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beastszai · 6 months

Note

mwah what up dawg can i requests dazai with a s/o whos very immature like laughs at the wrong time, whos laughs at inapporiate jokes and pranks kunikida. :33

YAHOOO hello hi hey anon!! TY for the request ehhehe MUA also dazai is so silly i wanna put him in a microwave *having a near death stroke*

✦ Dazai with an immature S/O ✦

♫ Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun

✧ warnings : gn reader・ bad writing・slight hint at suggestive jokes・dazai being dazai (what else is new)・crack?・fluff??? (what the fuck is this help…)

✧ summary : some headcanons (my brain is fried) + you and zaza Dazai are a tad bit silly together at the agency instead of workin

w/c : 1K-ish

Youuuu two are pretty much the cause of Kunikida's daily headaches…

…though it's not just Kunikida losing his mind at this point, with both you and Dazai matching each other's energy, the whole agency is praying for peace every day.

Dazai feels prideful when he gets to get a little laugh out of you, it's easy for you to laugh at things and he finds it adorable

Your laughs and giggles feed his ego TRUST

His favorite moments are when you both seem to read each other's mind, later going back and forth between your ideas of how to annoy Kunikida

Both end up getting scolded and lectured by him, and in a worst-case scenario, he forces the two of you to sit as far apart from each other as possible while dumping piles of paper on your desks.

Your laughs also make him burst out laughing as well no matter how unfunny or serious the situation can be

With his way of wording things and your humor combined, it’s impossible for you to not snicker when he says the most normal things

“Dazai can you over real quick—” “I’m coming!” “…….that’s what she said LMFAOOOO”

A hundred percent made you laugh so much once that your stomach AND jaw were hurting

Dazai is silly, so it’s only fair he gets an ALSO silly s/o

…Today was unexpectedly boring. No special cases, no special encounters with the infamous port mafia… no special anything. Just paperwork. The only way to entertain yourself—and slack off from dealing with the paperwork and reporting on earlier cases—was to cause a little bit of chaos. The awkward silence throughout the agency’s office was killing you anyways…

You took a quick glance at Dazai who was sitting across the room and laying his chin on his desk, half asleep and bored out of his mind. He was quick to notice you looking at him and returned your gaze with his shit eating grin. The one that meant ‘nothing but trouble™’.

Your lips parted slightly to mouth the words ‘I’m bored’ to him, but Dazai was already spinning around in his office chair and wheeling his way closer to Kunikida’s desk.

“Heeeeey Kunikida~ So, you see, me and y/n are a teensy bit bored and I was wo-”

“Get the hell back to work, Dazai.”

The blond grumbled in frustration, not even raising his head from the monitor screen in front of him. His hands typed into the computer with speed, making a continuous clicking sound. Kunikida then paused, fixed his glasses and turned his head to you.

“…You too, y/n.”

He added, speaking in a much less annoyed tone than when he talked to Dazai. He immediately went back to working. The brunette sighed, getting back to his desk with a pout. Though, you knew that he was way too bored to have mercy on Kunikida today—or literally any other day.

Yanking one of the forms put aside on his desk in a swift motion, Dazai carefully turned it into a paper plane. He continued doing so until nearly half the pile of papers was gone and paper plane-ified. You raised your head from your own work and watched in amusement.

“Oh? You knew origami and didn’t tell me? Wow, ‘samu, can’t believe you’ve been keeping such great talent a secret from me!” You giggled, clutching your chest to add onto your dramatic act while spinning your office chairs’ way closer to Dazai. He grinned, busy adding the finishing touches to his 30th paper plane, “Oh I can do much more than some silly origami stuff, trust me on that.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, loud enough for Dazai’s ears to catch it and smile with pride. He was so focused that he had even piqued Atsushi and Kyouka’s interest—along with Ranpo stealing glances from time to time.

You had long begun to help him with whatever he was scheming, making a few paper planes of your own and dropping the 45th? 54th? Whatever number paper plane onto his desk. While both of you were busy with your paper plane making, Kunikida’s laptop slammed shut; though neither you nor Dazai heard it or the sound of him stomping his way to the two of you. Dazai snickered while you counted the paper planes he’d made, going back and forth with the numbers as you kept losing count.

“Goddammit Dazai, stop distracting me! Unless you want to count all this yourself…” You grumbled and playfully smacked him in the head with the plane you were holding. He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Kunikida cleared his throat.

It made you both sink into your seats, slowly turning to face him—arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot.

“Dazai. Y/n. May I ask what you’re doing? It’s not work as far as I’m concerned.”

Kunikida’s tone was surprisingly calm… the calm before the storm, you thought. Dazai, completely nonchalant about Kunikida’s presence, held one of the paper planes up and above his own head and grinned.

“Entertaining ourselves since boredom is ought to kill us~ Why do you ask?”

Out of curiosity, you decided to unfold one of the planes to take a look at it’s contents. Your vision blurred for a second once you realized what all that paperwork that you had turned into planes actually was… While Dazai was busy showing off the paper plane he had in hand to Kunikida, you desperately tugged on his sleeve, tapped his shoulder, shook his hand, anything to get him to stop talking.

“Dazai… have you even taken a look at what those papers were about?” Kunikida cut Dazai off, brows furrowed.

“Hmm? Oh, no not really! What’re they fo—”

“They’re all boss’ notes and reports…”

You whispered to him in a shaky voice, eyes still glued to Fukuzawa’s signature at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper.

“Handwritten notes and reports.”

All three of you turned your head to Ranpo, who was fiddling around with a bag of chips, struggling to get it open.

“Those are all handwritten by him. He left them on Dazai’s desk not expecting anyone to touch them, knowing that he barely—almost never works… Just thought I’d let you know.”

A long pause. Ranpo then turned his chair around and aside from his faint chewing, the silence in the office had become deafening…

“…Wow, nice work, detective Dazai Osamu…” You mocked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus like thaaaaat, you helped too! So cruel of you, bella…”

Dazai gave you a dramatic ‘hmph!’ and awkwardly turned to Kunikida—who was practically shaking in fury—with a sheepish smile, throwing the paper plane at his head followed by a nervous laughter.

“Nowwww before you do or say anything, Kunikida-kun~ In my defens-”

“…DazaaAAAIIII—!!!”

p.s : its been awhile since ive written and actually posted it so this is a bit wonky I KNOW im not this ass at writing please spare my life i have a wife and kids…

#𓂃⊹⁺༉ noxie one shots #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #dazai x gn reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd x gn reader

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whateveriwant · 11 months

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Hey! I love your writing so much, and I was wondering if you could do 141 HCs with an albino GN!reader? Or a reader with tics but not tourettes? Either or!! Have a lovely day!

I'm sorry it took me a little while to get to this, anon! I went with the second option!

Ghost

Can you say 'twinsies'? Because Ghost definitely can 👯‍♀️

I can totally see Ghost having tics of his own – motor ones specifically, mostly confined to his face, but you wouldn't know it because they're always hidden by his masks

Thus, when he first notices you ticking, he immediately clocks it for what it is and he (almost giddily) thinks to himself 'Finally! Someone who gets me'

Because of this, he quickly becomes your second shadow, following you around everywhere like a little big puppy

Naturally, he'll get incredibly protective over you, especially when it comes to people who stare or make comments under their breath or even outright approach you and ask something rude regarding your tics

If he catches anyone doing anything of the sort, then he goes into scary dog mode real quick: arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, an intimidating silence as he glares with a gaze so menacing it could melt steel

Price

With a man as sharp and attentive as Price, much like Ghost, he takes instant notice of your tics

And as protective as Price is, he'd probably get fairly concerned about you to the point where he even pulls you aside one day to have a little chat

He knows that… tics, he thinks they're called, aren't necessarily indicative of anything health-wise, but he just wants to make sure that you're okay; that there isn't anything he can do for you

Even after assuring him that you're perfectly fine and healthy and good, that doesn't stop him from looking out for you like you're his own flesh and blood

Similar to Ghost, if he sees anyone staring or making snide comments about you, then he's definitely going to step in and shut that down

However, rather than giving them an I'll tear your spine out through your throat look à la Ghost, he'll mutter something in their ear – the specifics of which you're unsure, but it always has them making a swift, shaky-legged departure

Gaz

While he too notices your tics, Gaz would never ever mention them out of respect for you and your privacy

He would wait for you to be the one to bring it up, should you ever choose to, that is. And if you never do, well, that's a-ok to him. Whatever you're willing to divulge, he'll be there waiting without pressure or judgment

However, if you were to talk to him about it (and thus invite a conversation) then prepare yourself for a barrage of questions

He doesn't ask them meaning to be offensive or intrusive or whatever; he's simply curious. He just wants to get to know you well, and that means knowing what makes you uniquely you

Unlike the other 141 men, if he notices someone bothering you about your tics, he's not going to directly (more like aggressively) confront them over it

Instead he'd harmlessly distract them, drawing their attention onto himself until they've completely forgotten all about their interest in bugging you

Soap

This man, bless his heart, would be totally, astoundingly oblivious of your tics even if they punched him in the face

In fact, the closer you become with him, the more he finds himself unconsciously start to mimic them

Kind of like when you like someone and so you start mirroring their movements/patterns of speech? Yeah, it's like that but with your tics

Of course, if you were to say something about it (and especially if you said it made you uncomfortable), he'd immediately apologize, explain how he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and make sure he never does it again

Like with Ghost and Price, if Soap noticed someone being rude towards you, he'd go into guard dog mode, but he is the most feral by far

He'd be all up in their face, furious, practically foaming at the mouth as he yells to "Mind yer own fuckin' business while you've still got workin' legs to mind with!" … only to turn to you afterwards all sunshine and rainbows like he didn't just tear that person a new one 😇

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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Uhhhh nightwalks Joel and reader getting high off their asses and then fucking

harder - 420 special, can read alone.

2.8k | Joel x f!Reader | night walks masterlist

IMG: dark profile shot of Joel that says, "lift heavy, talk dirty, smoke weed" and "night walks" in the bottom left.

He slowly rubs your thigh and says, “It's ok, pumpkin. Shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.” He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too. It’s still pretty hot inside. You unzip your hoodie, and he wets his lips as you take it off.

Ty 420 Anon, yard-spying bj anon, @missannwinchester, @xdaddysprincessxx , and everyone for all the great Qs, comments, and ideas. 👖

WARNINGS: 18+ Non-outbreak, AU pothead neighbor Joel, reader smokes, unspecified age gap, drinking, fingering, oral, unsafe vaginal sex (PIV), light choking, hard drug use, bad ideas. Mild dubcon bc drugs? (she has the intent before the drugs)

You start taking your night walks again. You keep seeing your creepy neighbor Joel out in the wild anyway, and your efforts not to fuck him have been not only futile but increasingly weak. You’re walking your first lap around the neighborhood and a car pulls up to Joel's house. A young woman gets out of the car. She goes around back to his man cave where the door must be open because it sounds like he’s lifting weights. Your stomach drops and your heart races. Who is she? His estranged wife–if he even has one, you've never seen her–can’t be your age, can she? Then again, if he can pull you . . . are you just one of many?

Despite your best efforts, it doesn’t leave your mind. When you come back around the neighborhood, your curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly prowl into the back of his yard. His lights are on, so you can see clearly and it makes your insides turn. In the window to the right, Joel is in the middle of sitting down. He rubs his nose and eases back into the sofa with his hands behind his head, elbows out. A look of pleasure spreads across his face. and he says “oh yeah.” In the window to the left, she’s kneeling on the ground in front of him. The gap between the windows spares you the explicit details. Joel looks down, watching her and licking his lips and man, he looks hot. Yeah, it actually turns you on.

His eyes drift to the window and you quietly slink away before he sees you. You walk around the block one more time and light up a joint, hoping to push away your traitorous gut reaction to this development. You have all these thoughts like I should’ve given in. . . .I should’ve come when he invited me. . . He finally gave up on me. . . You know these thoughts make no sense. They make you feel dirty. He’s so skeezy and vile. He’s been preying on you. That’s what you want?

As you approach his cul de sac for the third time, she’s driving away. That was so fast, you have to wonder if he paid her.

“Evenin’, pumpkin.” His voice startles you from the treeline. He’s standing where you were.

You don’t say anything. You take a hit of your joint.

“Yeah I bet you had a pretty good view from here,” he says.

Your heart races and your face gets hot.

You respond, “Have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, always a good time. You wanna try it?”

You scoff but almost, briefly entertain the idea. “I’m good. How much does a blow job cost these days anyway?” You instantly regret the question. Probably sounded resentful.

“Depends how much you’re buyin’.”

“What?”

“Ahh, blow job,” he says. You're embarrassed by how loud he says it. He slowly walks closer to the street – closer to you – then stops when he’s a couple of feet away. He crosses his arms and his biceps bulges under his tight t-shirt. “Blow job. . . that’s what you thought? Well damn. I’m flattered, pumpkin. All jealous of my dealer spendin’ time with me.” As usual, you hate it when he’s right.

“That’s what you call ‘contactless pick-up’?”

“That ain’t the weed girl.”

He walks around you slowly, like you’re a steak he’s about to carve up, then he puts his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his voice.

“That’s Michelle Pfieffer, baby. Not Mary Jane.” He looks at your joint and you hand it to him. He's totally lost you. "Never seen Scarface?" He takes a hit, inhales, and holds. His broad chest swells with his lungs. Then he strokes your temple and squints at you, like he’s reading you, as he brings his mouth less than a centimeter from yours and exhales. You breathe him in so cleanly, so greedily, barely any of it escapes into the air around you. You hold, then turn your head to release the smoke. It was too much, too soon, but you couldn’t turn him away. After successfully resisting a glance for several minutes, your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his PJs, sending a warm rush to your core.

He smirks and strokes the nape of your neck. You don’t say anything. You just stand there marveling at how genuinely hot he is. Beautiful, even. Shit, you’re really high.

“C’mon,” he says and rotates around so he’s next to you, slightly behind you. He squeezes your neck, and his forearm is resting between your shoulder blades when he starts walking you towards his basement. You barely resist at all. “Real bad girl shit, you’re gonna love it.”

By the time you’re halfway to the door, his hand is no longer on your neck. It’s drifted down to give your ass a brief squeeze, and for the first time since finding out his real intentions, you’re walking into his basement quite willingly.

He nods to the couch. “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” You move a throw pillow out of your way and sit down.

On the ottoman in front of the couch, there’s a mirrored tray with a credit card, loosely rolled $100 bill, and white powder residue. She was doing a line, not sucking his cock. Now you’re even more embarrassed.

Joel comes around the sofa and gives you an IPA.

He sits down right next to you, manspreading with his hand on his inner thigh and his other thigh flush with yours. He slowly rubs your leg and says, “It's okay, pumpkin. I shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.”

He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too. It’s still pretty hot inside. As he slowly crosses the room, he wets his lips and watches you unzip your hoodie You fold it up and set it in your lap.

"You gotta try this shit." He gets out his drug box.

You hesitate and decline.

“Girl as bad as you, never done hard drugs?”

“Tried it, didn't like it. It was gross.”

“Bet it was cut with somethin’ gross. This is good shit. maybe later though. Hmm?" He turns to face you, strokes your inner thigh, and studies your face.

"Yeah I'm already high as fuck" you admit.

He laughs. “High as fuck . . . that makes two of us, pumpkin.” You can see it in his eyes, too. He extends his beer to cheers yours.

"Got all stressed out seein' me with another chick?"

You take a long sip and observe the tent in his pants, resenting that he's right as usual. He takes a long sip too then puts it down. He leans in close, puts his mouth against your ear. "You don't have to say it," he whispers as he takes your beer out of your hand and your sweatshirt out of your lap, setting them on the table without fully leaving your space. His cold hand slides between your legs, lightly trailing up your inner thigh over your thin joggers. Then he adds, "I can feel it."

You’re already turning to face him. Your legs open, making room for him. “Yeah, that’s right” he says.

You lean back, he gets between your legs, and his hands prowl up toward your shoulders, caging you to the couch. He presses the hard silhouette of his cock into your inseam. Then his mouth latches onto yours and your chest swells into him, your nipples hardening against his tight undershirt. He makes room then his hand slides up under your undershirt – no bra – taking the shirt with it. You help him pull it over your head. Then he cups a breast and palms your hard nipple and your back arches. You’re throbbing for him.

“too hot for these,” he says, hooking fingers into your joggers. He begins to pull them down, then pauses when they’re at your knees. He spreads you open with both thumbs and plants his mouth for a taste. He licks and moans “Mmm’ into your cunt, then plunges his tongue inside, making your hips lift into his face.

He comes up for air and says, "god damn you're hot," palming himself over his pants. He finishes pulling your joggers off. "Hotter every fuckin time." He returns to grinding into you and sucks your neck. Holy fuck, he's hard. So hard. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan.

"Yeah, you feel that? C’mon, let's get wild, baby." He grinds into you a couple more times, says “yeah,” then sits back on his heels and gets the coke baggie. He picks up a small key ring from the coffee table. Joel opens the bag and dips a key into it, getting the smallest little mountain of white powder on the end of the key, then he puts the baggie down on the tray.

"C'mere a sec. It's just a little," he says. You sit up while he makes a vertical fist and puts the smallest hill of white powder on the flat web between his thumb and forefinger. It doesn't look like much, so you play along, closing a nostril and bringing your nose to his fist. You inhale and he says "attagirl," then with the same hand, he grabs your jaw and pulls your mouth into his for an aggressive kiss. The back of your throat is dripping nasally, but you're tingling all over as his tongue invades your mouth with his hand holding your jaw. Then that hand loosens and slides down to your throat and he pushes you back down on the couch, your head landing on the throw pillow.

"Don't worry, pumpkin. All yours tonight, every inch,” he says, stroking himself through his pants. That sends a bolt of desire right through you. His hand slides down your chest over your stomach to your dripping pussy and he says "you taste real fuckin good, you know that?" as he fingers you. Then he licks his thick digits clean.

He pulls down his waistband, frees himself from his PJ pants, then changes his mind and takes them off entirely. He lays his hips onto yours, his stiff cock resting on your mound and you tilt your hips in search of friction. God, you need him so bad. His face returns to your neck and you claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off and admires you with red, half-lidded eyes while he's still sitting upright.

"God you look so fuckin hot. . . “ He runs his hand lightly over your stomach, between your breasts, and back. You badly want him inside you.

He takes the baggie and dips the key in it again. “Gotta do it, ‘fore I get you all sweaty.” Then the cold metal on your cleavage makes your nipples harden and he inhales deeply. He carefully draws a thin line along your cleavage, all the way up to your clavicle, then admires his work.

"Baby you're the hottest thing ‘ever been in this room," he says and your heart swells a little, to your embarrassment.

You watch him in a trance, wanting him back against your buzzing body. He picks up and tightens the rolled up bill. He strokes his naked cock with his other hand then lets it fall between your legs. Your hips tilt, and his tip meets your entrance, nudging at your tight, wet hole while he braces himself on the couch. Your legs open a little wider for him. Your body is drunk with need. Then he brings his head to your chest, the bill to his nose, and snorts the whole line, up to the bottom of your throat, and in the same swift motion, he plunges his stiff length into you with a groan, and you moan at the stretch of his girth.

He tilts his head back and sniffles, staying inside you as he does it. Jesus, who knew a cock could be so hard, or feel so good. He retreats half way then pushes all the way into you again, bottoming out with a shudder.

“God damn, baby,” he says, then begins to move his hips fluidly. He feels so unequivocally good, you can’t even pretend he doesn’t. No part of you can. In a fucked up way, you feel like you’re exactly where you want to be in life, on the couch of this creep’s basement. He grunts as he buries his rock-hard length inside you and sucks at your neck. His cock fills you up just right, just the right amount of stretch, and the way he moves his hips, he’s rubbing you just right, too. All you want is more of it.

“Harder,” you hear yourself say.

“What now?” he smirks with a hint of disbelief.

“Harder, Joel.” He heard you the first time, he just wanted to hear it again. “Fuck me harder.” Your hips lift into his and you wrap your legs all the way around him. He rolls into you smoothly again, nodding, and you feel it building in your core. You watch him in anticipation - his glistening biceps. His absurd triceps. His strong torso. Something animalistic comes across his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes.

He slams into you with a grunt, and you moan. You don’t bother trying not to. Not tonight. He hooks his arms under your shoulders for leverage and pounds into you again and again, to the hilt each time, grunting, breathing heavily. You gasp. He’s hitting that spot just right and he knows it. You’re close to coming. His messy hair bounces as he rails you.

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says.

He moves one of his arms under your knee, putting that leg on his shoulder, and keeps railing you. It feels like your whole torso is being filled by him. You groan loudly, overwhelmed by him all up in your guts. It’s like he’s been holding out on you – he was already so good and this is just ridiculous.

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he pants, looking at you like a work of art as he fucks you. Your back arches and you writhe under him, so close to the edge. He somehow pushes even further.

“And you love this cock, don’t ya?” You nod, tears prickling your eyes. Sweat falls off his chest onto yours as he pummels you.

“Fuck yeah,” he growls.

“Yeah,” you pant, practically a whisper. You could do this all night.

He slams into you hard again, tripping you over the edge, and you repeat “Yeah,” louder, which turns into a moan as you squirm under him through your waves of pleasure and your body jerks.

“I know, baby,” he says. “Attagirl, yeah, come on this cock.” You continue to contract, and manage to stammer, “Oh God, don’t stop.”

As your climax wanes, he hooks both his arms under yours again and says “c’mere,” as his hips roll into you more gracefully again. He kisses you, and moans into your mouth as he fucks you, and you quickly feel it building again. You moan and he says, “hell yeah.”

He pulls out and your gut reaction is”no,” before he can even help you into straddling him. “Well hot damn,” he says and sits back for you to ride him.

You push yourself up by your elbows, then begin to climb into his lap.

“All yours, baby. Ride it.”

You can’t sink onto him fast enough. You both grunt as your bodies are joined. You roll your hips into him and his large hands move you on his cock. He takes a nipple into his mouth and your head falls back. You still can’t get over how hard he is. You could do this all night, you think.

But it isn’t long before his breath changes and you know he’s gonna come. Yeah, you know he’s about to come, and yet, you can’t bear to tear yourself off his cock. He pulls you down flush against him with a groan and holds you there. His head falls back. His hips lift, and he pulses enormously inside you, sending you for your second time. You whine “Oh, God,” as you clench around him. And he moans, lifting his hips into you with each rope. Then you cut his moan off with your lips on his, and he groans into your mouth.

You sit on his lap with his cock still inside as you catch your breaths. Eventually, he gives your ass a squeeze and says, “God I’m thirsty.”

You agree, and get off him. He hands you your beer and you take a long swig.

“I’m spent, pumpkin. Got too fuckin’ high. You tired?”

Yeah, you are.

“Alright, let’s take a nap and do that again,” he says.

And you stay.

A/N: I'm curious if anyone recognizes this situation, because it's based on a movie/scene that inspired the neighbor & drugs premise of night walks to begin with. I know where we're picking up from here thanks to @missannwinchester 👖 and still have many night walks ideas on the board from y'all, brewing and welcome.

TAGS

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

#night walks!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #creepy!joel #creepy!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#night walks #nightwalks☠️#420 anon #cw dubcon

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 7 months

Note

Hiii I have a request for the grumpy cat Husk! Can you write about him with a reader who resembles Lady from Disney's Lady and the Tramp? Both physically and personality wise! I'm a sucker for the Cat person x Dog person trope ;;

Also, if you haven't watched the movie, that's fine! Lady is basically this very lady-like puppy. Kinda innocent, sensitive and very sweet! (from what I remember, haha)

Thank you in advance! 🩷

omg yes! 100% of course!

and thank you so so much for putting in the request anon and for your patience on this too! I hope you enjoy! ☺️

rating: PG

genre: major fluff

pairing: Husk x Reader

warnings: none that i can think of

“Hiya Husk!” You greeted as you came down to the bar and greeted your favorite bartender. Well there was only one bartender for the hotel but he was your favorite regardless. Husk just hummed at your greeting as you sat down and Husk started making your drink. Tonight, you were determined to make Husk smile.

“You remember my drink?” You ask him as he sets it in front of you.

“You come here everyday and order the same damn thing, how could I not?” Husk asks, cleaning off the bar as you took a sip.

“Husk, this is so good! Damn!” The compliment rolls from your tongue easily, not noticing how it was affecting Husk.

“It’s the same thing as always. Nothin’ different ‘bout it.” The cat demon grumbled at you, not showing that he was secretly pleased you noticed that he had done something different and that you liked it.

“No. Nope. There’s something different… Did you put… lemon in it?” You ask, smacking your lips trying to taste all the flavors to discern what was different about your drink. Husk’s ears perked up, shocked you had gotten the addition.

“I did put a little lemon in there, ya.” Husk agreed and turned to you. You smiled.

“See?” You motion your glass to him. “I can tell Husk.” You laugh and watch him for a few moments. “How was your day?”

“My day?” Husk asks, looking at you incredulously. “I mean I’ve been at this shit hole all day and been workin’ so, not great.” You hum a bit and nod your head, feeling a little hurt.

Husk turns a glass over when you gasp. He whips around to you, thinking something is wrong when he sees you holding your hand out for… his hand?

“Oh my goodness. You have little hearts on your hand? Can I see?” You ask excitedly, leaning over the counter. Husk takes his hand and places it on your head and pushes you back down in the seat.

“No chance.” He says, turning away.

“Oh, c’mon Husk! Please? Pretty please?” You start begging and annoying the feline demon with continuous chants of his name. Finally he rounds on you.

“STOP.” He yells, your chants quieting. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I let you look will you be quiet?” You nod quietly but very excited, your tail wagging back and forth. Husk sighs again and lays his hand palm side up to you. You squeal and poke his palm. Then take his hand and lift it, gently holding his hand in between your hands, your thumbs pressing down on the meaty parts of his palm. Watching as you did that his fingers and nails extended ever so slightly. You giggle and poke the heart that was in the middle before pressing a quick kiss to it and laying his hand back on the bar.

“Thanks Husk! It’s really cute you have those markings!” You say, taking another sip of your drink. All the while watching Husk’s eyes widen and his other hand covering the small smile he had on his face. You remain looking oblivious but see how his ears twitch, telling he was happy as his tail swished around a few times and then stopped. When he came back to the bar he was back to his grumpy self, but you saw his little smile.

“Victory!” You thought to yourself as you finished your drink for the night and asked Husk if he could make you another one.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader #husker x reader #husker hazbin hotel #husker x you #hazbin husker #hazbin hotel husker #x reader

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hobie-enthusiast · 1 year

Note

Hobie with a friend or s/o that feels safe drawing and practicing instruments (just overall being creative) around him 🥺?

Thank u op for feeding us so we’ll with all the hobie content btw !!!! MWAH ❤️❤️

THE CREATIVE MIND !

— hobie brown x creative!gn!reader

— fluff, creative reader, pet-names, hobie being a menace, hcs and then a blurb for artist reader at the end

— hobie and his encouragement with his s/o, who loves expressing their creativity with him

— SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK but here it is anon muwah

— Hobie first noticed how much you kept to yourself

— Of course you talked with people around you, but you weren’t very open about what you liked to do

— He loved playing his guitar, Gwen loved playing the drums, Miles loved drawing and sketching, but what did you enjoy?

— Turns out it was a combination of all those things

— When Hobie starts to get closer to you, he notices the little things that you don’t hide around him anymore

— Splatters of paint, marker markings, blistered fingers, all signs of the creativity you hold behind closed doors

— Just as friends, Hobie may ask about what you do, but will never push if you don’t want to say

— He’ll lead into some conversations about it if you do

— Loves listening to you talk and talk about what you do once you get comfortable around him

— Then his friends try to beg to know what you do, what’s the secret hobby you hold so dear?

— And to that he keeps quiet

— Because he loves the fact that you trust him so much to let him know about how well you can do what you do

— If the two of you are dating, god he’s your biggest supporter

— He loves motivating people to go against their limits and rules to achieve their greatness, and he does the same with you

— Every-time you show him a new project, he praises it like the Mona Lisa

— “‘s amazin’, swee’heart. got myself such a talen’ed par’ner.”

— “Belongs on display, ‘s for sure.”

— if you’re an artist, he commissions you all the time

— Stickers for his guitar, art on his walls, even doodles on his hands

— He wants to proudly sport your work wherever he can

— If you play an instrument, he’ll constantly ask to practice and play with you

— Even if you play something like the trumpet, he’ll find a way to jam out with you

— It means a lot to him to share music with who he loves

— If you are a writer, he’ll always ask to see what you’re typing up

— Hobie’s everyone’s biggest supporter, and that’s never an exception for you

— He adores everything you create, no exceptions

Your legs dangled off the edge of the couch as you take your pencil to your sketchbook. On the opposite chair, Hobie was strumming guitar, scribbling and marking his music. It was like a peaceful creative time you shared.

You take a peak up at your boyfriend before looking back down, sketching the features of his nose onto your paper. For the past hour you had been sketching him, multiple poses of him lying there, with his guitar, and him just smiling (which was a closed smirk but better than nothing). You were finishing a sketch of him messing with his guitar, drawing up his hair and piercings.

“Mm..” Hobie sighs before making that focused face he does, bringing out the crease on his forehead.

You smile and draw that out onto the sketch, enjoying how blissfully unaware Hobie seemed. You had numerous sketches of him, but he didn’t need to know.

As you stare down and take glances up, Hobie finishes with the current song he was messing with. He looks over at you, noticing how focused you seemed on your sketch. It was mesmerizing watching you work so passionately.

Quietly, he got up, sneaking over to your seat on the couch. He wraps his arms around you, peaking over your shoulder. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

You slam the book shut. “Nothing!”

“Oh? But I wanna see..” Hobie responds, reaching to grab your sketchbook.

“No no! It’s nothing!”

You shoot up to run to your shared bedroom, holding the book away from Hobie. He chases after you and shoots a web to grab the book. As much as you try to pull it back, he ultimately wins, taking the sketchbook in his hands.

“Le’s see..” He speaks, turning to the page you were working on. “Oh.”

You groan, throwing your head into a pillow. “Hobie..”

He’s quiet for a while, admiring your work. You make him look so.. incredible. All the pencil strokes bring out a different feature of him, and he’s never thought he looked this great.

"These are incred'ble, swee'heart." He says after a while, glancing up at you. “C’mon, don’ be shy. ‘s good stuff.” He assures you as he takes a seat next to you.

You snatch the book from Hobie, swatting him with it. “Ever heard of privacy?!”

“Mm.. ‘s good t’ know ‘s how ya see me.”

“Well.. it’s not even done.” You say with a sigh. Then, you get an idea. “Wait! I’ve got an idea.”

Hobie’s eyes raise. “Hmm?”

You turn back to open the page you were working on, grabbing a pencil and a red marker from the nightstand next to your bed. You look up at Hobie before looking back down, sketching something.

“Just stay still..” You request, sketching out some new features you can now notice from up close. “I wanna finish..”

Hobie chuckles, crossing a knee over his leg. “Mm.. ‘right, ‘ll be ‘ur muse.”

In turn, you give a smile, gently kissing his cheek before continuing to work on his profile. You sketch every little crease, freckle, blister he has on his face. Any scar or bruise he has from his hero ventures, you include. You start to get lost in your book as time moves on.

Your boyfriend just sits there, admiring the way you look so focused. He’s grateful you feel comfortable around him, to where you can allow yourself to indulge in your creativity. He loves how people express themselves, you especially.

When you start adding some colour, you see Hobie scoot next to you. “So talen’ed, ya know that?”

You smile gently, leaning into his shoulder. “I appreciate that, Hobie.” You respond as you continue putting in some highlights.

Once it’s done, Hobie sits back and praises your work like there’s no tomorrow. Many compliments, pet-names, and red blushing messes later, he’s pulling your leg to convince you to let him take them, hang them up.

Once you do agree, he also asks you to make him some stickers for his guitar. “Need some good stuff f’ my gui’ar. Make it flashy t’ fight facis’s.”

Once you do make them, trust, he’s going to brag to everyone he knows and is friends with who made the beautiful artwork displayed on his guitar.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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anonymityisfunwriter · 28 days

Note

sooo I don’t know if this would be a good request or not but I’ve been obsessed with August by Taylor Swift and I was hoping maybe you could write something inspired by that song for Bucky… I can just imagine the angst…if not it’s okay!! Love you & your stories anyways 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

did - did you guys hear that? wait, there it is again... the sound of salt air and the rust on your door...

i won't lie, i'm nervous about writing to a song as perfect as august, but this was too amazing to not write. so with approximately one day left in august, here you are, dear reader! 💛

august.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Anon's Birthday Celebration

Looking back on it, he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't sure if it was one thing. The amalgamation of living for the hope of it all. Maybe it was just the feeling the came along with it.

The salt air.

The rust on your door.

The whispers of 'are you sure?'

What exactly was it that put him in a trance? What left him helpless against the siren song that rang in his ears every time you echoed through his mind?

The sweltering heat.

The vast, unending Louisiana sky.

The mesmerizing way your dresses swished in that warm summer breeze.

He didn't know.

All he knew is there would never be another moment quite like that, never a moment that lasted as long, nor one that meant as much to him, as that August. That's what it was, truly. One long, fleeting moment.

Looking back on it, how August slipped away into a moment in time, he can still feel every moment of that summer love that brought him back to life.

You'll never forget the day you met Bucky Barnes on that bright and shining summer day, the first day of August.

"Hi."

His bright eyes flash up at you, clearly startled by the stranger standing before him. "Uh... hi."

You chuckle at him from the pier where you stand, "Sorry, I'm Sarah's neighbor. I was just looking for her."

He steps off of the Wilson family boat, making sure to tuck his vibranium arm behind him. "Oh... I think she went back inside with Sam."

A bright smile lifts your face. Even on that very first day, Bucky can't help but but be a little mesmerized by it. "Sam? Sam is back?"

Bucky didn't bother to explain that the only reason he was even in Louisiana was because Sam was back.

There wasn't time to say anything before Sam came barreling back onto the dock.

From behind you, Sam's arms enveloped you, lifting your feet on the ground.

The most melodic laughter that Bucky's ever heard burst from your lips. You swat at Sam's hand, "Put me down!"

"Alright, alright." Sam gently lets you back on the wooden slats of the dock. He slings a heavy arm around you, "What are you doing over here?"

"I was looking for Sarah. Didn't realize that you decided to grace Delacroix with your presence again."

Sam gently nudges you, "Aw... ya missed me?"

There's something unsettling to Bucky about the envy he feels so quickly. He didn't even know your name. He had no right to feel jealous, to feel envious of the hand that Sam so casually had on your shoulder. He clears his throat reminding the two of you of his presence.

"Oh right!" Sam sheepishly chuckles. "Bucky, this is our longtime neighbor and childhood friend. And this is Bucky, he's - well - he's a friend."

You hold out a hand to him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky."

He gingerly shakes it, "You too."

"So, how long are you in town for?"

"Just a few weeks."

"Oh."

He swears he hears a hint of a downward lilt in your voice. Almost like you don't like the fact that his presence here is temporary.

"We're actually workin' on fixing the boat," Sam interjects. "So who knows how long that'll take?"

You quirk an eyebrow at them, resting your hands on your hips, "You two are plannin' on fixing this boat?"

"You don't think we can?" Bucky counters.

Your eyes flash over to him with a coy smile, "I never said that... I just thought Sarah was sellin' it."

"I changed her mind," Sam touts, his chest playfully puffing out.

"By offering to fix it?" you guess. You shake your head, your eyes gleaming with amusement. "Always the same, stubborn Sam."

"Hey! I'm not stubborn. I prefer... tenacious."

Bucky snorts, "Another word for stubborn."

"Whose side are you on?"

For a moment, Bucky's electric blue eyes flash over at you. Still, he doesn't need to say he's on your side. The way your gazes lock and linger say more than enough.

You smile, tearing your eyes away after a long moment. "I, um, I should get goin'. It was nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky's hand lifts, his cheeks staining pink at the awkward wave of his hand. "You too."

And like the first time, the second time he crosses your path, you take him by complete surprise.

Bucky walks along the empty road in the blazing sun. He'd never admit it, but perhaps he'd underestimated the walking distance from town back to the Wilson family home in the intense Louisiana heat and humidity.

His hands shoved in his pocket, he walks, deeply regretting the choice to walk into town on his own.

The walk back is quiet. A quiet he'd come to hate over the years. Stuck with his own thoughts as sweat pricked at his forehead and beaded on the back of his neck.

He tenses when he hears a car slowly cruising over the gravel road.

He steels himself, purely out of habit.

"Hey!"

He jolts at the abrupt sound of your voice calling from your old rusted pickup. You chuckle, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

His shoulders automatically deflate. He offers you a tight smile, "It's alright."

"You headed back to Sarah's? Do you need a ride?"

"Oh, no, I'm okay walking."

"You sure? You've got a good five miles left and it's hot as hell out."

"I'll be okay."

"You've never heard of southern hospitality, have you?" you joke. You nudge your head towards the car, "Come on, get in the car."

Of course he'd heard of southern hospitality. He'd seen it first hand here in the quaint Delacroix community. Still, witnessing it and being shown it so earnestly were two very different things.

He thinks for a long second. It takes him a moment, but under your gaze and welcoming smile, he's not sure how he can say no. He reaches for the door handle, hopping in the car, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The car is silent for a long moment. He finds himself to aware of himself, of the close proximity to you.

He shifts in the passenger seat, tucking his vibranium arm further out of sight.

"You don't have to do that." His eyes snap over to you, closely watching your side profile. "I mean, you can if you wanna, but you don't have to."

He humorously snorts, "The metal arm doesn't bother you?"

"No, my dad was an amputee. He'd wear pants in the summer because he didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

He places his hand to a far more comfortable position than tucked between himself and the car door. You barely spare his arm a second glance.

He internally smiles, finally allowing himself to relax slightly. He flexes his fingers, staring at the way your eyes shine in the golden daylight. "In this heat?"

It's probably the dumbest response Bucky could say after you offering such a highly sensitive anecdote, but he can't help the pride that swells in his chest when you chuckle at him.

"Even in this heat."

The third time, he took even himself by surprise. He found himself thinking about that short car ride more than he should've. Analyzing every word and lingering glance. He wanted more. He wanted far more than he knew he should. He knew how this sort of thing went. He lived in New York. He was only here to lay low, to recoup their losses.

And still, he can't stop himself from wanting to, for once in his life, to just allow himself to live for the hope of it all.

The only socially acceptable gesture he could think of was a small token of appreciation from sparing him a five mile walk in the scorching heat.

Of course, he wasn't quite prepared to knock on your front door and say thank you. So he did the next best thing.

He left a bottle of wine on your doorstep the very next day with a little slip of paper with a simple 'thank you'.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised that you approached him the very next day.

Once again, he finds you perched on the deck while he works on the Wilson family boat, "Hey!"

He waves back with a little too much excitement. "Hi!"

"I just wanted to say thank you for the wine. You didn't have to do that."

He rubs the back of his neck, "It's alright, I wanted to."

"You know, I live alone, so I've got no one to share it with. And I doubt I could finish an entire bottle by myself," you chuckle. "Would you care to split it with me? Say 7 'o'clock?"

The smile slowly spreads across Bucky's face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The trance truly takes over from that moment on. It comes back in pieces. Like a kaleidoscope of memories.

The salt air.

The rust on your door.

That feeling of waiting by the phone, canceling your plans just in case he calls.

His back beneath your willow tree.

His vibranium arm glinting in the light that filters through the thick leaves.

Your fingers tracing over each of his scars, down his shoulder blades, trailing up and down his spine. How you wished you could write your name on it.

You've never been this person. No one had ever enchanted you quite like Bucky Barnes did. His name echoes in your mind over and over again. You've never been good with unknowns, with the feeling of jumping without a care.

Will he call when he's away?

Will he think of you twisted in bedsheets?

It didn't end the way you thought it would. With how intense the love affair went, the end was quiet, peaceful. There was no death rattle breathing, no dramatic exit, nothing that could've prepared you for that last day of August.

You suppose you couldn't truly be shocked that it burned out as fast as it did, not when it burned as brightly as it did.

Because while wanting was enough for you, you know Bucky Barnes wanted more out of this world.

And down to the depths of your bones, you knew he was meant for bigger things than a summer love in Louisiana.

And on that final day of August, you find that you don't need him to say the words. You can see it written all over his face. He stands on your porch, his hands shoved into his pockets. "You're leaving."

He nods, licking his lips pulled into a pained, tight smile. "Yeah."

You knew this moment was coming. Despite a stubborn refusal to admit it, you both did.

It hung in the way he spoke about his war stories, his missions, his heroics.

August was always meant to be a moment in time.

He simply wasn't yours to lose...

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

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luffyvace · 8 months

Note

Hey there brook! I hope u having a nice day! Can I ask for a luffy x heroic fem reader headcanon? by heroic I mean that she completely dedicated her life to help and save ppl and that her purpose in life, she's strong and seems cold but when u get to know her she has empathy more than anyone else, I feel like this is the perfect character that luffy would fall in love with, pure kindness hiding behind a tough facade, she doesn't even like being called a hero, yet she is willing to do anything for those in need, slaves, poor villages, she goes against anything unjust without any fear, cause thats her purpose in life (sorry if that was too long 💀)

Hi anon <33 (it makes me so happy that someone finally addressed me as that💗)

today was a very chill day 😊 thank you! How’s yours?

Reader sounds so genuine with such a good background for a op character!!

(Don’t worry it’s not too long—I love to read:3)

Ngl luffy subconsciously sees a little bit of himself in you!!

like your hearts are so similar—gold!

of course he doesn’t directly think that way- but he feels the connection!

which is through helping!

you two never turn your backs on those who have never wronged you

its not even about if they’re on your side or not, as long as they haven’t wrong you? and they need help?

the both of you are on it 🤜🤛👍

you wanting to save others becomes admirable to more than just him, to all of the straw hats—chopper and usopp especially!

I’m gonna go ahead and say it here and now you remind both Jinbe and luffy of whitebeard and fishman island type thing

LIKE THAT’S HOW IT IS!!

Y/n is just her tbh 🤷‍♀️

and if the ops don’t like that? 🤨

🤜💥

how you like that? >:)

your strength may or may not be hereditary but either way if you don’t continue training or working out your gonna loose that strength eventually

which shows just how hard you train everyday!!

bro works harder than zoro 🗿

and we all know he don’t sleep on workin out

so y/n is a gorilla the og

its no wonder you be cookin the ops like breakfast👩‍🍳👍

this is literally turning into a rant about me being (name)’s biggest fan ok let’s move on

luffy saw you cold exterior and was like

😍😍😘🥰😘💍💋💋💋

LOLOLOL no but fr he looked straight past that

he always does- he ignored law’s and zoro’s why wouldn’t he with you-

and once he sees your true kindness???

Locked in like a booty hole 🔗

(ANYWAY I HAD TO🧍‍♀️)

yeah he pretty much busts right through that

he pretty much instantly demands you already are is nakama after that

Your empathy is what really swoops him off his feet tho

like luffy has a good sense of empathy so much so he can hear the voice of all things

and you probably can too! It’s highly likely!

(y/n could have her own anime at this point 🤷‍♀️😚)

But seriously the way he can just feel the way you long for others when they’re in pain just gets him right at the heartstrings you know?! 🥺❤️‍🩹

you comfort them so assuredly and keep your promise to win every time !!

luffy would admire himself more than he would know if he realized how alike the two of you are

tbh you probably admire luffy!!

like it’s a mutual thing, where you pretty much don’t see your own coolness you only see the other’s

so you admire each other unaware that your the same 😂💗

he absolutely adores and admires that empathetic part of you thoo!

he loves how your kind and tough

he wholeheartedly believes the strong should protect the weak, cuz that’s what a man does.

especially with nakama.

so he definitely understands your need to protect those who can’t do it for themselves

there are many times he can recall where he had to rely on others

so he loves that your the one who does that for people

and you don’t do it for the money or fame!

you don’t even view yourself as the hero and savior that bystanders see you as!

that’s so cool to him!

you background/past might’ve caused it! Like maybe you had no superhero! So you decided to become one!

he kinda looks up to you in a way 🤩

as someone who has also helped slaves and the poor he completely understands where you come from in your kindness

and it’s even cooler that you charge head on into battle for others without a second thought

that’s just how tough you are ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

not an ounce of fear in your eyes as you walk up to someone 20x the size of you to simply get back the bread they stole from a poor little child

LIKE HOW COOL IS THAT?! 💥💥

your a super hero!! Dundun duh-duuuuuun!!

🦸‍♀️‼️🤩

you have a goal just like him!! He wants to be the king of pirates and you wanna help others!

With the type of pirate he is?, those things go hand in hand 🤝

”STRAW HAT LUFFY AND PIRATE HERO (NAME) IS HERE!! RUN AWAY!!”

says the pirates who know they’ve done wrong doing!! 😎

also excuse (name)’s lame pirate alias i couldn’t think of one 😊💖

(Name) is so cool 😎 I admire her 💓

hope you enjoyed your hcs anon!! *super heroes away🦸‍♀️🚀*

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lipglossanon · 1 year

Text

Show Me What You Workin’ With

◦━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━ ◦

stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

The stepdad stuckage prompt! 🤭 so just a smutty little one shot told from Leon’s POV to kind of switch it up 😉 editing to add this is for 🪷 anon who is the one that requested this prompt!!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, Leon POV, stuckage, dirty talk, spanking, ass play, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Not proofread 🤙

Title from Shake Ya Ass by Mystikal 🤭

◦━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━ ◦

Leon must’ve done something right in a past life because the image in front of him was nothing short of amazing. His cute little stepdaughter’s hanging halfway out of the bathroom window, trying to make an escape.

He overheard you arguing with your mom before she left on her work trip; an argument that resulted in you having your car keys confiscated and told not to leave the house while she was gone. For some reason, you’re trying to sneak out but no matter how it came to be, Leon’s definitely not letting this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Sweetheart,” he croons, watching joyfully as your body flinches before going slack, legs kicking out.

He can hear your muffled voice so it’s a good bet that neither one of you can really hear the other unless yelling.

He tsks and walks further into the bathroom, moving up behind you. His calloused palms run up your calves, softly massaging your muscles as he moves them closer and closer to your thighs. The cute skirt you chose to sneak out in is barely covering anything as he can see a peek of white panties flash him.

“Leon!” His name is muffled but distinguishable.

He smacks your ass hard listening to you cry out. Laughing, he smacks you again.

“Oh we’re gonna have so much fun,” he grins although you can’t see it, “bout to wreck this little cunt for being such a naughty girl.”

He hears you cry out to him and it fills him with a giddy warmth while his cock thickens in his pants. He’s been attracted to you from the start of his relationship with your mother; don’t get him wrong, your mom’s a lovely woman, but, honestly, he feels like he may have jumped the gun when marrying her. Luckily, you more than make up for it even if you’re relationship is scandalous to say the least.

Leon wishes he could see your face right now; you make the sweetest expressions (all teary eyed and cock drunk before he even slips it in your tight little pussy). He just knows you’d be making a pouty face, begging him to help you out. He rucks your skirt over your ass until it’s laid against your lower back. His hand comes down again, smacking your ass to watch it jiggle.

Hearing you squeak through the gap in the window gets his blood pumping. He grabs your panties and tears the flimsy material in half, letting the remnants dangle off your thighs. Clear slick is oozing from your cunt, pussy lips already soaked.

“What a gorgeous cunt,” he groans, squeezing his cock as it twitches in his pants, “she’s crying for me, sweetheart.”

He wants so many things at the moment that he’s not even sure where to start. Dark eyes hungrily rove over your trembling thighs and wet pussy, over your ass to your lower back and back down. Leon steps closer in between your legs and grabs your ass.

He spreads your cheeks and sees your cute rosebud twitching and winking. Groaning, he dips down and laps at your rim making your legs kick out against him but at this angle he doesn’t budge. Reaching down, he kicks off his jeans and underwear giving his hard cock a few strokes to take the edge off.

He pushes his mouth against you and laps at your asshole greedily; he feels as you slowly relax against the windowsill until you’re pushing against his face. That’s his good girl. Knew you’d love getting your ass eaten. Hell, you’d probably even eat him out if he sweet talked you enough. He moans against your hole making you hump your ass back.

Leon’s mildly grateful there’s no nearby neighbors; he’d hate to have to explain to your mom why her slutty daughter was moaning his name. Now wouldn’t that be a dream? Some fucking perv watching you cry and moan cause Leon was fucking your hot wet cunt til you’re stupid with it. His cock drools imagining it. Maybe he’ll have to take you out one day and try it.

He finally pulls his face away to see your spit soaked asshole clenching down on nothing. Dragging his eyes further down, he sees the sopping wet mess between your thighs.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, dick throbbing as it weeps precum at the sight.

“Need to give her some of daddy’s kisses too huh,” he spreads your pussy lips watching as the clear strings of slick drip down onto the floor.

He lets go and spanks your pussy with a wet slap, watching as your body trembles, hearing you moan outside. Leon steps away to quickly rinse his mouth out with mouthwash (love that it’s so convenient you got stuck in the bathroom) and quickly positions himself back between your thighs.

“Is my naughty girl ready for daddy’s kisses?” he calls out loudly, fingers spreading open your cunt again.

Your hips rocks back and he laughs while pinching your thigh.

“Mmm yeah, this needy pussy wants daddy’s attention.”

His head lowers and he runs his tongue through your wet folds, groaning at the taste. Wasting no time, he buries his face in your cunt, tongue finding your dripping hole and eagerly fucking into it. He loses himself to it; he fucking loves to eat your pussy. You’re always so wet and eager for his mouth.

He groans and wraps his hands around your hips to tilt you up. Holding you at an angle, he slips is tongue out of your hole to lick and suck at your throbbing clit. He feels your muscles tense under his hands as he keeps lapping your sensitive bud, not letting you arch away from the intense pleasure.

More slick coats his face as he keeps teasing and sucking on your clit, finally moving his tongue back into your clenching hole to lap up everything spilling out of your pussy. He spanks your ass making your pussy walls flutter around his tongue. He can’t take much more so he pulls away, watching with excitement as you rock back towards him.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “shouldn’t even give you my cock but this naughty cunt needs some discipline.”

He pulls the foreskin back to smack his weeping tip against your fat pussy lips and pudgy clit. Groaning, he glides his cock across your soaked cunt until he’s covered in your slick.

Leon presses his fat tip into your hole and watches as your pussy sucks him in inch by inch until his dick completely bottoms out. He hears you whining on the other side of the window and it makes him grind his cock in deeper.

The noises you make drive him wild. Wants to be buried in your pussy all the fucking time. He’s never been more excited to see a woman leave than when your mom has to go on a work trip. He’s counting down the time until he can taste this hot little pussy, hell, until he can fill your hot little pussy.

He’s gonna cum in you right here, watch as it drips down your thighs all over the bathroom floor. Then, he’s gonna manhandle you into his room and fuck you til you’re crying, begging him to stop. Fuck, he loves it when you cry. His hips stutter as he pulls out and fucks back into your wet pussy hard.

“Don’t care if you cum right now or not baby, this is for daddy,” he laughs, pinching your ass til you squeal and try to move away, “need to cream my stepdaughter’s slutty cunt so she learns a lesson.”

You make some kind of noise of dissent, but he doesn’t care. He’s gonna fill up your cute pussy til she’s drooling his cum. Gonna keep you full the whole weekend since your mom won’t be back til Monday.

His hips pick up speed, the window jostling with his movements but your pussy’s dripping slick all over his cock so he keeps pounding into your hole. He feels his balls drawing up the closer he gets to cumming.

“Ready, baby?” one hand stays on your hip as he brings the other back to spank your ass, moving from cheek to cheek, “daddy’s ‘bout to cream your little hole.”

He brings both hands down to your ass and spreads your cheeks, eyes watching as his cock bullies in and out of your cunt. His spits hard on your clenching rosebud, sliding a thumb through the wetness to slip into your asshole.

“This hole seemed a little lonely,” he coos, fucking his thumb in and out of your ass as he rams his dick into your squelching pussy, “don’t want her missing out too.”

Your pussy clamps down on his cock even tighter as he fingers your ass. After half a dozen thrusts with your cunt wrapped around his cock like a vice, Leon buries himself deep into your pulsing hole and cums. Rope after rope of hot sticky jizz paints your pussy walls as you milk his cock.

“So good,” he grunts, rocking and grinding his dick into your clenching hole, “love breeding this slutty pussy.”

He drags his dick out and watches the cum leak from your spasming pussy, his spent cock twitching at the sight. He pulls his thumb away from your winking asshole then spanks your puffy mound.

“Give me a second and I’ll get you outta the window,” he laughs mockingly, “don’t want anything bad to happen to you, right sweetheart?”

#stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepdad leon s kennedy #stepdad!leon kennedy #stepdad!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #stepdad!leon x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepcest #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossanon #lipglossanon masterlist

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years

Text

make my heart surrender (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) | chapter two: wednesday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of angst in this one, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, smoking (plz remember smoking is injurious to your health, ppl), avoidance tactics, mentions of al-anon, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.3k

summary: while you get to know the kitchen staff of the bear a little better, you and carmy finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.

a/n: the song 'about you' by the 1975 makes me think of these two and is where the title comes from. also, i totally made up the pete has an airbnb thing but i just feel like he'd be in real estate or something with his little patagonia vests lol. anyways, happy valentine's day babes & enjoy!

read: part one | masterlist

Wednesday

“Okay, this is some next level shit,” Marcus concludes, in between chews as he tries the brioche donuts you let rise overnight. “It’s got everything I like about the yeast donut but the flavor is so much more pronounced.”

“Carmy said you knew how to throw down but.”

Sydney nods, taking another bite of hers, and you watch as Fak holds the donut up to his ear, letting out a wild, “Wow.”

“Oh fuck,” Sydney practically groans, the salty-sweet flavors of the caramel hitting her taste buds.

Last night, pre-dinner shift, you were introduced to the colorful cast of characters that filled up this kitchen. There was Richie, Carmy’s not-biological-cousin cousin, and Tina, who’d been working in this kitchen since before any of you were born. And Neil the handyman, who somehow actively chose to go back his last name, Fak, which puzzled you. Then there was Ebrahim, who seemed to serve as the meat prep cook and the onsite first-aid guy. And Sydney, the brilliant sous who’d worked in fine dining kitchens till she came here, eager to learn from Carmy.

It was a far cry from the kitchens you and Carmy used to work in but this kitchen there were similarities… things every kitchen has. Everyone has their own little quirks, preferences, styles….

They’re just a little more, well, allowed to be themselves and while overwhelming, you find it refreshing as well.

Fak smells the donut next, followed by another ‘wow,’ and your eyes widen as Fak begins licking just the icing.

“Wow,” Fak repeats, carrying on his more-than-peculiar behavior.

“Is he-?” you start, sharing a look with Sydney next.

…alright? Is this normal? Is he okay?

“Yeah, sometimes we just let him–,” Sydney tries to explain, but she’s not quite sure how to explain Neil Fak to anyone outside of their ecosystem.

“Okay.”

“Anyways, so this is just a personal preference and perhaps a symptom of too much time spent in fine dining, but I like to fuck around with weird flavors,” you continue to explain, in reference to the salty miso caramel creme pat you’ve filled the donut with.

“I’m not much for too sweet-of-sweets,” you announce, earning a laugh from Marcus and Sydney. “... which yes, is a very odd thing to say for a pastry chef. So I like to find combinations that cut the sweetness of anything and give the taste buds another experience at the same time.”

“Which isn’t the direction you have to take your pastries, chef.”

Marcus shakes his head, “No, this is… super cool. And I like it a lot.”

“I apologize in advance if I sound like a total loser,” Sydney starts, placing her donut down on the paper towel. “But when I was at the CIA, I actually had your lemongrass creme brulee.

“With the black sesame ice cream?”

“And the sesame crumble.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. What a blast from the past. “Yeah, I had to fight hard to get some of those ingredients on the menu. You know. Before everyone thought it was cool to do shit like that.”

Sydney smiles in agreement, going back for more of her donut.

“So what’re we workin’ on next, chef?” Marcus asks. He has his notebook out and has a few renderings drawn up with ideas he had last night.

“Well now that we’ve built a great brioche together, I’d love to keep practicing your piping technique and-,” you begin, stopping mid sentence as Carmy joins the three of you.

“Mornin’, chef! Hey, try this,” Marcus greets, ecstatic about the results of just a day of working with you, as he hands Carmy a donut.

He takes it, immediately taking a bite. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes and dissects every single flavor note he experiences. You’re all quiet as you wait for his response.

And honestly, you’re still pretty pissed off about him leaving you hanging the day before. After you and Marcus finished up your prep, you had made your way back to your airbnb – the one he set you up in when he asked you to come here.

You had tried your best not to feel like a total loser as you hoped he'd reach out with an explanation. No call, no text, no nothing, wondering why he asked you to come in the first place.

Carmy takes his time savoring his first bite.

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” he compliments, his tone neutral as if it’s just a fact.

“Thank you, chef,” is all you say back to him. You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, and continuing to go over today’s bake with Marcus.

You don’t mean to ignore Carmy, but you’re not sure how to act around him either. One minute he’s ignoring you, and the next he’s making you breakfast. And then he’s standing you up, leaving in the hands of his brash cousin? Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to keep things professional between the two of you.

You work with Marcus till an hour or so into the lunch shift. You both agreed to start your days early, since you’re only here for a week, so that you could cram as much knowledge in as possible.

Marcus asks if he can take point on flavor pairings for tomorrow’s donuts, and you agree, before parting ways till later this evening. You’ve got to come back later today from one more late night prep.

You haven’t spoken much to Carmy at all since he came in. As much as you’ve tried to focus all of your attention on working with Marcus, Carmy has a commanding presence as he expedites. He’s got something most chefs don’t – true leadership – and it seems like his skills have only improved since he left New York. You gather up your things, preparing to take the subway home for a midday nap, heading out the back door.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were… out here,” you gasp. You're surprised to find Carmy sitting behind the shop, sitting a few stacked crates and smoking a cigarette.

Well, that part isn’t surprising – the smoking part. You contemplate taking a seat next to him and asking him for one, but you’re really trying to cut back these days.

“It’s-, you’re good,” he says, taking another drag. He exhales smoke and the eery feeling of deja vu overtakes you.

Instead of leaving, and continuing this game of avoidance, you stand your ground.

“Are you avoiding me?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. You try your best not to sound as angry with him as you are, to no avail, as more words begin tumbling out of your mouth. “Because, if I recall correctly, Carmy, you asked me to come out here.”

Carmy waits a beat, avoiding your gaze, and it only infuriates you further. You watch as he takes another hit off of the cigarette as you continue, your rage boiling up within you.

“I don’t get it!” you exclaim, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You’re trying your best not to shout. “You ask me to come out here, and make it as easy as possible for me to be here by putting me up in this airbnb, you make me breakfast, and then… what? It’s like-, it’s like I don’t exist?”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s always been like this with you. One step forward and five steps back.”

You wait before saying the next thing.

You’re not trying to be mean, but you’re hurt, and this whole experience has all been so confusing.

“I guess I was fucking idiot to believe that you-, that you wanted me out here or something.”

“That’s not true,” Carmy denies, finally breaking his silence. Finally looking at you, even if just for a moment. His eyes return to the concrete pavement below him as he says, “I just-.”

You don’t want to scare him away now that he’s finally talking to you, but you also want answers. And there’s an elephant in the room that maybe, if you both just acknowledged it, could go away. He puts his cigarette out on the cement beneath his feat, tossing it away onto the concrete.

You lower your voice before speaking again.

“Are you… do you still feel weird about what happened between us?” you ask cautiously, eager to fix whatever the hell it is between the two of you. “Because I didn’t think we’d have to talk about it since, well-, I just thought we said we’d just forget it. I mean, I’m not-, I don’t-, I just don’t want things to be this weird between us, Carm."

In some ways, you don’t blame him. You had seen him at his absolute lowest: the day Mikey died. You wonder if he felt too ashamed of how vulnerable he had been. You wondered if he still felt weird about what had happened next….

You had argued with him that day – practically demanded that he not go in for dinner service that night. You knew he had wanted a distraction, but after the phone call, after learning what Mikey had done, you knew he was wrecked – even if he wouldn’t admit it. That level of denial couldn’t be healthy, but he'd snapped at you and you didn't think there was much you could do about it. It didn’t take long for him to blow up at a line cook mid-shift, and you had quickly ushered him into the walk-in.

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you had chastised him. “Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?”

Carmy had grabbed at his chest, and you knew he was having one of his breathing episodes.

“Carmy, are you o-?"

He’d held out his hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you’d left him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in filled your ears, reinforcing your exact reasons why you hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to come in that night.

That night, you had made sure he got home okay, and he’d practically begged you to stay with him. It hadn’t been the first time you’d slept in the same bed, and you knew he was at his lowest point, in need of company. It hadn’t been until he started crying – sobbing really – that he finally broke.

“Carm,” you had whispered, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge it or not.

“Carmy.”

He had turned to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body. You had never seen him like that as he’d buried his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours.

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you had whispered, over and over again. You stroked his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do. You’d let him cry, continuing to run your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort your could.

When he finally looked up, all he could think to do was to kiss you. You had been taken aback -- caught off guard as you'd pulled away from him.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you had said, pushing him away.

At that moment, his eyes were swollen, his face red, and he looked like you had just kicked his puppy. He had leaned his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, and you’d felt that he’d put you in an impossible position.

You’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it – hadn’t thought about it before – but Carmy had never given you any inkling that he was even interested in dating anyone. You had been perfectly fine being ‘just friends’ with him despite the whispers between the kitchen staff when no one thought you were listening. And now? You knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace. It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you’d apologized softly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence had only made you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” was all he'd said, breaking his silence and looking up at you with those sad, swollen blue eyes. He leans in to kiss you once more.

“Please.”

In between kisses you’d managed to ask, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he whispered, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he had left on your skin. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good.”

It was then that you’d realized what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you.

The truth was that you were fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other.

“Yes,” you’d repeated, finally giving into him.

Even though it should’ve been a beginning, it felt like an end, but for one night, you’d indulged the both of you.

“I know,” he says, his voice pulling you back into the present. His eyes are fixated on the pieces of gravel that sat between his feet. Even though you both agreed to it, he hadn’t forgotten about what happened between the two of you and he’s not sure if he should tell you that too.

But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s not why he’s avoiding you. Or maybe it’s part of it. He hadn’t expected seeing you to be this hard. That it would bring it all back – wanting you – so much so that those incredibly big feelings had sent him running to a meeting.

He just needed a place to be unapologetically fucked up.

He’s not sure what he thought would happen – like you’d just fall into the same old rhythm of your friendship without a care in the world.

He’d called Sydney yesterday and he could barely breathe. Sydney had told him to take the night off – that it wouldn’t help to come back to the kitchen that night – and that he had a whole week of you to prepare for. To figure this shit out.

“I um,” he starts. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to get these words out; why it feels so difficult to tell you. “I’ve kinda been going to these al-anon meetings…ever since, well you know… since I got home.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say. You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say. That he hates you? That he couldn’t stand being in the same kitchen with you and yesterday brought it all back? That it was a mistake reaching out to you?

You sit down on the curb, next to Carmy, leaving plenty of space between the two of you.

“My sister nagged me to go. Thought it was bullshit but… I don’t know why I kept going back. I still go three times a week.”

You stare at the ground, not sure what to say next. All that comes out is:

“Well I feel like an asshole.”

He scoffs, moreso to himself, “No, you’re not. I-, I’m sorry. I should’ve-.”

You can tell he’s frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to tell you.”

You sigh, scooting a hair closer to your old friend.

“I don’t know either, Carm. I-, we used to tell each other everything.”

“I know.”

You catch his gaze, your eyes meeting with his, and it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment.

“I should’ve called. Should’ve kept in touch. Guess I just feel like-, I don’t know,” Carmy admits, regretfully. “I know I’ve been….”

“Uh huh. You’ve been….” you trail off.

“But I do. Want you here.”

And that’s the problem, he thinks to himself.

“I know I’ve been a dick. I shouldn't have-.”

You take a breath, processing all of it.

“Can we… not have this conversation again?” you ask, taking a lighter tone this time. “I mean, we sorta had a very similar conversation to this yesterday… and now today… like… are you gonna stop being such a fuckin’ weirdo or what?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I-, I’m gonna stop, well, you know.”

You chuckle in response, continuing to tease him, “Good because… you know usually when your friend comes to town you hang out a little, catch up, say hey hello how are you? I mean, maybe I’m totally out of pocket for this, but sometimes, you know… they even hug. Yeah, Carm, like, normal people.”

“Oh fuck you,” he mutters, jokingly.

It’s quiet between the two of you, but for the first time in the last 48 hours, it's not weird. It’s a familiar quiet intimacy – something that reminds you of the before times.

Before Mikey died.

Before you hooked up.

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be here too,” you reassure in response to what he said earlier, bumping your shoulder up against his, playfully, earning the slightest smile from him.

“How’s the place?”

“Surprisingly, very nice,” you answer, a mischievous tone in your voice like you know it’s going to start something.

“What? You think I’d put you up in a shit place?” Carmy asks, feigning offense.

“I’ve been in your New York apartment, Berzatto. Which is mostly why we spent most of our days off at mine,” you continue.

He laughs dryly in response.

“My brother-in-law manages a few airbnbs so… it’s the least I could do for… you know… you comin’ out here,” he explains.

“Well thanks. It’s-, it’s great.”

“I gotta get out of here early, and pick up the kid. Have a goodnight, sweetheart,” Richie says to you, about to head out of the restaurant.

“Richie, what the fuck did I fuckin’ tell you about saying shit like that!” Carmen shouts back at his cousin, with an eye roll.

“So sorry,” Richie says sarcastically, emphasizing your name after. “Gotta woke-ify everything in front of Carmen. Just a little baby.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells across the kitchen, moving quickly through the closing shift chores.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie brushes off Carmy’s comment with an eye roll.

“See you fucks tomorrow.”

“This look good, chef?” Marcus asks you, motioning for you to come over and take a look at the mixer.

You reach down into the mixer, checking the dough for texture.

“Yeah, looks good. Go ahead and grab a few sheet pans so we can shape these and we’ll cover ‘em so they can proof overnight,” you order, Marcus nodding in response.

“Thank you, chef.”

As Marcus disappears, in search of a few sheet pans, Carmy’s wiping down one of the prep stations.

“Hey, you,” you say, a smile on your face as soon as you see him.

After your talk this afternoon, things feel lighter. He feels lighter.

“Hey,” he says, finishing up with his cleaning duty before making his way over to you. Carmy checks to see that Marcus hasn’t come back yet, and you notice.

“Great dinner service, huh?” you congratulate.

“We’re gettin’ there,” he replies. “Smoothest it’s been so far. Since the reopen.”

Ah yes. The reopen. You’re still waiting to hear that story.

“I was thinkin’, maybe we could do that catch up thing? Over a drink?” Carmy proposes, changing the subject, and you think to yourself that it’s the most confident you’ve ever seen him.

“I-,” you start, as Marcus makes his way back towards the pastry area. “We’ve got one more late night prep tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, spotting Marcus as well. “Tomorrow’s good.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

“Goodnight.”

read: part three

#Spotify #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #make my heart surrender

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