#it says ‘Hello just wanted to say that uh I love OH FUCK THAT BURNS FUCK DAMNIT SHIT I HATE EVERYTHING FUCK’

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Hi~ Your headcanons are so cute) Could you write hcs how Buchigang (separate) will confess love to their s/o?

Sure!

Giorno: he would ask them if they wanted to see his bug collection, and when they said yes he would tell them about his bugs. And then he would say something like “this specific type of bug kills it’s mate, I think that’s neat. I would never do that though because I am not that type of bug, do you want to go on a date?” And that’s how it would go.

Bruno: he unzips his head and his heels and he puts his head on top of his heels and when the person sees he says “I’m falling head over heels for you”. That’s plan one. Plan two is he trips down the stairs when the person is near the stairs and he says “I think I’m falling for you” after he hits his head on the bottom step. He likes plan one better because it involves more zippers, although he could add zippers to plan two if he wanted, like maybe he could unzip his arm as well but that wouldn’t make sense. He is still working on the details.

Abbacchio: he would confess his love over text, but he would take forever to write the text and would be super scared to send it. And eventually he would just decide to say what he wants to say into the voice text thing, but while he is doing that he spills hot tea all over himself and then accidentally hits send before he can edit it. So the text reads: “Hello, just wanted to say that uh I love OH FUCK THAT BURNS FUCK DAMNIT SHIT I HATE EVERYTHING FUCK”.

Mista: he would confess his love in a public setting and it would be super dramatic and embarrassing. Like it would be a one man play (played by him) that he wrote himself and most of it wouldn’t make sense and there would be several musical numbers and it would end in a confession. It would end up on the internet.

Narancia: I feel like if he liked someone romantically, he would just say it without thinking too hard about it. He wouldn’t be afraid at all and doesn’t understand why anyone would be. He wouldn’t have any big plan or anything, he would just blurt it out one day. He would be so sad if he got rejected though.

Fugo: he is super awkward about romantic feelings and would never have the courage to just confess his love for someone. I think the other person would have to confess first and he would just be like “yeah, I feel the same” and then he would pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

Trish: she would write them a letter and there would be lots of cute stickers on it! Maybe even send them a gift too, that she made herself.

[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.

[ynackerman9499]

Hello! This is me! ����/𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟! This is my tumblr in case you don't know me i have a youtube channel which I upload texting stories videos to it! And this is my first post here in tumblr (original)

Some male Hashiras + kagaya reaction to you sacrificing yourself for them

⚠ Warning : spoiler in kyojuro and kagaya, take of death, blood, injuries, crying, some of them are really short

Giyu Tomioka

You and Giyuu were fighting against 2 demons who used a blood demon art

You killed one and Giyuu killed the other one

Or so you both thought...

"You did well giyuu_san!" You said smilling putting your sword in place

While giyuu just nodded humming as a silent 'thank you'

This only made you smile even wider. You've been friends with giyuu with great amount of time now

You both actually gets along very well Despite your different personalities

So you got used to his comforting quiet gesture

"All right! Let's head back n-"

You suddenly stopped sensing that something is wrong While giyuu looked at you wondering why you fell silent so suddenly

"Wh-"

You breathed in sharply, catching a glint in the air watching it whizz towards Giyuu.

"not on my watch!"

You yelled, quickly drawing your sword breaking the unknown object in half.

Giyuu's eyebrow twitched, taking his sword out of its sheath.

"giyuu, there!" You shouted, pointing to the direction of the demon that was currently perched on one of the trees.

The two of you gave each other a knowing nod, rushing towards the trees and jumped landing on one of the branches,

"come back here you coward!" You barked, skillfully jumping from tree to tree, following after the demon.

The demon hissed, sending metal shards towards you and Giyuu, which the two of you dodged with ease

"breath of ice..." you mumbled taking a deep breath

"dance of frozen crystals!"

Streams of sparkling diamond-like figures flowed out your sword as you jumped upwards, holding your katana over your head as you swung it effectively cutting half of it's body;

sadly, not his neck, as he covered it with a steel-like substance.

"Y/n!"

Giyuu called out, causing you to look back at him wondering why did he sound so worried

You saw he was looking horrified looking at your chest rather than your face

'why did he sound so-'

You were caught out of your thoughts by yourself coughing something liquid out of your mouth

You looked down at your chest, a large sharp metal shard piercing through the middle of your chest

"uh.. F-fuck.." you muttered stumbling back and falling against a tree vomiting even more blood feeling it a bit hard to breathe

"y/n! No!" giyuu shrieked running at your slumbering and bloody figure against the tree

"giyuu.. The d.. emon" You mumbled, coughing out a worrisome anmountof blood, the crimson liquid spilling out of your lips in mouthfuls.

"i cant leave you..." he whispered as of scared of starling you

"i cant you are in_" "... Dying"

You corrected him. Mastering the last energy you had to cup his face with your bloody hand while lying in his embrace

"i am.. Dying, Giyuu..."

"no.. No you are not.. You can slow the ble-" "my lungs are... damaged giyuu"

Tears burned his eyes, hugging you close to his chest and placed his hand over your cheek

"i.. Love you... Giyuu... So... Much.. " you confessed as you started to lose consciousness and struggling even more to keep your eyes open

You took a deep breath but sadly... It didn't come out again...

"y/n.. Y/n... Hey.." giyuu said with shaky voice as a couple of tears escaped his eyes

"hey...don't do this to me, love... I–i love you too... Why did you do this... I–i don't deserve this..."he said as he closed your lifeless eyes with his fingers

"i am sorry i am too useless to be able to protect you..." he was now on full mode sobbing

Oh how cruel is it that you didn't even hear the person you love saying thing you wanted to hear from him the most...

Obanai Iguro

No...

No no no no...

That wasn't supposed to happen...

The hit was meant for him...

It was meant for him damn it!

Why did you have to take it for him

He doesn't deserve it

He doesn't deserve to live

Why would he live while you are here dying in his arms gasping and wheezing for air

He is enraged

His fear tends to come out as anger

So while you are literally dying he is shouting at you for how stupid you are, how foolish to waste your precious live over his useless one

His shouting you mutter out an Inaudible : 'sorry... '

Just then the anger turns into tears

"you idiot..." he wailed... Actually wailed.. Something you never thought you'd see, not that you wanted to in the first place

It was supposed to be him...

"don't you dare apologise..." he hugged you even tighter feeling you fading away from him as you tried to breath but it only come out as a horrible choking sound as you choked on your own blood

His cheek rested on top of your head

"o-oba... nai.. " you said chocking in the middle of word as the hole in your chest began seeping even more blood

"g–give them.. H–hell for m–me... Yeah?..."

Oh he would...

He would make them pay for taking you away from him

For making the only person who kept him moving forward...

Is now cold and limb in his arms...

Sanemi shinazugawa

Fuck!

Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!

He physically can't handle what he is looking at

As he refused to stop saving you even after you already stopped breathing

"shit! Shit!" he pressed harsher on the wound, the blood was slowing but not because of his relentless attempt...

You were gone... Not even being able to get a word out because of how harshly he was crying

For some reason... Even in your final moments you found it kind of comforting that he was try his best to save you

You felt your heart break looking at him from the other side hugging your cold, lifeless body... Trying to squeeze some warmth into it even though he knows its useless

Kyojuro Rengoku

You coughed out blood as akaza hand went through your stomach

"Y/N! NO!"

You took the hit for kyojuro

I mean... How could you not... You just couldn't let someone like him die

You just couldn't...

Gripping your sword harder, you slashed it against his neck making his eye widen

'she got in my way! And she still has the strength!

Akaza thought as he was amazed at how you still has the strength to even breathe

'Kyojuro, im going to die. I know. We had a life planned in front of us, but..l couldn't let you die. I just can't'

You thought as The demon tried to punch your face, but you stopped it with your other hand

"Y/N!!"

'you won't get away... Akaza!'

Looking behind the demon, but still applying force on the neck, you looked behind to see Rengoku with the boy from before charging at you with their swords.

A smile got onto your face.

'I wont ever let go off the sword ..Until I cut his head off!'

"INOSUKE MOVE! MOVE FOR Y/N-SAN!"

The boar now charged at you with speed His attack cut the demons arms, your sword still attached to his neck.

He was running away, clearly.

The boy threw his sword at the demon,.

stabbing him through the chest. Followed by Screaming of how he was a coward by running away and that both Rengoku and you were stronger than him.

You felt two gentle pair of hands gripping your back, drops of water, or tears, to your cheek as kyojuro took you in his embrace trying to stop the bleeding even though he knows it's a fatal wound

"Y/n.. No. No..please don't leave me! Please! I beg you! I will go down on my knees if it have to!"

"kyo... It's okay..." You say voice barely a whisper as you gathered all the strength you had trying to put your hand on kyojuro's cheek.

He quickly took your bloody hand in his and put it over his cheek

"no no... The hit was meant for me to take... Why did you have to get in the middle... Why.."

"i just couldn't.. Let–" vomiting blood "y-you... Die"

You said panting feeling like you can't breathe anymore...

Kyojuro the brust out sobbing burying his face in your neck as your body laid lifeless in his arms

It was supposed to be him dammit!

He was supposed to be the one protecting you!

Not the other way around!

On the other side tanjiro watching the scene feeling his heart break over and over again

Another love story between two lovers was ruined by those disgusting Creatures

Tengen uzui

after a long and hard battle you had ended up dangling off the side of a cliff barely holding onto an also seriously injured tengen.

He could feel your fingers slipping from his.

you were both tired and injured it was a tough battle and despite the demons head being cut off you had taken some heavy blows and now you were dangling off the side of a cliff, barely conscious as tengen held onto your hand with his

"dont worry y/n! ill pul you up Soon!"

you could see him struggling to hold your hand and knew that if he held on any longer he might go down with you

watching him struggle above you made your heart ache as you couldnt do anything to help

"Ten.."

the both of you made eye contact with each other

"thank you for being with me... I love you so much"

his eyebrows twitched at your words

"why does it sound like youre saying goodbye? y/n. You better hold into my hand!"

his jaw was clenched as he spoke to you

you couldnt leave him

if only he had killed that demon sooner

if only he could have protected you

in this moment he hated the gentle smile that was on your face

because to him it meant he had failed

"we both know we'll both fall if you dont let go, neither of us have enough strength left to do anything."

"its okay ten, im ready. i love you and I'll always be watching over you. live well"

he could feel your fingers one by one letting go of his hand and he tried as hard as possible to not let go

"y/n please! I.. I can't do this without you... "

you just shook your head

"im sorry ten but you have to, i know you can. you're going to do great things, with or without me."

"always remember that i love you... And i'll always be watching you"

With that, the last grip he had on you failed

the serene smile on your face was the last thing he saw as you fell to your probable death,

shattering his heart

he screamed your name on the top of his lungs as your hands disconnected followed by painful sobs

Not again...

First his siblings now you..

He lost so many loved ones

of course he knew that he was too injured to pull you up and the most he could have done was just hold onto you until help came,

If help came...

he hated this,

he hated himself

what was the point of being strong when he couldnt even save the one person he loved most in this entire world

"Live well" it was one of the last things you told him hed try his best to because you asked him of it but to him living well meant being by your side which was something he couldnt do anymore.

Muichiro Tokito

poor baby doesn't really know what to do

he's kneeling beside you with a worried look

he's sweating and his hands are clammy

he remains silent for the most part

"Y/n?"

He is right next to you, hand nervously taking your own

"Don't worry."

you give him a weak smile as scary as it was, just his presence was enough.

"|-what do I do?"

The fear in his face made your heart clench.

"Just stay with me. You dont need to do a thing..."

You squeezed his hand with the last bit of strength

you had, smiling softly

"Be careful okay? There are still a lot of demons left"

You didn't fear death,

but you did fear what would happen to those you

loved once it got to you.

Kagaya ubuyashiki

This took place before the explosion in the final battle era

Your husband's hand is cold in yours. You squeeze his

fingers and watch the moonlight bleed out the color of

his skin into silver.

"Are you well, love?" you ask quietly. A washbowl rests to your side, the cloth draped over the side dripping droplets of water down the floor. You take it and wrangle the water with one hand as best as you can,

laying it atop his forehead after. Kagaya closes his eyes and smiles beatifically. It looks painful.

"I will be fine," he says. A mere whisper; it runs wild in the echoes of the night. "| am certain... After tonight, everything will be fine again." You hum thoughtfully. Your heart turns like a clock,

mechanical, a slave to fate. You dare not tell him anything.

"I wonder. . " Kagaya starts. "How does the sky look tonight, Y/N?"

You looked up at the sky as the clouds moved to reveal the beautiful moon

"it's beautiful..." you said as he leaned into your hand as you caressed his cheeks

"he is here..."

A long shadow blocks the moonlight. You look up.

Plum red eyes stare back.

"It's finally nice to meet you, Kibutsuji Muzan," Kagaya says casually.

A chuckle flits in your ear, honey-thick and suave.

Muzan's jacket rests precariously on his shoulders,

and the wind picks up, as if trying to steal it away. The sleeves whip around him uselessly.

"Well;" he says. "You sure look terrible, Ubuyashiki."

If you do not look too closely, you can still delude

yourself into dreaming that this is a normal family.

Your twins have not stopped playing, and their

laughter mingles with the song.

*after the speech because i cant recall it 💀*

"Kibutsuji" You incline your head, a mockery of respect. "You may have prepared for everything.. But there is one thing you didn't prepared for.."

"and what would that may be?"

"this–" you pulled out teh explosion monitor and jumped on kagaya and just before it explored a room open under kagaya's bed and you both fell into a room underground where your kids were waiting for you to come and there was a secret door which led to outside

But it was quite the fall, but you shielded kagaya's body with yours as you he fell on top of you

"Uhmm... " Kagaya groaned from the pain of the impact but more at the though that you were hurt from the fall and his weight together

"it's okay... It's okay..." you said as you cradled kagaya's fragile body

"i just need you to hold on for me... Can you do that please?"

The explosion was loud on top of you but what was more terrifying was the piece of wood of the selling above you that was about to fall

So you quickly pushed kagaya out of the way just as the piece of wood fell on your lower body completely breaking it

"y/n! " Kagaya yelled as best as he could as he heard your crying of pain

"i am fine! I am fine!" You shouted as you tried to stop the tears from dropping from the pain

"kiriya! Listen! Take your father and run out of here!"

"b–but mo–" "no buts! This piece of seilling completely crushed my lower par! You won't be able to get it out! Even if you did i'd be just a burden! I won't be able to run! No go! Go!"

Kiriya quickly carried his father on his shoulder as best as he could

"no... Y/n... If we die... we die together.. That's a promise..."

"well.. Look like i have a change of plans, sorry love"

You said as you smiled sadly at him even though he can't see it

*time skip*

"CAW! CAW! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! THE FINAL BATTLE IS OVER! CAW! CAW!"

Kagaya opened his eyes at the sound of the noisy crow.. And for the first time in years...

He sees the sky clearly as the curse marks started to fade from his body...

He quickly tried to ran into the place where his estate is supposed to be with only one though in mind...

'y/n...'

He opened his eyes clearly for the first time in years and the first face he wanted to look at was yours

"oyakata_sama! Wait! You are not fully recovered yet!"

The kakushi tried to warn him but he just didn't care

He wanted to see you, to touch you, to tell you how much you mean to him even though words cannot describe, to make sure you are alright

But what he saw made him stop and his blood run cold...

The estate.. His home... Your home.. Is now crumbled to pieces with you under all that

he quickly took off and tried to dig into the rubble in hopes maybe.. Just maybe.. You are still alive...

"master..."

The kakushis and the remaining of the hashiras felt thier heart break looking at thier master like this...

Nevertheless, they started to help thier master find his wife.. I mean.. You were like a mother and a big sister to them all...

"I found something!" one of the kakushi shouted as he saw your bloody hand sticking out of the rubble

They quickly ran to where he was and started digging even more, just as they reached your head they all stopped and stepped back for thier master to take a look at you...

"oh my dear..."

Kagaya quietly knelt down where your bloody upper body only was visible

He caressed your bloody

cheek just as you did with him a few hours ago...

Oh how beautiful you looked... Even if you were cold and pale with your lips starting to get blue..

He missed you so much that he almost forgot the way you looked...

You looked even more beautiful than he remembered even with the black circles under your eyes and the few wrinkles that appeared on your face and the grey hairs despite how young you are...

"oh love... How many times did i tell not to worry to much about me..." Kagaya whispered as he caressed your cold skin with a few tears falling from his eyes "like this you will age before time..."

He hugged you one last time before the kakushis free your body completely from the rubble and take you to bury your beautiful body

Today the world won peace.. But he lost his...

[lovebugism]

Hi! Could I pls request a Steve x shy!reader drabble? Maybe they’re a bit of a bookworm and they have a meet cute at a library or bookstore or something ☺️ I love your fics, and I hope you’re having a good day! 💛

i've been working on this wip for ages but i loved this request too much not to finish! thanks for being patient with me anon!

summary: steve hopeless romantic harrington meets shy!reader at a bookstore and fluffy awkwardness ensues (meet cute, strangers to lovers-ish, fluff, 2.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Five hours go by like minutes, tucked away in the back of the library — your own little corner of the world. 

Because all your spare cash went to groceries and good food (and the newest Margaret Atwood novel just dropped), you hide in the back of the bookstore and get lost in the nostalgic earthy scent of the thick pages you’ve been waiting ages to read. 

You sit between the dystopian and gothic fiction aisles, back propped against the former with your knees folded to your chest, and speed-read as much as you can before closing.

The in-store café offers complimentary coffee and bagels. It’s lukewarm and a little cardboard-y, but it’s fuel nonetheless. You only get up once to use the bathroom and stretch your stiff limbs. Other than that very brief break, you’re relatively unbothered — until page 196, anyway.

“Where are the porno mags?” a male voice wonders from a few aisles down. It’s not the first voice you’ve heard all day, but it’s certainly the closest.

A feminine voice follows, nearer now. “There’s no porn, dingus. I was just saying that so you’d drive me here.”

“…That’s so fucked up.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“No, actually. I won’t. This might be the end of our friendship, now that I think about it.”

Their conversation draws closer and closer to you in time with their nearing footsteps. You figure they must be looking for a different section — certainly not the one you’ve had to yourself all day — but then they turn the corner of the aisle and stop short when they find you sitting there.

“Oh,” a pretty girl hums as she stares down at you, rouge mouth forming a softly pouted ‘o’ shape. 

Her hair is a sandy color, like a beach, and it’s chopped at her shoulders. She wears a pair of slacks and suspenders over an oversized button-up. She looks like a character from a book you wish you could write. 

She smiles down at you, a tad bit awkwardly. “Hello…”

“Shit— ” you curse, scrambling to get your legs out of the aisle. Your face burns as you bring your knees back to your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” she shrugs and walks on by you. 

A pretty boy follows.

His hair is a really specific shade of brown — like chocolate syrup mixed with honey. It’s pushed back over his forehead, messy with intention. A few strands hang over his thick brows like they’re meant to be there. He’s got a layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw that’s a shade lighter than his actual hair. 

His wide eyes are a similar chocolate-syrup-honey color.

He’s almost annoyingly pretty. The kind of pretty that seems unfair.

“Don’t apologize to her,” the pretty boy jokes with a lopsided smile. “She’s a total bully.”

The pretty girl interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. And stop bothering her, dingus— she’s obviously trying to read.”

You breathe out an awkward laugh through your nose. 

You don’t want them to think you’re actually annoyed, but you don’t have the words to tell them that. You have no idea what to say to them, actually. They’re obviously far cooler than you are, and the notion almost threatens you.

The pretty boy doesn’t follow his pretty friend. He lets her roam the aisle, obviously in search of something, and leans against the gothic fiction section across from you.

“So, uh… What are you reading?” he asks.

You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, lest the words get stuck in your throat and make you sound like Kermit the Frog. You flash him the dystopic, renaissance painting-esque cover with a tightlipped smile.

“Handmaid’s Tale,” he reads with a squint, then nods. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s not,” the pretty girl scoffs. She thumbs through her own copy of the book that she plucked from the shelf. “It’s the one I was telling you about on the way over.”

The pretty boy’s face screws up in disgust. “Oh. The one with gross men?”

“The one with the gross men.”

He turns back to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I take it back. Not fun.”

You smile wordlessly in response.

“He’s Steve, by the way,” the pretty girl says to you, nodding to the pretty boy. “I figured if he’s gonna keep weirdly hovering over you, you should probably know his name—”

“I’m not hovering!”

“—You can call him dingus if you want. I’m Robin.”

“Hi,” you greet, quiet and mousy.

“Do you come around here often?” the boy — Steve — wonders, bushy brows pinched and burly arms crossed over his chest. “I feel like I’ve seen you before—”

“Ugh. Stop flirting with her.”

“I’m asking a question!”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile and your gaze back to your book. 

They argue like a married couple. You wonder how long they’ve been together — six months or six years?

“Sorry about him. He’s not usually this annoying,” Robin quips with a playful twinkle in her deep ocean eye. She slams the book closed with a ringed handand walks back towards you. She pushes Steve ahead and away from you in the process. “Alright, I got the goods. Let’s go before they close.”

Your eyes widen as you look down at your wrist. 

Ten minutes until eight o’clock. 

You turn to the book once more and find that you’re about a hundred pages shy from the end of it. You tend to read like a maniac if you’re focused enough, but there’s no way you’re finishing it before closing.

“Shit…”

“You okay?” Steve asks, still lingering at the very end of the aisle, though Robin has already left for check-out.

You rise and straighten out your clothes — the very un-special sweatshirt and baggy jeans duo you’d changed into after work. It’s not unlike the navy blue henley and similarly colored denim he’s got on, but you don’t look nearly as pretty as he does.

“Yeah,” you shrug, not quite meeting his gaze as you return the book that feels like it only fits in your hands. “I just— I didn’t realize how late it was.”

You don’t expect to see Steve looking so concerned when you turn back to him. His brows are furrowed, honey eyes glinting in question. “You’re not getting it? You looked like you were almost done.”

“Oh, I don’t— I can’t…” you stammer then trail off, fidgeting awkwardly ahead of him. 

You don’t want this pretty boy’s first impression of you to be that you’re completely and utterly broke. Even if this is the last you ever see of him, you’ll only be remembered as that one girl from the bookstore who couldn’t buy herself anything. 

“I figured I could just come buy tomorrow and finish it…”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, then.”

“You, too,” you murmur with a tightlipped smile, eager to get away from a moment you don’t feel very deserving of. 

Out of every girl this pretty boy could’ve chosen, why did it have to be the one in the very back of the bookstore who was too poor to get anything other than a free coffee and bagel? 

You chuck both in the bin as you head towards the exit.

The sun has almost finished setting when you leave — mostly disappeared over the skyline, but painting the sky a deep lavender shade unique to the twilight hour. You stand at the crosswalk — the man on the speaker shouting “wait!” at your side — as you anticipate the orange hand across the street to turn into a white stick figure.

“I told you she’d still be here,” a familiar voice sounds from a few paces behind you, mostly drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. A louder “hey!” follows. You only think the voice might be calling for you until it comes closer. 

“Hey!” It comes again, louder now.

You look over your shoulder and find Steve from the Bookstore striding towards you. 

Both happy and confused to see him, your wavering smile is paired with a pair of furrowed brows. “Hey…”

“Sorry, you just— you left this.”

When your eyes manage to flit away from his sculpted face — which you just noticed looks eerily similar to Michelangelo’s David — you find that he’s holding a book in his hands. Handmaid’s Tale. The same copy you were reading, dog-eared just like you left it.

Your contorted features never falter. “I didn’t…” you trail off with the shake of your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t buy that.”

“No, I know,” Steve shrugs with a crooked grin. “I did.”

You think he might be implying he bought it for you, but then you realize that’s crazy, because why would he do that for you? That’s the sort of thing that happens to girls in Brontë novels, not to you.

“Youdid?” you echo like an idiot because it’s all you can think to say.

“Yeah. ‘Cause, you know, you looked pretty interested in it and everything…”

“But you didn’t have to… You didn’t have to buy it for me—”

“It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I mean, it’ll save you the extra trip down here tomorrow, right?”

You meet his confident grin with a trembling one. “I can’t take it…”

“Well, if you don’t take it, that means I have to keep it, and—”

“He’s pretty much illiterate,” Robin calls from a little ways behind him.

She’s waiting by a pretty maroon car. It looks like a luxury model of some kind, shiny like it’s fresh off the lot. She leans against it like it’s hers, but Steve’s got the keys in his hand — the one not holding the book he bought for you.

“…I was gonna say I haven’t read anything since junior year of high school, but sure,” he concedes with a shrug. His eyes sparkle down at you— or maybe it’s just the street lamps flickering on. Either way, you feel your stomach whirling. He waves the book at you. “Take it. You’ll actually read it.”

“But…” you trail off, eyes flickering over to Robin. You step closer to Steve and lean in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Girlfriend?” the boy repeats with pinched brows. He goes soft with realization a second later, then starts to laugh. “No. Robin, she’s— No. She’s not really my type.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer with wide eyes. 

If cool, pretty girls aren’t his type, then there’s no way in hell you are. 

Slightly comforted by his assurances, when he motions the book to you again, you take it. 

“Well, thank you, Steve. That’s… That’s really nice.”

He shrugs again. “’S no big deal. Really.”

“But I feel a little bad,” you confess quietly, peeking at him from beneath your lashes while you fidget with the book in your anxious hands. “I feel like I should give you something in return, or, I don’t know, like—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve assures with the shake of his head. He swipes a hand through the chocolate-honey locks and flashes you a smile that borders on shy. “But if you wanted to go out for coffee or something sometime, then I’d be willing to call it even.”

Your cheeks burn. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, or if you even can. A quiet smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you nod. “Coffee sounds good,” you answer sheepishly.

“Cool,” Steve replies coolly, like he isn’t totally beaming down at you. “Then, just… call me whenever you’re free.”

“Oh, I don’t— I don’t have your number.”

His sneakers scuff against the sidewalk as he walks backwards to his car. He just nods at you, smiling gently as he argues, “Yeah, you do.”

Your brows furrow in confusion — because you most certainly don’t. He was a stranger to you a little more than ten minutes ago. You have no reason to have his number. 

Realization settles over you like pinpricks down your spine, butterflies in your belly. 

You open the front cover of the book and find several numbers written down at the very bottom of the cover page.

Call me when you finish, the note reads in half-legible chicken scratch. I’m not really a book guy, but I could probably hear you talk about them all day.

He signs off with his name, number, and a sloppy smiley face. 

You don’t realize you’re beaming until you already are. 

When you look back up at Steve, you find him standing at the open driver’s side door, already smiling back at you.

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[flowerxbunnie]

HI LOVE UR WRITING!

please can u do a fic where matt is super horny, so him and y/n have phone sex. and it feels so good, he can’t stop jerking, and ends up over stimming himself. and he’s like begging her for more and shit please omg.

“i’m wearing those silky panties u got me for our anniversary”

“i love the way u sound”

“i wish u were here w me”

“please, baby, please, one more”

“moan for me”

“feels so good”

SORRY I AM A SLUT FOR DIRTY TALK

One More

Matt x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, phone sex, sub!matt ish?

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

I pull my blanket up to my chin as I watch three dots dance around on my phone screen. Matt’s response is taking longer than usual, and I know exactly why.

im wearing the silky panties you got me on our anniversary ❣️

I blush as I read over my message again and again, scanning over the teasing photo I sent of my hip clad in black silk straps. I can’t help but imagine what he could be typing, how he could be reacting to my words. My smile drops as the bubble disappears, my message left on read for 6 minutes at this point.

I don’t have much time to be disappointed. My phone vibrates in my hand as his name flashes across my screen and I feel a surge of nerves, my blood pumping fiercely through my veins as my pulse quickens.

“Hello?” I speak lowly as I place my phone against my ear.

“What was that about baby?” Matt’s voice is deep and soft across the line, but still sends a shiver down my spine.

“What are you talking about Matty?” I feign ignorance, biting hard on my lip as my cheeks burn.

“Don’t play dumb,” his voice hardens, “You’re not gonna get me hard and then act like you don’t know how it happened.”

“Oh, did I?” I say with mock confusion. “I just really like these panties and wanted to show you. They remind me of you.” I trail off and put the phone on speaker, pulling on the strap against my hip and letting it hit my skin with an audible slap.

I hear a sharp inhale echo from my speaker followed by shuffling sounds.

“Baby don’t do this to me,” he croaks, “it hurts so bad and if I leave the house Nick and Chris will wake up.”

“Who said you have to leave?” I giggle and wait for his response.

“Can you talk me through it baby? Please, I need it.” His voice is pleading but still hushed.

“Mhmm.. are you wearing anything?” I question as I lean back onto my pillow and lay my phone beside me.

“U-uh.. just sweats.” He answers quickly.

“Touch yourself over them for me.” I say as seductively as I can muster, my own arousal growing and distracting me as I picture what he looks like right now.

“I… already was..” he admits, my cheeks burning hotter as I realize what all the muffled sounds have been.

“So naughty of you, Matthew. Couldn’t even wait a couple minutes hm?”

I hear whispered curses in response and I have to squeeze my thighs together, the throbbing between my legs growing ever so strong as I picture Matt palming himself with his veiny hands in his bed.

“Take everything off Matt. It’ll feel so good without all the layers won’t it?”

“Yeah, fuck. Hang on baby.” I hear more shuffling as his phone is tossed onto his sheets. “Okay done. Fuck, I wish you were here.”

“I am here baby, just not in the same way.” I answer, realizing my hand has made its way to the hemline of my panties, rubbing back and forth subconsciously. “Are you touching yourself Matt?”

I hear a hum in response before he speaks. “Y-yes. Keep talking. Your voice is so fucking sexy.” He sounds strained, his words barely coming out.

I dip my fingers below my panties and gasp lightly as I rub my swollen clit. “I’m t-touching myself too Matty. Fuck, it’s so wet.” I moan lightly as I slip one finger into my entrance.

I hear a groan from across the line followed by deep breathing. “Oh… fuck..” He goes silent after a couple of seconds and the only sound I can hear is him shuffling around in his bed.

“Did you cum?” I question, the pattern sounding awfully familiar.

“I did. Please baby, please keep going. I need more.” I hear wet sounds and I can perfectly picture how his fist is tightly gripping his cock and pumping it with need. “Please one more, I need it so bad.”

I curl my finger and hit my most sensitive spots, closing my eyes as I listen to Matt’s heavy breathing and try to imagine that it’s him pleasuring me.

“Moan for me baby. Don’t hold it back please, fuck, I need it.” He pleads, almost whining.

I stop holding back and allow myself to sink into the pleasure, my free hand slipping my bra down to expose my nipple so I can pinch it like Matt loves to do. My sounds fall from my throat freely and elicit even more from Matt.

“I feel so good Matt, fuck.. I wish it was your fingers inside of me.” I whine as I slip my middle finger in, savoring every sensation that comes along with the fullness.

“You don’t know how bad I wish you were riding me right now.” He groans, the wet pumping sounds speeding up with every passing second. “Your pretty little pussy would feel so good around me, fuck.”

My stomach tightens at the thought of his cock hitting every spot deep inside that would drive me crazy, the thought of his jaw hanging open with his eyes squeezed shut, the thought of his hands gripping my boobs as they bounce in his face.

“Matt I th-think I’m gonna cum.” I breathe out as I slip my fingers out of my entrance and use them to rub fast circles onto my clit.

“Please, baby. Please cum, let me hear you. Fuck, please.” He croaks, sounding louder in the speaker as he moves the phone next to his ear.

I feel my body tense as I climb to my peak before the tension breaks. I moan out Matt’s name as I cum, hearing strings of curses from the other side of the line as I tremble under my own touch.

“F…fuck.” I pant, trying my hardest to catch my breath.

“Fuck, it hurts baby. I need to cum but it’s so fucking sensitive,” he hisses, his voice strained and filled with concentration. “C-can you take a picture for me?”

“What does my Matty wanna see?” I blush at his request, picking my phone up and swiping my camera open.

“You. I don’t care. Just need to see you, please. I need to cum so bad baby. Please.”

I grin to myself, enjoying this desperate side of Matt. I pull my other bra cup down so both my boobs are exposed and hold my phone up, taking a photo of my hand grasped around my left one. I open our texts and send it, watching as the read receipt immediately pops up. He was waiting for it.

“Wanna cum on those pretty tits so bad.” He groans, a rasp growing in his voice. “Fuck, I need them in my mouth.”

I open my camera back up and take in the sight of myself, my hair disheveled from my orgasm and my cheeks flushed. I bite my lip and give the doe eyes to the camera that I know he loves as I snap another photo. He’s still swooning over the first photo as I send the next, and I bite my lip as I wait for his reaction.

“I- you look so… fuck..” his breathing becomes irregular, his groans and whines sounding through my speakers.

“Come on Matt, cum for me. You can do it, I know how bad you need it.” I whisper out.

“Say it again. Fuck, I need to hear you say it again.”

“Cum for me Matt. Let it all go baby.”

The sounds that flood through my speakers are lewd and pornographic. The sound of his hand slipping up and down over his cock as he pumps himself to his second orgasm, my name drawn out as he rides through it and spills his cum onto his stomach.

I smile to myself as I listen to Matt catching his own breath just as I did moments before. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, no words needed as we relish in the moment.

“That was…” he starts, trailing off with a deep breath.

“I know.” I giggle, finishing his train of thought before he struggles too hard to try and come up with the right words.

“I’m saving those. Fuck, I feel like I could cum again just looking at them.” I hear a few faint sounding pumps before he winces. “Way too fucking sensitive.”

“You need some rest baby. Don’t overdo it.” I laugh, standing up and heading to the bathroom to clean myself up.

“Mmm, why do you have to be right all the time?” He teases in a raspy, tired voice.

“That’s just the way it goes I guess. Now go clean up before you wake up all crusty.” I joke as I turn my shower on to warm up.

“That’s actually disgusting.” He over dramatically gags and I hear a shuffle before I hear a door being opened.

“I love you, Matty.” I giggle, placing my phone on the counter.

“I love you, angel.” he replies before the line disconnects.

a/n i haven’t written in so long omfg the holidays have me FUCKED up. i hope you all enjoy desperate matt 😵‍💫

tag list: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @lxvlysworld @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen

[thebearer]

I’m obsessed with your whole account! 🫶🏻

Imagine the first family you go to when you’re newly dating. You sneak into the kitchen and when he sees you he lights up and I know that Ritchie would give him such shit lol

thank you thank you!! this is so cute ahhh!! hope you enjoy!!

Carmen’s text told you to come to the back- but not the left alley, just park next to him in the back, you won’t get towed there. You rang the buzzer, finger jabbing in the tiny button, a shrill ringing from the inside that had you stepping back at the rise in voices.

“I got it! I got it, Chef! Fuck.” You heard Carmen before you saw him, white shirt, blue apron, bluer eyes.

“Oh, h-hey.” Carmen’s eyes lit, dazzling even in the gloomy Chicago day.

“Hi.” You grinned.

This relationship was new between you and Carmen, still exciting, still learning about each other. He felt bad for not getting to see you as much as he wanted, inviting you to ‘family’.

“Uh, shit, sorry, my brain is all over the fuckin’ place. Come in.” Carmen pushed the heavy back door open so you could slip in, taking in the back of the kitchen. Newly renovated and still dazzling.

“You find it ok?” Carmen asked, immediately flinching. “I-I mean, obviously you did. Was- It wasn’t hard to find, right?” He’s blushing already, babbling in that nervous trill he always did around you.

“Yeah, you have perfect directions.” You hummed. “My GPS made it easy too.”

Carmen was burning to his ears. “Right.” He nodded, hands on his hips when Marcus whizzed at him.

“Chef, where is the basil paste- oh, hello.” Marcus stopped, eyes meeting yours. “Are you the new hostess? I’m Marcus-“

“-No, no, she’s not… She’s not a hostess.” Carmen’s cheeks burned more, if that was even possible. Did he say girlfriend? He hadn’t asked, and fuck, he didn’t want a repeat of last time, but this was different. You were different.

“Oh. Right.” Marcus caught Carmen’s eye, grinning knowingly. “Well, uh, it’s nice to meet you. Carmen’s talked a lot about you.”

“Has he?” You giggled, eyes flicking to Carmen’s, amused by his discomfort. “Good things, right?”

“Of course.” Carmen laughed, nervous and breathy.

“Yeah, only the best things.” Marcus nodded. “Uh, Chef, basil paste? For the cannolis?”

“Right, right, uh, in the walk-in top left.” Carmen nodded, Marcus waving at you before walking away.

“So you’ve been talking about me?” You lifted a brow playfully.

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor. “Yeah, of course.” He muttered, boyish and sweet. “Uh, we should be done soon, if-if you want to look at the front or sit in my office. Or whatever you want to.”

“Wherever you want me, Chef.” You quipped playfully. Carmen could feel his zipper tightening behind his jeans.

“Uh, why don’t you look at the front. I, uh, I hung that painting we got.” Carmen put s hand on your back, hesitantly, leading you through the kitchen. It was so minimal, so sweet, how he was hesitant to touch you still so respectful and a little scared- like you hadn’t spent the better part of last night and early this morning with him between your legs.

“Oh? You actually liked it?” You giggled. “Weren’t just lying to me to impress me?”

“Never.” Carmen grinned sweetly.

You looked at the dimming lights, so elegant and classy. It was a far cry from The Beef, but you loved it. It was so Carmen, inside and out.

“I’m going to go check on everyone, but, uh, I’ll be back, ok? Just-Just yell if you need anythin’, alright?” Carmen nodded, hand rubbing down your arm gently.

“I’ll be alright, Carmy.” You grin. “Go on, Chef. I’ll roll silverware if you need me to. Keep myself busy.”

“No, I- that’d be a pretty shitty date askin’ you to work.” Carmen laughed lightly.

“Had worse. Promise.” You shrugged playfully. “I don’t mind, Carmy.”

“No, we got it covered, but thank you.” Carmen hesitated for a moment, faltering before he let his lips brush over your cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Cousin.” The swinging doors flung open, Richie waltzing in with a wide smirk. “I’ll keep her company. How you doin’, sweetheart? Good to see you again.”

You laughed at Carmen’s horrified face. You’d met Richie once, briefly, very briefly. When he’d bust through the door of Carmen’s apartment unannounced and caught a glimpse of you bent over the counter before Carmen screeched at him to leave. Carmen had been mortified, sure you would leave him because of his stupid not even cousin. You had just laughed, hiding your face in your hands, before you were introduced.

“Oh, fuck, not this.” Carmen groaned. “Cousin, please, don’t-don’t fuck this up f’me.” He muttered lowly, passing Richie in the door.

“C’mon, cousin. Are you serious? It’s me.” Richie rolled his eyes, a statement that did not make Carmen feel any better. “I got it. I won’t embarrass you, Chef.”

Carmen hesitated, the loud clattering of a pot falling the only thing that brought his attention away, turning back into the kitchen.

During family, Carmen made your plate for you, telling you about the dish with so much excitement and care it made you swoon. You couldn’t care less about the ingredients or the history truly, but the way Carmen’s eyes lit up, rambling about every fact he knew made your heart swell.

Tina’s eyes cut, lips rolling in smug satisfaction. “Richard,” She called, catching his attention. She nodded lightly towards the two of you, huddled together and giggling lightly between soft whispers. “She a good one?”

“The best, T.” Richie nodded proudly. He believed it too, he loved how good you were with Carm- for Carmen.

Tina nodded. “Good.” She smiled, beaming at the two of you. “Jeff needs it. Needs somethin’ besides this place.”

Richie snorted lightly. “Yeah? You have no idea.” He muttered, looking down at the two of you. You were good, both of you, good for each other. Richie had a feeling that this wouldn’t be your last family- he had a feeling you’d stick around.

[sturniololoco]

i LOVEDDD the pregnancy one!! can you do more like that like maybe when she has the baby and how they help her?

Pregnant pt 2

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: baby spit up, tiredness, cuteness overload, etc.?

Note: This is so perfect bc I'm ab to get another little sibling tomorrow! (Don't mind the age gap lol)

Chris's POV

Why does giving birth to a child take so damn long?

SLS/N was finally giving birth to her little girl today, so Matt, Nick, and I were sitting in the waiting room, bouncing our legs and biting our nails, waiting.

Soon, a nurse came out into the room, asking for the Sturniolo family. The three of us immediately stood and followed her to a room.

"Which one of you is the husband?" the nurse asked, making small talk as we walked down the hallways.

all of our faces burned bright red at her question.

"O-Oh, no! She's our sister!" I said, giving a light laugh along with my brothers.

She stopped in front of a room and opened the door. Putting a finger to her lips, she motioned us inside, then left us there, closing the door again behind her.

We nervously walked around the corner to see SLS/N sitting up against the pillows of her hospital bed, holding a freshly bathed baby girl.

We smiled at her, quietly coming next to her and giving her a side hug.

"Hey, kiddo. How ya feelin'?" I asked my little sister, kissing her on top of her head. I knew it hurt her, but she was tough. She was gonna love this kid with her whole heart.

"I'm doing pretty good actually." She said. She had the biggest of smiles on her face, and it never stopped shining.

"You guys wanna meet Charleigh?" She asked motioning to the baby in her arms. We all smiled, leaning down to say hello.

"Hello, little Charleigh! It's your favorite, Uncle Chris!" I said, rubbing my finger over her soft smooth hand. I internally cringed at my baby voice, but at this point, I didn't even care.

SLS/N giggled, lifting her up to get me a better look at her face.

"Here, why don't you hold her." She asked, getting up out of bed gently so as not to wake her sleeping baby.

"I-Uh...Ok," I said.

I was kind of scared to hold her.

What if I drop her? What if she wakes up? What if she cries? What if-

My thoughts were cut off by SLS/N placing her in my arms, and showing me how to hold her. She sat me down on the couch and put a pillow under my arm.

Charleigh only moved a little, but then went right back to sleep. I let out a nervous breath I had been holding in, relieved as I realized that this was not as scary as I thought.

"She's so perfect," I say, looking down at her and smiling.

"Now that's a good picture!" Nick says, holding up his phone to snap a shot.

-

Matt's POV

The next day, SLS/N and the baby were discharged from the hospital and ready to get home.

SLS/N was carrying the baby in her car seat, the one that took Chris and me 2 and a half hours to get the base in the car.

She put Charleigh into the car and then climbed in next to her, Nick in the way back, Chris in the front next to me.

Then It hit me.

I'm driving a newborn baby. What if we crash? What if I run off a bridge? what if-

"Matt? You okay?" I hear SLS/N ask me.

"I-Uh...No. what if something goes wrong? It'll be all my fault! And then-" I start rambling, my anxiety flooding through my veins.

"Hey, hey. Listen to me. I trust you more than anyone in the world to drive my baby and me home. If I didn't, then I wouldn't put her in the car. But you're the only person I would want to drive in this situation, okay?"

Her words instantly calmed me. I began to feel braver, happy that she felt like she could put so much trust in me. I back out of the parking lot and make our way home.

-

Nick's POV

We pull into the driveway and my sister gets the baby out of the car. she then walks to the back to get her stuff.

But I beat her to it.

"Don't be silly SLS/N! You just had a fucking baby, go sit down and I'll get the stuff." I order her.

I really want to help my sister as much as I can, she's already been through so much. I want to support her through all her decisions, showing her that I love and support her.

"Aw, thanks, Nick!" She says, walking into the house after Matt, who had just unlocked the door.

I grab her and the baby's bags, then walk into the house after her.

-

"Hey Sis, I made you a surprise!" I say to my sister, walking into the living room with a plate behind my back.

She had just gotten Charleigh asleep in Matt's room since it was the closest to the living room. She was now lounging on the couch with Matt and Chris.

She sits up and claps her hands, closing her eyes. I place the plate in front of her.

"Oh fuck yeah!" she says, digging into the quesidllia I made her. I laugh as she sighs in delight. I have no ide why she even likes these that much, I can't cook worth a shit.

as she sets her plate down on the table, she scoots closer to the three of us, wrapping her arms around our necks in a big group hug.

"I love you guys," She says, squeezing us tight.

Just as I was about to respond, I heard a cry on the baby monitor.

"I'll get her!" Chris shouts, jumping up to retrieve our new favorite niece.

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hello! I read your Daredevil Darling fic for Macaque and loved it so much! I was wondering if you would do it for Wukong too to have his perspective on it

Pairing: Wukong x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: You've had it up to here with your boyfriend, now it's time to show him that you're not a wimp. Warnings/Tags: Slight angst, implied self-harm, well, not really implied when it's clear as day-, argument, self-deprecation, hurt/comfort. Word Count: 900+ words

"You're officially an idiot."

"How can you be so stupid?" 

"Why the fuck did you do that?" 

And many other things you began spewing out as you awaited for your second execution. Exaggerations aside, you were totally and utterly fucked when your boyfriend arrives. 

How did you end up lying in the middle of your living room with both hands wrapped in gauze? Well, it all started when you and Wukong were in a little iffy mood with each other during date night at his place. From playing video games together, to board games, then finally playing truth or dare, which ended terribly. The two of you had a mean streak going on, neither of you were backing down from the most atrocious dares that were said. 

"You better give up now, buttercup, I just can't lose."

"Says you! I dare you to lick the bottom of the couch while doing a handstand using your nails only!" 

"Pfft, fine! Then you have to hold a hot pan that's been in the oven for ten seconds! Oh wait, I forgot, you can't." 

"I can!" 

"Nuh uh." "Yuh huh!" "Nuh uh." "Yuh huh!" "Nuh uh." "Yuh HUH-!" 

You get the picture. 

That one sentence stuck with you during your little fight with Wukong and set off the rest of the events that resulted in you almost frying your hands off.

"Look, peaches, it's not like I'm saying you can't do some pretty amazing ultra cool stuff, but you're not…well, me…soooo, please don't get yourself hurt cause you wanna act all high and mighty." 

Maybe he was right. Now you feel pretty shitty after trying to prove him wrong days after that eventful night. If it wasn't for Mei barging into your apartment/home to drag you out to hangout, you wouldn't have been able to call for help, much less leave your apartment without damaging your hands even more. After tending to your burns with her help and begging her not to call an ambulance, you were left to await Wukong's arrival after Mei had decided to contact him instead. 

The slam from your front door made you wince as you looked in the direction blocked by your sofa. Wukong's face popped around the furniture as he lowered his gaze onto your pitiful form; you were laid out on your rug with a pillow under your head and bandaged arms resting on your stomach. Mei slowly appeared out from behind your boyfriend tapping both of her index fingers together, she mumbled a farewell before booking it out of your place. 

Wukong knelt beside you and placed a hand over your left one. His touch was gentle enough to not cause you to hiss in pain from the applied pressure as he poked around your injury. 

"I-"

"I don't want to hear it." 

You clamped your mouth shut and furrowed your brow as Wukong continued staring at your hands, his expression tight and void of any emotion that would suggest that he was upset. No,  no, if anything he looked..disappointed?

You felt sick to your stomach. You would have greatly preferred him screaming obscenities at you than…whatever this was.

You couldn't hold your gaze on him anymore and opted to stare at the ceiling. 

Wukong took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, he rubbed the side of his head as he carefully examined your hands. 

"I don't know what possessed you into doing this or…or thinking this is alright, but I know damn well it better not be because of some stupid dare that I joked about days ago." 

"How was I supposed to know you were joking," You grumbled under your breath.

Wukong stared at you. 

You glared back. 

Wukong narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

Your gaze wavered as the need to blink caused you to look away first. 

"..." Wukong called out your name sternly. When you didn't turn to look at him, Wukong threw his hands up in defeat. "Why do…this? Out of everything you could've done-!"

"-and not take the chance to prove that I'm able to do things like you? Oh, I'm so sorry your majesty, please let me hear all about how fucking weak I am," Your nose crinkled as you fought back the sting in your eyes, but that didn't stop your voice from cracking. 

 

"...are you…?" Wukong blinked back his shock as he shook his head and was so frustrated he could only stammer the rest of his words out. "Are you serious? I don't…no, I…why would I think you're weak-"

Wukong paused as he recalled what he had said that day, his eyes squeezed shut as he placed a hand on your bicep. 

"Oh no, hun, no, no…I'm-"

You sniffed as you shrugged off his hand. Wukong's frown deepened as he reached for you again, but decided to keep his hands to himself. 

"Why didn't you tell me? Or better yet, shut me up? Y'know I say dumb stuff sometimes, I-" Wukong bit his lip. Finding the words to articulate the feelings stirring in his heart was tough. "-I'm sorry, alright? I probably should've taken the taunts down a notch,  but I'm not a mind reader, I couldn't have known it'd bother you this much when you haven't said anything to me…and…and you usually handle my teasing well! I…I'm sorry, I really am." 

If his soft pleas didn't rope you in already, then him curling up beside you with his tail around your ankle did. Not to mention the onslaught of cheesy compliments he began whispering to you. Your cheeks were practically as hot as the pan you burned yourself with as Wukong added kisses with each sorry. You glanced at him and sighed after a few seconds of his overwhelming display of affection.

"Can you…help me till 'm better?" 

"Of course," Wukong smiled as you carefully scooted closer to him. "Anything for you, peaches, just…please let me know if I'm being a jerk next time" 

"Alright," You snorted as you placed your head against Wukong's chest. Wukong made sure he wasn't putting pressure on your hands as he carried you from the floor and walked you over to your bedroom. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight!!

[sendpseuds]

I really love the "Runaway Roomba" fic, so.....

Obi-Wan getting the roomba back to his owner?

(Thanks a lot❤)

"Ah! Fuck!"

Anakin is deep inside the circuitry of his blender when the doorbell rings, breaking his concentration and scattering sparks across the breakfast table, burning into his bare chest with a curse and a surprised shout.

"Just leave the package at the fucking door," Anakin mumbles under his breath, shaking his head in frustration and trying to refocus on the task at hand, taking a deep steadying breath before reaching for the wires once again.

Knock knock knock

Growling in irritation, Anakin pushes away from the table, rolling his shoulders back and stalking toward the front door and whoever the fuck feels the need to interrupt him, not sparing a second thought to his current state as he slinks through his dark street-level apartment and reaches for the handle, wrenching the door open with a scowl.

"What!?"

Anakin isn't entirely certain who he'd expected to find standing at his front door but it definitely hadn't been James fucking Bond.

The man looks almost too perfect, each hair combed meticulously in place, stubble trimmed neatly along his jaw, dressed in an impeccably tailored sapphire suit and crisp white shirt.

"Oh— hello there."

Well, fuck. He even sounds like James Bond.

"Hi," Anakin breathes, barely managing the single word, standing a bit stunned in his doorway as the stranger's silver stare studies his face and when the man's attention tracks lower, his eyebrow raised curiously, Anakin suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that he still has a soldering iron attached to his prosthetic, shifting his weight to hide his right arm behind the door, "I— uh— how can I help—"

A series of loud beeps and screams interrupts his awkward stuttering and Anakin's eyes fall immediately to the man's feet and the mischievous droid waiting at the door.

"Artoo!" Anakin exclaims, both in surprise and chastisement, abandoning the modesty his half closed door provides and bending down to greet his disk shaped friend and help him over the threshold. "How did you get out!?" He asks the whirring robot, concerned and more than a little impressed before glancing up briefly at the man still standing in his doorway, "Where did you find him?"

"Up on Temple Street," the man responds matter of factly, his voice soft and smooth, "Quick little bugger."

"You know that's outside your WiFi range," Anakin scolds Artoo softly as the vacuum that absolutely no longer has the ability to clean in any capacity sounds a few annoyed beeps before proceeding into the apartment like he's done nothing wrong. Slowly, Anakin gets back to his feet, suddenly very aware he's standing in front of one of the most attractive men he's ever seen in nothing but a pair of ratty gym shorts, only able to stutter out a quiet, "Thank you."

"Of course," James Bond responds brightly, "I couldn't just leave him out there."

For a long moment they just stare at each other, silence stretching longer and longer and it feels like they're swaying closer and closer to one another.

When a car honks on the distance, they both startle.

"Yes, well," the man says, a small shy chuckle in his soothing voice, "Now that he's home I should probably—"

"Coffee?" Anakin asks nonsensically, his voice filled with a strange irrational hope, "Threepio— I mean— I have an espresso machine. I can make you anything you want."

The man simply looks at him for several long moments. Then a dazzling smile spreads across his face.

"I did skip the cafe this morning—"

[part one] [sketch]

[harrywavycurly]

Trouble Next Door Part 25: We’re Gonna Be Fine

Masterlist: here

TW: Mentions of cheating and divorce

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99 @munsonmecrazy

A/N: The slow burning has come to an end y’all can all breathe a little easier now✨

“Did you really just ring my doorbell?” “Uh yeah? It’s what people usually do when they arrive at someone’s house…it lets the owner of the home know they’re here…” “thanks smartass…I meant why didn’t you just come in like you normally do?” “Oh uhm…I just…I didn’t know if it was locked or not and…I know you watch too many of those true crime shows…that it would freak you out if you heard someone messing with your doorknob…” “Oh…right…well come on in dinner is in the over but I opened a bottle of wine if you’d like a glass?” “Sure…oh uh Dustin says hello..he’s going to call you tomorrow he said something about wanting to do a movie night this weekend.” “That would be fun…you have plans for this weekend?” “Not at the moment…” “well you do now…why are you just standing there? You can sit down you know? The couch won’t bite you in the ass or anything.” “I can’t do this.” “Can’t do what? Sit down? Do you have an ass tattoo that’s healing or something?” “What? No I don’t have a tattoo on my ass…I can’t do this…you and I…just acting like…like this isn’t the very fucking room that…that everything…changed in.” “Yeah..this is the room where I figured out my ex husband was cheating on me with my bestfriend’s wife.” “That’s not what I’m talking about…” “oh right…it’s the room that I decided I was actually done with him in..and signed all the dotted lines possible to make him my ex husband…right on that coffee table actually.” “That’s also not what-” “it’s also the room that Dustin told us he was going to college in…it’s the room Max told me she and Lucas were breaking up for good in…where Robin let me cry on her shoulder after telling her about Steve…it’s where you and I used to fall asleep in the middle of our horror movie nights and I’d wake up to the sound of someone dying…and it’s the room where just recently I decided everything is going to be okay…we’re gonna be fine.” “We’re gonna be fine?” “Yes.” “I don’t…I don’t know if we are…going to be fine…” “are you calling me a liar?” “What? No…no I’m just saying I’m not so sure you’re…right.” “So you’re saying I’m wrong?” “I’m saying you have the potential of being wrong…yes…because how…how can you say we are going to be fine when this…this doesn’t feel the same? It feels…weird.” “I can say we’re gonna be fine because…I’m in love with you Eddie.” “I’m sorry…what the fuck did you…did you just…say to me?” “Don’t be an asshole Edward James.” “Say it one more time please you know my hair blocks my hearing sometimes.” “I’m in love with you…I’m sorry it took me-” “Sorry sorry I didn’t mean to do that.” “You didn’t mean to kiss me?” “I mean…I didn’t mean to interrupt you…what were you saying?” “I honestly don’t remember…” “I do have that effect on people…causing momentary memory fogs…it’s just the power of the Munson charm…but it was something about taking you so long?” “Munson charm? Who’s been lying to you and telling you that you’re charming?” “Now who’s being an asshole?” “Anyway…I’m sorry it took me so long to realize how I felt…I just…wasn’t ready but if I’m being honest…I think these feelings have always been there I just didn’t want to lose you so…I didn’t say anything..and then Steve showed up.” “I get it…I really do…I love you…I don’t care how long it took us to get here…I’m just so fucking glad we’re here.” “I love you too…still think I have the potential of being wrong about us being fine?” “Yes…but only because we are going to be more than fine…we’re gonna be great.” “Was that supposed to be a moment where your Munson charm was supposed to make me all woozy and fall more in love with you?” “Did it work?” “No…now come on and help me finish dinner.” “Glad to see you being in love with me hasn’t made you lose your bossiness.” “You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t exactly the way that I am.” “That’s true…”

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt VII good omens S1E3 but i'm in a fever-induced haze and i watched it four days ago

Hello maggots it turns out I may have a viral fever... or perchance I'm just going viral in the GO fandom and Crowley being so hot has given me a fever (this is what I learned from years of studying thermodynamics). BAHAHAHAHAHAH anyway this is a LOOOONG post.

EDIT: There are time inconsistencies, as some of you informed me. Paint before wall slam etc. But this show does not follow linear time, just like me. Time is cosmic Play-Doh, and @neil-gaiman, Einstein and I are toddlers playing with it all bendy-bendy. We may have eaten some. I blame Neil. So I will correct nothing.

(im sorry to all my followers, the maggots, and everyone reading this post, i'm afraid this level of quality will be sustained for the rest of the post)

Whatever it may be... haveth my summary of Good Omens Ep3, or whatever I remember of it, anyway.

The second the episode started streaming everyone was yelling about the cold open in the chat.

I could be conflating this with Ep 1 but I think it begins with Aziraphale's gaslight gatekeep girlboss moment where he straight up LIES TO GOD about giving the dumb humans a flaming sword right after they fell from grace.

Hot take from someone who has negligible biblical knowledge, look at it, guys. What harm has an apple ever done to mankind (except to doctors)? Nothing. *nods vigorously* And then our lovely angel goes and gIVES THEM A GODDAMN FLAMING SWORD. Nice, fire and weaponry, this is going to go well for the world!

Anyway lesson is Aziraphale is a chaotic lil bastard and it's why we and Crowley love him.

Fast forward to uh, Noah's Ark... There is a unicorn and it runs away, which Crowley/Crawly seems concerned about. Azi is just chilling there watching all of humanity be drowned and Crowley, looking gorgeous may I add, walks up and she's like CHILDREN? WHY ARE YOU KILLING CHILDREN?

Did I mention that she looks gorgeous with those flowing locks because she does. It gives kind of Disney Brave vibes, doesn't it? Wait is David Tennant Scottish I WANT A DAVID TENNANT/CROWLEY MERIDA COSPLAY.

Anyway so Aziraphale and Crowley watch everyone drown etc

I may have missed a few centuries but then we have ol' Bill Shakespeare and Hamlet (David!!) and Aziraphale like the bean he is wants to cheer them on, and does it badly.

Crowley is standing there thinking man this angel is a fucking doofus why do I love him, and then they make a deal that allows them to do NO work whatsoever since their work cancels out anyway.

Aziraphale pouts at Crowley and Crowley melts inside and makes Hamlet a success though he doesn't even like Shakespeare's tragedies but Azi does and that's all that matters.

OH YEAH FRENCH REVOLUTION. Just to fuck with Aziraphale and because the painkillers are getting to me, I'm gonna do this one in my shit French (et non, je ne peux pas utiliser les accents, j'utilise l'ordinateur et je ne veux pas ouvrir Google). Alors, la revolution est la, Aziraphale veut manger (quelle surprise) et ses vetements sont tres chers, les sans-culottes le tueront, mais Crowley vient et Aziraphale dis "Crowley! Mon hero"

Okay I ran out of French but yes so he was gonna be hanged but Crowley came and Aziraphale's face literally melted and then he switched clothes with the guard and left him to die while he and Crowley went to dine happily (Aziraphale dined, Crowley was hungry for Azi because he has a watching-angel-eat kink).

Aziraphale being a casual accessory to murder/murderer is the most underrated part of good omens.

Fast forward and it's the holocaust and Aziraphale is tricked by some Nazis and they're about to kill him. But Crowley walks down the aisle to their groom, well, more like skips while yelping, and burns the place down for Aziraphale. Naturally Azi's like OH NO MY BOOKS and is ready to cry, then Crowley gently hands him the suitcase full of books unharmed and says just a little miracle for you, baby, want a ride home? And Aziraphale is left holding the books (which by the by Crowley does not care about, they do NOT read books, again, just for Azi) and looking like the happiest man alive and like he would die for Crowley.

Fast forward and we have Crowley in the sixties SERVING with her bob cut, anyone who doesn't like it can fight me to the DEATH, I LOVE HER, and anyway Crowley manipulates, manslaughters and manwhores her way into getting into the car with Aziraphale. He hands her a bottle of holy water because fuck heaven he would do anything for Crowley, and Crowley offers to drive him anywhere (mmmhm Crowley sure you're just being a gentledemon) and Aziraphale tells her that she goes too fast for him. IF THIS ISN'T CALLBACKED IN S3 WITH CROWLEY SAYING "YOU RIDE TOO FAST FOR ME, ANGEL" on a motorbike or horse or his peepee ANYTHING IDC im gonna throw hands.

I'm choosing to forget all the breakups so end cold open back in present day

They're in a paintball arena and Crowley presses Aziraphale into the wall while growling I'm not nice (ok Crowley bro maybe it's time to take a break from 2010s wattpad) and Aziraphale is just gazing adoringly at him. Ex-Satanic nun comes and is like oh my bad this is an intimate moment and Crowley turns around immediately cross that someone's interrupting them but Aziraphale continues to stare at Crowley's face hornily until he reluctantly looks at the nun too. Thanks for the acting choices Michael Sheen.

They hypnotise her and Azi melts when she mentions the antichrist's toesy-woesies and then they leave and Azi is hit by paint, Crowley circles him devouring him with his gaze and finally blows away the paint with an air kiss. I see you, Azi, I KNOW you can get rid of it yourself. Anyway then Crowley turns all the paintball guns into rifles and people start shooting and Azi is like THIS is my husband and they walk away to have drinks while the police swarms.

People were like 'Crowley only ensured no one got killed because of the look Azi gave him' like LMAO have you MET them? Aziraphale is always fucking down for murder, Crowley is the one being like FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AZIRAPHALE NO. Azi was like "shit we gotta kill the antichrist you do it" and crowley's like "bitch slow down we can literally just raise the kid right"

Anyway Crowley gaslights some demons about seeing the hellhound and ig whatever I said happened in Ep 2 with Dog actually happened here etc

The bandstand scene, fuck me. Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away together from the end of the world and Aziraphale says no and they're both sad

we're all sad too

the end

[whattimeisitfic]

So I was fucking around with an incorrect quote generator and these are some of the funny prompts I got for Luci and his brothers. Most of them are just Raphael and Gabriel having the pettiest sibling rivalry in existence.

—

Pre-Fall days. Lucifer is still getting the hang of proper utility usage…

Gabriel: Hi could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?

Lucifer: Microwave for 40 minutes

Michael: WHY WERE YOU MICROWAVING A LEMON?!

Lucifer: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges, but I didn’t on any pots…

Raphael: Did you burn an orange too? HOW?!

Lucifer: Microwave for 40 minutes.

—

Gabriel addressing the Council. Probably on some really memorable, meaningful event for him or something.

Gabriel: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

—

Does this need context? Could happen literally any time.

Gabriel: You look mentally ill.

Lucifer: I am. Let’s go.

—

Once again, could realistically happen any time, though more likely in their younger years.

Gabriel: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons

Raphael: Bet you I can!

Michael: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial and goes back to reading the paper*

—

These two I stg—

Raphael: Can I have some water?

Gabriel: *starts chugging their water bottle*

Gabriel: *chokes from drinking too fast*

Gabriel: *spills water all over themselves*

Gabriel, coughing: I don’t have any water.

—

My man is absolutely clueless in the most adorable way possible. We love him for it tho. Was probably Rals texting him.

Lucifer: Gabriel, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Gabriel: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Lucifer: Alright, I love you too, I’ll ask Michael

Gabriel: Wait, Lucifer, no—

—

You can’t tell me Lucifer wasn’t a chaotic little shit pre-Fall.

Raphael: I have a question.

Michael: Shoot.

Raphael: Is the S or C in scent silent?

Gabriel: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day.

Michael: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent

Raphael: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way

Gabriel: Google says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent.

Lucifer: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound

Gabriel: Lucifer is not allowed to talk anymore

—

Once again, plausible any time at present.

Michael: You’e ignoring all your problems.

Lucifer: I know.

Michael: You also know it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism?

Lucifer: I’m ignoring that fact as well

Michael:

—

Lucifer can do no wrong.

Michael: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Lucifer: it was me

Michael: …Is going to be forgiven because very one deserves a second chance.

—

He lasted all of five seconds, and the he had to sass.

Raphael: Oh, hey, I didn’t see you come in! You should have come by and said hello!

Gabriel: Oh! Yeah, I uh…

Gabriel: Didn’t want to bother you.

Gabriel: Or talk to or listen to or be around you.

—

Back when Lucifer wasn’t recovering from near death, and actually didn’t sleep.

Raphael: Truth or dare?

Lucifer: Truth.

Raphael: How many hours have you slept this week?

Lucifer:

Lucifer: Dare.

Raphael: Go to sleep.

Lucifer: I don’t like this game

—

They had an argument. Typical occurrence.

Michael: You have to apologize to Gabriel!

Raphael: Fine!

Raphael: Unfuck you or whatever!

—

I think this about sums it up.

Raphael: Are you alright?

Lucifer: Short answer or long answer?

Raphael: Short?

Lucifer: No.

Raphael: Long?

Lucifer: Nooooooo

—

I’ll say it again: these two—

Raphael: Guys, I have a question.

Gabriel: kys <3

Raphael: I love you too.

Michael: Ah. Yes. Siblings.

—

If Lucifer ever went out drinking w/ his siblings (u know, to the places that actually serve shit to get him wasted)

Lucifer, clearly drunk: Gabriel, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo…

Gabriel: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle

Lucifer: I think yooOOoouu need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH!

—

Last one. You can’t tell me Raphael doesn’t get weird obsessions w/ shows like this and convinces himself he’s gonna somehow end up in a similar situation. Michael is concerned

Raphael: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case?

Michael: wHat?

Raphael: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved

Michael: Can we go back to the part when you said “when I get murdered”?

—

Alright that’s all I got for now ducklings! I just thought it was kind of funny.

If you’re reading this with no context but are interested, consider checking out my Hazbin Hotel Lucifer-centric fic on AO3 What Time Is It. I try to update daily and do my best to answer all comments ;)

[kurogane2512]

It's past midnight and I'm horny for Signora again....sigh

18+ CONTENT MDNI

Just filthy smut, like really down bad thoughts. Not necessarily dark but yeah pretty dirty. Fingering, uh.....monsterfucking? But make it sweet~

Fem reader btw

Okay but can we talk about CWoF Signora?? Or specifically CWoE Signora?? Like hello?!?! BIG MOMMY WITH A BIG WHIP?! 😩😩

Signora is literally the tallest female character in the game, she's equal to the adult male models which canonically makes her 5'9 or even 6'0. That's already a tall asf woman. Then we have her Crimson Witch boss form.....oh my lord🙇🏻‍♀️ The way she towers over you in all her glory, the giant moth mask adorning her face, her big flaming wings that are strong enough to at least make her float till a decent altitude, the signature red lips, her big boobs that grow even more in this, and then the whip....a freaking huge fire whip🙇🏻‍♀️😩

I'm honestly surprised I haven't come across much content of having sex with her in this form. But it's okay, I'll feed myself and all the horny simps like me 🤭

Imagine she has you pinned on a wall, carrying you against it with your legs wrapped around her torso. You can barely reach her, continuously shifting close and holding her tightly with your arms around her neck while she plants fiery kisses down your chest. This is no mere feat. Remember she's the Crimson Witch of Flames, the legend loathed by historians and monsters alike. It's a privilege of the highest degree to be doing this with her, heck even some Archons are more approachable than her.

But here you were, in her arms this way. She had removed her mask on your request, as you wanted to look at her true face that she hides all the time. She easily burned away your clothes with a gentle brush of her fingers, proudly chuckling at your bare flustered state. Her big hand grasped your jaw before moving it up forcefully to give her access to your neck, planting kisses and love bites on the skin. Her own boobs pressed on your abdomen, a soft pillow-like feeling enveloping you.

"Is my darling really so deprived to want to be pleasured this way? My~ had I known earlier, I wouldn't have kept you waiting~"

"I....I wanted to say it but I was anxious....Y-You don't like this form, do you?"

Signora smiled softly before pecking your lips, "If it's with you, I don't mind showing it to you as much as you want. But, it did surprise me that you wanted to do this...."

You blushed and averted your gaze, making her chuckle more. Her palm now brushed over your core, feeling the wetness seep through your underwear which was the last piece of fabric left on your body. You squirmed at the contact, and she wasted no time to remove that hindrance either. You gazed at her long, slender and bony fingers, her hardened knuckles with almost no skin at all, and her dark red nails, gradually feeling aroused from her features. Perhaps her body pressing on you was also making you hotter than usual.

"Do you want then inside, my love?~" Signora whispers in a seductive tone, a pool of arousal already dripping down your thighs.

"Y-Yes....please...."

"You'll have to be louder than that, my love~"

You gritted your teeth, "Please! P-Put them inside!"

"Put what inside? Be specific, loud and clear~"

Your last string of pride snapped as you shouted your deepest desire, "Please fuck me with your fingers, mistress!~"

That's what she wanted to hear. She smirked and proceeded to insert her middle finger in your sopping hole; you hissed at the penetration, you expected them to be long but there were also burning, it felt like you were being imprinted on. Signora was slow and gentle, as much as she wanted to ram in and fuck you out of your mind, she kept her calm as she didn't want to hurt you. These powers were dangerous, and hurting her beloved from them was the last thing she wanted to do.

She inserted her finger half way, your head shooting back with how deep she already was. She waited for you to adjust, watching the heaving of your chest gradually become normal as you gave her a nod to continue. You gripped her shoulders tighter, your juices coated her finger and she was tempted to thrust the remaining in. You felt a hard intrusion on your deepest spots and moaned out, clenching onto her tightly.

"Are you okay, my love? I'm sorry if that was too much—" She spoke in an almost panicked voice.

"I-Its okay, aah....I'm fine....y-you can continue...."

You gently cupped her face and gazed into her eyes, ".....fuck me, please....do it like you always do, I promise it'll be fine...."

Ah, now she almost lost it. She pushed you further into the wall and held you tightly as she thrusted her finger in and out, your walls clenched around her fingers as squelching sounds resounded in the room accompanied by your moans and whimpers. Your mind was hazy, eyes filled with tears of pleasure, this was unlike anything you had ever experienced. No toy would come close now, you might become addicted to this.

"Didn't think my sweetheart had such repulsive kinks~ How long were you going to hide them from me, love?~"

"I-aaah....I d-didnt know I'm into these....mhm!~"

You bit your lower lip and threw your head back, feeling her insert a second finger. She scissored her fingers inside your wet cunt, drawing out your sweet juices as messy whines spilled from your mouth. You then suddenly noticed how her wings had opened now, fluttering around you. Soon, you watched them close around you both and envelop you in like a protective casing.

The temperature became hotter in the enclosed space, sweat dripping down your body at the intense heat. But your realized how endearing this action was, she was holding you close and protecting you. You weren't sure if this was a voluntary action as she looked too focused on fucking you, her lips sucking on your neck at the same time. Perhaps, it was her inner thoughts.

"C-Cumming....mistress! Please- let me ngh!~"

"Aww, so soon? Very well, I'll allow it this time. I expect better results from next time~"

"N-Next—?! Aaaahhhnnnn!!!~~~"

You couldn't even finish as a loud moan erupted from your throat the moment she did a hard and deep thrust, gushing out on her fingers. She removed them and licked off your slick in contentment, making you watch the sight which made you aroused once more.

"Mhm~ Delicious.....say, would you like to be the apprentice of this heinous witch?~"