the year. One day it would be warm and sunny but turn to bitter cold and sleet within twenty-four hours. Today was one of those days. It was now early evening, and what was once a decent warm day began to turn to hard wind and falling temperatures. Deciding that I had been isolating myself on the back patio for long enough, I entered the house to the smell of something sweet, and I couldn't help but follow it, giving me an excuse to instigate conversation with the topic of food. 

I stood back and watched when I realized that Kiera was humming along to a song she was playing on her phone, keeping her hands occupied by taking out a pan from the oven. She had no idea that I was there, assuming that I was probably still on the back patio embracing my unfortunate loneliness. "Bottles and Bibles litter the floor; All night revival passed out around four," I heard her hum, reaching to her right for a bag of jumbo marshmallows, opening them and putting a few on top of whatever she had pulled out of the oven. 

Whatever it was, I knew it was going to be delicious. Our conversations haven't been long in the last few days except for over dinner, but one thing I figured out about her is that she could cook. Obliviously to her, that was a way to my heart, and she was getting closer and closer with every meal she made for me. I watched as she put the pan back into the oven, wiping her palms on the nearby kitchen towel before taking the last sip of the whiskey that was in the glass on the counter, turning around before she noticed me. "Christ, Simon!" 

"Sorry, love," I smirked. "Didn't intend to scare you. Figured you knew when someone was within a few feet of you."

"I don't have eyes in the back of my fuckin' head!" She scoffed. 

"That much is clear." 

She rolled her eyes playfully, turning her head before she could give me the satisfaction of making her smile. "Since you're in the kitchen, you can come and help me." 

"Yes, Officer."  

"Thanks, Chief." She retorted, knowing that my power of authority would be nothing more than complicated by addressing me by a different title. 

"Lieutenant." I arched my brow, stepping closer to her as if I was trying to be intimidating, but all I was doing was using this tactic as an excuse to get close to her, the smell of her perfume luring me in like a moth to the flame. 

She thought she was being sneaky when she backed up against the counter, her hand snaking behind her back to grasp a handful of flour before playfully smearing it on my chest, the residue clinging to my black shirt, yet I couldn't help but assume - or hope - that she was doing it to have an excuse to touch my torso, feeling my hard muscles that hid beneath my shirt. "Oh, you've had it now." I smirked. 

"Ooh, I'm so intimidated by you, Chief-"

She shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as I grasped her wrist with light pressure, but enough to keep her from pulling away from me as I pulled her away from the counter to grab the container of flour that was behind her. 

I got even when it came to little pranks. 

"Simon! I need to keep an eye on the casserole!" 

"Fuck the casserole!" 

"I'll embarrass you!" She giggled, threatening to attempt to restrain me.

"I'd like to see you try, love. I need to get a workout in." 

She scoffed, using her foot to try to hit me behind my foot in a pathetic attempt to move my weight. She had no momentum, and I was by far too big and too heavy compared to her, but I liked seeing her try. 

A part of me figured that she really could hurt me, but she was holding back. I knew what she was capable of and have seen it myself, including when she made Soap shut his mouth. 

I smirked when I held the container of flour over her head, teasing her with anticipation just to hear her beg me to stop, but she started it, and I got even. 

"Simon! No! No, no!" She squealed as I poured the flour on top of her head. "I swear to God, Simon!" 

"Keep swearing all you like, sweetheart, but God isn't going to save you right now." 

She slumped onto her back on the floor, catching her breath after an intense laughing fit as I stood over her, shaking my head as she looked like pre-kneaded dough. "Let me go get the rolling pin." 

"While you're at it, get me my vape." 

"I don't think so." 

"Fine, I'll get it myself." She pouted, attempting to stand on her feet before her sock caused her to slide on the flour against the wood floor, taking me down with her as I tried to catch her to keep the thud from sounding so harsh. 

I fell on my side close to her, feeling the vibrations from her laugh through the floor as I couldn't help but laugh, too. It was a rare occurrence that I fell, but when I did, it was either from the top of a wall or stepping into a hidden hole in the ground. "Oh my God, are you okay?" She asked, seeing me propped up on my elbow as I looked up to the ceiling, the flour that was disturbed after it had settled now caked onto my shirt and pants. I was sure my black socks were now white, but I didn't care. 

"I'm fine." I chuckled. She's so bloody enticing. If you don't stop looking at me with that pretty gleam in your eye, I won't be able to stop myself.

"Here, I owe it to ya - I'll help you up this time." She giggled. 

"Not yet."

"Why? You hurting? Getting old?" 

"No." 

"Then what is it?" 

She knew exactly what it was. She just wanted to hear me say it. 

I moved to adjust my weight on my elbow to where I was almost leaning over her, my free hand slowly and hesitantly coming up to wipe the flour from her cheek before swiping a small area away from her lips. Bloody fucking hell. 

Her eyes flicked away from my sharp gaze briefly, trying to find the confidence in herself to accept it, not wanting to believe it was actually happening, but I couldn't help but think that she didn't want it as bad as I did.

She felt my hot breath coming closer and closer to her lips. When she leaned towards me, I knew that I wasn't crossing a line. We closed the gap between us, her hand coming up to grab my wrist as my hand was cupping the back of her head. It all felt so perfect - like it was meant to happen this way, and I suddenly felt that my nervousness was far in the back of my mind when I felt her lips on mine. I groaned lowly when I felt her arm lay across the back of my neck, gently pulling me down onto her. 

The kiss didn't last as long as I wanted, but it was better than I could've imagined, though I wanted to drown myself within her, wanting to disappear within the confines of her spirit. "Simon," She whispered against my cheek. Her tone sounded serious, like she regretted it, but when I opened my eyes to look into hers, I could feel a sarcastic comment playing on her lips. "I need to check on the casserole." 

I knew she said it to break the awkward tension she must've been feeling, but regardless, I still loved it. I loved every sarcastic comment that left her mouth, those gorgeous hazel eyes, her quick wit, her loving attitude, fucking everything. I was immediately love-struck the moment I first laid eyes on her, which has never happened to me before in my entire life. She had my heart in her hands already, and I'd gladly let her keep it.

Because I know she'd keep it safe. 

I exhaled a chuckle, looking at her beating pulse against her neck. She wanted more. "If you mention that casserole one more time, I'll let it burn and eat the rest of those precious marshmallows that you've been eating that were supposed to go on it." I teased, daring to dip my head down and place a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse against my lips. I knew it was too early to let it go further than just a kiss, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted all of her - wanted her all to myself. 

I didn't just want eventual sex, I wanted her for the rest of my life. 

"I don't know what you're talking about..." She giggled, lifting her chin to give me better access to her neck, but I traced my lips all the way against her jaw before I looked into her eyes, pleased to see her blush before looking away from me, but I gently grasped her chin to turn her face back to where I could look into her eyes. 

"I'm over here, sweetheart." 

"I know, but... I don't know how to say this." 

Fuck, she didn't like it. She didn't feel anything. Look at you, Simon, fucking fool! 

"Spit it out, then." I replied, mentally preparing myself for the rejection. Well, at least I got to kiss her...

"Can I have another?" 

"Another what?" 

"A marshmallow," She scoffed, winning a smug grin on my face at her sarcasm, which was becoming one of my many favorite features about her. "Another kiss, Simon." 

"Say fuckin' less." I replied, crashing my lips back onto hers. She giggled into my mouth as her left leg hooked over mine and curled around the back of my thigh. God, don't do that. I'll fuck you right here on this floor, I thought as my hand slipped down to grasp her side just below her ribcage. As much as I wanted her to take me, I wasn't going to do anything until she wanted to, which was perfect for me, because I was nervous as hell, and I just hoped that she couldn't sense it. 

My kisses were needy and somewhat obsessive, and she absorbed every bit of it, the slight digging of her nails in the back of my neck enticed me enough to release a deep groan, almost a growl, at her action. Neither of us could deny that we were aroused, ready to fuck each other blind, but we both knew it was too soon. 

Her leg tightened around my thigh, and I could feel the heat between her legs. I wanted to touch her so bad, but I stopped myself. I didn't want our first time together being on her kitchen floor covered in flour - I wanted it to be romantic and slow. My hand was cradling the back of her head to prevent her head from resting on the floor when we broke the kiss, our mouths dry and plastered with puffy lips. I'm not sure what love feels like, but if it's how I feel in this moment - I think I'm in love.

Our moment of silence was cut short when she jolted under me, her phone ringing loudly on the countertop. I carefully stood to my feet, holding out my hand to help her to her feet, "I'm going to have to shower before we go to the lodge." 

"Yeah, I agree, covered in flour isn't a good look for you at the dinner table in front of your family." 

"Yeah? And having an egg thrown at you and sticking to your shirt isn't such a good look either." She scoffed with her playful threat. 

"Neither is not showing up," I raised a brow. "I get even with pranks, love." 

"We'll see about that." She smirked, making her way to the counter to pick up her phone. 

My face fell in confusion when I watched her warm smile fade into a heavy frown, "Who is it?" 

"Laswell." 

[httpvomitello]

Shell of Trust *⁠.⁠✧

Mikey hummed to himself as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, the city skyline a blur around him. Tonight felt good—a clear sky, no major threats, and most importantly, a chance to check in on you.

You’d been in his thoughts a lot lately. Sure, you were April’s best friend, but to Mikey, you were special. Your kindness drew him in like a moth to a flame, but he could also sense there was more to you. You laughed at his jokes and indulged his antics, yet you always kept a certain distance. He figured you just needed time to open up, but lately, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you weren’t telling him.

So, naturally, Mikey decided tonight was the night to surprise you.

“Operation Surprise Visit,” he whispered to himself as he landed gracefully on your fire escape.

Peering into your apartment, he noticed the living room light was on. He pressed his face against the window, grinning—until he saw her.

A little girl sat on the couch, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest and watching cartoons. Mikey’s grin faltered.

“Wait… who’s that?” he muttered.

As if on cue, the girl turned toward the window and froze. Her wide eyes met Mikey’s bright blue ones, and her face scrunched up in panic.

“Mommy!” she screamed, scrambling off the couch. “There’s a monster outside!”

Mikey recoiled, his hands raised defensively. “Whoa, whoa, I’m not a monster! I’m a friendly turtle!”

Before he could explain further, the window flew open, and there you were, holding a frying pan.

"You bastard! You better stay away from my ho... Mikey?!

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, hey. Didn’t mean to freak out the kid. I was just, you know, dropping by to say hi.”

Your eyes flicked toward the window where your daughter was peeking out cautiously, clutching her stuffed bear. You sighed, stepping outside and closing the window behind you.

“Mikey, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you!” he said, his tone cheerful but edged with confusion. “But, uh, you didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

You winced, your arms crossing defensively. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly something I go around advertising.”

Mikey tilted his head, his usual lighthearted demeanor softening. “Why not? She looks adorable.”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, but it quickly faded. “Because it’s complicated, Mikey. And it’s easier to just keep that part of my life private, people will judge me less.”

“Judgy people suck,” Mikey said immediately, his tone firm.

You blinked at him, startled by his bluntness.

“Seriously,” he continued, his blue eyes earnest. “If anyone’s giving you grief, they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re awesome, and if she’s anything like you, then she’s awesome too.”

A lump formed in your throat at his words, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “It’s not just that, Mikey. Her dad… he left after I was three months pregnant. He didn’t want anything to do with us. Ever since then, it’s been just me and Dahlia, and… I didn’t want to risk you—or your brothers—treating us differently because of it.”

Mikey’s heart ached. “We’d never do that,” he said softly.

“You say that, but you don’t know what it’s like,” you whispered. “So I decided it was best to keep that part a secret, so she wouldn't get attached to someone and then that person... just leave.”

Mikey stepped closer, his tone gentle but firm. “Hey. I get that you’re trying to protect her, but you don’t have to protect her from me. I think you’re amazing, and I think Dahlia’s lucky to have you as her mom.”

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at him. “You really mean that?”

“Totally,” he said, his smile returning. “And if you let me, I’d love to meet her. I’ll be on my best behavior—scout’s honor!” He held up three fingers in a mock salute.

You laughed softly, the tension in your shoulders easing. “She’s probably still freaked out, but… okay. Just give her a minute, and don’t take it personally if she’s a little shy.”

“Got it,” he said, giving you a thumbs-up.

When you opened the door, Mikey stepped inside cautiously, his movements uncharacteristically slow. Dahlia was still on the couch, clutching her bear and eyeing him warily.

“Hi there,” Mikey said gently, crouching down to her level. “I’m Mikey. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

She didn’t say anything, her grip on the bear tightening.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly, sitting beside her. “Mikey’s really nice. Remember how I told you about Mommy’s awesome friends? He’s one of them.”

Dahlia glanced at you, then back at Mikey. “You’re orange.”

Mikey chuckled. “Yep, I’m one of a kind!”

Her lips twitched into a tiny smile. “Do you like bears?”

“I love bears!” he said enthusiastically. “Especially the cuddly kind.”

Dahlia hesitated, then held out her bear toward him. “This is Mr. Fluff. He’s my best friend.”

Mikey gasped dramatically, taking the bear carefully in his hands. “Mr. Fluff? That’s an awesome name. Nice to meet you, buddy!”

You watched the exchange, your heart swelling with warmth. Mikey’s natural charm had melted Dahlia’s initial fear, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope.

As the evening went on, Mikey made Dahlia laugh more times than you could count, and by the time she was nodding off, clutching Mr. Fluff, you knew you’d made the right choice letting him in.

Mikey looked at you as you tucked Dahlia into bed, his expression soft. “She’s amazing, just like her mom.”

You smiled, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you, Mikey. You are amazing.”

“Always,” he said with a grin. “And, uh, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m your guy. I’m great with kids!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 1

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 2757 author's notes: it was like a multiple birth but here we are. This is my very first attempt of a fanfiction (and it's not written in my native language) but I worked a lot on it and I hope you enjoy it. I tried to keep It simple. After mulling it over I chose to divide the fic in two parts and yes: the smut is in the second part! It's not proofread because I'm a kamikaze, yes. Little curiosity: I was partly inspired by Saltburn and this soundtrack. What else? I'll leave you to read! Be kind, pleaseee! My hashtag is #ficfymo ! summary: Elsa threw a party for Jimmy's birthday but no one knows where he ended up. Fem! Reader POV. warnings: mention of violence, and blood. I think that's it, for now. https://open.spotify.com/intl-it/track/6Huqy9WdEE3rMazEQgajn2?si=2105621ac0044260

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome.

I'm the one they call the Rorschach Woman; my real name is not important.

Do any of you know what vitiligo is? Vitiligo is a disease but in the maternal arms of Elsa Mars, nothing is bad. None of her adopted children are sick: we all have a gift, don't we, Elsa? I had a boundless love for ballet, I was busily studying psychiatry, I was a "prodigy girl" or, at least, I thought I was. Then, the vitiligo showed up. What I thought was my downfall, according to Elsa, represented the true miracle. I gave up dancing; I gave up on my dream of becoming a researcher. I lost the support of my real parents because my appearance had changed but hey! Now I have my own number in Elsa Mars Freak Show. I'm here to enchant you. To let you read the spots on my face. I'm here to interpret your minds. This is my personal test of Rorschach, offered to you, kind audience. A few dollars and you can study me, myself every night but not every night are like this. Tonight I want to tell you a story 'cause today is my best friend's birthday. The brother I've chosen. Tonight, a big party was thrown for him but there's no trace of him. Where did you go, Jimmy Darling?

Let's take a step back.

I've never seen the camp so packed. Never. If all these people showed up for every show, each of us would be filthy rich. I don't understand how it is possible and yet, Elsa must have performed one of her magics. She says she consider Jimmy her blood, so she claimed to organize everything herself. She chose a party theme: "Normal People". She call it "satire", a mockery towards those who are truly considered normal. Some of us believed her, others adapted to avoid getting into trouble. The truth is that, by disguising ourselves according to the canons, we appear even less credible. Grotesque. Ridicolous. I couldn't resist a subtle provocation, so I made my complexion uniform but with the white of French mimes. Like a pierrot. Totally painted in white, I wander around in a champagne dress. I look like a crazy moth until I find the flame. That flame is Jimmy himself, surrounded by a myriad of strangers who urge him to blow out the candles.

- Happy birthday… uhm… -

- Happy birt… Joseph? -

- Jack? John? -

- I think it's Jimmy. -

- Jimmy? Are you sure? -

- JIMMY! -

The music does not cover the murmurs nor the embarrassment that comes down like a curtain. I try to push and elbow to reach my best friend but I can't. He's standing there, nerves to edge: he looks around, clenching his teeth. He seems lost while he's trying to put an unconvinced smile on his Peter Pan face. Once the candles have been blown out, Jimmy disappears in the general disinterest. Nobody cares, the party continues as if nothing had happened, fueling an atmosphere that has nothing normal about it. It's something like a mesmerizing nightmare in the suffused lights that Elsa had placed everywhere. A luminous design that even turns into a labyrinth in the wild meadow near the main event. It should be a modern fairy tale for the privileged who want to escape from the routine. For us, scum, it's an illusion. A utopia, a warning of what we will never achieve but I don't give a fucking damn. Sincerely. If I'm still here it's not because of Elsa nor because I truly appreciate her Cabinet Of Curiosities. I'm still here for my "acquired family" and for the boy who should be the protagonist of the evening which no one cares about.

Driven by the chaos, I search for familiar faces in the dim light until I come across Ethel; she shaved her chin. She is holding a plate with a slice of cake that she has prepared herself and she's standing in the dancing crowd, with a worried and resigned look. We both knows who the cake is for: Ethel has seen his son, maybe talked to him but she won't chase him. I prefer to not disturb her but I don't give up: retreating into a slit of darkness I collide with someone and jump perhaps exaggeratedly. Paul emerges from the darkness, rubbing his side with a grimace. He wears a hideous, gigantic suit to disguise his condition. It makes it look like a sad parallelepiped. Doctor Frankenstein's Creature.

-Paul, sorry! Did I hurt you?! -

-Nah, no biggies! What about you? You're nervous, what's happening? -

-Well, uh, I'm… have you seen Jimmy? I've been looking for him all night. -

- First I saw him with a brunette, she was dragging him towards El-'s tent… hey, that's the one over there! -

But the brunette is not in Jimmy's company: laughing rudely with her friends, she passes by me in a sweet-smelling cloud of glitters. She carries with her a kind of old oil lantern lit on a gesture that makes my blood run cold: cheeky, she twirls a battered glove on her head and, in one breath of Pink Lady, she's already too far away. Even though I would like to, I'm not going to confront her and complicate things because I prefer to follow her steps backwards. An alarm screams wildly inside me and I have to comply with it by launching myself out of the tent. The humidity of the night sticks to my skin, kneading the white paint that I thought was dry. I'm a mess inside and out but it doesn't matter at all.

- JIMMY! - I call, shout and run. I run, run, run like a fugitive. A voice whispers the worst to me and maybe I'm crazy but I can't help it. - JIMMY! - I keep repeating myself but he doesn't answer. The throat burns, the feet go by themselves, swaying dangerously on the heels. I didn't even realize I had ventured onto the lawn until I felt tickles on my ankles. Fräulain Elsa's illuminations invite me to follow their aura like drunken fireflies and I, disaffected, accept. I'm not afraid that Jimmy is dead but, worse, that he's gone. That he left me alone, leaving suddenly and without me. He promised me that if we ever succeeded, we would leave together and one suitcase would be enough to move to Europe. He always kept his promises, he…

I stop, crystallized in the heaviness of the evening. I hear noises scattered throughout the maze of light bulbs: they come from a specific point but they echo and bounce in the air. It sounds like the clumsy moan of an animal that it would be better not to get close to but I obstinately follow the source to the center of the maze. Once I reach my destination I jump somewhere between horror and relief, putting a hand to my mouth so as not to be discovered immediately. Sitting on the ground is Jimmy Darling. Hunched over, he turns his back to me and fiddles with something I don't understand. He is surrounded by objects, some of which I cannot distinguish. There are a few bottles including one of vermouth still sealed, half a lemon, a shirt reduced to a pile of wrinkles in Granada Green, the other glove specially sewn for the party. Some salt, perhaps? The worst aspect, the most dramatic touch, is a pinata hanging over his skull. A lobster-shaped pinata. As I try to figure out whether or not I'm awake, a low, deep growl forces its way into Jimmy's lungs, flaying them with increasing violence. The growl is quickly turning into the pained cry of an already wounded beast. I won't respect his privacy any longer, so I walk over to him and kneel before him.

- JIMMY! JIM, STOP IT! STOP, DAMMIT! - Jimmy was on the verge of cutting off his left hand with a rusty knife but my arrival ruined his plans. He doesn't recognize me right away and his immediate reaction is to turn against me. He is much, much stronger than me but, even if he vehemently chases me away, I attack again in what turns into a blind scuffle. The moment Jim realizes it's really me, he drops his guard groggily. He is no less upset, nor willing to suddenly change his mind but he grabs me by the elbows and pushes me away roughly so that I don't end up hurting myself. Crawling on the ground, he steps back before pulling himself up and staggering but he isn't drunk. He's been drinking but it's not the alcohol that shakes him like this: I recognize the difference, also because I've never seen him in this state. In his big good eyes there is no freshly roasted coffee but boiling petrolium. His expression, a cracked mask of hatred and at the same time authentic desperation, reduced to its core. He trembles in his sweat-soaked undershirt and makes a gesture that he has never deemed necessary in front of me. He hides his hands, trying in vain to put them in his back pockets, like a child caught red-handed. Does he feel reassured by my presence? Is he bothered by it? He's gasping.

Jimmy what… what are you doing? Why?! - I ask him in tears, advancing slowly on my knees. - NO! - he spits out a scream, trying to freeze me in place. - Please… Y/N, no. Enough. That's enough. - I shake my head, I'm confused and I rub my now soaked cheeks. Gray due to the white mixing with the black of the mascara.

- What are you talking about, pleas st-… -

- SHE SCREAMED, Y/N! SHE SCREAMED IN GENUINE TERROR, I TELL YOU!-

- BUT WHO, JAMES?! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHO?! -

He hates it when I call him James but that seems strangely to appease him. He stares at me like a madman and, in silence, seems to wonder how it is possible that I don't know the circumstances of his delirium but, gradually, lucidity returns and, at the same time, an atrocious sadness. - That… oh, fuck. She was one of the very few people to smile at me and make me sincere wishes. Did she really want to spend time with me… did I fall for it like an idiot? I do not know. It was her! She chose it, I warned her but… - while Jimmy tries to explain, he forgets to hide from me and gesticulates, so I notice a burn on the hand that he was seriously about to cut off. The living flesh fades from red to the paleness of the bladder. Grains of not completely dissolved salt outline the surface like grotesque lace. He must have poured it in. - She took off my glove, alluding to my skills as a pilot but then a heartbreaking scream and… and… I had to let it go. Instead, I tried to calm her down but she…how the fuck is that possible? How did she not know I'm a fucking freak? It was written all over the damn thing! But she knew it. She knew it very well. My attentions were the perfect excuse to defend herself. She called me a monster, a half-man, an abomination and so on, you know, what's new? But then… she burned me with her fucking lantern. You convince yourself that you have a zest, that you are used to it and yet it's not true. And, as with Meep, the day comes when insults are no longer enough. - he doesn't have the courage to look at me but what he says is intimate. Devastating. Shareable. - The bar of wickedness is raised. Of course! That girl wasn't defending herself. She squirted oil on me once, twice, three times. She was torturing me, only stopped because I raised my arms and… the fear came back. She's gone. -

I'm annihilated. Annihilated by what I see and hear, I undergo the hypnosis of Jimmy's pain which soon becomes mine too. His irises are diluted by a sea of ​​tears; suffering makes him unfairly wonderful. In the meantime I have reached him and, from the bottom of my position, I stare at him without embarrassment. I wrap one arm around his knees while the other grabs his good hand and places it on the back of my neck. He wants to take it away, he puts up a feeble resistance but he hears me sobbing and stops immediately. - Yes, Jimmy: her wish was to hurt you. This isn't a party, it's a visit to the slaughterhouse and we are the pigs. As always. - now I hold him with both arms, rubbing my face between his knees. The fabric of his trousers becomes stained white make-up until my skin is almost clean. I raise my head. My face's a palette used between stains that can be washed away and stains that my skin retains.

- Look at me. Are you looking at me? -

- I am. - he says, with the tone of someone who absolutely has to convince you. He hasn't noticed but he's stroking my hair. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down. -The kindness with which you caress me has never belonged to anyone among the few who have touched me. Not even my mother. - I'm deadly serious. I look at him with watery eyes but it's his tear that rains down my forehead. - Not even to myself. - because I mistreated myself, inflicted physical pain and consequent signatures but he… - If those are really claws, everyone should have them. Maybe they would learn what kindness is. - if I wasn't the one talking to him, he wouldn't believe me. He would mock me, it would be bitter and biting. Instead he fights with the truth that I offer him and stares at me dazed. Almost angry, hunted. The problem is that he believes me, so he picks me up and it's as if he's looking at me for the very first time. His forehead is damp with sweat, so I free his unruly curls before rummaging through my clutch bag. I make sure he follows my gestures and I take out a box of matches: I choose one and place it under the perfect curve of his nose. He flinches but stays as I light the end and, solemnly, set the piñata on fire. While the papier-mâché lobster is devoured by the flames, little by little, melted sweets and chocolate perish in the meadow. Neither of us needs to introduce what's about to happen: just as I stand on tiptoe, he lowers his disheveled head and the tips of our noses meet. It's the last chance to retract before the soft "m" of his upper lip meets my lower lip, dehydrated from makeup. In the first friction there is the disbelief of all the years in which we have not allowed ourselves and then, surrounded by the smell of burning, the kiss intensifies in an unstoppable crescendo. Jimmy wraps his bare arms around my body with the eagerness of someone who must survive. For my part, I let out a moan and cling to his shoulder blades: I realize what I wanted and how much I needed to be satisfied. Jimmy and I share the thrill of the kiss, so much so that he murmurs something incomprehensible against my teeth before parting them with his tongue and searching for mine. He holds my head as if I were water and he was drinking and he doesn't care about the cosmetic taste I have on; his lips turn pale. He slides down my neck without any self-control and I understand that he would take me here, right now. In the midst of the fire. - Wait. - I try to stop him with a deafening smooch. We are out of breath and the air is irrespirable but he stares at me with an imploring look. - How much longer? - he plead. I feel his blood vibrate under his golden skin, between the vertebrae of his broad back. - You have to trust me: I have an idea. - The smoke screen rises towards the sky and us. We… dissolve in the middle.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth + PLEASE, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[mintaikk]

Analyzing the Circus & Biblical Elements in Hellaverse: Asmodeus

And other things, I guess

The embodiment of Lust, one of the most dangerous sins in Mythology, your demon hoste, Asmodeus!

Something I absolutely love about the sins designs is the fact that they're all animals, with Lucifer being the only human one. It really adds to the whole circus element. But, while Ozzie is a chicken, I really also want to talk about the demonic aspects as well and why his design works for him!

Why Asmodeus is a Rooster

The first reason is because another word for Rooster is cock, so the Ruler of the Lust Ring is a giant cock. And, in this world, all the Goetia Demons are birds.

ANYWAYS, there's also other reasons why he's a cock (Im not calling them roosters anymore). In general, cocks symbolize masculinity, pride, enthusiasm, strength, honesty, and most importantly for Big O, sexuality. Makes sense, though. For farming, the entire point of roosters is to protect and mate with the females. And while Ozzie is most likely pan, and he's dating a dude, his entire thing is still sex.

The masculinity and pride element is there as well. Stereotypically, masculinity is being really buff and dominant. Ozzie is literally a king and is buff as hell (I still wonder why his arms shrink sm when he's in his regular outfit. Maybe Fizz is right about him being really good at "squeezing things in."

But, it also doesn't just mean physical strength, it can also refer to mental strength as well. And, let's be real here, Ozzie is one of the most mentally healthy characters in this show.

Strength can also be used for protection, and since roosters protect hens, it could also be seen with how Ozzie is very protective of Fizz and is also one of the few sins we've seen who seems to somewhat care about his citizens. From what we've seen of Lust, it's one of the safer and healthier rings to live in. Ozzie is shown to be very prideful of his sin as well, so it makes sense that he'd want to protect the people who feel lust and live in the Lust Ring, which is why he also despises noncon stuff. (I've heard some people say him not liking noncon stuff doesn't make sense bcuz that's the prime of lust, but SA is more wrath and greed than lust.)

But, his pride for his sin is the next thing. Roosters are prideful, and Ozzie is very prideful of his Ring and his work, and his club. Also, this is probably just a coincidence, but did you know that Lust & Pride were some of the most dangerous sins in mythology? I think it's bcuz they both alienate from God or smthn like that. I Kinda like these 2 overlapping for that reason.

Another thing: did you know that he's also a moth, which is why he has the fluff an antenna? Kolkocat on YouTube said that Vaggie is a moth bcuz of "women if the night referring to prostitution" (she was theorizing about her death, btw), and I think that fits. Val's a moth for the same reason. I also think the fluff could be lion related since they're also symbolized as kings.

Demon Elements

Asmodeus & Mammon are one of the two characters I've seen that look the most like their biblical counterparts, so talking about their designs is the most fun.

We've all noticed that Ozzie has three heads, right? That's actually from his biblical design!

This is from The Lesser Key of Solomon Book!

Honestly, I have no idea why he looks so fucking ugly. My Christian friend theorizes that it's because it's supposed to show that Lust is an ugly sin, and while I absolutely love that explanation, it probably means nothing, considering it was the 1500s and they just wanted to make demons look as ugly as possible so people wouldn't fall into sin.

But, I love how semlesy they incorporated the horse head and goat head into his design. Though, in the show, I think it's a gost head instead of a horse head. God, I need to talk about Bull and Goat symbolism now, don't I?

Bulls are interesting. They symbolize strength, but they also symbolize fertility. And, like cocks, they're also primarily used by farmers to mate with the females (his design really just fucking screams "HEY LOOK! HES THE EMBODIMENT OF LUST! HE FUCKS A LOT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND???")

Goats are easy. They symbolize the devil so much. Hell, the demon Baphomet is litterally just a winged goat. They're also commonly associated with demons bcuz of their eyes and horns. But they also symbolize another thing which is, you guessed it! FERTILITY.

Circus Elements

Actually going back tho the title elements, wooh! (I'm so sorry for getting off topic on all of these).

In a Tweet, Vivzie mentions that all the sins represent a Circus Act, with Bee being an animals trainer which is why she has so many hoops on her design and in her mansion. Ayy Lmao on YouTube theorizes that for Asmodues, he is a dancer and trapeze artist since his club has so many dance and trapeze things.

But, bcuz I'm a chatty little bitch, I want to add to this.

I think Ozzie could be seen as a secondary ringmaster to Lucifer. Yes, he's obviously a pimp, but his outfit reminds me of a cool, modern ringmaster, especially with the tophat, boots, and glowing suit.

It makes sense as well because his entire club has a Circus theme to it. And, again, Lust & Pride are said to be the most dangerous sins. Perhaps Lucifer communicated with him the most about Hell.

Also, bcuz I won't get to the others for a while, he also said theorized about this for the other sins

Satan (wrath): Strongman bcuz his app is a weight lifting app, Bee mentions his abs, and it makes sense the sin of Wrath would be Strong.

Mammon: Obviously a clown

Belphagor (sloth): He said contortionist since her ring has to do with Healthcare, but this person pointed this out, and I like this theory a lot better

Leviathan (envy): He chose Magician for them because they would want to conjure things that they don't have.

Thanks for coming to my messy essay that would make my English teacher cry in shame at the things she has failed to teach me :)