#pulls me riiiiight back in

[aziraphalalala]

They named the music shop owner on Whickber street Mr. Arnold.

Neil Gaiman is insane.

[diamonddaze01]

Love: Best Served Hot

pairing: chef! kmg x gn!reader genre: tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, slice of life wc: 2.7k

summary: even when he’s exhausted, mingyu wants to care for you. 

a/n: this was supposed to be a 300 word drabble idk what happened // i love chef mingoo!!

The door creaks open, releasing a gust of chilly air that carries with it the rich, savory aroma of sautéed garlic and fresh spices. The warm glow of the kitchen lights flicker to life as Mingyu steps inside, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his hair slightly tousled from a long shift. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and stretches his arms overhead, letting out a dramatic sigh that echoes through the apartment.

“Guess who’s here to save your taste buds!” he announces, though the weariness in his eyes and the slight slump of his shoulders tells a different story.

You look up from your phone, a grin spreading across your face. “Don’t you ever get tired of cooking, Gyu?” you tease, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, the familiar warmth of the kitchen enveloping you.

He feigns offense, placing a hand on his chest as if you’ve just insulted his entire culinary career. “For you? Never. I’m making you gourmet ramen from scratch. The kind that makes you forget your ex. Trust me; it’s a glow-up for your palate.”

“You said that yesterday about the ribs,” you point out, watching him glide across the kitchen with practiced ease. The overhead lights cast a soft halo around his figure, and the way his hair flops into his eyes adds an adorable charm to his focused expression. “And the kimchi jjigae last week, and the burgers the time before that.”

“Shhhh.” He reaches around you for a cutting board, dropping a soft kiss on your lips to silence you. The warmth of his lips lingers as he pulls back, a playful spark in his eyes. “I’ve never met someone who complains so much about getting wined and dined.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms with a mock pout. “I’m not complaining; I’m just keeping you accountable. I need to know if your cooking is really as good as you claim.”

Mingyu laughs, a rich, warm sound that fills the kitchen and dances around you; it makes your heart sing a little, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “If you’re so worried about it, maybe you should just let me cook in peace.”

As he focuses on the task at hand, the slight sheen of sweat forming on his brow catches the kitchen's light, his movements slowing just a fraction. His fingers are steady but the small tremor in his hands gives away just how long he's been on his feet. He brushes his hair back with a frustrated tug, eyes closing briefly as if savoring a second of relief before diving back into the task. It’s in these small, unguarded moments you realize just how worn he is—the dark circles under his eyes, the set of his shoulders that normally stand so proud, now sagging ever so slightly. But even through the exhaustion, there’s a determination in him, the same kind you’ve come to recognize every time he puts your needs before his own.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softening. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a break? You’ve been on your feet for hours.”

He glances over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “And what, exactly, have you eaten today, hmm?”

“Uh…” You falter, feeling a familiar flush of embarrassment creeping in.

“Here, let me help you.” He sets down the knife and taps his foot expectantly, whisk in hand. “Knowing you, you probably just subsisted on iced lattes all day because you were too busy to get a real meal, right?”

You huff, your indignation flaring. “I’ll have you know that I had a Pop-Tart and a bag of Skittles! Those are major food groups, you know.”

Mingyu bursts into laughter, but you catch a glimpse of concern flickering behind his playful facade. “Riiiiight,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. “So now, you’re going to shut up and watch your gorgeous, incredibly talented, hot chef boyfriend make you a meal that has an actual vegetable in it.”

He gets like this sometimes, when he's frustrated that you don't take care of yourself. It’s been a cause for many an argument in the past—his insistence that you need to eat and your stubbornness that you know how to take care of yourself. Those conversations often swirl around the kitchen like a storm, but there’s a gentleness in the way he brushes off your concerns that tells you he cares deeply, even if he masks it with humor.

You watch him chop vegetables, let yourself get lulled into dreamlike trance with the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board. He moves with precision, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration as he glances over to check your expression. His dedication tugs at your heartstrings, a reminder of how he loves: by placing food in front of you even when he’s on the brink of falling asleep standing up. You’ve learned that his love language isn’t just about the meals he makes; it’s in the way he basks in the glow of your compliments, how your smile lights up his tired eyes like a spark in the dark.

You take a step closer, your fingers absentmindedly grazing the cool countertop, the warmth of the kitchen offering little comfort against the concern gnawing at you. It’s moments like these that make your heart ache —the way he pushes himself, never stopping until he’s done taking care of everyone else, even when he should be the one resting. A small, tight knot forms in your chest as you watch him, the way his brow furrows with each precise chop, his body moving with a practiced ease that can’t fully mask the heaviness of his fatigue. You wish you could stop him, take over for once, but you know he wouldn’t allow it. Still, you try to lighten the mood. 

“You know, you could just let me make dinner once in a while,” you offer, though your voice softens with unspoken worry.

He shakes his head, a grin breaking through his feigned annoyance. “And ruin my masterpiece? Never.”

The way he leans into the task, the sheer determination on his face, makes you fall in love with him a little more each day. It’s not just the food—it’s the way he pours his heart into everything he does, even when it means sacrificing his own comfort for yours. You can see it in the way his shoulders relax when you compliment his cooking, how he laughs more easily when you’re around, and how the corners of his eyes crinkle with joy when you taste something he’s prepared.

“I just want you to eat something real, not just sugar and caffeine,” he continues, a hint of worry creeping into his tone, finally letting his humorous facade fall for a second.  “I can’t have you turning into a human-sized Skittle.”

You can’t help but laugh at the image, feeling the tension of the day slip away. “I’ll have you know that I’d be a delicious  human-sized Skittle, thank you very much.”

He rolls his eyes playfully but then yawns again, the gesture drawing your concern back to the surface. “See? That right there—no more yawning until you’ve eaten something substantial, got it?”

He feigns a mock salute, but you can see the hint of exhaustion etched across his features. “Okay, okay, Captain Concerned. I promise I’ll eat something as soon as this ramen is ready. Just… give me a minute.”

You nod, the sincerity behind his words warming you. As he stirs the bubbling broth, you can’t help but admire the way his brow furrows in concentration, how he occasionally glances your way to ensure you’re still there, still watching.

“Alright, but you’d better not fall asleep in front of the stove,” you tease gently, your voice light but your heart heavy with concern.

He nods, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “No promises,” he retorts playfully, but the warmth in his gaze tells you that he appreciates your worry, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Just keep your gorgeous, incredibly talented hot chef boyfriend awake, alright?” he says, a teasing lilt returning to his voice.

You can’t help but smile, feeling your affection for him grow in the warmth of the kitchen, surrounded by the scents of his hard work. “Deal. But you’d better make that ramen quick, or I might just have to find a way to fuel you with caffeine and Skittles.”

The kitchen hums with quiet, the only sounds coming from the bubbling broth and the soft scrape of Mingyu’s knife on the cutting board. You don’t need to fill the space with conversation; just being there, your silent presence, is enough. It’s always been enough for him. After a long day of being barked at on the line, of rushing orders and chaos, this is what he craves—your calm support, your quiet companionship. You don’t need to ask him how his day was; the tension in his shoulders, the way he brushes his hair back in frustration, tells you everything.

You watch as he works, each movement slow but precise, his exhaustion barely hidden beneath the surface. And still, even in his fatigue, there’s a quiet grace in how he prepares your meal—chopping vegetables, whisking broth, his fingers moving with the kind of ease that only comes from years of practice. He flicks the pan to stir the ingredients and adds garnish with a flourish—and looks over at you for validation.

Even though you’ve seen him do this hundreds of times, you still smile when he meets your eyes.  It’s a dance you’ve perfected: him cooking, you watching, the back-and-forth that fills the space between you. It’s more than just food—it's the way he pours himself into each meal, hoping to see that spark of happiness in your eyes, that subtle nod of approval that tells him, once again, that he's done well, that you love what he’s made. And it never fails—you always smile, and in that moment, it’s like he’s won an award.

“That was slick,” you murmur with a grin, watching his tired eyes light up like you’ve just given him a standing ovation. 

In return, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, gentle and warm. “Only for you,” he whispers, but you know it’s true. It’s in the way he offers you spoonfuls of broth to taste, holding the spoon up to your lips, watching carefully for your reaction. When you hum in satisfaction, the tension in his shoulders eases, his tiredness momentarily forgotten.

Every compliment you give is met with a kiss—sometimes on your lips, sometimes on your nose, sometimes just a gentle press to your forehead. You know that this is his love language, this silent back-and-forth of care, and it’s how you love him, too. Just being here, watching him, letting him unwind at his own pace. You don’t need to talk for him to know you’re there, supporting him. He knows you’re here, watching him, feeling the weight of his exhaustion, without needing to say it. It’s in the way you linger nearby, always close but never overbearing, allowing him to move at his own pace. Sometimes, just your presence is enough to ease the weight of the world on his shoulders, the sound of your breathing in sync with his, the gentle hum of the kitchen filling the gaps. 

You sit at the counter, content to let him work in silence, knowing he’ll fuss if you hover too much. But, true to form, he turns around every now and then, his eyes narrowing like he’s assessing the situation. “You’re going to eat, too, right? Not just stare at me?”

“Obviously,” you tease, though the warmth in your chest says otherwise. He’s tired, you can see it in the way he brushes his hair back, but still, his concern is always you—making sure you’ve eaten something other than sugar and caffeine all day. “I had a Pop-Tart, remember? And Skittles,” you add.

He rolls his eyes, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Yes, of course, the epitome of gourmet food. You need actual food, not whatever sugar rush you’ve been riding on.” There’s a playful tilt to his voice, but beneath it, the care is genuine, the worry etched into his furrowed brow. He doesn’t have to say it, but you can feel it in every movement, in the way he insists on feeding you something real, even when he’s on the brink of exhaustion.

When the ramen is finally done, the kitchen smells like a cozy hug, and he brings the steaming bowl over with a satisfied smile, his usual swagger dimmed slightly by the long hours he's endured. But instead of sitting down at the table, you slide onto his lap. His arms wrap around your waist without hesitation, pulling you closer, his body melting against yours in a sigh that carries all the weight of the day. You can feel the tension leave his shoulders, the stress ebbing away as you press yourself against him. 

“Eat,baby,” he murmurs, pushing the bowl toward you. But when you don’t immediately take a bite, he reaches for the chopsticks, bringing the noodles to your lips himself.

You chuckle softly, but he’s serious, his eyes fixed on you as you take the first bite. “Good?” he asks, as if he isn’t already sure of the answer.

You nod, chewing slowly, savoring the warmth that spreads through you. “Perfect.”

Satisfied, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, but before he can relax completely, you grab the chopsticks from his hand and lift a bite of ramen to his lips. “Your turn,” you say, watching as his expression softens.

He laughs under his breath but doesn’t protest, taking the bite with a small nod of approval. “Good,” he hums, his voice lower now, sleepier. But as tired as he is, he still won’t stop fussing, making sure you take another bite, and another, before he lets himself have one too.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled only by the occasional murmur of approval or the clink of chopsticks against the bowl. Every time you compliment the ramen, he preens a little, leaning in to press another kiss to your cheek, your nose, your lips. And with every bite, you fall a little more in love—not with the food, but with him, with the way he cares for you in the smallest, quietest ways. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he should be the one resting, he’s still making sure you’re taken care of, that you’ve eaten, that you’re loved. And that’s how you know he loves you—because he can’t help but put you first, even when his eyes are heavy with sleep.

You sit there, nestled in his lap, feeding him and being fed, the two of you wrapped up in the warmth of the kitchen. This is how you love him—by just being here, letting him rest in the silence, your presence enough to soothe him after a long day. And in return, his way of loving you is by feeding you, taking care of you even when he’s exhausted. No words are needed; the quiet between you speaks volumes.

“You don’t have to always do this, you know,” you whisper, your fingers gently tracing the edge of the bowl. The ramen is long gone, and he’s running his fingers up your arm, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Take care of me, I mean.”

Mingyu’s chuckle rumbles in his chest, the vibration sending a warm ripple through your body. “It’s not about having to. I want to,” he says simply, his voice low and sincere. “Besides, you’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Someone has to make sure you eat.”

You can’t help but laugh, even though you feel a lump forming in your throat. His love is always like this—quiet, unspoken, wrapped in the warmth of small actions rather than big words. It’s in the way he insists on feeding you, the way he pulls you closer when he’s tired but still makes sure you’re taken care of.

“I love you,” you whisper, almost instinctively, the words slipping out before you even realize.

He doesn’t respond right away, but you can feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, his arms drawing you closer as if he’s pulling you into the very core of him. Then, softly, so softly you almost miss it, he presses a kiss to your hair and murmurs, “I love you, too.”

[ryomens-vixen]

420 w/ 90s Toji

CW: Toji himself is enough warning, rough sex, car sex, gun play, ass eating, profanity, reader is black coded and so is toji.

Author's note: If you have problem with me making toji speak in AAVE please don't hesitate to eat my fat ass about it, please and thank you.

Word count: YIPPIE Y'all finally get a word count! 2.6k ✨

Summary: If you ever wanted to get high the Toji here's your chance.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

How did you end up here? Going to pound town in the back of a Toji's big daddy truck, high as hell in a smoke filled truck- oh that's right you know how. It really started when you were out with the boys chillin- the boys meaning Satoru, Suguru, and Kento. You were watching them shooting hoops, Then the hood's hottest DILF and Whore pulled up with his kid- Megumi, he's such a cutie when he isn't mean muggin everyone and when he comes to his dad? Oh boy he doesn't play he's such a daddy's boy that Toji can't even pick up women without the lil boy tagging along. Megumi calls most of the shots anyways- if you're pretty to him that Toji will definitely fuck with you, if not? Ain't no use in talking to him, you're cooked.

Today T-Raw was up to no good as usual not only did he come to shoot some hoops, but he also came to pick up a couple of ladies to “take out” later on- Here is goes taking off that slutty tank top of his, not like he can ever keep his clothes on anyways, that fuckin slut- you couldn't stand him. You couldn't stand him because all he does is fuck around and drive all these bitches crazy about him- clearly his dick can't be that good to be chasing him around like that, or so you thought.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!”

Fuck how did you get here… oh yeah that's right, it really started when they was playing B-ball. Megumi kept looking at you and since he's practically his father's wing man you were hoping the lil boy didn't think you were pretty, then he spoke to you- talking about the dogs at their house to showing you his gold chain Toji bought him. But then it happened megumi ran off to go tell his dad about you.. Just your luck right? Riiiiight..

The whole game stopped because megumi had so much to say about you, hell he even told the guys you're his new mama because of how beautiful you are and it had T-Raw checking you out even Satoru gassed him up to go holla at you.

“Her? Oh that's y/n, you tryna fuck on her? Shit she hard to talk to, but on ma the pussy good as fuck she was just fuckin on me and Suguru last week.” Satoru had promised he'd never tell a soul that y'all fucked, but you have known that not even Satoru himself could hold a glass on water.

And just like that Toji was convinced enough to come see bout you.

“Wass good ma”

“..... “

“Hello? Mamas, So you sit finna talk to me? C'mon ion bite, baby.”

“Don't sit up here tellin them lies we all know yo ass bite.”

He chuckled, “Got a lil attitude problem. I like dat mamas. how bout you come smoke with me later on tonight.”

“I'm not one of these other bitches Toji so go find somebody to play with cause it ain't me.”

“Sound like you ain't had no dick Inna minute-”

“Maybe I don't want no dick from you!?”

Yeah, that's how it all went down. You were giving him too much lip that it was turning him on, that's why he didn't let up on you. He wanted to put you in your bratty ass place once and for all because clearly Satoru and Suguru didn't do it right. Naw you obviously needed some dick from big daddy himself, T-Raw.

Now here you are sitting in his truck getting hot boxed to hell, while Satoru and Suguru babysit megumi for that night, and man did you get the feeling neither of y'all would be able to make it home after this smoke session.

“You Eva put a blunt in yo pussy? I'll light for you- We gotta get fat ma blazed too yah feel me?”

What the fuck did he just say? “Toji shut the fuck up!” You have to admit that was pretty funny and wild to say at a time like this, but he isn't so bad right? Wrong.

You couldn't tell if it was the Kush getting to you or what, but with every minute that passed by he started to look more and more attractive. “Keep it together bitch” is what you thought to yourself, you didn't want to fuck around and find out why all his bitches were so crazy over him.

“So when you gone put that pussy on me, mamas?”

What the hell did he just say?

“I know she wet as fuck f'me, come climb on daddy's lap fo a minute.” this whole time his hand had been gripping your thigh close enough to your coochie. Yeah she was wet- soaking wet actually, but you weren't willing to admit that.. At least not verbally, because your body betrays you.

Before you knew it you had succumbed to his slick mouth, but it's not like you didn't fight about it. Oh but he loves a good ole brat- he loves the way they break once they've had a taste of his ten inch punisher and you were gonna break for him too.

“Bet you won't suck dis dick”

“Yeah I BET I won't, the fuck?”

“So all dat freak shit you do wit gang and nem just fo show, huh? Knew you wasn't bout nothin”

“Excuse me?!” How the fuck did he even know about that?! I bet Satoru told him, yeah totally never fuckin him again.

“You heard me, Ma. Chu ain't bout dat life fo'real.”

“Says who? I do what the fuck I want, when I want and who I want.”

“I betchu won't come fuck me then.”

“Bet!”

It all started with you giving him the best toe curling head he ever had, the way you kissed on the tip, licked him up from Gooch to tip, the way you suffocated on his dick, yeah you took all ten inches and he loved every bit of it “Fuck, y- you a nasty bitch” is what he groaned, he felt so good he took a chunk of your hair into his fist and held you still so he could fuck that throat of yours. You were his bitch now, you definitely weren't going nowhere sucking his dick this good.

You thought it'd stop at that no- you found yourself eating this man's ass like a full course meal, like you were hungry and it wasn't even your idea, it was his and you can thank his old bitch for that. Man was he a freak having his legs in the fuckin air, lighting another blunt while he watches you eat his ass. This was way out of your league, eating ass? Not even Satoru and Suguru made you do this, but at least you learned a thing or two from fuckin around with Mei Mei and Shoko one time. Honestly you were scared to even put your tongue down there, thinking he was dirty, but he was surprisingly clean.

“Dirty ass bitch get in the back, c'mon” he was ready, and you were nervous. We're you gonna be like all these other bitches that fucked him and started acting crazy, or were you gonna treat like you treat Satoru and Suguru? It was hard to tell because you never heard any complaints about Toji unless it's about him not answering his phone or talking to other bitches, the works.

“Bet yo dick ain't even that big-”

“Shut cho ass up and bend ova bitch I'll show yo ass how big it is.”

That was your mistake- bending over. Toji pushed your skirt up over your waist and wasted no time ripping those sexy panties off. Your pussy was dripping for him, spreading your asscheeks apart Toji took his cock in hand and rubbed it all along your wet folds, teasing you while you waited anxiously for him to fuck you- so anxious that you started popping off at the mouth again.

“Can't find the hole ol’ man?”

“Can't wait to shut cho lil ass up-”

“Pus-”

Then it happened he shut you up with the quickness, ramming all ten inches into that tight wet pussy of yours. It felt like your body took a screenshot from feeling his cock hit your cervix like that all you could do was tremble and tear up. You felt so full, hell you felt like his dick was somehow in your chest it was so fuckin big that you could hardly adjust to it.

Reaching back to place your hand on his abdomen was your biggest mistake ever “Move yo fuckin hand” is all he said before take ahold of your arm, bending it it behind your back and using his weight to push his cock deeper into you as if it wasn't deep enough.

The only thing that gave you enough relief was when he pulled out, you could finally breathe that was until he rammed his cock back inside… over and over and over again. He was so rough it felt like your mind was going blank all you could think about was how good your feeling right now, how deep his cock is, how your moans were practically stuck in your throat, toji had your eyes rolling back he even put his blunt out on your asshole so he could focus on fuckin you, god he was a nasty, nasty man, no wonder everyone was crazy for him.

The truck was rocking, you finally let out a strained moaned, Toji was fuckin you so ruthlessly leaving hand prints on your asscheeks, pushing down on your lower back to make you arch some more for him, grabbing fists full of your hair as he leaned his weight into every thrust. Your mind was going crazy, but you weren't the only one- Toji was too. Not only was he high as all hell, he was starting to get drunk off your pussy. He was loving how tight you were around him, squeezing and sucking him back into you- in his mind you were doing this on purpose, throwing that pussy- HIS pussy back on him like that yeah to him you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Man fuck! Fuck you let then two fools hit before me?! Fuckin slut” God he put his weight into it again.

“Lil bratty ass bitch got nothin to say now, say sumthin else, come bitch say some more slick shit for daddy so I keep on tearin this pussy up!”

You were past cloud nine at this point everything felt good, his dick, his words, his thrusts, everything. You almost lost your mind when he reached out in front of you and grabbed his gun. That's when you realized how crazy this man is- he pulled out a damn gun!? For what!? Now you see why everyone is so crazy about him.

“T- Toji Wa-”

“Shut the fuck up” he pulled out panting and started rubbing the barrel of it against your wet folds. “How you gone feel if I put this glock 30 in this pussy? Hm? Talk to me mamas, I'm not fuckin done witchu”

“Toji i-”

“It's T-Raw, bitch.” You trembled the second he pushed the barrel inside your pussy. You couldn't tell if you were scared or excited, but you knew one thing he sure as hell was excited just from pumping your pussy with his glock.

“You's a nasty dirty ass, bitch, throwin back on MY gun, bet it ain't as good as this mufuckin pipe.” He had a cocky tone to his voice while he was gripping the hell out of his cock and fisting it vigorously. “Fuck it-” he tossed his gun to the side causing you the whimper from the sudden emptiness, but that was soon replaced with him slamming his cock back in, then reaching around you to grab ahold of the sides of your mouth as he drilled you, drool on his fingers and arm rest, drool on his cock that's how he liked it.

You could feel a knot in the pit of your pussy, you were so close, tears welled up in your eyes, you were going to burst at this rate, if he kept up brutal pace he'll be cleaning up coochie juice for weeks with the way you around to cum. You reached in between your legs to rub circles onto your clit to help get you to that big orgasm you've always wanted..

“T- T-Raw! F- Fuck! Daddy I'm gonna cum!”

Toji was so lost in your pussy it was almost like he was in another world, You were just too good for him. It was driving him crazy. He almost didn't register what you said at first, you? About to cum? Yeah no he couldn't have that yet, not until HE is done.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!” Suddenly, He puts you into one of the meanest chokeholds you had ever been in, pulling your body onto his lap so that you're sitting on his fat cock with your legs propped up on the back on the front seats. Fuck he really wasn't done with you for real.

“Can't NOBODY fuck you like I do, you ain't gone be thinkin of nobody's dick, but mine after I'm done, you hear me bitch?! Take that shit, take it, take it, take it, Ah Fuck-!”

You couldn't breathe, your eyes were touching the back of your head, he was beating your pussy in and you couldn't do anything about it. His dick was good… too good in fact, he was slutting you out better than Satoru, Suguru, hell even Choso- but none of them know about that one. You could almost guarantee your brain chemistry has been altered just from the way he's trying to put his dick up your coochie, through your stomach and behind the left rib. All you could do now was take his dick like the good little bitch that you are.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

“Yes! G- Give it to me T-Raw! Give it to me Daddy!”

His thrust became sloppy and his grip around your neck tightened, he was definitely about to cum inside your sweet pussy, yet that's really you wanted now was for him to fill your pussy up with his baby batter. He let on one loud “Fuck” into your ear and rammed his dick inside you one more time, all you could feel so was his cock pumping his load inside you.

Once he was finished he let go of your throat, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. But the thing is you didn't get to cum yet and toji knew that and all he could do was smirk at your pouty lil face for not making you cum too.

“What? Yah mad bitch? Brats like yo ass don't deserve to cum.” He took his left over blunt and lit it.

“But since you was a good fuck I'll let you cum this once, but I ain't helpin, so bounce on dis dick all you want.”

“B.. But T-Raw”

“What the fuck did I just say? Huh? Get to fuckin bouncing, I'm waiting slut.”

You know it, you were going to be crazy just like all his other bitches after tonight… ain't no way you're going back to the boys, ever.

Tags: @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @ramonathinks @nkogneatho @tonycries @connorsui @honeeslust @halosdiary @hoshigaby @screampied @rinhaler @buttercupblu @triangularz @fairy-hub

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x afab!reader. when blitzø sees you stressing over your workload for a certain demanding overlord, the imp decides to help you unwind by fucking the problems out of your "pretty little head".

for the incredibly patient 🎀 anon. 1.8k

featuring: unprotected sex, dom!blitzø, a totally sandwiched-in reference to hazbin hotel, and overstimulation because they're both petty as shit.

“I ever tell you how fucking boring your job is?” Blitzø asks as he flings himself down on the couch beside you, half-finished iced coffee in hand. He kicks his feet out over the arm of the couch, dropping his head onto the cushion beside your thigh. “Woulda thought you gettin’ a paycheck from the biggest pimp in Hell would be at least a little fuckin’ exciting.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you rescue one of your folders from under his shoulder. “For the hundredth time, B. I don’t work for Valentino. I work for Vox.”

“Riiiiight…” he nods mockingly. “And he’s….?”

“The Media Overlord.”

“The one with a flat screen for a head, right?”

You don’t bother looking up from your work as you sort through them in search of a memo you were sure you’d just had in your hand. Paper wasn’t as convenient as a tablet, but working old school meant there was no possibility of your boss taking control of it at any given moment because he couldn’t be bothered to email. “That’s the one.”

“Gross.” Blitzø comments idly, swirling his coffee above him so that he can watch the ice cubes rattle together. “D’ya think he has to Windex his face after eating pussy?”

“For the love of God, Blitz!” you complain, and he cackles beside you. You can’t help but snort a laugh after a moment, and his grin widens triumphantly.

Setting his coffee on the table – thankfully missing the pile of papers you have strewn across the surface – he sits up, planting a hand on your thigh and leaning towards you in a way you know he means to be seductive. “Speakin’ of pussy…”

You sigh again, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling for a moment before turning and pressing a quick kiss to his nose. He wrinkles it in response, leans in again in an attempt to catch your lips with his. He frowns when you lean back slightly. “Hey. Get your stupid ass face back over here.”

You smile apologetically. “Honey. As much as I love the ham-fisted attempts at turning me on, I’ve got a tonne of work to do. Vox just announced some bullshit anti-Angel tech we don’t have for the next extermination and now we’ve got to somehow invent it before everyone finds out he’s full of shit.”

Blitzø gives you an exaggerated, mocking pout in response, leaning closer to you once again and lowering his voice to a more intimate, husky cadence. “Want some help?”

You raise a brow, heat flushing your cheeks and blooming low in your stomach as he presses his lips teasingly against the side of your throat. “You got some insight on how to take out exorcists I should… know about?”

Blitzø grins against your throat, and you hiss an inhale as his fangs graze against your pulse point. His hand wanders up over your thigh, and you catch hold of it before he can dip it between your thighs. His palm is burningly warm through the thin fabric of your yoga pants. “Maybe. Wanna fuck me to find out?”

You scoff a laugh, cut off when Blitzø crushes his lips against yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, pushing you back against the arm of the couch. You find yourself kissing him back for a few moments before you pull away, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. “I’ve got work, Blitz.”

“And I’m gonna help,” he coos, his hand sliding up between your thighs again. You whine as his cups your cunt briefly through your clothes before tugging the drawstring undone.

“How exactly?”

“By fucking those thoughts right outta ya pretty little head,” Blitzø coos mockingly. “Now take your fuckin’ pants off.”

You cough out a laugh, the sound turning to a yelp of surprise as he rolls you onto your knees. He takes a firm, possessive hold of your hips and forces you up against the arm of the sofa. You brace yourself against it, thrilling when he presses his hips up against your ass. You can feel how hard he is, and he grinds his hips up against you and groans, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing.

“Blitz, I have to wo—”

“Shut the fuck up and just accept you’re gonna cum first,” he eye-rolls, and your retort comes as a soft, throaty moan as he slides his hand up between your thighs. He practically growls the next words, leaning over your back to press a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my good girl.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blitzø corkscrews his hips into yours in a mockingly slow, even pace, groaning as he bottoms out inside you. His claws are digging possessively into your hips, his tail curled around your thigh. You reach back with one hand to cover one of his, your fingers digging into the back of his hand each time he thrusts into you.

“Blitz…” you moan, a crease between your brows. You can feel sweat against your brow, on the small of your back, your body, your nipples tingling now they’ve been bared to the room. You press your forehead against the arm of the couch, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck…”

“You know what ya gotta do, princess.” You can hear the smirk in Blitzø’s voice even as it breaks with his own need. He presses his forehead against your spine, cradling it between your shoulder blades, and you shiver as you feel the sharp points of his teeth graze against your back. He’s been fucking you like this – slow and deep – for too long; you need it harder. When you make move to touch your clit, he grabs hold of your hand, pinning it against your quivering thigh. “No way, bitch. Say it for me… fuck, you’re like a wet fuckin’ silk…”

His cock brushes up against that sensitive spot inside you and your eyes roll back, and when his hair winds through your hair to tug your head back, you keen. “Fu—please, Blitz, please…”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Blitzø sighs, snickering as he finally increases the rhythm of his hips. He fucks himself into you hard, the sound of flesh meeting flesh joining the breathless little ‘ahh’s�� you let out each time he fucks himself into you, He releases your hand and it immediately goes to your clit, and you shudder at the first touch. “Satan’s dick, you needy slut… fuuuck, you’re tight… so fuckin’ wet…”

“S-sit back,” you say, urging his hands away from your hips. Blitzø’s pace slows, and you raise your voice, swallowing back some of the breathlessness. “Sit back.”

You can’t help but whimper as Blitzø pulls out of you, jumping as the imp smacks your ass before he does as you ask. You’re straddling his lap as soon as he’s settled, and he smirks cockily up at you, his eyes rolling back slightly as you lower yourself back onto his cock.

Blitzø clutches at your hips as you bring your mouth to his, and he moans into it as you slip your tongue past his lips. The imp’s tail entangles with yours, claws digging deep into your tender flesh as you fuck yourself over his lap. Grinding with each drop of your hips, you whine against his lips as your clit grazes against the line of his hips.

“Ho-ly shit,” he grunts, pressing his hips up into yours with each rolling thrust. Your head tips back as he leaves biting, teasing kisses against your throat and chest. “Fuuuuck…”

Blitzø’s hands wander to your waist, then your ass, grasping so hard at the soft flesh that you’re certain he’s leaving marks. The idea thrills you, and you dig your nails into his shoulders until he hisses, dusting kisses over the top of his head and the base of his horns before bringing your mouth back down to his.

The two of you are playing at the edge of orgasm together, each desperate, claiming touch bringing the two of you closer to release, gasping and cursing. When you cum, it’s with his fingers quick against your clit and his cock buried deep inside your throbbing pussy. You shudder against him, pressing your body flush against his as you choke out his name. Blitzø uses the hand still clutching at your hip to urge you into continued movement, bouncing you on his cock despite the way your moans are becoming almost pained with the amount of stimulation coursing through you.

His fingers don’t ease up on your clit at all, and Blitzø groans strings of curse words as your cunt milks his cock. He buries his teeth in your shoulder as he cums too, and your breath catches in your throat as the pain sends you back over that edge. “Fuck, Blitz!”

You collapse against his chest, rolling your hips disjointedly over his as shivers rock through you. The imp groans behind gritted teeth, head falling back, as he struggles to steady himself. Your cunt tightening around him makes him whine, his exhale coming in a breathless, shaking laugh.

“Okay, okay… shit, I get it!” He finally stops teasing your clit, grabbing hold of your waist and forcing you to stop rocking over his lap. There are tears burning in your eyes, and you shudder into his chest as you try to catch your breath. “I get it, tits… Fuck, you keep goin’ and it’s gonna fall off.”

You giggle breathlessly into the side of his neck, and Blitzø drops a kiss to your temple. “Thank fuck.”

He snickers, cursing again as he lifts you off of his cock. “Feel better?”

You let yourself fall back so you’re stretched out on the cushions in front of him, knees bent as you push your thighs together. “Dunno. Still got a tonne of work to do.”

Blitzø huffs a dramatic sigh, making a show of rolling his eyes.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, are ya?” He knocks your knees to the side with the back of his head, flopping down on top of you. You laugh painfully as it knocks the air out of you, and he grins almost fondly down at you, folding his arms over your chest and resting his chin on top of them. “Round two?”

You snort a laugh. “Oh, fuck you.”

He leans up to kiss you, letting it linger for a moment, his tail tapping against your ankle as it twitches back and forth. “That’s the idea, yeah.”

[nolita-fairytale]

don’t want to walk alone | carmen ‘carmy' berzatto | chapter three: september

summary: the moment we've all be waiting for: you and carmy get married.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 7.1k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist. there is SO much music in this chapter, so per the playlist, it starts with 'it takes two' and ends with 'love story.'

a/n: ok so this chapter was a behemoth to write and i am in fact in love with it. it's taken me days, really weeks, to get what i wanted out of it and i still feel like i could've gone deeper. however, i'm also kind of just happy to have this out in the world and give these two the wedding they wanted me to give them. each moment was curated and thought out, down to the music selection so this chapter is really just a product of me stewing on this idea for quite a bit of time. this is a part of my make my heart surrender universe so check out the masterlist if you haven't read the series! next up? their long weekend at the langham where we really get carmy x reader and moments for just them. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part two | masterlist | part four

“It takes two to make a thing go riiiiight.”

You never pictured the night before your wedding like this, you think to yourself, as you listen to Fak sing, to the best of his ability in a somewhat-decent falsetto, along to the 90s hip hop classic. 

Hell, you’re not sure you really ever pictured your wedding, but as you sit, surrounded by the people you love, you can’t see it going any other way than this. You watch as Richie rallies up as many people as he can for shots of Mallort, recounting that infamous morning at Ceres – a story he’s told over and over again, yet still manages to tell as animated and boisterously as the first time you heard it. 

You groan as you watch Richie successfully convince Gary to take a shot with him, Gary’s face twisting into a look of disgust in response to the foul taste of the Chicago liquor, as Sugar reminds him that he should know better by now. 

Carmy gives your knee a squeeze while simultaneously brushing off Richie’s attempt at shoving a shot in his direction. You laugh, a warm feeling filling you to the brim (could be the beer, could be being surrounded by your people), while Sydney jumps right into her best Rob Base impression. 

It just so happens that your continuously put-off ‘let’s shoot for next month’ karaoke plans with a few staff members from The Bear coincided with plans to go out with friends before the wedding, which is how you’ve found yourself here. 

After a lovely dinner at The Bear, your parents went back to the hotel for the night, insisting that you two go and have your fun. And as much as you would’ve loved to have brought your mother-who-has-a-doctorate-in-music-theory to karaoke night, she much preferred a good night’s sleep. 

The crowded bar claps enthusiastically as Fak and Sydney wrap up their song, finishing their truly-made-up-only-for-comedy dance moves. You giggle, exchanging another glance with Carmy, as your friends take their bows, before shuffling off of the stage. 

You hear the loud boom of the emcee’s voice through the microphone as he says:

“And up next we got… Tina!”

“Let’s go, T!” you shout through hands crowded around your mouth, in an effort to increase your volume of sound. 

Carmy cheers, clapping his hands together as Richie enthusiastically chants Tina’s name while Tina makes her way to the stage. 

“This is gonna be good,” Sugar nudges you, from where you are, seated in between the Berzatto siblings. 

You nod your head in agreement before settling in a little closer to Carmy. 

“The queen, herself,” Sydney remarks, gesturing towards the stage as she and Fak both return to your table. Sydney pulls up a chair next to where you and Carmy sit while Fak joins Richie on the other side of it. “And the ONLY act that could follow our exceptional performance.” 

“Well, exactly,” you agree, playfully. 

You exchange a laugh with Syd, while Carmy playfully rolls his eyes at the two of you. 

The crowded bar room goes quiet as soon as Tina reaches the stage, smiling nervously as she grabs the mic. 

“This one goes out to our favorite Jeffrey. And his lady Jeff,” she begins, earning a round of cheers and hollers from the group you’re with. Tina blows a kiss you and Carmy’s way, before nodding at the emcee to begin. 

“I love you guys.”

You hear the beginning notes of the iconic Etta James tune, gasping in anticipation of her song:

“at last my love has come along my lonely days are over and life is like a song.”

You sigh in admiration, a hand over your heart as Tina continues to sing. Her voice is powerful, soulful – perfect for the song, really – as she continues into the second verse. 

“at last the skies above are blue my heart was wrapped up in clover the night I looked at you.”

This time, it’s Carmy who steals a glance your way, his mind taken back to that fateful night at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, when he spilled his drink on you so many years ago. You’re entranced, enchanted, with Tina’s performance, and he thinks to himself, that maybe this is the best it’s ever going to get: being here with you, getting to love you, on the cusp of promising you ‘forever’ tomorrow. 

Never had he expected that you’d make it this far. You’d always been so much cooler than him – well-liked, talented, funny – in and out of the kitchen, that he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to talk to you without vomiting all over your shoes out of nerves. 

He can remember that night so vividly: standing there in the restroom of the bar he can barely remember the name of, while you stood across from him with the kind of glare on your face he swore could kill him. But you didn’t, and after many attempts to push you away, you asked him to be your friend, deeming it the day that started it all – a friendship that would teeter the line of friendship and something more, one that would bloom into the greatest love he’s ever known. As much as he hates to give Nate fucking Walker any kind of credit, he’ll the be first in line to say he’s glad the jagoff pushed him into you, setting it all in motion. 

You can see that Carmy’s become distracted, lost in thought as the song finishes, something behind your favorite pair of blue eyes as the entire bar ignites into a huge round of celebratory claps for Tina’s performance. 

You look up over at him, setting your beer bottle down on the table before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I can hear you thinkin’ over there, Berzatto,” you tease him quietly, pulling him from his trip down memory lane. “It’s only the night before the biggest day of your life. Relax.”

Carmy rolls his eyes playfully in response, but before he can properly respond to your jab, the emcee has begun introducing the next karaoke singers to the stage. 

“Alright. Looks like I’ve got uh… three singers here this time,” the emcee says, his voice cutting sharply through the crowd of remaining cheers. “Let’s welcome Sydney back to the stage with… Sugar and… the bride to be!” 

“What!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide with surprise as Sydney jumps to her feet.  

“But I didn’t-,” you begin to protest, as Sugar pulls you to your feet, tugging on your arm. 

“Oh there’s no way in hell we’re letting you sit this one out,” Sugar orders you, as Sydney rushes to your side, ushering you towards the stage. 

“Yeah this was your idea!” Sydney simultaneously reminds you. 

“Babe! Help!” you call out to Carmy, only to be met with a shrug and a look that says ‘don’t think I could if I tried.’ 

“Oh, he’s in on this,” Sydney adds, which does explain why he didn’t even attempt to help you when your friends began dragging you out of your chair. “So don’t even think about asking him for help.”

“Wh-? But I don’t even know what we’re singing!” you continue to protest, looking from Sugar to Sydney as they push you onto the stage with them. 

“Trust,” Sydney reassures you, her face serious, while Nat slides a sash over you (one you’ve refused to wear all night) that has the word, ‘BRIDE’ printed over it in huge gold lettering. You groan, sending a glare in Nat’s direction, even though you know it’s all in good fun. 

You hear Richie shout, while Fak and Marcus clap loudly, and Carmy laughs, shouting words of encouragement your way. 

You know there’s no use in putting up a fight, especially since this was your idea anyways, as you begrudgingly take one of the three wireless mics. Before you can ask once more, what the hell Syd and Nat signed the three of you up to sing, a distinct slide of piano keys comes in, lighting up the karaoke screen in front of you. 

You grin immediately, in recognition, and to your two best friend’s delight, as they smile too, raising the mics to your lips to sing:

“friday night and the lights are low looking out for a place to go where they play the right music getting in the swing you come to look for a king.”

You laugh as your friends point towards Carmy on the last line. The three of you continue to sing the next part with reckless abandon, and all is forgiven. 

You could care less about how the three of them conspired against you to get you up here. All that matters now is that you’re here, singing one of your favorite songs with your best friends, grooving and dancing to the ABBA classic, as you prepare to marry your best friend. 

“you can dance you can jive having the time of your life ooh, see that girl watch that scene digging the dancing queen.”

"what good is love without any strings?" dayglow, 'close to me'

“Baby.”

Carmy groans in response, as soon as he hears the low hum of your voice. 

“Good morning,” you say, a soft smile on your face as you watch him begin to blink his eyes open. 

Carmy turns his head towards you, and he can’t believe he gets to wake up to this – to you – every single day. 

“Hey,” he says back, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Good Morning, sweetheart.” 

“Guess what?” you ask him with the kind of glee and anticipation as a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Hmm?” he hums, as you smooth a hand over his chest, your body pressed against his side as you look at your soon-to-be husband. 

“We’re getting married today,” you grin, a giddiness that bubbles inside of you. 

“‘S that so?” he mumbles, playfully. 

“Uh huh,” you nod with a chuckle, this time playing along. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Instead of replying with words, Carmy swiftly wraps an arm around you, before flipping you so that you’re the one on your back this time. You let out of a shriek and a laugh as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before adding:

“How could I ever?”

You shrug casually, “Weeeelll…. you just have so much going on up there.” You reach up to where Carmy hovers above you, brushing a golden curl out of his eyes as you continue your little dance. 

“You know, between the restaurant and all that time spent being a genius,” you joke, bantering with Carmy. “Don’t know how you have the time to remember silly little things like wedding dates and what not.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carmy laughs, shaking his head incredulously, before pressing another kiss, this one much deeper to your lips again. 

And this time, as he pulls away, he gives you one of those languid looks that pierces right through your soul replying much more seriously this time with:

“I could never forget you.”

The way he says it with such conviction takes your breath away, and you know that Carmy means it. The double meaning isn’t lost on him either. 

It’s one of the reasons he called you all those years ago to come teach Marcus; it’s why you ended up in Chicago:

Because as much as he tried, as damn good at compartmentalizing as he’d always been, he really could never forget you. Carmy shakes his head once more, a playful smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you again, wondering when the hell he got this fuckin’ sentimental. As he places his mouth over yours, you’re more than happy to switch gears into doing this dance for a little longer. 

 Carmy traces light shapes against your skin, his mouth pouring love into yours with every kiss, with every drag of his tongue. You gasp as he grinds his hips into yours, making it clear where he’d like this all to go. You pull away, only for a moment, giggling cheekily. 

“Babe, I-,” you begin to protest, as Carmy chuckles, continuing to kiss you with zero intention of stopping “We… we’re going to be late.” This time, you feel his hands snake underneath the t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in, sending chills down your spine. 

“And-, Carm-, I-, I have to do my hair for-, … and what about-, my parents, they’ll-,” you stammer through, your thoughts becoming all kinds of disorganized with the way Carmy’s lips move against your neck this time. 

“I’ll be quick,” he answers with an aplomb you didn’t know he had in him. 

“I don’t know if that’s the flex you think it is,” you tease him as his hands begin to cup your breasts, your body responding with an involuntary arch of your back. 

“How fast I can make you come? I think it might be?” he murmurs against your lips, cockily.  

“Carmy,” you moan, as he begins to pull your t-shirt up higher, making it incredibly difficult to think of your to-do list for much longer. 

“Oh fuck it,” you sigh, deciding that, perhaps there’s no harm in getting the honeymoon started a little early anyways. 

“That’s my girl,” Carmy whispers against you, grinning like a Cheshire cat as you surrender to him. 

And he’s right about this too. 

How fast he can make you cum deserves all kinds of bragging rights, awards – a Nobel Peace prize, even – and you’re not sure why you thought getting a head start on doing your hair would’ve been the better idea in the first place. You spend the morning in the arms of the man you plan to spend forever with as he writes love letters, promises to give you the world, declarations of adoration with the pleasure he brings you. And besides, you’re not running all that behind on time anyways – something you realize, as the two of you get out of the shower (a round two, really). 

It takes a little longer than expected – mostly due to the fact that you and Carmy can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other – but against all odds, the two of you pull up to the courthouse right on time. 

It’s a sight for sore eyes: you, running hand in hand with your husband-to-be in a white, halter-cut wedding dress while Carmy follows along, in a classic black suit – no tie around the neck – as the two of you hurry into the courthouse. 

Sure, you could’ve tried to get here early – saved a little time and stress – but where’s the fun in that?

The two of you approach your families, hand in hand, to the sounds of your heels clicking against the marble floors of City Hall. The actual ceremony at City Hall, you’d both decided, would be family only. 

Since you weren’t making a huge deal of it, you viewed this part as necessary paperwork, while the party itself could function as the ceremony and reception. But as soon as you see the look on your parents’ faces, you know this is more than just a few signed papers. You watch as their faces change, from impatient, waiting, eager, to in awe and emotional as you walk towards them. 

You hear Ava shout your name, immediately dropping her dad’s hand as she runs towards you. 

“Ava!!” you exclaim, bending down in your heels and white dress to scoop her up into a hug. You spin her around, just for a moment, before setting her back down on the floor. 

“You look like a princess,” she says, completely in awe, her eyes wide as she looks up at you. 

“You look like a princess, sweetie,” you reply, before giving her another hug. “And you know I can’t wait to hear your song, right?” 

“I picked the best one,” she grins, proudly. 

“I’m sure you did,” you reply confidently, with a playful wink. 

“Oh-ho! Pay up, Rick,” Sugar mutters smugly, to Richie, as Carmy busies himself with greeting both of your parents.

Richie groans, muttering something profane as he not-so-discreetly hands Nat a $20 bill, earning a quizzical look from both of your parents that travels from Carmy and then to you. 

“Sorry,” Richie apologizes, this time directing this one towards your parents as he holds up both hands, respectfully bowing his head. 

You send a playful glare Richie’s way, earning a sardonic laugh from Natalie, as you push right past him and over to your parents. 

“Oh sweetie,” your mom gasps, pulling you in for a tight squeeze. 

“Hi, Mom,” you grin, as you hug her. “Dad!”

“My God, honey, you look beautiful,” your dad says, as it’s his turn next. You hug your dad, exchanging a few words about the morning, asking how they slept, how the hotel is, as your mom and Carmy hug it out. 

This time, he turns his attention towards Carmy, so you release him, letting the two of them have their moment. 

Taking your chance, while your parents are otherwise distracted, you make your way over to where Sugar and Richie stand. 

“What? You guys were betting on whether or not we’d be late?” you ask Sugar, an eyebrow quirked in Richie’s direction. 

“Listen,” Sugar sighs, cupping your face in her hands, endearingly. “You and Carm are nothing if not consistent.” You exchange a laugh with your almost-sister-in-law because you know she’s right. “And for the record, I bet that you’d be-.”

“Just in time!” the judge says, as he approaches the six of you, slipping his judge robe over his shoulders, black leather fold pressed against his chest. “You guys ready to get started?”

Carmy looks over at you, as if he’s waiting for you to take the lead here, and you nod, before the both of you turn back to the judge. 

“Yes.” 

“Great,” he smiles, clapping his hands together once. “Then let’s get you two married!”

"sooner or later, you'll find yourself right where you were, on the corner went looking for her, she had somethin' to tell you, she can't quite remember, but wait for a second, it always comes back to her, you always come back to her." -- the japanese house, 'morning pages'

And after dotting all appropriate i’s and crossing all necessary t’s, with one signed marriage license later, you, Carmy, your parents, Richie and Ava, Sugar, and Judge Thompson find yourself on the green roof of City Hall. 

Carmy stands across you, his hands in yours, offering you a lifetime with one look from the most expressive blue orbs you’ve ever found yourself in. 

“If you’d like to say something, if you prepared any vows… now would be the time,” Judge Thompson says, offering you and Carmy both the space to do so. 

“Oh I think we-,” you begin, ready to decline the opportunity since you figured you’d save it for the reception. 

“Actually uh, yeah. Can we?” Carmen interjects, sending you a look of reassurance. 

“Of course,” Judge Thompson nods, giving you and Carmy the floor. 

“Carm, I didn’t prepare anything for-,” you begin, but he’s quick to put your mind and heart at ease and he interjects with:

“It’s okay. I did.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t expected this, since you both agreed you’d save any kind of speeches that may or may not happen today during the reception. But as Carmy’s palms grow clammier, a nervous look in his eyes as he searches for the words he’s practiced over the last few days, it becomes clear that he’s been planning this. 

“As you know… I’m not always great with words,” he begins, almost apologetically, letting out a small laugh as he looks to Richie for reassurance. In turn, Richie gives Carmy a sympathetic nod, and you’re practically melting over the fact that he probably asked Richie for help with this. 

Let it rip.

 “I just uh-,” Carmy stammers, because he really, really wants to get this right. “Well, I’ll keep it brief.” He takes a breath, letting all of his nerves out on the exhale before beginning again. 

Let it rip, buddy.

“I have loved you for so long – I think maybe since the day you brought me soup after I uh… you know, spilled my drink on you,” he states, earning the sweetest laugh from you, your friends, and family that came to witness. 

“-- so I promise to love you for even longer, for forever. You changed my life.”

You exhale, trying your best not to cry right here and now, thankful for the mysterious powers of waterproof mascara. 

“Jeez, no pressure,” you joke, dryly, before taking another breath, this time approaching your words with much more seriousness.

“Carmen. I’m so happy… that I changed your life,” you begin, cheekily, earning a laugh from your witnesses once more. “Because you changed mine. And I promise to love you forever.” 

‘I love you,’ Carmy mouths to you, before nodding towards the judge to signal that you’re both done with your vows. 

“Alright then,” Judge Thompson smiles, looking from you and then to Carmen, before uttering the question that will change the course of your life forever. 

“I do,” Carmy replies, his voice even, sure, ready. 

Natalie steps up this time, handing Carmy your ring, and you watch, teary eyed and full hearted as he slides it onto your left ring finger. 

“And do you take Carmen Anthony Berzatto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Judge Thompson repeats the question, this time for you to answer. 

“Yeah, why the hell not?” you reply, earning a groan from your mother and a playful chuckle from your father. 

“Yes. I do.” 

At Richie’s encouragement, it’s Ava this time who steps up, handing you Carmy’s ring, with the sweetest most excited smile on her face as she looks from you to Carmy. You thank her, before returning your attention to Carmy once more. His eyes search your face, and there’s something so soft, so genuine in them that you think you’re going to cry as you help him put on his new piece of jewelry as well. 

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” Judge Thompson concludes, contently.

“Should we-, do we kiss?” Carmy asks, looking from you to Judge Thompson. 

“I’m just a civil servant but you may, yes,” he answers lightheartedly. 

“Let’s go for it,” you shrug, taking a step towards Carmy. 

Instead of answering, he smiles, stepping towards you before planting one on you in front of your friends and family that were invited to this brief ceremony. 

While Sugar claps gleefully, Richie claps along muttering a ‘get a room,’ while you remind Carmy to keep it PG enough for your parents. You giggle, slowly pulling away from the kiss that begins the rest of your life with the man that you love. 

“We did it, baby. We’re married,” you chuckle, in disbelief. 

“Finally,” Carmy sighs, and you can see his smile from his lips to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

It doesn’t take long for your mom to usher both you and Carmy over to a spot in the garden she thinks will be best for pictures, just as the photographer arrives. She wasn’t wrong when she insisted you hire one, that you’d want to remember this day for the rest of your life. The photographer, who is incredibly talented, gets the shots needed up here in the garden, then downstairs, and outside, before you’re all off to Sugar’s place for the reception. 

As you and Carmy sit in the car, having taken a separate one than your parents, you’re giddy with anticipation. 

It’s all so surreal. 

Never in his life did Carmy picture it ever getting this good, but as he looks over at you, your head resting on his shoulder, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiling to himself. 

“We did it, sweet girl. We’re married,” he says, repeating your words from earlier. 

“Yeah,” you grin, lifting your head off of his shoulder. 

“We are, Bear.”

"give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose."

“No, Sugar! That’s not supposed to go out yet. Everything’s goin’ out family style. Let’s just take out the apps for-,” Carmy exclaims, stressed over the execution of your wedding reception-slash-brunch, because he just can’t help himself. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Bear!” she snaps at her brother. “Will you calm down and let us handle this?” 

“I just want everything to-,” Carmy begins, his face blushing a shade darker. 

“To go right. We know. And we know we’re just taking out apps, alright? Everyone else is outside, and everyone’s having a good time so just… relax,” she suggests, her tone serious because she’s just about to kick Carmy out of the kitchen. 

Carmy shifts nervously, hyper-fixating on the happenings of the kitchen, his eyes tracking the movements of one of his caterer, Derek’s, sous chefs. It’s almost as if he needs to give himself a distraction as he asks, blankly:

“Do you uh… you think Mom is actually gonna show?”

Sugar pauses, the question throwing her. 

“I… I don’t know. I called her yesterday. She never picked up. What do you think?” she replies, her voice quiet. 

With your encouragement, you and Carmy had sent his mother an invitation to the brunch, only it’s been Sugar who’s followed up with her. 

“We did what we needed to and if she doesn’t come, then she doesn’t come. I’m not pushin’ it,” Carmy had explained, justifying his actions, or rather, lack there of, to you. 

She’s doubtful, but Nat can’t help the tiny glimmer of hope she has in her heart that Donna might show, even if she knows it’s unrealistic. In fact, her mom had barely been interested in stopping by as of late, ever since she’d told the Berzatto matriarch that she was pregnant. She keeps telling herself that it doesn’t matter – that it’s probably better if Donna doesn’t show – but it doesn’t help ease the disappointment she feels about the situation as a whole. 

“Doubt it, honestly. Never even got an RSVP so,” Carmy shrugs, his eyes following one of the caterers as the woman plates a few Hors d'oeuvres on a large serving platter. 

Before Sugar can say anything else about their mom, Carmy’s impulse takes over as he opens his mouth to give feedback to one of Derek’s assistants. 

“Carmy!” she snaps, blocking his pathway with her body, before repeating one more time:

“Let. Us. Handle this.”

“I mean, are any of us actually surprised, Nat?” Sydney adds, as soon as she enters the kitchen from where she’s been outside in the backyard, in search of another plate to bring out. “He’s a control freak! We know this!”

“I-,” Carmy starts, knowing it’s no use protesting, as both Sugar and Syd begin guiding him out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“C’mon, Carm. Why don’t you go see what your wife is up to?” Sydney suggests, emphasizing your new title, earning a snicker from Natalie. 

“Who’s wife? This wife?” you ask, as soon as your feet hit the bottom of the staircase. 

“Woah,” is all Carmy says. He can’t help but stare, gawking at you in your new dress. 

You’ve changed out of your near-floor length wedding dress into a sleeveless white blazer dress that’s much more friendly to hanging out with your friends and family outside, kept your hair the same, and put on one of those super stay red lipsticks that you’re eager to put through its paces. 

It’s as if time stops when he sees you, and Sugar and Syd both notice, using this time to retreat back to their duties. The only thing that can break his focus right now is the way that you let a carefree laugh fly from your lips, as soon as you see that Natalie’s using the future baby’s baby gate that Nat must’ve purchased early, to officially block Carmy from coming back to the kitchen. 

“What?” Carmy asks, only to be met with a gesture towards what Natalie is doing. 

He frowns, immediately seeing the baby gate his sister has put up. 

“You know, I’m not a baby,” he pouts at his sister. 

“Then stop acting like one!” she parries right back, before disappearing into the kitchen to help out your caterer. 

Quick to console your husband, you wrap your arms around your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“They’re only trying to make sure we have a good time, Bear,” you offer, sympathetically, only to be met with a heavy sigh because you know it feels near-impossible for him not to be in the kitchen. 

“You trust Derek right?” you ask this time, referring to the caterer that Carmy hand-picked for your wedding. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“Okay. Then let’s go out there. Make our grand entrance,” you suggest, a playful smile on your lips. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods again, this time a little more sure about taking a step away from what’s happening inside the kitchen. You take his hand, leading him towards the back door that opens up to the backyard. 

You’re truly amazed at what everyone involved has been able to do this morning, while you and Carmy were off at the courthouse getting married. Long tables pushed together and covered with tablecloths function as the main attraction of the you-and-Carmy-wedding-reception-brunch, filled with ceramic plates, printed menus, apps on serving platters, taper candles and flowers in all kinds of little to big vases. 

The minute the two of you enter the backyard area that’s been transformed into a wedding venue, you’re met with cheers, ooo’s and aaaaah’s, claps, and congratulations by your friends and family. 

“Sugar really knocked this out of the park,” Carmy says, in awe as he takes in the scene. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to trust, I guess.”

You nod, happy to hear the confidence in his voice as you agree, “That’s my guy!”

There’s a banner that hangs across a much smaller table, the one that holds the stunning wedding cake Marcus has made for you that reads, Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto.

“See? I told you I couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Berzatto,” you joke with Carmy, as the two of you walk hand in hand towards the table. 

“I think I like the sound of that more than I should,” Carmy smirks, a glimmer in his eyes that says ‘I can’t wait to get you alone.’

“Can’t wait for you to show me later,” you wink, referring to the long weekend you plan on spending with Carmy as a pre-honeymoon. “C’mon. We should probably go say hello.” 

“So… you two married now or what?” Marcus asks, as soon as the two of you approach the table. 

You hold up your left hand, showing off your new ring, earning grins and more cheers from your friends and family. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he celebrates, while Tina simultaneously and enthusiastically cries out: “Congratulations, babies!”

The plan is to divine and conquer. While you chat with Gary, Carmy lets himself become enveloped in Tina’s arms and praise, as the two of you make your way down the table saying hello to your guests: your parents, Marcus, Tina, Ebra, Fak, Gary, a few others from the restaurant, while. 

Carmy’s glad you decided to keep this wedding small: close friends and family only, because he’s not sure he could’ve done any more of this. It’s just close friends from the restaurant and your parents. You’d even decided earlier that this weekend would be chill enough that you’d celebrate with Maya and Liz a few months later when you and Carmy stop in New York before the official honeymoon, planning another celebration with your New York people for later. 

Besides, you don’t mind celebrating you and Carmy a few more times, after all. 

Finally, you’re both able to settle into the empty chairs seated right next to your parents in the middle of the table labeled ‘bride’ and ‘groom.’ It’s a Saturday well spent, being celebrated by some of your favorite people in the world on a day you made a promise to your favorite person in the world. It doesn’t take long for everyone in the kitchen to join you at the table: Sugar, Richie, Sydney, and Pete, and once the meal is served, family style, you’re pulling up chairs and insisting that Derek and his team join you as well. 

The menu is perfect, and you can see why Carmy’s been trying to get this guy to come work for him for so long. Next to Carmy’s, this carbonara might be your second favorite carbonara on the planet. After all the eating, drinking, and merry-making, it’s Richie who steps up to start the speeches, gently tapping a butter knife against a champagne glass as he stands at the table. 

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” he asks, his voice loud. Richie raises his champagne glass as he begins his speech with:

“Now as the best man and this Bobby Flay-motherfucker's cousin, I think I earn the right to kick this thing off, eh?” earning a laugh from everyone around the table. 

“To Carmy and his much, much better half,” he continues, earning a laugh from everyone around the table. Your mom squeezes your hand under the table, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Sydney nudging Carmy softly as Richie addresses you. 

“You once made me $150 richer.” You laugh, exchanging a look with your now-husband, as you fondly remember the day you returned to Chicago, only to learn that the entire restaurant staff of The Bear had been betting, not on if, but on when you’d return.

“You see, we all took bets – all of us – that you were comin’ back after that first week you spent here in Chicago, and you know why? I think it was obvious to any jagoff with a pair of eyes that what you and Cousin had was something special – something not to be missed, or overlooked, or skipped over. And thank God you two idiots woke up and figured it out yourselves. You did good, cousin. And I know your brother would’ve wanted to be here for this. I love you, man. I love you both.”

“To this very special day, and to the rest of your lives. Cheers.”

“Cheers!” everyone repeats, raising their glasses, clinking in celebration. 

The upside to having a small wedding party is having a small wedding party, and the downside is that everyone who feels the need to get in a word does so. While Ebraheim waxes on about love as a metaphor, Marcus keeps his toast short, leading to the cutting of your wedding cake:

Vanilla bean cake, with a clementine curd, a swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with delicate flowers, citrus, and dollops of curd to finish. 

Richie slips out with Pete momentarily, earning a few quizzical looks from both Carmy and Nat as she gets up from the table to make sure they’re not trading punches in the driveway. It’s not till Richie returns with Pete, carrying a rented little karaoke machine for Ava. Hand in hand, you watch as Natalie guides Ava up and out of her chair, and over to the head of the table, handing her the microphone. 

“You ready, sweetheart?” she asks, earning a confident nod from Ava. 

The beginning of the famous Taylor Swift begins to play, and you and Carmy exchange a knowing look as she begins to sing along. 

“we were both young when i first saw you i close my eyes and the flashback starts i'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air.”

As Natalie and Pete watch on, Pete hugs his wife close to her, tears in his eyes as he whispers: 

“This is going to be us very, very soon.” 

“Yeah,” Nat nods, holding back her own tears as she notices how proud Richie looks, and how happy Ava seems to be. 

It’s not that she wants Donna here. Realistically, she knows that it would be a nightmare, most likely descending into drama and chaos from the minute she walked in, but she can’t believe that her own mother didn’t come to her son’s wedding. She shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurts more than she imagined, doing this, watching Carmy get married, having this baby with Pete, all without her. 

Ava finishes her Taylor Swing song to a resounding and enthusiastic round of applause. Marcus cheers her on while you and Carmy share a soft, chaste kiss, welcoming Ava with open arms as she runs towards you. 

“That was so good, baby,” Richie exclaims, when it’s his turn to scoop Ava up into his arms as you get out of your seat. Allowing Richie to sit next to Carmy while the two gush over her performance, you get up, eager to help put the karaoke machine away. 

As she watches, Nat reminds herself that this is what family looks like – this is the family she wants for her baby – even if it means something, someones, are missing.

And it’s as if she can’t hold back her tears anymore, excusing herself as she jerks her body away from Pete’s grasp, hurrying back inside so as not to cause a scene. 

“What just-?” Pete begins. 

“I’ll go,” you assure him, having witnessed the whole interaction. “I-, it’s not you, Pete. I’ll go.”

It doesn’t take you long to find Nat, though she’s not where you expected her to be, having run all the way upstairs when you find her sitting on the floor of the baby’s nursery – one you helped paint and get ready over a month ago. 

“Hey, everything alright?” you ask, as you gently push the door open. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” she sniffles, wiping tears out of her eyes as she realizes she’s no longer alone. 

“Nat, what… what’s going on?” you ask her, joining her on the floor. 

But it seems as if your question only makes it worse as her face crumbles once more, beginning to cry. 

“Oh no! I-, Nat, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it even worse.”

“No, no, you didn’t. It’s just these… stupid pregnancy hormones!” she exclaims, frustratedly, earning a small laugh from the both of you. 

She takes a beat, and then a breath, and then finally, she feels ready to tell you. 

“It’s Mom,” she admits, even though she really doesn’t want it to be. “I just can’t believe she didn’t show. It’s stupid, I know.” 

You nod in understanding, before scooting a little closer to her, “It’s not stupid! And I’m sorry. For the both of you, really. Carmy doesn’t want to talk about it but, I know he’s some combination of relieved and disappointed too.” 

Sugar sighs, “Yeah that uh, that sums it up pretty well. About anything involving Mom these days.” 

Nat takes another breath, and another beat, because she knows she’s safe to share this with you. 

“I just… I’ve just been thinking a lot… with the baby and everything. About family. About motherhood. I mean, your parents are so great and I-. I’m just sad for us, you know?”

“I’m sad for you too,” you empathize, rubbing soothing circles on her back, before leaning back on both of your hands instead. 

“God, I’m so sorry. It’s your wedding day and I’m causing all the drama,” Nat begins to apologize. 

“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for!” you interrupt her, quick to dismiss any notion of that. “You lent us your house and put together all of this in your backyard on top of accompanying us to the courthouse! You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sugar nods slowly, processing what you’ve just said, realizing that you and Pete have been such big role models of unconditional love for her. 

“Wanna know what I think?” you ask, your voice a little more optimistic this time. 

“What’s up?” she asks back, stealing a glance your way. 

“I think… that now that I’m a Berzatto… and with your little Bear on the way,” you begin, painting her the picture. “We’ve got a whole new chance to write a new chapter for the Berzattos.” 

She looks your way once more, because these are the words she didn’t know she needed to hear. 

“And with that… we can make this… make our families anything we want them to be filled with love, and joy, and-, well, only a little drama because you know, you guys are… you. But… Sug. This can all start with us, you know?”

“You really think so?” she asks you, a hopeful look in her eyes. 

“Yeah,” you answer, confidently. 

She nods slowly once more, almost as if she’s letting herself believe them. 

“Thank you. For checking in on me. For… this,” she says softly, sniffling again. 

“That’s what sisters are for,” you repeat her words back to her, one’s that she’s said to you time and time again. 

“We should probably get back out there,” Sugar suggests, sitting up a little taller this time. 

“Yeeeaaaaahhhhh,” you sigh, disappointedly, this time making a joke as you continue with: “We don’t want to start any rumors about us running away together. 

Nat snorts with laughter, thanking you for always making her laugh, as you stand up, making your way to your feet. You hold out your hands, helping Nat up to hers this time, before the two of you head back downstairs. 

“Hey,” Carmy says, as soon as he sees the two of you. “Pete said you disappeared.”

“We were just talking about some stuff,” you reply, sharing a look with Sugar before releasing her hand. 

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” she says, before slipping out through the back door. 

“Everything okay?” Carmy asks, his brow knitted together in concern. 

You nod, “Yeah, she’s alright. How’re you doing?”

“Today? I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he replies, a smile on his lips that makes you melt. 

“Damn right you are,” you reply, pressing your lips against his. 

It’s a private moment for just you two, where you can kiss him like you want to, and you have to admit that the lipstick holds up. Wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands go to your waist, you propose a grand idea to your husband:

“Now that cake has been cut… what do you say… we spend a little more time with our guests, say our goodbyes… then we get our honeymoon started early? Think uh… our room at the Langham should be ready by now.”

“Thought we already did that this morning,” Carmy smirks, kissing you again. 

You giggle, leaning your forehead against his, “You know what I mean, jerk.” 

Carmy scoffs, shaking his head incredulously as he feigns hurt, “Married for a few hours and you’re already insulting me.” Instead of adding anything else, he simply pulls you in closer by your hips murmuring against your lips:

“Alright then, Mrs. Berzatto. Then let’s go say goodbye to our guests.”

“it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes" – taylor swift, ‘love story’

[intheticklecloset]

Play With Me (Blue Lock)

Summary: Bachira wants Isagi to tickle him. Isagi happily obliges...then gets some tickles of his own as a reward!

A/N: I love these two so much oh my goooooosh. THEY ARE PRECIOUS. I love their playfulness with each other and open affection for one another and just - all of it! BachIsagi has my whole heart! 🥰🥰🥰

Word Count: 1388

~~~

A pair of golden eyes popped into Isagi’s vision, and he smiled.

“Hey,” he said, untucking his hands from behind his head, expecting Bachira to lean down and kiss him, or at the very least settle in for a good cuddle session.

“Hey,” Bachira replied, then promptly turned around and flopped backward so he was lying as dead weight on top of his boyfriend.

Isagi felt the air woosh out of him and he coughed in surprise, groaning, “Bachira! You’re heavy; get off!”

“Make me,” Bachira replied.

Isagi smirked. Ah, so he wanted to play, did he? He obliged, digging his fingers into the smaller boy’s ribs, dancing up and down lightly, teasingly. Bachira giggled but barely even twitched, not yet bothered enough to actually squirm.

Well, that was going to change.

Isagi wrapped his arms around him in a hug, digging into his sides even harder, grinning as Bachira cackled above him, hands lightly grasping his arms but not pushing away yet.

“Like this?” Isagi teased into his ear, and Bachira nodded.

For a moment the taller boy scribbled playfully along his sides and ribs, eventually slipping around to his tummy, which made his boyfriend squeal happily and grasp his arms a little harder – the first sign he was starting to break.

Then he pulled out the big guns.

Still keeping one arm wrapped around his waist, Isagi slipped his opposite hand between them to scribble at his back.

“Ah! Ehehehehehehe – Isagi!” Bachira shrieked, giggles finally morphing into laughter as he began to squirm. “Nohohohohoho!”

“Oh, yes. I think you want me to tickle you riiiiight here,” Isagi teased, finding that death spot between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades.

Bachira nearly screamed, arching out of Isagi’s grip so hard he was able to break free, but not hard enough to fully dislodge the other boy. Soon they had rolled over, with Isagi sitting on top of Bachira and the shorter of the two face-down on the bedroll.

Isagi braced Bachira’s hips with his knees, sat on his waist, and clawed at his back freely like a cat with a scratching post.

“AH!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA ISAGHIHIHIHIHI!!” Bachira cried, laughing loudly into the bedroll, gripping the blankets in his fists to have something to ground himself on.

Isagi chuckled. “Yes, bumblebee?”

“TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!!”

“Are you telling me, or asking for more?”

Bachira’s ears turned pink as he laughed, trying and failing to buck Isagi off of him. “MY BAHAHAHAHAHACK!!”

“What about it?” Isagi asked, grinning like a goon. He always loved making Bachira lose his grip like this; the best part was, his boyfriend had asked him to help him let go. It was a level of trust he loved and wanted to be worthy of.

Bachira tapped his palm against the bedroll. “GEHEHEHEHENTLE!!”

Isagi instantly abandoned Bachira’s shoulder blades and lightened his touch, pinching and scribbling at his sides close to his hips instead. He knew the code word well enough by now – don’t stop, but don’t tickle his worst spot, either.

“Ticklish little bumblebee,” he teased softly, enjoying the light, airy giggles he was receiving for his efforts now. Bachira looked so content and relaxed; it was hard to remember to keep going when all Isagi wanted to do was kiss him. “Giggle for me, little bug.”

Bachira snickered quietly, not even moving a muscle to stop him for a minute or so until Isagi started climbing back up to his topmost ribs and underarms.

“Ehehehehehe! Isagi…” he whined, clamping his arms down protectively.

Isagi tickled just beneath the opening to his armpits, leaning down to speak directly in Bachira’s ear. “Let me in, little one~”

“Nohohohohohoooo,” Bachira protested weakly but eventually lifted his arms enough for Isagi to get what he wanted. Then he was laughing again, kicking his legs behind him. “Ahahahahaha, Isagi, plehehehehehease!”

“Please what? You asked for this,” Isagi chuckled. “You can get out any time. You know that.”

Bachira blushed and tried to hide his face, but it was hard when he was forced to look to one side or the other for the sake of breathing. Finally, however, after another minute Isagi dared to dig his thumbs into the smaller boy’s back again while still drilling into his armpits, and finally the dribbler squealed and cried, “OKAHAHAHAY, ENOHOHOHOUGH!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

Isagi let up but didn’t let go, leaning down to pepper Bachira’s cheeks with kisses, making him giggle in an entirely different way. “You’re cute, bumblebee.”

“Nohohohoho, you!” Bachira shot back.

Isagi ruffled his hair lovingly and finally climbed off of him.

He really should have realized what doing that would mean.

Bachira had him pinned on his back so fast Isagi got whiplash from the sheer speed of the maneuver, looking up at his boyfriend’s gleaming golden eyes with a shiver. “Wait, no—”

“Your turn~” Bachira giggled, giving him two seconds in which to protest if he didn’t want reciprocation. When the time was up, the smaller boy grabbed onto Isagi’s sides and squeezed playfully.

Isagi’s hands flew down immediately – he didn’t have the same self-control his partner did – and gripped Bachira’s arms as he squealed with mirth, trying to roll over but unable to go too far thanks to Bachira’s knees on other side of him.

“I just love hearing you laugh,” his boyfriend teased, grinning. “Tickle, tickle, Isagi~”

“Plehehehehehease! N-No fahahahahahair!” Isagi whined, bucking his hips when Bachira started pinching them.

“You can get out at any time~ Why don’t you say something if you want me to let you go?”

Isagi’s responding blush and more frantic giggling was the only response he got.

“Just what I thought. You wanted me to play with you! I saw it in your eyes when I came over here.” Bachira beamed down at him, suddenly darting up to drill into his bottom ribs. “Now it’s my turn to make you laugh!”

“BAHAHAHAHAHACHIRA!!” Isagi shrieked, bucking and squirming harder than before as his worst spot was assaulted mercilessly. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE—”

Then Bachira did something completely unexpected. He grabbed onto both wrists and shoved them above Isagi’s head, looming over him and pinning him down with a strength that was surprising to the taller boy. He tried to wriggle free, but it was pointless.

“H-How…?” he stammered, blushing under Bachira’s intense smirk.

“You like it? It makes it so much easier to tickle your ribs this way~”

And with that, the dribbler went right back to tickling his worst spot – this time without the protection of his arms or even the ability to squirm as much as before.

Isagi’s eyes went wide as he burst into laughter. “GAHAHAHAHAHA BAHAHAHACHIRA!! WHAHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEHEHEHELL?!”

Bachira giggled along with him. “The Monster told me you’d like it more if I pinned you down! Looks like he was right~”

“THE MOHOHOHOHONSTER CAN KIHIHIHHISS MY – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Now, now, Isagi. The Monster is only trying to help!” Bachira switched to vibrating his fingers into Isagi’s bottom ribs, making his boyfriend completely lose his mind laughing. The sight made the smaller boy smile, even if he was struggling to keep him in place by now.

“HEHEHEHEHEHELP WHOHOHOHO?!” Isagi cried, arching his back helplessly as his boyfriend continued to assault his worst spot with deadly precision. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE, NO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!!”

Bachira hummed. “You sure? You haven’t said the magic word yet!”

Isagi’s cheeks were red hot, but he managed to cackle out, “GEHEHEHEHEHEHENTLE!!” and finally gain some ticklish relief as his partner released his wrists from his grip and moved back to his sides, scribbling lightly. Isagi took a minute to catch his breath between giggles and muttered, “Y-Yohohohohou’re a mohohohohohonster in your own rihihihihight, buhuhuhumblebee.”

Bachira’s eyes lit up, and at first the taller boy thought it was because of the compliment, but then: “Call me that again.”

“W-Whahahat? A mohohohohonster?”

“No! The other thing.”

“Buhuhuhuhumblebee?”

Bachira finally slowed his tickling to a complete stop, leaning down to hover over Isagi’s face with his own. “I like hearing you say that when you’re giggling. It’s…” He struggled to find the right word, then shrugged and gave up, kissing his boyfriend with everything he had.

Isagi hummed, gripping his waist to pull him down even further, running his fingers through his hair. “Bumblebee…”

“Yoichi,” Bachira murmured in return, then kissed him again. “Thanks for always playing with me.”

Isagi smiled and brushed his cheek. ��Always.”

[sofmoth]

I Found My Place in This World (It’s in Your Wake)

here’s my entry for @beefrobeefcal’s september prompt!!! this is fairly out of my comfort zone so i do hope you all enjoy it! title is from 'she's the prettiest girl at the party and she can prove it with a solid right hook' by frank iero, work is not inspired by the song.

the photoshop is MYOB (mind your own business) mkay

also posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth), link here.

divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

husband!joel miller x wife!reader, WC: 1.03k

TAGS: husband!joel, anniversary dinner, all the fluff, chubby!joel, marriage has caused joel to gain weight, soft!joel, no physical description is given of reader, reader uses an inhaler, joel is goofin, POV u become one with the couch, joel calls reader “sweetie,” joel jokingly asks if he’s fat, reader jokingly calls themself “delicate," fuck i love this man

It’s officially been one year since you tied the knot, one whole year of living with your husband full-time. Joel had been fairly insistent that you lived separately until you got married, despite the fact that you spent more nights with him than without during your engagement. You never really minded, he had a mortgage to pay on his house but was still more than willing to help you with your rent until the day came.

One year later, and marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline. It was only a drawback according to your brother-in-law Tommy; you love the way Joel’s belly had softened over the last twelve months.

No longer was he forgetting to eat breakfast, packing himself a half-assed lunch to take to his job sites, nor was he attempting to pass off three-day-old pizza as a full dinner. If you could go back in time ten years, tell your younger self you have a husband you love cooking for, you would vomit on your own shoes. Being who you are now though, it’s a joy to make him a meal, fulfilling to see how happy it makes him that you’ve ensured he eats well in the early mornings and has proper lunches to keep him strong until dinner. The way he relaxes on the couch with you after, pulling you on top of him to cuddle, the wonderful healthy squish of his tummy between you a reminder to you both that love is not all in the way one looks.

He had been self-conscious at first, when he stepped on the scale and saw the number had increased. You very quickly put that worry to bed, assuring Joel every day that he was still the sexiest man alive. You told him how sexy he was irritatingly regularly, and then he started to believe it. He started walking around the house in his PJ pants with his shirt off again, you begging him to flex, him obliging. Joel’s belly and the weight he gained were the most physical and personal reminders of how much you loved him.

To celebrate this first full year of your marriage, you made a fabulous meal so you could stay in for the night and enjoy it together. Pot roast and potatoes, enough rolls to choke a horse, two or three glasses of wine. Joel is doing the dishes, you lay on the couch watching him across the room. He glances back at you, smiling, and you wave with your fingers. The wine has certainly hit you; you’re not drunk by any stretch, but you’re definitely more comfortable horizontal. You close your eyes, listening to the sink run for a few minutes before the last dish clinks in the drying rack and the water stops.

“Wow. My wife made such an amazing dinner, and I’m so tired from doing those dishes. I think I’d like to sit and rest.” You can hear the dry playfulness in his voice, eyes still closed.

“Boy oh boy, that couch looks comfy. I think I’ll have a seat riiiiight here.” Your eyes fly open, hand covering your mouth as you cackle at the feeling of him sitting on your shins.

“Joel! No, c’mon! If you’re gonna sit on me, at least sit on my thighs. I’m so delicate.” Joel rolls his eyes, smiles as he scoots up.

“You’re right, this cushion is way more comfortable. I think I could fall asleep here, matterfact I just might.”

You reach for him, pinching his side playfully. He does sit on your thighs for a few minutes, arms stretched across the back of the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed. The muscles in your legs finally begin to feel like TV static, and despite the fact that you’ve sobered up considerably it’s still not a particularly pleasant sensation.

“Oh shit, baby my legs are falling asleep. Bit’s over, I gotta move ‘em.” Joel looks down at you, mouth open in mock-offense.

“Is my wife calling me fat? On our one-year wedding anniversary, of all days? How dare you, I cannot believe this.”

Still, he does get up; long enough to lay his entire body on top of yours. He nuzzles into your neck, his beard scratching your skin softly. He sighs deeply, squeezes you in a hug as you rest your hand on his back. And then he raspberries you.

You squeal, laughing wildly as he begins laying a barrage of kisses to your neck and face. You laugh so hard you start struggling to pull in a full breath, and Joel jumps up quickly to get your inhaler out of your purse. You’re still laughing, now coughing and wheezing at the absurdity of the situation. He shakes the little plastic container thoroughly before uncapping it and handing it to you, tugging you upright before you press the canister and inhale.

He rubs your back as you hold your breath, exhaling slowly with you. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking the inhaler back and replacing it in your purse. As he sits back down he pulls you into his lap, cradling you against himself.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I got a little carried away. You feel okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. It wasn’t full-blown, I was just getting too wound up. Thank you for getting it, though.”

“Of course. Don’t want my wife taking a trip to the emergency room, especially not on our special day. Here, lemme—”

He shifts so he’s laying on his back, holding you on his chest as always. He continues rubbing your back, occasionally kissing the top of your head.

“Hey, husband?”

“Yes, wife?”

“That joke you made about me calling you fat, it wouldn’t matter to me at all if you actually were.”

“I know, sweetie.”

You rub Joel’s shoulder gently with your thumb, feeling yourself growing tired from the steady rhythm and pressure of his hand on your back.

“You can go to sleep, we’ll be okay out here tonight.” You hum.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[anxiousthoughts365]

Read

'Whatcha reading, Moonbeam?'

Remus didn't look up from his page. He was so engrossed in the words that he didn't care that his back and hip were aching from being crushed into the window seat of the boys' dormitory room for too long, or that the sun was dipping so low beneath the tree line of the Forbidden Forest that he was having to strain his eyes to keep reading. Even his boyfriend's proximity wasn't enough to draw his attention away.

'Muggle book,' he muttered, only half-aware of what he was saying. It wasn't until Sirius' head, cocked to one side so that he could read the tile on the book's cover, entered his line of vision that he placed a long finger between the pages to save his place and made himself look at the other boy.

'Oh, Oscar Wilde!' Sirius said, his handsome face lighting with recognition as he met Remus' surprised gaze. 'He was the guy who wrote gay poetry, right? And got sent to prison for it?'

'Sort of? He - Wait, how do you know about Oscar Wilde?' Remus blurted.

'Reggie reads,' Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes, as though being well read made his brother a lost cause. 'Then he yaps about his books to James, who yaps about them to me. Getting rather boring, to be honest.'

'Well, maybe you should read some of the books that they talk about?' Remus tried. 'You never know, you might find something you could talk to Regulus about in them.'

'Riiiiight,' Sirius drawled, shaking his head as though the idea of it was impossible. But suddenly he paused, then grinned at Remus. 'Wait, what if you read it to me?'

'You ...' Remus blinked up at his triumphant boyfriend, his mind moving slowly around the concept. 'You want me to read you The Picture of Dorian Gray?'

'Yeah! It would be brilliant!' Sirius looked smug, like he'd just solved all of the world's problems in one fell swoop.

'It's ... It's quite an old book, Pads,' Remus murmured, treading carefully with his wording.

'Alright, well, I won't touch the pages or anything.'

'No, Love, I mean ...' Remus grappled with himself for a moment before plunging on, 'The wording is quite, um, flowery? It uses a lot of old language, and it's quite hard to follow in places, and -'

'Oh,' Sirius breathed, the smile slipping from his face. Remus started to panic when he saw the walls beginning to build behind the silver eyes that he so often got lost in, and then Sirius was turning away, muttering, 'You know, Remus, if you didn't want to do it, you could have just said -'

Remus lurched out of his sitting position, wincing slightly as his joints twinged at the sudden movement. But he still managed to catch Sirius' elbow, still managed to pull him back. The barriers weren't fully in place yet, as Sirius allowed himself to be turned, so Remus began blathering.

'Alright, look, it was written in the 1800s, and it was illegal to be gay back then, so Wilde couldn't just write an openly gay novel. He had to use a lot of imagery and careful language to hide what he meant. It's a story about love and obsession and how those things can easily become confused, but because of the style of the writing it's not as thrilling as a spy book or a crime novel. It's not that I don't want to read to you. I would love to read to you. But I just wanted you to know what you were in for, and that it's OK if you get bored and want to go do something else, yeah?'

Remus waited for a heartbeat, then two, panting slightly from his rant. But finally, Sirius softened, his eyes losing that harshness, and he lifted one hand to cup Remus' jaw.

'I think you could read me Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover, and it would be the most fascinating thing I'd ever heard,' Sirius murmured, the sincerity in his voice making Remus melt.

'Well, we'll see,' he rumbled, smiling when Sirius' thumb stroked gently over his cheekbone. Silent thanks for catching him before he spiralled. Remus turned his head to press a kiss against the other boy's pale wrist, then added, 'Could we move to the bed, though? My back is killing me.'

'Just say the word,' Sirius purred, and Remus chuckled at the elusion to one of their favourite songs. Quite an apt song, really, for the moment.

He allowed Sirius to pull him to his feet, and in no time they were curled up on Sirius' bed, with Remus' back well supported by numerous cushions and Sirius splayed out on his front, his head on Remus' chest, arms wrapped around his waist and hips nestled between his thighs. Remus opened the book at the first page.

'The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses,' he began. 'And when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.'

'Sounds lovely,' Sirius sighed, his voice already heavy and relaxed. And Remus couldn't help smiling as he tangled his fingers into his boyfriend's long black hair, and read.

[haechansdoll]

hi hi I love your works can you do something jaemin with overstimulation? if not also its fine again I really like your works 🌊

heloo, thank you so much. I would love to write jaem but I'm currenly busy with my internships and uni releated activities, I'll make it short and sweet hope you'll like it <33.

Pairing : Husband!Jaemin x f!Reader

Description : idk, there's no specific plot just Husband jaemin and usage of toys.

Warnings : Overstimulation, Edging, Usage of sex toys.

Wordcount : around 900 words

You had no idea how you found yourself in this situation. But now here you were, tears beginning to leak from your eyes as your husband was overstimulating you into oblivion. Jaemin, the man who could see everything, had found your favorite toy earlier - a blush pink clitoral suction device, hidden within a sleek discreet case. It had initially confused him when he found it underneath the pile of clean underwear in your drawer, but once he found the power button and saw the little blue indicator light up, a strong buzz coming from the toy- he figured out at least where it could be used. So when you came home from work, your eyes widened when you saw the toy case sitting comfortably in his palm, and a pair of crystalline eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ha-haaa–” You weren’t laughing, but you were hysterical. He had you lying on your back at the foot of your shared bed, your legs forced open. He initially tried using it on your nipples, seeing if the suction would latch onto your areolas. And while it did feel good, you weren’t stuttering and blushing until he took it away and latched his mouth on instead, swirling his tongue around until each nipple had perked up.

“Ja-Jaem-Jae–!” You choked on your spit. A dark chuckle could be heard from underneath you. Normally when you used the toy, you would warm yourself up a bit, but Jaemin was being particularly aggravating tonight.

“Ahh, now I see.” A sinister grin stretched across his face, pearly whites showing. “Let’s put it riiiiight-” he hooked a finger to move your panties aside, forcing your pussy lips open with two fingers and mashing it on your clit with no warning. “Here.”

You yelped, the breath being knocked out of you. Your husband was being relentless with the slim pink disc tucked in between his index and middle finger. He would place it directly on your clit for a few minutes, wait until you were right at the edge, and then pull it away. The edging was damn annoying to you, but he loved watching you turn into a stupid, squirming mess all for him. Your stomach muscles clenched, as you immediately felt your body succumb to the pleasure now invading your veins. The toy was buzzing incessantly, but all Jaemin could hear was the wave of moans growing louder and louder from you.

“Does that feel good, honey?” He asked in a subtle mocking tone. You nodded, drool leaking from your mouth. “F-f-feels good,Jaem.” You mumbled, squeaking when he pushed it a little harder against your clit.

“Hmph.” He huffed to himself, before the vibrations suddenly turned off. The loss of sensation made you whine, as he tucked the toy out of sight. But he did not leave you hanging - within seconds, his lips were latched on your clit, sucking and making a sloppy mess.

Jaemin’s tongue was unwavering - he was gathering spit and dripping it all over your pussy, mixing with the slick that had begun to drip out. But he was focused on making your clit overstimulated with pleasure. Your thighs were convulsing uncontrollably, and you tried to inch away from him, but his hands snuck up and grabbed the fat of your ass, keeping you securely in place.

“Better than me?” His voice was muffled, but you realized how you needed to answer.

“Not better than you.” You babbled, letting out a shriek as he slipped a finger inside to curl right into your sweet spot. “oooh-ohh!” You groaned, flopping back on the bed, gripping the sheets tighter. “Right there, right there!” You could feel coils of heat rapidly flowing into your body, tightening your core muscles almost to an unbearable pain.

“Hmmm…I wonder.” You could hear your husband mumble, and you heard the buzzing return. Jaemin took his free hand and held your beloved toy against your spit-slicked clit, and you yowled. With some added stimulation from his finger inside, you orgasmed with a violent scream. Your noises did not stop, you were hysterically moaning and almost crying from the overwhelming sensations. Your pussy was clenching and unclenching rapidly, but he kept the toy in place until you had ridden your last wave of pleasure out.

Your head lolled over to the side, and you clutched your stomach weakly. Jaemin let out a little wolf whistle, as he pulled out his fingers. They were covered in your fluids, a creamy mixture of your cum and slick. He briefly pushed open your pussy to see the rest of your cum drip out, before he took a little taste with his tongue and groaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. He looked at the toy again, turning it off and letting it sit flat in his palm.

“Wow, this thing really packs a punch. How long’s the charging time, babe? I wanna know how many rounds we can fit in before this thing is fully juiced.”

[dandylovesturtles]

leo and mikey, treat

(fav duo tbh, pretty underrated)

More Sidelined AU! Are you sick of me yet? Hopefully not because this has consumed my brain.

Part 1

Part 2

We're jumping ahead a bit in time to hopefully give you guys a bit more idea of The Flavor of this AU. And also to give it a bit of a happier note. It's not all doom and gloom!

No content warnings to speak of on this one

---

Mikey lands on the roof and powers on his earpiece, whispering, "Mikey in position. Can you hear me, Base? Come in Base."

"Helloooo New York City," comes Leo's voice, loud and clear. "You're tuning into L.A.I.R 179.12, with your host, DJ Neon Leon! Bringing you the hottest rock from the other side of the millennia."

Mikey snickers, then tries to pull himself back together. "Leo, come on! I'm here."

"Who?"

He sighs, even though he isn't mad at all. "I'm here, DJ Neon Leon."

"Ohohoho, excellent." He hears the click of typing, and then Leo says, "Can you get me visuals, Shelldon?"

"Right away, Neon Leon," Shelldon's voice crackles through the comms. There's a moment of silence, and Mikey can just imagine Leo rolling his chair around his "command center."

(He and Donnie had spent ages building it to look like the bridge of the S.S. Starbolt, with added mobility access, of course. Leo loves it as much as Donnie loves his lab.)

"Got your visuals, dudes," says Shelldon. There's some more typing from Leo's end, then he says, "Alright, Miguel, you should see two guards coming around the building riiiiight... now!"

Sure enough, two guards in plainclothes circle either side of the old apartment building across the street. Mikey watches as the two of them meet in front of the entrance, exchange a few words, then turn and head back the way they came.

"Right on time, Leo."

"Perfect, we're synced." Some more typing, and then, "The rooftop will be clear - let me know when you're over there and I'll get you inside."

"Roger that," he says. "Mikey out." Then he clicks his earpiece to silenced.

A hop, skip, and a jump later he's on the opposite roof. There's a door here, and he edges toward it before contacting Leo again.

"I'm here!"

"Alright... Disabling alarms... now!" Mikey can just see how dramatically he must have pushed the button. "Check the door to see if it's locked."

Mikey reaches out and jiggles the handle, but it doesn't budge. "Locked."

"Alright, no problem - you got your lockpicks?"

"Yep!"

"Remember what I taught you?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Alright. Make me proud, little bro."

Mikey grins, pulling his lockpicking kit out of his gear. It takes him a few minutes, because he's nowhere near as fast at this as Leo is, but he gets it done without needing to ask for help. The training Leo made him go through is still fresh in his mind.

"Alright, I'm in," he says as he slips through the door. He's in a deserted stairwell, but just to be safe he crouches down into the shadows near the wall.

"So far, so good. You need to go down two flights of stairs. No guards are coming around right now, but keep it quiet just in case."

"Don't worry, I'll be silent as a mouse!"

"Knowing Dad that's not giving me as much confidence as you think."

Mikey giggles, then sucks in a breath and gets his game face on. Right. Silent. Ninja skills GO.

He does manage to make it to the right floor without major incident. There's no one in the hall when he enters, looking at the rows of numbered doors. He doesn't know why this is where the artifact is being kept hidden, but it doesn't matter.

"According to our intel, you should be looking for door four-oh-nine," says Leo. "The floor's clear, so get goin'."

"Got it," whispers Mikey, then hurries along in a silent crouch to the door Leo specified. He stops when he gets there, hissing in disappointment.

"What's up?"

"There's some kind of keypad lock."

"No problem. Just hook Donnie's doohickey in there."

Donnie would definitely hate it if he heard them calling it a "doohickey," and that makes Mikey grin. He pulls it out of his gear (it looks like a USB stick, but slightly thinner) and slips it into the maintenance slot on the keypad.

"Alriiight, hacking in progress," says Leo. "Big solo mish is going pretty smoothly so far, huh?"

"Yep," says Mikey proudly. "Told you guys I got this."

"That you did. Oh, and... alakazam!"

There's a click as he says it, then the red light on the keypad turns green. Mikey grins and opens the door, slipping inside the dusty apartment.

"You're getting pretty good at that hacking thing."

"Uh, you know I don't actually hack anything, right bud? I just get Shelly here to do it for me, or shoot it off to Dee if it's too complex."

"Don't sell yourself so short, dude!" says Shelldon. "You're picking it up real quick!"

"Ugh, don't say that. It makes me sound like nerd."

Mikey laughs again, searching the apartment for... well, he's not sure exactly. But he's pretty sure he'll know it when he sees it.

"What's the Foot Clan want this thing for, anyway?" he asks.

"Ours is not to question why, Miguel. I'm leaving that question for Donnie to answer."

"Mm... guess so..." He's about to say something else, but then he feels... something. Like a pulse, getting stronger as he moves toward a closet.

"...I think... I can feel it."

"Feel it?"

"Yeah... it's like..." He frowns, moving forward. "Like it's calling to me."

He opens the closet to find a safe. It also has an electronic lock, so once again he inserts the doohickey. The safe door opens with a click, and he peers inside.

There's only one item: a glittering green stone, with markings he doesn't understand carved in its surface. The pulse is super strong now, waves of energy washing over Mikey. Whatever this thing is, it's definitely powerful.

"I found it!" he says to Leo, a little louder than he should. He reaches in and wraps his fingers around it.

"Great! Hold on, just let me see if-"

Before he finishes his sentence, Mikey pulls the stone out - and immediately a loud alarm starts blaring, making him jump.

"What the heck is that!?" he yelps, jumping to his feet. He hears Leo curse on the other end of the line.

"Pressure alarm. Get out of there!"

The windows are barred - it's why he didn't come in that way in the first place. Mikey has no choice but to go back the way he came, dashing into the hallway. He turns on his heel and is making for the stairwell when his earpiece crackles again.

"No good, they're coming up the stairs."

"Then where am I supposed to go!?" he asks, frantic. All the windows are barred in the hallway, too, so that's no good.

"Okay, okay, hold on... oh, I got it! Opposite direction, about five doors down. Laundry chute."

Mikey sprints. Just as he hears the door of the stairwell open, he's tipping into the chute, pulling his limbs into his shell.

Getting chased by guards? No fun. Sliding down a laundry chute? Very fun.

"Whoooohoohooo!" he cheers when he reaches the bottom, landing in a pile of old rags and t-shirts. "That was awesome!"

"I remember having a distinctly less fun time the last time I had to do that," says Leo. "Anyway, stay there. I'm going to set off the roof access alarms and lure the guards up top, then you go up the stairs and slip out the front. Got it?"

"Got it!"

Leo's plan goes perfectly, and within a few minutes he's back outside. One later and he's back on the rooftops, running to safety.

"Yessss!" he yells once he's finally far enough away, jumping in the air and pumping his fist. "Mission successful baby!"

"I knew you could do it, little bro!" cheers Leo, his voice full of pride, and it makes Mikey beam.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Leo," he says back, truthfully.

It takes Leo a second to answer, which puts the smallest damper on Mikey's enthusiasm, but finally he comes back with, "Sure thing. You know I'm always here to help."

It's not perfect. But it's getting better. Leo is getting better, every day.

Mikey's celebratory mood cannot be quashed. He whoops again, eliciting laughs from Leo's end.

"Alright, now get your butt home before Raph freaks out. He's walked past my door twelve times."

"Thirteen," Shelldon corrects.

"Thirteen!" Leo echoes.

"You got it! Mikey out!"

He clicks the earpiece to silent, then runs and jumps to the next roof with an extra spring in his step. His solo mission was a complete success!

Of course, no missions were truly solo anymore. Not with his faithful older brother ever in his ear.

[giggly-argent]

Late Lunch

lmao this Technically isn't finished but I gave up at the end so! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (loosely based it off tht one pic of Ori that I'll put below the cut ♡)

Word Count: 3184

The employee lounges in Aster's castle were just as decorated as the rest of the palace, with the spaces for the highest ranking officials being the most lavish. Massive windows overlook the well-manicured courtyard garden, bathing the room in soft, golden light. Rich tapestries line the walls, adorned with intricate designs and vibrant colors. The centerpiece of the room is a massive oak coffee table, surrounded by plush sofas and armchairs, perfect for weary officials after a hard day's work. This particular break room was reserved for the (mostly) admirable young captains of the West Wing, but two far less admirable freeloaders had found themselves lounging there instead.

Orion was sprawled out on one of the plush couches, his ruby eyes half-lidded as he watched his fellow nuisance Homare make his ninth or tenth dizzying lap around the room. The silent demon seemed to be in a daze, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans and his head tilted up at the ceiling. As nice as it was to not have the younger menace causing a fuss, his atypical dawdling was starting to bother Ori.

“Dude, what're you on? You're looking like a fuckin’ zombie.” Orion snickers aloud, finally pulling Homare from his listless trance. He stops in his tracks and pulls his right hand from his pocket, cupping it to make a simple gesture down his chest: he was hungry.

The ever smug rockstar just waves towards the door, earning a blank stare from his restless friend. "Uh, you know the biggest food court in the kingdom is right out there," he snorts, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "And it's all you can eat, unless you're expecting me to pay for ya'!”

Internally, Homare's thoughts were racing. “This dumbass knows that's not what I mean, right? Or maybe I never told him... no he HAS to know already, it's obvious-” His face scrunches up in frustration as he tries to think of a way to convey his intentions.

"...Well, if money's really that tight, I don't mind covering this time, eheh..." Orion's playful smirk grew more tense as he switched his tone. While Homare was lost in thought, his piercing emerald stare was practically boring through Orion's head. Homare snapped from his trance again, shaking his head and slouching over in exaggerated defeat.

"I-N-C-U-B-U-S," his fingers spelled out, his antsy gaze now aimed at the floor to avoid eye contact. He idly rocks on his heels, almost as if he were embarrassed by his predicament. "I need to feed." He signs feebly, and Ori could hear a quiet, unintelligible grumble from under the man's cloth mask.

"Oooh wait, I get it!" Homare rolls his eyes as the lightbulb goes off above Orion's head.

"Shit, I got a roommate just like you. We help him out all the time- his dumbass always forgets to feed when we're out touring-" The star rambles on, tugging at the collar of his jacket and brushing his hair back to reveal a few telling hickeys around his neck and shoulders.

Homare's pale face goes beet red and he straightens up fast. Why did those marks look so… fresh? Before he could let his mind get carried away for a third time, the exasperated demon tried clear the air as fast as possible. “Not that way!" Now both of hands were out, and more irritable murmurs accompanied his dramatic signing.

Orion tilted his head and stood up from the couch, strolling right over to the blushing man. "Riiiiight... So how do you do it then?" With his hands on his hips, the taller demon's casually flirty look only twisted Homare's thoughts even more.

Homare blinks up at him, appearing starstruck for a moment before his lips curl into a faint smile under his mask. The oddball doesn't give a clear response yet. He quietly snickers to himself, only leaving Orion more curious than before.

"C'mon, spit it out~" Orion lets out a playful whine, nudging the incubus with his elbow. "You're killin' me here, dude!" Much to his annoyance, Homare just crosses his arms and gives a nonchalant shrug, playing more coy than usual.

"Hah, don't lie to me, you bra-HAHT!!" All at once, every last drop of smugness vanished Orion's voice once he felt something soft brush against the shell of his ear. He frantically scans the room, not noticing a faint purple glow from Homare's hands. Two glittering, enchanted purple feathers soon revealed themselves from behind Ori's wild mane before fluttering over his pointed ears.

"B-Broho, the fuck are you doing?!" The startled man sputters, snatching one of the plumes out of the air while clumsily stumbling back to dodge the other. "That... Doesn't work on me!”

"Not ticklish?" Orion didn't expect to shiver just from seeing the word signed out, and that hungry, almost predatory look on Homare's face wasn't doing him any favors either. Nevertheless, he tried to keep cool, hoping he could shake the troublemaker off before he learned too much.

"Neh-Nuh uh, it just, uh... It felt weird!" Foolishly, Orion thought he could laugh it off for the time being, until a gentle push to his chest pressed him back against the wall. That little weirdo really had him cornered… But that aura of yearning in his often unreadable eyes made the rockstar's heart pound in his chest.

"We'll do it your way, then." Homare briefly leaned back just to let Orion see him signing. He then slowly tugged at the other's jacket, but he barely had a chance to feel it before Ori eagerly ripped it off himself. His own hands wrapped around Homare's hips and yanked him closer, erasing the gap between the two.

"Aww! Look at you, tryna be all dominant-" Ori chuckles, his goofy, boyish charm still slipping through his seductive front. Homare only hummed and tilted his head, too close to sign a response. Instead, he did the next best thing.

Slender gloved hands trailed down Ori's arms, only stopping to graze the bare skin of his waist. Even through his hunger, Homare was still one step ahead of his target, distracting him with the unfamiliar, yet extremely welcomed advances all while he worked his other magic more subtly.

Ori's racing heart nearly leapt from his body when his wrists were grasped tight, and it didn't take long for him to spot the familiar purple magic forcing his arms up behind his head. Before he could protest, the taller punk's toned waist was stretched taut, leaving him vulnerable in front of the famished incubus. He knew he was seeing traces of a grin under that dark mask now…

“H-Hold on!" Ori's eyes widened when Homare turned away from him. He ignored the man’s preemptive begging, summoning a small portal to sift through his storage. "I was just jokin', babes! Doesn't matter who tops, I'm not that pick- what the fuck are those-"

When he spun back around, Homare was holding several wooden sticks in one hand, and he waved the portal shut with the other. The tools almost looked like ear picks, but the size and sturdiness of the plumes at the end let him know they weren't meant for an average grooming.

Homare didn't grace him with a spoken or signed answer, deciding to give him a more hands on introduction instead. Holding the other four tools in one hand, he traced the feathery tip of the last one over Orion's bare stomach. If the punk wasn't actually ticklish like he claimed to be, he might've noticed Homare was just signing his own name. Instead, his eyes were squeezed shut, fangs clamping down on his lip to hold his giggles in.

"Shihit-!" Ori pressed against the wall, trying not to squirm too much that would give away his ticklishness after all. The round plumes looked pillowy soft, but held just enough firmness to make him jolt and whimper with every stroke.

Homare, being a jerk as usual, stealthily conjured up a small magic hand by his captive's side: those purple fingers then briefly drilled near Ori's back where it met the wall. The punk nearly screamed in surprise and arched his back, giving Homare the opportunity to press the fluffy tool right into his navel and give it a spin.

"GAHAH-?! Oh fffuhuhck you!" It all happened so fast; Orion couldn't stop the quick bark of laughter that forced its way out. He tried to glare at the bratty incubus, but that stupidly cute, cocky look in his eye made Ori give up instantly- or maybe it was that twirling tool in his navel. "D-Don't look at me like thaHAHAT!!"

As if he hadn't had enough surprises, he felt another plume dancing along his skin. The spare magic hand kept the other three tools nearby, while Homare dragged two of them over Ori's waistline. More strained snickers slipped from the punk's lips, just feeding into Homare's urges even more.

How did these stupid things tickle so bad? Even Homare was surprised by how effective they were. His regular victims usually required a lot more effort to crack, but Orion, as tough as he pretended to be, seemed to crumble at the softest touches. With a longing sigh, Homare slowly started to drag the plumes upwards, drawing more panicked prattling from the bound man.

"Nnonohoho don't you fucking dahahare- Ahaha wahahAIIT!!" The incubus paused surprisigly enough, holding the tools right below Orion's underarms.

He'd noticed Ori reaching a new level of struggling once he got a liiiitle too close to his armpits- definitely a weak spot. As much as he would've loved to keep slowly teasing the punk over and over, gradually breaking him down with those soft, calculated strokes… He'd have to save that for a day when he didn't feel like he was withering away from hunger.

Orion felt a wave of relief wash over him when Homare stepped back, tossing the two sticks in the air, but that feeling was painfully short-lived. The hand holding the remaining tools split into three separate wisps of magic at the dull snap of Homare's fingers, and two similar wisps caught the others that he tossed. Now all five of the fluffy plumes were poised directly over Ori's bare body, just waiting on the cue to strike.

"Ahh..." Homare noticed his captive breaking a sweat, and clasped his hands together. That nervousness was so cute- it always made his meals more flavorful! On the other end, Orion managed to break his focus from the (non)threatening picks hovering around him, putting on a wide, antsy grin. "Homareeee… Are you trying to kill me?"

Homare shook his head at the pretty-boy's whining, which drew the next question from him. "Are... you mad at me?" Yet another nonverbal ‘no’, and the oblivious man took that as a sign to relax. "...So that means you'll let me go now, right?"

The third answer sent a shiver down Orion's spine. Maybe it was his anxiety over getting the living hell tickled out of him, but he could've sworn he heard Homare actually whisper "no" that time. Before he had the chance to throw out another distraction, all five plumes made their move.

The first began at his waist, drawing a large circle around his stomach that grew smaller with each loop, just threatening to dive right back into his navel. Two more flew up to his pointed ears to mimic the annoying feathers from earlier, but this time there was nothing he could do to slap them away.

The last two dove straight into Ori's taut underarms, dragging up and down in an erratic pattern to keep him on his toes. Some strokes were long and slow, dragging up his arms and down to his chest. The others were faster and never strayed too far from his pits.

Poor Orion was beside himself with laughter. He couldn't even try to hold back the shriek that ripped from his lips as soon as the tools touched down.

"NOHOHOHOHOO!! " The sudden ticklish onslaught broke his nerves immediately, and his initial fit of thrashing against his bonds melted into useless tugging and worming around. After just a few more seconds of reckless squirming, the sensitive punk slumped against the wall, tossing his head back and letting his cackling flow free.

"YOHOHOU'RE THE WOHOHOHOOORST!!" he whined at his captor, who was practically drinking up the panicked, helpless laughter. He couldn't hear Homare's amused giggle in response, but he could tell the sadistic brat was too pleased with himself seeing how the tickling just didn't seem to stop.

But Homare's mean streak didn't end there. Orion’s tickle-addled brain didn't process the sound of Homare snapping again, but he definitely felt the plumes moving faster than before.

The one at his stomach stopped circling around, dipping into his navel again and prodding around incessantly. At his underarms, the tools became more focused on drawing the loudest squeals from their pretty ticklish ‘toy’, twirling right over the smooth skin with a bit more pressure than before.

While he wasn't near the point of silent laughter (damned musical breath training), the pitifully sensitive rockstar couldn't get a single word out once the harsher tickling took over. His already uncontrollable giggling went up almost a full octave, and his body went rigid for a split second before slumping back down. He weakly shook his head, trying anything his instincts could work up to keep the fluffy tools away from his ears.

Homare gave it another minute or two, then slowed down the tickling with another soft sigh of delight. Now that he had the chance, Orion took this opportunity to finally spit out his defeat.

"AHA-ALRIGHT!! It tihihickles!!" Homare's ears perked up, and he couldn't help but giggle in awe. He had only sped up the tickling just to satiate his hunger faster, but Ori's whiny concession was an added bonus.

"Huh?" Just to be a dick, the incubus stepped closer and cupped his ear, snapping at Orion to get his attention. Ori's eyes were blurry with tears, but he could still see the eccentric demon taunting him.

"Oh fuck yohohou- WAITWAHAHIT!!" He only had a moment to regret his poor choice of words: it almost looked like Ori would break free with how hard he jerked under Homare’s fingertips. The incubus listlessly poked around his ribs, getting dangerously close to under joining those plumes at his underarms. "IT TICKLES, IT TIIHIHICKLES!!!”

After what felt like hours to the ticklish drama king, Homare pulled both his hands and all of the fluffy tools away, though they still hovered nearby in just case Ori was dumb enough to to spare any more sass.

Though it felt like he'd just started, Homare's energy had flooded back faster than he was used to. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this quick, strong rejuvenation wasn't entirely foreign to him. He'd once had an encounter with a nymph queen whose mirthful squeals of laughter replenished his power almost too fast- Maybe Ori's own magic was on par with hers?

…No, not a chance. Now that it was on his mind, he could recall similar experiences nearly every time he (begrudgingly) had his precious, eager to please Inori help him feed as well, and he knew her magic was always on the weaker side. He tried to think of anything his best friend had in common with the punk in front of him or a powerful queen, but he just couldn't draw any parallels...

Ori was still pressed against the wall, breathlessly giggling long after the tickling had stopped. Once he blinked away his tears, he could see Homare having a stretch and getting lost in his own mind as usual. The sight of the tools lingering nearby kept him on edge, but he couldn't help but notice a stark change: the magic holding them seemed more vivid in color. "Huh..." Ori huffed softly, his teary eyes shifting from the tools to the seemingly energized troublemaker in front of him.

"What's up? You full already?" He piped up, startling Homare mid-stretch. The incubus furrowed his brows, noticing the familiar shit-eating grin that Orion had the nerve to bear. "Heheh, and here I was thinking you were starving! Can't believe you'd use me as a quick snack."

While Ori was just teasing the other man, he didn't know he was poking a sleeping… No, a freshly energized, very alert bear. Homare stared the punk down, his visible eye now just as vibrant as his magic. He didn't bother to snap this time, cutting out the theatrics in favor of dishing out his favorite punishment.

The bondage around Orion's arms suddenly shifted, and the taller demon dropped to his knees with a startled gasp. He thought his bonds were completely loosened, but the incubus had the rope catch his wrists on the way down, fully stretching his arms above his head. Taking full advantage of his captive's stunned state, Homare dropped down as well, seating himself straight onto Ori's lap.

“Hghn-!? What-???” Orion was already convinced he fit the bill of an ‘inexperienced, flustered idiot’ by now, but the moment he tried to save face one last time, he was immediately countered by Homare slowly tugging down his own mask. It felt like he could never get used to seeing the lower half of the younger demon's pretty face, but what really shook him was the impish, telltale smirk on his lips. Ori shivered, feeling Homare's gloved hands gingerly rubbing up and down his sides. It might've been relaxing if he didn't know what it was leading up to. "D-Damnit! Wait, can't you take a joke?? Ya’ don't really HAVE to keep going-"

"Yes, I do." A lovely, melodic, and oh-so unfamiliar whisper seemed to shatter any of Orion's objections- that, and the feeling of soft lips grazing his cheek afterward. Ori's mind went blank, save for one thought: the incubus known for being an unpredictable, dangerous threat was currently planting the most tender kisses along his jawline.

When it seemed like Homare's lips would finally meet Orion's, that teasing brat only gave him a quick peck instead of what he truly wanted. Homare leaned back and let out an airy laugh, one that Orion would've folded over without a drop of shame if he wasn't so riled up.

Homare didn't give him the chance to whine over it too much. Soon, the hands at Ori's waist dug in, squeezing at his hips without warning. Orion bucked and yelped, almost jerking himself up off the floor, but Homare kept him in his place, kneading that sweet spot with light, hellish precision.

"OH MY GOHOHOD I HATE YOU!!"

“I know…♡ " Homare kept his voice low, leaning in to carry on with the soft kisses, this time right along Ori's ear. The combined merciless squeezing and loving, tickly kissing was maddening. He so desperately wanted to break out of the ropes and give Homare a taste of his own medicine, but a part of him didn't seem to mind the position he was in…

[notgonnaedit]

Confusing Feelings

summary: Mira struggles with her feelings, as does Hunter. Meanwhile, Althea thinks they're weird.

Warnings: none

A/n: this was a trade with @dreamsight73! Your OC is awesome and I love her!

The parlor was quiet, save for the soft hum of the music in the background. There had been no jobs for Clone Force 99 for almost a week. Even with Cid giving them everything she had, the team had nothing to do.

Althea sat at the bar, doodling aimlessly with her head resting on her arm. A familiar figure walked over and sat beside her. 

"You're a little young for the bar, wouldn't you say?" Mira asked.

Althea shot her a look. "You're, like, two years older than me," she huffed.

Mira rested her hand on her chest. "I'm actually ten years older than you, but it warms my heart that you think I'm younger."

Althea rolled her lamp-like eyes. "It's probably those potions you brew."

"They're poisons, Thea," the assassin corrected. 

The girl looked up at her. "I'ma medic. And how am I supposed to know what your poisons are if you won't teach me?"

The violet clad woman raised a brow. "Didn't you just say you were a medic?"

Althea huffed. "I still carry a blaster, don't I?"

Mira hummed softly. She knew little of Althea's past, but a girl her age should never have to fight for her life. She would know.  

",I don't know how you keep doing this, kid," a husky voice commented.

Mira was pulled from her thoughts and turned to see Hunter playing dejarik with Omega. The sergeant was losing every game, but he had a content smile on his face. His opponent was suppressing giggles, but was failing.

Hunter leaned back, hands on his knees. "I need a break from this thing."

"No! I'll go easy on you!" Omega practically begged.

A small chuckle escaped Hunter. "Alright, just give me a few minutes." He stood and ruffled the child's curls before walking over to the bar.

Mira's heart fluttered as she watched him. He exuded such confidence and leadership, yet he was always kind to the younger girls. She would never understand why he let her tag along with them, considering his protective nature, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"A little young to be at the bar, aren't you, kiddo?" Hunter asked, setting his hand on Althea's head.

The medic sat up. "Mira said the exact same thing." She huffed before muttering, "I swear, you guys deserve each other."

A nervous laugh left Mira's mouth before she could stop it. Althea looked at her, then at Hunter.

The sergeant had stiffened, and despite the black ink covering half his face, there was a faint red tint. Althea narrowed her eyes. She didn't know Mira too well, but she knew Hunter, and this was weird.

Omega had noticed it as well. She glanced between the sergeant and the assassin before her chocolate hues met Althea's bright ones.

"Riiiiight...." Althea slipped from her stool and moved between the two adults. "I'll just go and see if Tech needs help now."

The pilot had been repairing the ship from their last job with Echo. Wrecker was helping them with the heavy lifting as well.

"I'll go," Omega chimed in, standing to follow the older girl.

"I thought you wanted to play more?" Hunter asked her.

The blonde looked between Mira and her brother. "That's okay."

Great. Mira thought. Just when I couldn't feel any more awkward.

Once the two girls were outside, Althea looked at the younger. "That was weird, right?"

"Definitely!" She agreed. "Why was Hunter looking at her like that?"

Althea frowned. "I don't kn–" She stopped a sudden memory surfacing. "Oh no."

"What is it??" Omega pressed.

"Hunter was looking at her like how my dad would look at my mom." Althea grimaced and stuck her tongue out.

"Your parents?" Omega asked. "That means..."

"He likes her," Althea whispered.

Omega raised a brow. "But you can like people without it being...that. I like you." 

Althea shook her head. "No. He like likes her. Like ‘Lets get married’."

Omega scrunched her nose. "Ew."

"Yeah."

A beat of silence passed between the girls as they approached their ship. Althea put her hand on Omega's shoulder, stopping her. "We can't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"If Hunter likes Mira but she doesn't like him, it'll break his heart. We can't let it get back to him that we know."

Omega hummed, nodding. Neither girl wanted to see Hunter hurt, so they made an unspoken pact.

Meanwhile, in Cid's parlor, Mira was trying to keep her cool. The girls had left her high and dry, leaving her with an incredibly attractive man she could barely exist around.

"So, they just left," she said in attempt to start conversation.

Hunter kept his gaze on the bar, refusing to meet hers. "Yep."

He always kept his cool during missions and jobs. He never got flustered, yet around Mira it was like he completely forgot how to act.

"Any idea on what the girls are up to?" She asked him.

The sergeant shrugged. "Thea mentioned helping the others on the ship. But I wouldn't be surprised if they found something else to occupy their minds."

"How would you feel about me teaching Althea about poisons?"

Hunter turned his gaze to the assassin before him. "What?"

It was Mira's turn to shrug. "She's been asking me about it lately, but I didn't want to infringe on any rules you had." Her heart rate kicked up. "I mean– I know you guys are close and I didn't want to take away time or anything..."

Hunter stared at the woman. She was asking permission to teach Althea about poisons because she didn't want to break rules or infringe on their relationship?? This had never happened before. Anyone else would have gone behind his back, including his brothers.

She stood there nervously, her beautiful brown eyes watching him warily. Of course she would do something unlike Hunter had ever heard of. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. 

His own heart rate kicked up a notch, his face flushing as he answered her.

"Yeah, I'd think that'd be great."​​​​​​​

[cuteskunkz]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Good Morning Princess ₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

~Part 2~

(Dom!Mike Schmidt x Sub!Reader)

~Summary: Mike comes home after a long day and needs to blow off some steam. Continuation of part one!!!

~Tags: Pet names, degradation, praise, breeding kink, daddy kink, brat taming, gawk gawk 3000, penetrative sex, afab!reader

Note: This is pretty much porn LMFAO!! Read part one for the full story.... or not if you're horny no judgement ;) Just a reminded that I am brand spankin new to writing fanfic so apologies if it's mid. Pls lemme know if you're interested in more, my amas are always open to ideas <333

⊱✿⊰

Mike grabs your face with one hand. This causes you to pout at him and furrow your brows. "Don't make me cuff you again" Mike says playfully. You take it as a challenge, deciding to be the biggest brat possible. You knew how much Mike loved taming you, it was like a newfound hobby for him. At one point your attitude was so much he had to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the bedroom to teach you better manners.

"Or what? I can handle some stupid pair of cuffs" you say while staring at Mikes baby pink lips. He pins you to the bed. His strength is impressive, you couldn't fight him off even if you tried. The guy definitely takes his push ups seriously. You start wiggling underneath him knowing this will piss him off more. His hands only grip tighter around your wrists, further restraining you. "You're so fuckin needy- do you know that?" he growls. You face away from him suddenly feeling bashful.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." You lock eyes with Mike, your mouth slightly agape. You take notice of his light brown freckles and it's like your heart skips a beat. "Good girl. Now get on your knees" he directs. He loosens his grip on you and stands next to the bed waiting for you to follow his order. "Nah I think I'll stay riiiiight here. You know Mike- your bed is soooo comfy I couldn't possibly eveeerrrr get u-" he grabs your throat and pulls upward forcing you to stand and make your way off the bed. Your tiny fingers attempt to pry him off but it's no use. "Im gonna fuck your mouth until your dumb little brain is empty. How does that sound hm?"

That's all it took for you to turn back into his subservient toy. "Anything for you sir". You lower yourself down onto your knees and stick your tongue out. Mike had you basically trained to take position for times like these. He taps his cock on your tongue a few times allowing you to mentally prepare for his length before roughly thrusting into your throat at a decent pace. "It's like you were made for me. God you're so pretty sucking on me like that. Thank daddy for stuffing his cock in your mouth." He pulls back slightly leaving his member resting just barely on your lips. "Thank you daddy" you reply. "Thank you for what? Use your big girl words"

"Thank you for f-fucking my throat." He smiles, "There we go. Good girl". He thrusts back into your mouth and pumps even faster than before. Guess your words really motivated him or something. Mike takes your hair into both his hands and forces you deeper. The sounds of you sputtering and gagging on him push him closer to his climax. You stare up at him with tears rolling down your blushing cheeks. You'd pay any price to stay in this state of pure bliss. "You look so beautiful when you're cockdrunk, princess. I know it's a lot but you're doing so well... j-just a little longer I promise"

Mike pulls out of your mouth leaving spit strings attaching you to him. He grips your sides and picks you up, laying you down on the edge of his bed. You instinctively rest your legs on his chest anytime you're put into the missionary position as it allows him to hit your more sensitive areas easier. He began lining up his length to your throbbing cunt, causing butterflies in your stomach. "You still with me?". You couldn't focus anymore but to nod in confirmation. A low groan left his lips as he slid into you. Slowly but surely you stretched to fit all of him.

"You're all mine princess- ALL fucking mine." Mike pounds deeply into you, using your hips as a handle to move you onto him like his personal fuck toy. The sounds of your pussy around him as well as your high pitched moans were so intoxicating to Mike. You were his favorite pastime activity. "I'm gonna pump so much cum into your sweet little pussy baby. Gonna fill you" he says while wrapping one hand around your throat. Just the thought of him finishing in you made you feel like a feral animal in heat.

Your climax sneaks up on you. You uncontrollably tremble on Mike while babbling what sounds like his name over and over again. Maybe if you were coherent it would be more obvious. "That's it, keep it up little fuck bunny. I love it when your tight pussy drools for me". You felt so overstimulated, bucking and rolling around but his hands pin you once more until he can finish. You felt so small and weak under his control.

He bottoms out in you. You can feel his rhythm getting sloppier, signifying his closeness. "Oh fuck b...baby I'm gon....gonna-" he whimpers. His head falls back while his fingernails dig into your hips. You're filled to the brim with his cum, some of it leaking out around him. For a second it's silent (beside the sound of both of you catching your breath that is). He slowly pulls out, careful not to spill any of his seed out of you. Mike slips his middle finger into you to push it deeper leaving you feeling deliciously full. 

You lay there with your eyes closed unable to wipe the grin off your face. "If this is what happens when I mouth off to him I definitely gotta do it more often" you think to yourself. You distractedly replay the series of events that just happened in your head. You hate to say it but you definitely tuned Mike out for a bit to recall everything correctly. "Hello? You there? Did I kill you? Oh no!! My poor baby!!" he teases, pretending to cry. "What will I ever do!!" He throws himself on top of you like a damsel in distress, pretty much crushing you. "Mikey I swear to god I will punch you" you chuckle. "You do that and I'll tell Abby you threw away her favorite crayons." You pull the blanket right below your eyes pretending to be scared, "Hey man I was just playing around- you'll actually get me killed like that."

⊱✿⊰

This is the final part of Good Morning Princess <3 I hope you guys enjoyed as much as I have!! It was so much fun writing this and I can't wait to keep creating. That being said if y'all have ideas please send them in, i'm pretty busy but Im on here daily. Thanks for reading!!!

[bokunobirthdays]

SaiOuma Screenplay Segment

I'm trying to write more screenplay type stuff and was curious what would happen if I tried putting the infamous "I got rejected" scene from DRV3 chapter 4 into screenplay format, so... here it is. The dialogue is exactly the same as it was in-game, but I definitely took some... liberties with the staging since the game has literally nothing.

(I'm not sure if this is the best format for posting??? Maybe I'll experiment in the future. Let me know what you think)

INT. SALON - NIGHT A dusty carpet serves as the centerpiece in the old room. Its green accents are the most colorful thing around even despite their age. In contrast, there is a sparkling telephone atop a brand-new table in the corner of the room.

The only remaining students in the room are Shuichi and Kokichi who let tension exist between them as a third party, the telephone equidistant.

Shuichi begins to say something before Kokichi takes the space.

KOKICHI Oh, Shuichi, you can log out before me. I'm sure your detective's intuition is kicking in, right?

Kokichi saunters over to the table and presents the phone with a gesture, a mostly innocuous grin painted on his face.

KOKICHI So, go ahead.

Shuichi sits with the thought for a second and when Kokichi's expression doesn't change, he approaches the phone. He sends a final glance to Kokichi and reaches for the handset.

At the first moment he makes contact, Kokichi grabs his wrist and pulls him around until he hits the wall, caging him in and causing the handset to clatter onto the table.

KOKICHI Oh, wait! Now that we're alone, I wanna tell you something.

Shuichi looks down at the shorter boy with a face between scared and confused, his arms pinned against the wall.

SHUICHI …What is it?

Kokichi takes a moment to examine his prey.

KOKICHI You're really useful.

Shuichi watches him move his gaze all around his body, only landing on his face at the end with an expression not entirely joking or serious.

KOKICHI So, how about you stop hanging out with dumb ol' Kaito, and be my friend instead?

Kokichi loosens his grip on one of Shuichi's hands, observing it.

KOKICHI I think I can be useful to you, too… y'know?

Then the other hand.

KOKICHI I can help you save everyone.

Just as Shuichi braves an inhale, Kokichi pushes both his wrists back against the wall with more force than before.

KOKICHI And you wanna save everyone, riiiiight?

Shuichi settles his eyebrows into a crease and his face into a frown. Before Kokichi can laugh, he throws a knee into Kokichi's stomach, stunning him on the ground.

Shuichi pays him a brief glare and snatches the handset from where it was dropped, saying his name and logging out.

Kokichi stays on the ground, not even attempting to get up. He lets the surprise and disappointment linger for a moment before attempting a half-hearted smile.

KOKICHI Nee-heehee…aw, I got rejected.

He drops the smile and changes his expression to one of resolve.

KOKICHI But I won't give up that easily.

He clambers off the ground and rustles his clothes back into place while looking out a window.

KOKICHI When I find someone I like, I'd do anything to get them to notice me…

He drops both arms to his sides.

KOKICHI …even strangle them.

[aqours]

ok i REAAAAAALLY need to make a dedicated sideblog for this shit now i realize bc this game is gonna fucking fully get me dragged into this discourse so i'm gonna make an active effort to stop putting these on main, but i can't see myself saying more beyond this in general but ANYWAAAAYS

so i recently made this post about the cognitive dissonance regarding this game and people using fucking CALL OF DUTY a game that is more or less a recruitment drive to make the US military look cool and try to get kids to join up and that GTA's wanted system is actually NOT rewarding you or something to try to play a dick measuring contest with coffin but this interaction really interested me and i wanna talk about it bc i just blocked them after they refused to answer the last question but this is a very specific kind of gaslighting tactic i'm very familiar with from my own days as an anti

i think p much all of us who are used to engaging with this discourse are used to like y'know, being called awful horrible disgusting things. this is not the first time some fucking weird random person came onto my content asking me if i was a kid didler or wanted to fuck my brother. ain't gonna be anywhere near the last time either folks, but i and Lord God knows that's not the case so i don't care what a rando on the internet says but here's the thing: you can't "win" this, but they want to win it. no matter what you say you are the absolute worst kind of dreg of society that should be shot behind a barn and no amount of anything would work. if i actually pulled a list of sourced all that would have happened was they would've doubled down on calling me an inc*s*ious p*d* that I would be willing to use articles probably written by "people like me." because YOU don't care about "winning" this argument, you just wanna get the facts out on your end. it's a catch-22 folks, nothing you say will get you out of it!

i started by calling them a karen, they immediately escalated the living FUCK out of it and tried to trap me in this catch-22 to keep feeling morally superior to me. me saying i don't have such desires and never will isn't enough because i like this game. nothing but me renouncing it will change it.

but here's the thing about antis- they fucking HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE it when you turn it on them. look at the difference. look at the difference between they were the one throwing the catch-22 at me vs. the other way around. what about you? you just came onto my post to harass me, so i'll say it back. how about you? are you just accusing me of these horrible things because you are projecting your thoughts on me? you told me to get a therapist: so maybe you're the one that needs help if so!

violent video games must encourage violence, riiiiight? and you support it because it's violent. Game of Thrones had in*e*t in it so everyone who likes it also is the same. and Demon Slayer, where the pfp is from is violent, so you support it. the main protag's little sister also gets a superpowered form where she gets physically older and a tits out kinda look. so clearly YOU want to see your sister in the same way, right?

and it went as expected. you can see the tone going from smug jerking off with a shit-eating grin to just annoyed while smelling their own farts like it's a rose. and the moment i started doing the same uh i got NO fucking answers and they stormed off. i waited half an hour for a response before blocking them

so why am i typing up this walltext? because i used to be an anti. i fucking guarantee you i would've called everyone who liked this game [insert horrible things] like 7-9 years ago. so let me tell you, you know what pisses off antis more than anything? more than ANYTHING? turning this catch-22 bullshit on them. this is the only way you can end this miserable conversation without blocking them.

it's all one-sided bullshit and the moment you turn it on an anti it IMMEDIATLY shuts it down. this fucker KNEW the answer and you know it. so i wanted to share that, if you ever struggle with this shit: well the best thing you can do is block them and to give a fuck about winning their imaginary argument, but this is the only way to make the headache end otherwise. just throw the catch-22 right back and that's the end. thanks for reading!

[rezcowgirl]

December. Monday Morning. Okay.

Shiver and smile.

Be born in December. Riiiiight near the end, but not end enough that your parents get a free TV for having the Official New Years baby…Don’t worry about it. Dad will win a huge TV in a prize draw at Safeway. Eventually.  

There’s so much chocolate on sale, and I was born on this day! A month early, colicky as fuck, with a heart technically already broken. (<- Don't worry. Got that confirmed all cleared up when I had those other heart issues that I still have weird scars scars from because the electrodes made my skin melt. Need another 3 day thingy in February. Bleh.)

So, I’ll never be 34 again! Yay!

Once, my friend Unkyo pulled up for a Covid picnic on her bike, carrying 4 pounds of u-pick-it blueberries and an uncharacteristically sour expression. She was really aggravated. I had never seen it on her before. Apparently, she forgot her ID and the staff at a liquor store wouldn't let her buy anything. Her 18-year-old daughter was literally working at an ice-cream shop across the street from the park we were hunkered down in. I laughed and laughed, but she was genuinely annoyed. She was 45 at the time, and I thought it was cute and flattering. 

Obviously, we shared our wine with her. 

It’s fairly notable when I do not get ID’d buying alcohol. I almost always do. I know it’s not a huge flex given that I do not have an 18-year old daughter, but I DO have a fat baby face! I really don’t mind being ID’d - I like saying “I’m 35 :)”, and I wore a fake nose ring for the photo, so I like it.

I did NOT get ID’d on the most recent run. Aries said “Congrats - could it possibly be because there are not many 18 year olds that would be buying Moet & Chandon?”. And yeah. Probably helps. (It’s the ONLY champagne Aries likes…) I somewhat aspire to be ID’d at 45 like Unkyo, but Unkyo is an easy beauty, inside and out, and I am a rotten, crispy husk of a man, so I’m not going to worry too much about meeting this goal. My real goal is to make it to 45 and not die. So far so good!!!

I spent Friday with my old roommate and some other friends I don’t get to see very often and felt all gooey with love again. Wistful? Not quite nostalgic - she is better as a friend than a roommate. To be clear, I was the problem. I need a lot of alone time. It was hard. She forgives me my aforementioned rottenness, and she lives in New York now. I miss her so much, but we both don’t keep in touch because we suck at it. But it means a-lot-a-lot to be able to sit down and be like: “holy shit I love you tell me everything” and it’s not weird. She’s one of those rare always-sweet types, and I always want to protect it. She must not lose it. No no no. We’re having her and her husband over on the 5th, and I’m going to try really hard to NOT ask if they're going to move back to Vancouver...

Saturday we hopped around to different cocktail lounges, and I think we met some kind of trickster god. We were at our third stop, and we ended up being seated outside, which apparently most people turn down, but it was amazing. We had our own fire, we got complimentary cider, and we could converse without yelling. I wanted Aries to take some photos of us, so he did. But lurking nearby was this very friendly and relatively drunk guy, obviously also bar hopping and waiting to get in. He said “no, no, stop, you can sit down, I’ll take the photos from here”, so Aries handed my phone over and he took about 15 photos for us.

They’re basically all unsalvageable. In every single one, something is fucked up. Someone is mid-blink so their eyes are closed, but there’s still the ghost of a pupil overlaid over the eyelid, making it SUPER creepy. Or someone moved, so their face looks long. There’s one where Aries has one eye open and the other closed? There’s one photo of Ali that does not look like her at all?? It’s not like we’re all blurry in them. There’s just at least one person fucking up in each of them. I am perplexed and impressed, and now I have all these laughably terrible photos from my birthday pub crawl. But I love them anyway.

Here are the last pieces of 34. I found heart stickers on a walk. I'll stick one in my 2025 planner, and one on the wall of a goth night bathroom.