#ch: mikey

[enidtwd]

season 6

[boxfullaturtles]

"Nothing he does will ever be good enough for you...will it?"

Maybe it's better not to ask questions you don't really want to know the answers to, Michelangelo.

[Choosing Hope AU Masterpost]

[neo-exploded]

funny drawings from my fic

og and fic link under cut :))

[s1aywalker]

it's the crossover episode!!!

[hornystorage]

Some tags for better organization

I'm going through all the posts I can in the blog, tagging them so as to find them easier. To help with that, I'm also writing the tags here, what do they mean, and using them to tag this pinned post. To see any of the tags, just tap/click on it (on the tags section under the post).

The tags are not mutually exclusive. A post can (and will probably) have more than one tag.

(All the tags begin with CHS: meaning Curio's Horny Storage:)

CHS: picture Given to posts where the focus is the picture, rather than anything else that may or may not be written.

CHS: drawn This one is for drawing and paintings and that kind of art.

CHS: audio Posts where the main focus is the audio. My favourite kind of post.

CHS: written The biggest group of posts. They mostly have pictures, but the main point of them is what's written: captions and stories are tagged this.

CHS: caption The kind of written content added to an existing picture. Sometimes is hard to tell what's a story and what's a caption, so I went with my gut instinct.

CHS: story The kind of written content that doesn't necessarily have a picture attached. Sometimes is hard to tell what's a story and what's a caption, so I went with my gut instinct.

CHS: concepts Little ideas for stories and fictional products.

CHS: guidelines Guides, tutorials, and tips. From the classic "become a bedwetter" guides to how to fluff up a diaper.

CHS: games and challenges Some fun little activities to have some diapered (or not) fun.

CHS: diaper peak For those pictures where a bit (or a lot) of diaper peaks out of a buy's pants ;P

CHS: wet spot For the pictures where the focus is the big, wet patch on a guy's crotch.

CHS: wetting There are some videos and gifs where you can see the wetting happening, instead of a still of before or after.

CHS: humping Used for diapered boys humping their wet diapers in pictures and gifs.

CHS: chastity Sometimes explicitly included, sometimes just alluded to, so I tag it because I enjoy it.

CHS: magic wand Used for those posts that have those magic wand vibrators. I hear they feel very good on a wet diaper...

CHS: less kinky Some less kinky pictures that I just find hot.

CHS: bulge A tag for the hot bulges and packages of men (non-diaper bulges).

CHS: bedwetting A main kink for this blogger, so I tag the pics and stories that focus on the subject.

CHS: POV For the posts that put you on a POV (Point Of View). Also a favourite of mine.

CHS: furry Posts that have furries. Sometimes in diapers, sometimes just big and hot.

CHS: hypno Images that depict someone getting hypnotized, usually drawings.

CHS: rubberpupthoughts rubberpupthoughts wrote some very good stories and captions, but all his stuff seems to have disappeared from the internet. I'm reposting the few ones I have saved, and if you have some others, I'd be grateful if you could share them.

CHS: Mark and Luke A nice little story, contained in a single post.

CHS: the briefs saga Two captions that may not actually be related, but share a similar subject.

CHS: Diapers for my Boyfriend A story in 11 parts, of which I’m missing the first 3 parts.

CHS: Heath A four-parts story about a guy named Heath and how he ends in diapers. Sadly, I am missing the first part.

CHS: Josh and Mikey A series of captions with the recurring characters Mikey (who's becoming incontinent) and Josh (who's making it happen).

CHS: Tim and Joe A seemingly 4-parts story, of which I only have the last two parts. Gotta find the other two.

CHS: Tricked and Treated A two-part story involving lots of humiliation about a boy and his daddy on halloween (and after).

CHS: Remote Work Bullying A two-parter about a guy with an online dom working from home. Padded, of course.

CHS: Billy and Timmy's Rough Days One (technically two) of the more rough stories in the blog. While usually not my style, I find it particularly hot. (unofficial title, as I didn't see any in the posts themselves, which are form different people).

CHS: a favourite Some personal favourites of mine.

CHS: to find As blogs come and go, some stories that require access to deactivated blogs cannot be read anymore. I'd like to complete them where possible, so any clues as to where to find a complete version for archiving purposes are welcome.

CHS: tags Other blogs have their own tags. I reblog them so as to have easy access to the posts I like. Recommended to check out.

[nani-nonny]

Whispers of Distant Souls - Ch.13 Alternate Scene

So… I thought it’d be fun if I shared the alternate version of the F!turtles reuniting :).

But context, F!Leo originally wasn’t going to see his brothers kind of all at once. It was going to be gradual as the longer he stays with the present Hamatos, the better he would feel about his place within the family. As in feel a part of them rather than a bit of an outlier/outsider kind of ordeal. Although this would’ve been fun to write or witness, at this point I thought, “i made everyone wait long enough.” /j (and because the story went on a different route, that route being more ninpo involved)

So I rewrote the scene and threw the ghosty bros into the fray known as Ch.13. Anyways, in the original plan, F!Mikey was going to suddenly appear before F!Leo after the slider had recuperated/recovered from the whole Krang invasion fiasco. I think I’ve explained enough :) have fun reading this short snippet

vvvvvvvvvvv

Leonardo is seated in the middle of his room in a meditative position. His hands rest on his knees and his eyes are closed as he focuses on his surroundings. He listens to everything and nothing. Allowing himself to simply exist in this moment—in this timeline that he doesn’t belong to. And for this exact moment, it’s okay. It’s fine. He’s fine.

He’s allowed to be here. He is meant to be here. He gets his second chance—his one in a million.

But it’s so lonely without his brothers and sisters. So frighteningly lonely without his family by his side. There isn’t Draxum to scold him for not utilizing his mutant strengths to the best of his abilities as a superior life form. No Splinter to stop him from slouching and no Big Mama to call him turtley-boo. No Piebald to train silently with, no April to make stupid jokes, and no Cassandra to beat krang assholes to the ground with. No Donnie to bicker and tag-team with, no Raph to reassure him that everything is going to be fine, and… no Mikey to poke his cheek and tease him for growing a Raph-chasm.

For the first time in his life, he feels truly alone. And never had he ever felt so small.

He releases a heavy sigh that carries all his thoughts and loneliness. Then finally opens his eyes.

At first, he thinks he’s dreaming. Maybe he must have reached some nirvana state—that or he fell asleep. Either one works.

It would help explain why he’s seeing Mikey—his Mikey, Master of Mystic Arts and the strongest mystic warrior in the entire Resistance. Master Michelangelo Mikey. His little brother.

The mystic warrior is reflecting Leonardo’s meditative pose, hovering above the ground in front of the resistance leader. Michelangelo is covered in a familiar glow, the same glow that envelops their bodies when their ninpo activates. The box turtle’s ninpo is as warm and soothing as ever, emitting an orange light that calms Leonardo’s nerves.

Something in Leonardo pulses as if finally coming back to life. As if a missing gear within a machine has been found and fit into place. There are a few other missing pieces, but this is a start and the machine finally moves—breathes.

In a breathless whisper, Leonardo calls out to the mystic warrior, “Mikey…?”

Michelangelo’s eyes slowly open and a smile stretches onto his face when he sees Leonardo. “You didn’t finish meditating,” the warrior replies in a teasing tone.

Leonardo’s breath hitches and he can already feel the tears forming in his eyes. “Mikey…,” he mumbles.

Michelangelo leans forward to connect their foreheads which releases the comforting warmth of a miniature sun.

The machine’s gears are working fluidly, working in perfect tandem despite the missing pieces. It quickens the pace of Leonardo’s heart, rendering him almost breathless as he welcomes the feeling. It takes him a few seconds to recognize it, but he knows it. How could he ever completely forget about it? It’s the feeling when he’s connected with his brothers. It’s no machine but the Hamato Ninpo, his connection to his ancestors and his family. It’s the people he lost.

“How could you let yourself go like this, geez, Leo,” Michelangelo teased again as he lifts his head away from Leonardo, the connection weakening but still present.

Leonardo blinks and the tears finally fall, no amount of willpower could hold them back. Not when he no longer feels alone. He wipes his tear with his nonprosthetic hand and retorts, “Give me a break, Michel. It’s not everyday you see a ghost.”

Michelangelo snorts and says, “Ghost? I guess, but I’ve been here everyday. You just didn’t want to see me.”

Leonardo’s eyebrow raises, “‘Didn’t want to see you?’ I haven’t stopped thinking about you guys since I came here.”

Michelangelo’s hand mocks Leonardo by mimicking his mouth then says, “You kept ignoring us.”

“Ignoring you? Since when did I…,” Leonardo’s voice trails off as he connects the dots. The reason why he kept hearing those voices, the same voices that slowly became recognizable by the day but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. “That was you guys?”

“Uh, duh, Leo. Didn’t I tell you? ‘I’ll be closer than you think’,” Michelangelo retorts as he flips on his back but continues to hover in front of Leonardo.

“You knew… you knew this would happen. You knew you would… and that I’d be here,” Leonardo says as he connects the dots. He reaches for Michelangelo’s wrist, hoping to grab his little brother’s attention but the mystic warrior retreats his arm.

“Whoa, careful Leo! It took some time to manifest my ghost! Gram-Gram made it sound so easy but it’s so hard!” Michelangelo complains as he distanced himself from Leonardo.

“Mikey, did you know this would happen? Is that whh you said that before opening the portal?”

Michelangelo winces as he nods, “Surprise?”

“Mikey!”

[juuuulez]

mikey is such a cutie patootie!! i imagine that his family all really love you (and maybe pin too much hope on you to ‘save’ him) so at holidays everyone’s just so sweet to you. everyone knows they can joke or make snide comments at mikey, but god forbid anyone goes after you (uncle lee made the mistake of accusing you of drugs too. it’s a good thing donna totaled her car because otherwise lee would be fucked up)

and idk mikey can be so sweet i know he can!! you’re kind of the pete to his sugar in a way

literally agree like he just needs HIS person and he would be so proud to show you off

a berzatto christmas is chaotic but you’ll quickly learn how to handle that energy, knowing it’s just common for them. everyone (or at least most of them) treat you well, and sometimes you’re even enough to diffuse the tensest of situations.

“hey! your hookers here!” uncle lee will shout when you walk through the door, not so much an announcement to mikey as it is to the room, something to gain a reaction. thankfully he isn’t around right now, for that would be the beat-down of the century.

you offer lee a thin smile, knowing by this point not to engage. “merry christmas to you, too.”

the house is warm and alive with energy, everyone you pass throwing a greeting your way. natalie stops you for a hug, her hands smoothing down your dress and making a comment about how nice it looks, but “aren’t you cold, sweetheart? did you drive here? we’ll get you a coat for later, okay?”

on the way to the kitchen, you have to physically evade richie’s hand coming to mess with your hair. it’s been perfectly done up for the occasion and his big hand serves as an obstacle, wanting to ruffle it like usual.

you huff and swat his arm away, ducking quickly through the door and missing the glare it earns him from tiff.

finally, you make it into the kitchen. it’s disorganised and messy, pots overflowing, spoons left on the counter. carmy is trying to reign in the situation, in his own silent way, not wanting to cause any additional tension.

“hey, d.” you greet donna from behind, who was too caught up in whatever to notice your arrival. she turns around with an exasperated noise, both her hands finding your shoulders before moving to your cheeks.

“how are you?” she asks, but is talking before you can get a response in. “i was reading this magazine, and there was this model, and i swear, it looked— hey! hands off!”

whatever tangent donna was on is interrupted as carmy goes to stir a pot, to which she bats his hands away, going on about its contents and how it needs to simmer.

“it smells good in here!” you chirp, a smile on your face as you open the fridge.

“wine,” donna continues, “did you want some wine? here, sweetheart. let me pour you a glass.”

“no, no, i’m okay!” you quickly interject, already having found a cold bottle from the fridge. “beer is good, beer will be fine.”

she makes an offhanded comment about needing to “treat yourself to something nice” and not drinking “cheap garbage.” meanwhile, donna continues pouring the aforementioned glass, only to sip from it herself while she cooks.

you take about three gulps of the beverage before footsteps bring another presence to attention. it’s always easy to hear mikey before seeing him, for he’s often already yelling to you from the other room. this time it’s a call of your name, loud and warm, so you flutter closer to the doorway to meet him.

“hey,” you greet with a smile, hands reaching for the fabric of his sweater while his find your hips. “you look good. like this colour on you.”

“says you,” mikey will quip back. “this fuckin’ dress on you, jesus. tryna’ kill a man, huh?”

it gets a giggle out of you, cheeks flushing red at the blatant compliments despite the others in the room. it was something you were still adjusting to: showing love so casually and shamelessly no matter the circumstances, like it was the only thing that mattered.

“merry christmas, bear.” you coo, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

it earns a squeeze of your hips, mikey moving to kiss back. “merry christmas, baby.”

“can you guys please fuckin’ move.” carmy snaps suddenly.

the peace is again broken, with donna scolding him and going on and on about something you pay no mind to. it onto causes carmy to heat up further, complaining about how you’re both in the way in that usual overwhelmed sense.

mikey doesn’t help, chiming in with his own remark. “oh, is our affection ruining your flow? you know what your problem is, you gotta chill out. it’s christmas, and you’re fuckin’ wound up—”

“okay, okay. we will move. let carmy have his peace.” you interrupt him, trying to save the conversation by giving mikey a little push to usher him out of the kitchen. it works, thankfully, for the second that he spots richie he’s going on again about some other story you’re sure you’ve already heard, but is somehow relevant right now.

[hatekawa]

3 Months AU Masterpost (HIATUS)

Mikey hasn't got much time left, so let's make the most out of it.

My art tag My sona My AUs & Comics Comms sheet Tip jar

Character refs Your fanart Asks

______________chapters______________

Ch.1 Information

Ch.2 Unhelpful

_____________quick notes_____________

Art program I use: PaintTool SAI 2

TW sibling/family death, terminal illness, blood

TC3ST DNI.

Do NOT repost without my permission.

Don't hesitate to point out any grammar/spelling mistakes!

Feel free to make fanart, edits, memes, dubs, fanfics and other sorts of art - just please credit/tag me if you do!

[enidtwd]

see my problem with the twd teens is that i can't imagine a universe where rarl isn't queercoded/together/canon-adjacent/pining, whereas carnid can be queerplatonic or lovers or besties depending on my mood. but then there's the ever-elusive carl/mikey and enid/sophia pairings to consider. so. i guess you could call me a multishipper!

[purplepixel]

- Ch. 20 of Spiders Web With Strings Attached by @psychologicalwarclaire

GET HER MIKEY. GET HERRRR. JUSTICE SHALL BE SERVED!!!

This is your reminder to go read this amazing fanfic. Am I spoiling a pretty big moment in this fic? Maybe. Only those whove read it would understand the amount of pure euphoria this chapter gave after words and words of having your heart shattered in a million pieces. Chapter 20 of swsa is iconic and remains one of the greatest moments in fanfiction I’ve ever read.

[indieyuugure]

For the recent episode. I remember you doing a comic with a similar plot just without April. I remember Mikey getting bit. Was it based on that comic?

Yes, that comic was a draft of this current chapter (Ch 5: Pomerantula Poison)

April was added because I wanted an adventure with her and the turtles and also because of future plot reasons.

Definitely like it better with April 👍 (hope you guys do too)

Good question! :]

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo 4 am thoughts btw:

Ch. 13 was called Again & Again both because of the ending AND because of the whole Splinter vs Raph debacle. I'm sure this conversation isn't new to them. I'm sure they have had a conversation like this BEFORE. But Raph didn't blow up and just let things go on like that. It was probably much less direct and Splinter promised to do better, etc etc.

Anyway I totally forgot about the Raph n Splinter fight as I got closer to the end cause I was so focused on the Krang Lion stuff but going back and reading it is wild in the context of the chapter. Also Leo unlocking his powers under similar circumstances as before? Yeah???? Inevitably of time or whatever y'all

I wish I could say ' I planned this all from the very beginning cause I'm always 2 steps ahead' but in reality I loosely plan the chapters and then write in stuff as I'm sketching the comic. Like the Raph n Splinter thing happened by chance cause I wrote the idea on a post it note. Mikey getting hurt was just like. I needed a transition between the fight and Leo. He also was the one who got hurt because he just HAPPENED to be the distraction.

Anyway planning is good and fine and all ( love to plan fr) but the best stuff happens during the actual sketching :3 and sadly I'm not as evil as I pretend to be with foreshadowing cause I'm not not good at it chapter to chapter LMAO.

[burekforsatoru]

home is where we are: sweet boy

ch 1/3 | read it on ao3 | next chapter >> baji keisuke/chifuyu matsuno/f!reader having lived with your darling boyfriends for a while, you should already be used to them coming home bruised and in all kinds of states. but it doesn't make it any easier each time. so with chifuyu sitting there with freshly applied bandages and baji still not home, you can't help but worry. once you find out he's safe, though, you can finally relax and enjoy the presence and the touches of your other darling. wc: 4.4k tags: smut, oral sex, piv, eventual threesome, unprotected

“where did you leave that dickhead?” your words are serious enough, but the tone of delivery is still a little worried as you place the last bandage on chifuyu’s forehead. he winces when you press on the fresh cut, but knows better than to curse out loud when you’re doing him a solid. 

“ow, i didn’t leave him, he’s a whole ass adult.” chifuyu sighs, feeling a little relieved now that it’s over. you always patch him up so well, even if you do give him shit for getting so beat up in the first place, but he understands it’s what comes in the package of living with you. “he left on his own, chased after some assholes that wanted to dip from the fight.”

you sigh. of course, you think, it's fucking baji. but there's a stupid feeling of worry bubbling up in your chest as you put away the leftover bandages into a first aid box and push it all back into the drawer. chifuyu checks his phone, it's a few minutes til midnight. almost time for a check in, but he can't let his brain run wild. he lifts his head up, seeing you chew on your bottom lip which always gives you away, so he deals with you the best way he knows – by taking your hands into his and pressing grateful kisses along your unbruised knuckles.

you soften a little, knowing it's useless worrying when baji is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. his tendency to go off on his own always results in him coming home with a couple of extra bruises, bloodied knuckles, and maybe a split lip. nothing permanent, nothing truly dangerous. but the ‘what ifs’ plague you, so much so that you barely notice chifuyu slipping out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to make you some tea. the noise of that old kettle snaps you out of your thoughts and you walk in after him, wrapping your arms around his bare waist as he browses the extensive tea collection the three of you have amassed through the years. 

“peppermint, please.” you murmur against his back, kissing his skin as the top half of his uniform hangs around his waist. chifuyu drops the tea bag into your favorite mug along with a squeeze of honey and pours water into it, ignoring the fact that it's nearly time for baji to check in with you, to let you know he's safe. he doesn't check his phone, but neither of you can help your eyes flitting to the black screen while you stand in the kitchen, letting the soft sounds of the constantly on radio flow around you, usually a tempting melody to dance to, this time simply irrelevant. irrelevant until you know that he's safe.

the absolute bastard, chifuyu’s phone lights up just as the numbers change to 00:00 and there's a strip across the screen with baji’s name and contact photo, the message for the group chat reading “alive and well, just chased a few losers down and now driving around. be back later.” you can finally relax. chifuyu closes his fist on top of the kitchen counter and you relax your hold on his waist, enough to allow him to turn around before you squeeze him into a hug again. 

“it's okay,” he murmurs into the top of your head before pressing a sweet kiss to it, “back later, yeah? that's what he said.” chifuyu doesn't mention it's midnight on the dot, that he usually gets back earlier if he's not with mikey. but he's the captain, and chifuyu is his right hand man. there's no way he would talk badly about baji, not when he's doing some toman shit or other. 

“gonna fucking kill him.” you mumble into chifuyu’s chest, inhaling his scent mixed with sweat, and pulling away only to take a look at the steaming cup from the counter. 

“mhm, sure.” he chuckles, smoothing your hair before dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours. “we'll see about that.” then he claims a proper kiss, parting your lips as you melt into him. 

chifuyu has always had a certain softness within him, the gentle way in which he handles you like you're precious. despite telling him countless times that it's okay, you won't get hurt, he can grab you… he's always been – chifuyu. you lean into the kiss a little further, trailing your fingers up his side and cupping his face. he stops himself wincing as your gentle fingers avoid the bandages on his cheek. 

the good news from baji puts you in a celebratory mood almost, your hands get grabbier, your lips needier as they pull gentle huffs and moans from chifuyu’s lips. his uniform is hanging off his hips, the top with the sleeves hastily having been yanked off his shoulders as soon as he came home so you could inspect the irritating cut he had on his back. it allows you to lower your hands from his face as you melt into his body, trailing your softer palms down his chest, down his stomach, over his hips all the way to tug the material of that black jumpsuit lower. he knows what you’re doing, so he moves his hips off the edge of the counter to help you free him of the constraints of his clothes.

your quick hands soon find their place inside the soft material of his boxers, dragging a ragged moan from his throat as you lightly touch his already hardening cock. he knows, he’s been with you long enough to expect some extra attention from you when you’ve made sure your boys are safe. it’s almost a little celebration, a tradition. certainly one he can get behind as you tilt your head up to kiss him harder while sliding his boxers off. it’s so warm, holding his dick in your palm, so smooth as your thumb swipes over the skin of his tip, smearing a little drop of precum over it. 

so perfect, as you pull away from the kiss to see his half-lidded eyes while you sink down to your knees in front of him, kissing that leaking tip gently. chifuyu’s one hand grips the edge of the counter while the other pats your head, silently praising you, motivating you to wrap those pretty lips, those juicy, soft lips around his cock head. and you do, out of love, out of devotion, desire, and lust. your eyes convey it all when he looks down, barely peeking through his dark lashes to see your face, so sweet for him. so full of emotion with his cock disappearing into your warm mouth. 

chifuyu moans, tangling his long fingers into your hair, but holding off on tugging you closer to take more of him, being good for you as you reward him. as you celebrate him. and your mouth certainly sings his praises, from the first swipe of your tongue along the entirety of his length, the gagging sound you make when you take just a little bit too much of him into your throat, to the heavy breath your nose has to let out in order to keep going, the little hum of approval and appreciation when his moans get a little heavier and he tells you he’s about to cum.

so now, with your doe-eyes focused on his sweet face and his bottom lip being chewed on, you hold on to his strong thighs, the same ones that you ride every now and then, soaking them in your release as they rub you just the right way while his hands help you move. now they’re the stability you need as your head bobs forward and your other hand helps you guide his length into your mouth. 

“ ah… i’m gonna… get ready, baby–” chifuyu barely finishes his sentence when you suck in your cheeks, making his hips buck forward on instinct and his hand tighten its grip on your hair. it’s another one of your dirty little tricks, making him unable to control himself when your mouth suctions him in so much that he immediately, much like now, moans out and stutters in his movements, spilling his warm, sticky cum into your waiting mouth. he slows down, slowly brings himself to a stop as his hand once again pats your head gently, letting you swallow at your own pace and lift yourself up to your feet, all while his head is thrown back and his breath slowly comes back to him. 

your lips trail a little path up chifuyu’s chest, peppering his collar bones and neck in kisses before you tilt your head up and kiss along his jaw, landing on his lips. he grabs you, holding the back of your head as he kisses you deeper, tasting himself on your tongue before he slows down and pulls away to breathe. his smile widens, so blissed out, as he kisses the tip of your nose and slowly reaches back to hand you the mug with your peppermint tea now steeped to perfection. 

he follows you into the bedroom, wearing just his boxers and watching your hips sway as you walk, covered in one of his old shirts– or was it baji’s? who knows, it’s not like the three of you don’t share a massive wardrobe anyway, barely keeping track of who owns which ridiculous graphic t-shirt or what hoodie. the only items that are immediately recognizable are your pretty dresses and skirts, though that hasn’t stopped the two of them from trying them on occasionally, always followed by your camera catching them flexing in the mirror wearing sweet, strappy dresses threatening to get too stretched over their backs.

chifuyu gets into your huge bed, back leaning against the headboard. he pats his lap, beckoning you to come and straddle him. once you’re on his lap, comfortably sitting atop his toned thighs with a hot mug between your palms, he rests his hands on your hips. 

“you can stop worrying now,” he says, reaching to the bedside table only to turn on the small lamp. “he’s okay. i’m okay. you’re okay.”

“i’m not worrying.” you take a sip of tea, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the hot liquid nearly burn your mouth, but it’s so comforting, almost as much as chifuyu’s palms that rub small circles over your hips, glide up and down your thighs, and slide under the elastic of your panties periodically. 

“yeah, uh-huh,” he scoffs, “likely story.” you should know better than to try bullshitting chifuyu, sometimes it feels like he’s got a radar specifically tuned for your emotions. and he knows… that you’ll worry about everything. ever. 

“like you said, he’s fine. you’re fine. everything’s fine,” you sigh and take another sip of tea, feeling the heat slide down your throat, “and so I'm not worrying.”

“you've got that little crease on your forehead right,” he lifts a finger and presses it right on your forehead, to that betraying little crease that shows up every time you try to keep a neutral face while panicking inside, “there. we've been together too long for you to start thinking you can bullshit me.”

the cup is almost half empty now, but you hardly remember lifting it to your lips to drink. your mind must be running marathons, trying not to think about any possibilities of–

“yeah well, it's not like I can stop it.” with a little huff, you put the nearly-empty mug to the side, pushing your phone with it as it sits on the bedside table. “I'm always going to worry about you two, at least a little, even when you're both in bed with me and safe asleep.”

“I know, you dork,” he stops rubbing your thigh with one hand to land a little smack on your skin, “and I know no matter what I say, or even what he says, you'll always be a little worry-wart. but we can try our best to not be little shits, eh?” chifuyu's lips spread into a cheeky smile, just waiting for your reaction which comes in the form of a gentle smack on his chest. it's such a half-hearted action, lacking any spice, and it only makes him pull you closer to him. “ ow, you cheeky girl.”

he laughs at your pretend-pout, sneaking some tighter circles with his thumbs over your thighs, massaging your skin just how you need it. soon, it's his entire palms that press into your thighs, kneading you like modeling clay, making you close your eyes and sigh as your body relaxes.

“unfair…” you begin, leaning your head back as he releases some tension from your muscles, “rendering me useless like this just ‘cause you wanna touch me…” but you let it happen anyway, for it just feels too good. you’re like softened butter, melting under the warmth of his palm while the other slides up your side, bunching up the too-big t-shirt as he aims to cup your warmed up face. 

chifuyu’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone while his other hand still rubs over your thighs, but his goal is to bring you closer. there’s a moment between the point at which your faces stop moving and the kiss, the moment when your breaths mingle, when your peppermint-laced exhale tingles chifuyu’s lips and he gladly dives in for more. gentle at first, the kiss grows in passion. almost subconsciously, he pulls you by the hips against his rapidly hardening crotch. more often than not, if you're sitting on his lap, if you're kissing him like this, needy, desperate, willing to lose yourself in the moment, he tries to grab at any given opportunity to bury himself in you. maybe it’s a little bit of insecurity, maybe a little bit of possessiveness when your remaining third isn’t there, maybe a bit of both, but it works. it gets him deep inside you where he wants to be, with your attention only on him and your mouth moving in the shape of his name.

this time is no different, though he stays gentle with his lips on yours. he doesn’t tug on your bottom lip, doesn’t tease you and make you chase his lips as he pulls away with a shit eating grin on his face as you try to sneak in another kiss before he inevitably makes you go dumb with how much you’re whimpering and moaning for him. he’s being nicer and you know it’s because he feels bad, partly because he made you worry about himself when he showed up with cuts and bruises, partly because he let baji go off on his own to chase after some assholes who tried to dip from the fight. he knows you, knows that you need the tenderness when you’re worrying, knows that you crave the soft touch of the reassurance that are his hands. so he does what he knows best, he picks you up by your hips, holding you just above his lap as one hand tries to pull your panties to the side, but it keeps slipping.

you trail kisses down to his jaw, with your head bent down and your knees pushed into the soft mattress under you, unable to keep a giggle in your throat as it bubbles up and parts your lips to escape. he’s impatient, cock straining against the material of his boxers that were uselessly covering him up, unwanted, unwelcome in the way that they keep him from just feeling your soft pussy against him. 

your slight noise makes his head turn, so he gently bites the tip of your nose, giving you something to giggle about while he tries to do everything himself, never letting you undress yourself if he can help it.

“something funny?” he scoffs, finger still trying to reach the edge of the material while holding you up, insistent on keeping his palms on your soft thighs.

“just rip them.” you’ve had enough of waiting, there’s only one way this is ending, and it’s with his cock pushed into you to the hilt, it’s with him bouncing you on his lap until you’re a whimpering mess, it’s with both of you sweaty and spent, moving just because you forgot what it felt like not to, because it’s easier to keep fucking than to stop, because why on earth would you ever want to stop? “rip them off, please, i just wanna ride you.”

chifuyu raises his eyebrow, torn between obeying you like a good little pup eager to plunge into you already, and overthinking your words.

“you’re– you’re sure?” he groans once your teeth pull at his earlobe, grazing it just right while he holds you by your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. “you won’t shout at me for ruining another pair, are you?”

you click your tongue, rolling your eyes before catching his lips into another kiss. bruising, intense as want drips from your sweet cunt onto the fabric of those unlucky panties, cursed for still covering you when they should be ripped and on the bedroom floor.

“only if you take any longer, sweet boy.” a gentle tug on his bottom lip pulls with it a groan from his throat. you look him straight in the eyes, and his pupils widen once he notices the sheer determination in your look. “rip. them. off.”

if there’s one thing you can’t ever say, it’s that chifuyu doesn’t listen. mere second after you say your piece with conviction, his fingers pull on the thin material of your panties and you hear the sound of fabric tearing. you’re almost sad to see them go, but with one more movement, one more ripping noise, they’re landing on the floor, all pathetic and frayed where the fabric used to connect two seconds ago. but that means you’re free. you feel the swiftness of chifuyu’s fingers as they dig under the waistband of his boxers and slide them down for the second time tonight. his legs make quick work of helping him get rid of the underwear, and with a few more moments, they join your scrap of fabric by the bed. finally, you can feel his strong hands, only slightly bruised from tonight’s fight, grip you tight and lower you onto his cock.

it’s slow, he always likes to savor the first grip of your precious cunt around his twitching hardness, he wants to exist in that moment forever, right until the underside of your thighs meets his lap once more and you’re stuffed full of him, leaking your arousal down his balls. this time, the kiss that he lands on your lips is brief, wet, and noisy. he slides his hands up and down your sides once again, settling them on your hips just as you rest your palms on his shoulders.

pushing yourself up, starting to move, you shiver against his warm body, completely naked thanks to your intervention in the kitchen. you count the scars on his shoulders, some scabs still there from more recent fights, some already turning into pink lines healing into his pale skin. despite it all, you lean down and press kisses on those marks, busying your lips with something other than letting out sugary moans as you sink down onto him once again. his fingers dig into your flesh, gripping you like he’s about to fall off the face of the earth any second now, his cock head lodges so nicely into you he never wants to leave.

it’s sweet, really, the extent that chifuyu goes through to keep himself somewhat functional whenever he has you like this. he’s fine with quickies, with bending you over the table when one of you is in a hurry, with being on his hands and knees with baji being less than gentle while thrusting into him as he swirls his tongue around your clit. he’s perfectly okay with tugging baji’s hair as the black haired man swallows his heavy load while you ride his thigh. he’s fine with being in any number of combinations with the two people he cherishes most in his life, but there’s something incredibly special, intimate, about you sitting so pretty on his lap like this, slowly lifting your hips almost letting his cock slip out of your tight cunt before landing back on his lap again.

there’s something about the way you ride him so slowly and sweetly that almost makes him come undone at the very thought. chifuyu swallows thickly before tilting his head up to kiss you again, to savor the taste of peppermint and honey on your tongue that glides alongside his while your ass lands on his thighs again, again, a tiny bit faster. now his moans get louder, his eyelids heavier as he tries to keep his eyes on you. on the way your pretty lips part to let out his name, how they land on his cheek, nose, chin, the corner of his lips, before finally taking his kisses again, before doing it all over again once more. a moan, a gasp, a peck, one more, another, a kiss, a moan, a gasp, a peck… it’s his favorite routine with you, it’s like a drug, the way you move your hips, grinding them into him, with very little help from his more than willing hands.

once you start panting, tiring yourself out with the effort of riding him and stopping yourself from shaking in pleasure, he starts kissing you more softly, gradually holding your hips a little firmer.

“can i?” he asks, murmuring the words against your pillowy lips as you slip little moans from your mouth into his.

“m– mhmmm…” you respond, too far gone to speak any words that aren’t his name broken into syllables as you bounce on his cock.

chifuyu’s fingers dig in deeper, desperately holding onto you as he takes over, moving you himself, lifting and lowering your body as your breasts bounce in front of his hungry eyes. he’s almost hypnotized by the pebbled nipples that nearly touch his chin when he lowers his head down to take one into his mouth, slowing down the pace of your hips, much to your displeasure which you announce with a whiny little noise. at your complaint, he looks up, still swirling his tongue around your nipple, but it makes the next whine die in your throat. 

he’s mesmerized, every time he sucks on your tits it’s like the first, that soft skin, that perfect texture to latch his lips onto, it drives him crazy. so he switches to the other one, using his hands to knead your ass while he slowly moves you to grind against him. he wants to move faster, really, he does… but the gasps your lips let slip when he pops your nipple out of his mouth are a melody he wants to hear again. so he teases you again, one last time for good luck before tilting his head back up to summon you into another kiss with a quick pout of his lips in front of you.

once again he speeds you up, making those sweet little noises come out as the tip of his cock hits your sweetest spot, the one that makes your moans get higher in pitch, the one that nearly has him cumming within seconds when he hits it. it’s so soft, so warm inside you, it’s almost like he was meant to be in you. the softness of your skin, of your plump flesh under his fingers, is a heaven in itself. one of his hands guides you to the best of its abilities while the other grabs your ass cheek, squeezing almost as if reminding himself it’s still there, the soft, skin-slapping noises aren’t a hallucination, and his sweet girl is indeed riding him with his help, looking so pretty as your hair falls all around your face. you look like a mess at this point, sweaty, ruffled, almost letting him control your every move while your eyes roll back, your lips don’t close anymore, drying out your mouth as your moans give way to cries gradually getting louder.

“chi– ah f-fuck chifuyuuuu ‘m gonna–”

“y-yeah, baby, yeah i’m with you… i’ve got you, sweet thing, i’m with you, let go for me,” his rushed words are the thread that keeps you going, your head tilts forward, making it easier for his breath to echo in your ear, “you can let go for me, baby… i’ve got you.”

gripping you tighter, pulling you onto his cock harder and faster, he helps you unravel. with a cry into the side of his head, with his lips on your shoulder sloppily kissing your warm skin, you shudder as your velvety walls tighten, keeping him inside as he groans and spills his cum inside you, gently slowing down the movements as you ride out the highs together. 

completely still, chifuyu exhales against your neck. it’s getting late already, it would be time to snuggle up together and snore in unison, but one link is missing. his head clears a little as he comes down, and seeing you so blissed out sitting on his lap and shaking in pleasure curves his lips into a smile. this is life, he thinks, her sweet face all soft and my dick still inside her. only one thing still pokes from the other side of his mind. where the fuck is baji? and you wouldn’t be his darling girlfriend if you didn’t have a sense for his anxious thoughts. he tried to be confident for you, but he’s not made of stone. your gentle touch moving his blond hair out of his forehead stirs him from the stupid spiral as you kiss his nose like you do when he’s made you see stars.

“it’s fine.” you murmur, barely strong enough to form full sentences. “you said so yourself, he’s fi–”

a knock on the balcony door makes you jump, nearly headbutting chifuyu as you turn your head to the side, seeing a long-haired figure standing there, casually leaning against the door frame. his wild smile reveals the shining sharp canines, flashing at you as you curse under your breath. his knuckle is still resting against the glass as he motions you to let him in.

“motherfucker…” you hiss as your newfound strength lets you get up off chifuyu’s cock and almost angrily walk to the door to turn the key and let him in.

next chapter >>

[carlsangel]

a deeper understanding (g.i.t.w, ch. 2)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: none.

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

Carl spends the next couple of days trying to figure you out. The first true day at Alexandria, he was forced to get to know everyone else first. He doesn’t even know you but you are automatically more important than everyone here. He’s just so intrigued, it’s like you’re overwhelming his mind. He couldn’t help but ask the teenagers of Alexandria as well.

“Wait…you go out the walls?” He’d been spending time with the teenagers of Alexandria. Ron, Mikey, and Enid. This question was directed to Enid who is sat on the bed opposite to the boys on the floor. She was focused on a comic which is apparently more important than the conversation that’s occurring. “Yeah it’s not hard.” She replies shortly. He can’t help but want to know more. “W-well how I mean the walls are…so…high.” His voice gets quieter when he realizes how dumb he sounds, stating the obvious.

Enid rolls her eyes at the fact that he’s still talking and she slaps the comic down in her lap to look at him. “I use large bolts to get up, there’s massive crates against the back wall which are shorter so the fall down isn’t that far.” She explains. Hm…large bolts. “Do you think I could borrow them? The bolts?” He inquires. Ron chimes in. “What’re you leaving the walls for? Tired of us already?” He chuckles. In all honesty, yes he is. He just wants to see you. “No…it’s just I’ve been seeing this girl out there. The…ghost in the woods?” He feels sort of silly calling you that.

“Oh yeah, Enid’s met her.” Ron adds. “Like barely. She doesn’t speak. Ran off quite quick, you’re not gonna find her.” She says. Carl thinks about that, knowing that he’s somehow going to prove her wrong. He just knows it. He ends up receiving the bolts from Enid anyway and the next day, his mission to find you.

He makes his way to the south of Alexandria to search for you there first. It takes him a while but he was able to find some sort of tracks. He’s learnt a little from Daryl along the past two years and he is educated enough to know that the tracks aren’t a walkers. He looks around the forest a bit, back and forth between trees.

Then, he sees you. Finally.

He starts to speak before you start to run away which initially catches him off guard but he needs to talk to you. So he chases quick after. After a bit of chasing, he soon realizes there’s no point, there’s no sight of you and on the floor is a small trail of tracks almost in a circle. It looked like you walked around between a couple trees and just vanished since the only trail leaving the circle was the one you came from. He spots a bag with an American flag patch as well as a rifle laid on it. He looks at that for a moment before looking around aimlessly.

You were in a tree just watching from above.

He doesn’t even think to look up even though his first sighting of you was in a tree. He starts to look closer at your belongings. You felt like an idiot for leaving the rifle down there, you’re realizing he could definitely take it but since it’s been getting jammed so much it’s no use. He does actually take it in his hands which sets you off. “Don’t touch that.” He looks up at you once hearing your voice, he sees you sat up on a thick tree branch, hugging the trunk before you began to climb down.

He was touching your stuff, you knew he wouldn’t do anything but still. He set it back down and waits for you to get down and once you do, he realizes you look way different than the first day he saw you. “You’re the ghost in the woods?” He asks gently, backing away from your belongings as he looks you up and down, taking note of how clean you are. “That’s what they call me in Alexandria yes.” You walk over to your bag and pick it up as well as your rifle. “What’s your actual name?” He questions, you sort of smile at him though. “I don’t do all that.” You tell him, which is ultimately confusing.

“Do what?” You two sort of start to circle each other without even realizing it. “I don’t really like to learn names. Or give mine out for that matter.” You explain. He nods, knowing he really doesn’t care. He wants to know you; he wants a deeper understanding on who you are. “I’m Carl.” He states, catching you off guard. Now you “know” him. “Didn’t you hear me?” You stop circling and sort of just look at him annoyed. He shrugs. “What’s the harm in knowing my name?” He questions. You hate to talk to him more because you can already tell this might become a situation.

“Attachment. I hate it. It’s easier to lose someone you don’t know.” He listens to your reasoning and understands. He just wants to understand why you’re still talking to him. “Why bother sticking around then? I heard you like to run away a lot.” He teases. “I do. But you touched my stuff. Usually people walk away. Sometimes your people leave me things. Well, one guy really. They never know I’m here because for some reason no one checks trees.” You tell him. He listens but only catches onto a couple details.

“One guy? Who?” You rack your brain of the features of the man. “Umm…he’s white, brown curly hair, looks nice.” You describe someone Carl knows as Aaron. “Oh Aaron.” He spits out. You mentally scold him for spilling another name. “Yeah I guess.” He didn’t realize until after. “Well why’s your stuff so important, what do you have in there?” He points over to your bag. “Normal shit I guess. A walkman, the batteries are kinda faulty. Um…books I’ve read seven times…other things.” He smiles a little after hearing what you have. “Well I can bring you some. I can fix your gun too.”

What? “How’d you know my guns jammed?” He points at your gun but feels it’s easier to show you. He walks over and you step back but he puts his hands out to show that he won’t do anything. Once you ease up, he shows you. “The slider to pull the chamber open. It won’t pull back all the way because there’s a bullet stuck inside.” He explains, pointing at the chamber of the gun and you act like you understand what he’s saying. “I could take it back to Alexandria…maybe get it fixed.” You contemplate it for a moment. It would be nice to get some new batteries too. “I have comics I could bring you too. I’m sure you’re out of entertainment.”

Why is he making all of this sound fantastic? You’re not supposed to be getting attached. That’s the last thing you’ve wanted but you could already sort of feel it happening. With how close he was to you and how kind he was being. It felt oddly comforting which was a bad sign. All of it was. But you just need it. “Yeah okay.” You reluctantly hand him the rifle and he takes it in his hands carefully. “Great. I’ll see you back here sometime soon?” He smiles, knowing he completely broke you. He was able to break the ghost in the woods. Maybe not exactly the friendly spirit, instead a sassier one. More closed off than you’d think. “Come back in two days.”

Once he was gone, you regretted letting him take the rifle.

─── ⋆�� ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

He came back two days later with a bag and no rifle. You plop down from the tree and have on a different outfit and you still look clean which reminds him to ask you why. “How are you so clean?” He asks, letting the bag fall off his shoulder and onto the floor. “Rivers exist. Do you have my rifle?” You retort, he disregards your comment. “Needed my dad’s help to fix it, it’s harder to fix than I thought. We’ve got some…stuff going on at Alexandria.” He tells you, digging through the bag. You’re quite annoyed to say the least, but he continues to ramble. “Comics or batteries first?” He looks up at you and then back down, his hat tumbling off his head and landing at your feet.

“You said you’d fix my rifle.” You repeat, looking down at his hat before picking it up for him. “I’ll have it for you soon, okay?” He watches you dust his hat off. “Can I have that back?” You furrow your eyebrows and hand it to him. He pulls about three comics out of his bag and puts them in your direction. “These are my favorite…X-Men, Invincible and Spider-man. I can bring you more tomorrow.” He also hands you a pack of batteries before zipping up his bag. You shove them in your pocket and walk to a tree to sit at the bottom of. He joins you.

“You’re also bringing my rifle tomorrow.” He nods with a small yet guilty smile. It’s weird you found yourself sitting there with him. You just talk about anything and everything. He explained how his mom died, how he was the one to kill her. He told you about a farm, a man named Shane, and a prison. You liked listening to him talk, he was very kind but sort of cold. He was warming up a bit to the idea of being normal, however.

When he had to leave you almost felt sad, but you tried your best to push those feelings down. He came back the next day, then the day after that. Then the day after that. All you would do is sit with each other and talk, except you never quite mentioned what happened to your family. You’d talk about how good a of a cook your older sister was and how much your dad adored movies, but never where they went or what happened to them. It always made him think about it, even though he thinks he already knows. One thing about you is no attachments, which is a rule for you that he broke. He doesn’t know how, he likes to think maybe he was able to smooth talk his way into catching your eye but…he wanted more.

He wanted you to join Alexandria.

On the fifth day he’d come to visit you, he brought you snacks. Something you mentioned to him was how marshmallows were important to you. Something about a memory you had mentioned but you never went into detail. He brought you water and marshmallows and while sitting with you at the tree you guys were snacking and chatting. “I didn’t realize Alexandria had such luxurious snack selections.” You say jokingly, popping one into your mouth and chewing your way through the puffy food. He looks at you and smiles. “I’m telling you, you should join.” He tells you seriously, you just hate to hear him out. “And be normal like you? No thanks.”

He smiles a bit more but really wants to get through to you. “I’m serious y’know.” You look over at him, your smile fading slightly. “I am too. I’m not trying to do attachments, I told you that.” You explain. He thinks about your attachment rule, he finds it stupid. “What’re we doing then?” His voice is quiet and he just stares at you while you look ahead. “I think you should join. It’d be good for you, a lot safer.” He’s doing his hardest to convince you but he’s just pushing you to be more irritated. A no is a no.

“You know what? We’re not doing anything here, actually. Thanks for the— marshmallows and the water. The comics and the past few days but you’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing.” You stand up and dust off your shorts. “Bring my rifle here tomorrow. Please.” He looks at you silently and nods, regretting everything he’d said before. He just wants you to be safe.

The next day he doesn’t meet you at the tree. Although you understood why since that same day, you witnessed his dad and another man you knew was an asshole brawl it out in the middle of the street. He didn’t come the day after that, but the community was having more issues with one of the leaders dying as well as that same asshole from before. You try to hunt the next day, but you only have a knife and it wasn’t as effective. Not to mention, there was a blaring noise coming from Alexandria, but there were too many walkers for you to make it back and check it out. You hid in yet again another tree.

You wish you never gave him your rifle.

Your dad’s rifle.

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n

[sashimi020]

chaos meets guitarist p3[manjiro x reader]

p1 | p2

A/N: i hopee u guys like this chapter! thank you so much for the support on the last two chs. hope this is as enjoyable :33, comments, reblogs n likes r much appreciated!!<3

CREDITS FOR THE ART ON THE BANNER ALSO, @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe, all credits to them for the idea of making one of y/ns music bandmates be someone in the gang i hope i did it justice! (thank you, we all say in unison)

baji pulled out the restaurant table chair and slumped on it with a long sigh. kazutora huffed "long day?" "jeez. you have no idea. i seriously should've prioritized my studies back when we were teens. this shit is so hard and everyone else is doing way better than me! i have to work like, 10 times harder than everyone else" "well, you're improving right? that's all that matters. don't compare yourself to others..." chifuyu responds, baji chews the inside of his cheek, "whatever. let's just enjoy for a bit yeah? what are you guys ordering?"

__ chifuyu speaks up, "how have you guys been? we honestly need to catch up like this more often" kazutora nods and sighs "it's been fine," he rested his head on his palm, "i met this girl a few months ago-" "ooh! you like her?" "god! no, baji would you let me finish?" kazutora huffs childishly, "i ran into her when she was getting her jacket altered from mitsuya, somehow we all started talking and turns out that she's trying to do some music thing alongside college. after meeting up a few times after that," he pauses to take a bite out of his fries, "we decided to work together to start a music course-slash-band thing, i mean, it's nothing much right now, i'm still working at XJ land and obviously i will be for a while," he turns to chifuyu "but this shit seems pretty promising" he pauses "we'll do covers and upload them online, we'll take commissions, y'know, do gigs and also teach."

chifuyu smiles warmly "that sounds great, you guys should play for us sometime" baji snorted, "at least you won't be blasting your dumbass guitar and bass in the apartment anymore" he paused, "but in all seriousness, i'm happy for you dude. i'm glad your pursuing this"

__

becoming friends with draken and emma came with a lot of benefits. firstly, you found yourself being more social than before. somehow, they had an incredibly huge friend circle, it intimidated you at first but over time and over hangouts, you'd gotten used to all of them and they all seemed to like you quite a bit thankfully. you had the chance of getting to meet hina and takemitchi properly, who were so heartwarming and wonderful. they were super cute together.

they certainly made you feel single though.

your prospects in relationships were never very great - in all honesty, it would be great to have a partner - you quickly push the idea, though, in favour of kickstarting your music business.

__

"we're going out for dinner with everyone today, right?" draken spoke as he yawned, "mhmm! you think we should invite y/n? they already met.. hina.. mikey and takemitchi, they all got along so well so maybe?… i feel like they'd fit right in. i'll ask the others first too though" emma said as she stretched her sleepiness away. "yeah sure, that sounds good" draken responded. __

emma: hi guyss

kazutora: sup

chifuyu: yoo

emma: would it be alright if a friend tagged along today? they're pretty cool and i think you'd all get along well

baji: sure why not

baji: i haven't made a new friend since high school 💀 college is eating up all my time i swear

mitsuya: sounds cool!

hina: me and mitchi met them recently! super chill

hina: can't wait for tn! its been a while since we all got together! __

emma: hey y/n!! ru free tonight?

y/n: oh! yeah i think so

emma: would you wanna come to dinner with us? a few of our other friends will be there too!

_

you stare at your phone for a few seconds and consider the offer. it was undoubtedly thoughtful but you found yourself hesitating. meeting new people was always a rather daunting task, and you'd developed a certain feeling towards this group of people. everyone was so amicable and enjoyable to be around that you hoped that you were the same to them. 'what if i embarrass myself?' 'what if i'm too awkward?' worries and anxieties plagued your mind.

but you needed to take this risk. moving into a new place and finding a long term friend group wasn't an easy task. why miss out on this opportunity?w

_

y/n: sure, sounds good, what time?

_

the evening rolled around, you got ready and met up with draken, emma and mikey. "ready to go?"emma asked you, you nod in response, still feeling slightly nervous. the four of you got in the car, draken and emma sitting in front and you and mikey in the back.

"actually ah, i'm slightly nervous" you chuckle, the anxiousness in your voice was more prominent that you'd have liked it to be, "i always get like this while meeting new people," "awh! don't worry, you'll get along just fine, everyone will like you for sure," emma reassured you. you glance out of the car window and watch the scenery speed by. mikey eyes you curiously, a part of him hoping you'd turn your head and talk to him instead.

_

the four of you get out of the car, seemingly having arrived early. you all settle down at the table and chat for a bit. mikey huffs in a childish manner and it interrupts your train of thought, "everything okay?" you tilt your head towards him, "fine, just cold. stupid.. dumb air con.." he pouted and mumbled. you pause, shrug off your jacket and place it over his shoulders. "that better?" his cheeks blossomed into a noticably adorable pink colour, "you didn't have to.." he muttered but didn't take it off. draken and emma share a knowing glance as she smirks smugly. "cute" emma chuckes, "huh?!" "i've never seen you act like this mikey," draken snorts.

before mikey can defend himself the others arrive.

you lean over to introduce yourself, a taller guy with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail holds the door open for a few others, 'why the hell are all these people so tall.. it's ridiculous' you think. you see hina, and takemitchi walk in, then suddenly, your brain malfunctions.

"KAZUTORA?!"

"Y/N?"

"MITSUYA??"

"Y/N???"

"YOU GUYS KNOW EACH OTHER?!"

"you- wait.. i.."

"SHE'S YOUR NEIGHBOUR?!"

"SHE'S THE ONE THAT WORKS WITH YOU GUYS???"

hina interrupts the chaos "hey! guys, sit down first don't yell in the restaurant! jeez.." you stare in slight awe as the others glance at you in slight confusion and curiousity. "small world huh?" mitsuya chuckles, somehow the most composed out of everyone, "okay! i need an explaination right now" emma interjects, "we..- well they're the friends i uh, i'm working with on the music centre and band" "ohhh" everyone says in unison.

your brain feels fuzzy from slight shock and happiness. what a pleasnt coincidence. "baji, chifuyu, meet y/n, y/n, meet baji and chifuyu". you give them a small smile "it's nice to meet you both!" "sup!" "nice to meet you too!". after everyone exchanged pleasantries, you all sit down and order. mitsuya smirked and stared at mikey, "that's y/n's jacket, no? the one i altered," "oh- oh, yeah. well, he said he was cold.. so..". mitsuya smirked, "sure, yeah" __

"ah.." kazutora laughs heartily, "this is great! i was just going to introduce you, y'know?" you smile sheepishly, you never expected things would turn out this way. any anxiety you felt before coming was mostly quelled.

the converstion went on, you learned about chifuyu's pet shop, you knew kazutora had a part-time but you found it amusingly sweet that he worked with animals. you wished baji the best of luck as a veterinarian. you could only imagine the workload he has till he graduates.

you learned a lot about all your newfound friends. it felt warm. really warm. you glanced at mikey a few times and he met your gaze. he smiled contently. it was a look you liked. "you know, you should smile more" "really?" "yeah, it suits you, you know, you're mostly always wearing that pout. you look happy. that's nice" his grin softened into a more sincere smile. "okay. i'll smile more. it won't be too hard though, you'll see it often, cause you make me smile". you chuckle brightly in response, "that's so cheesy!" "shut up.." everything felt so sweet.

you learned about their gang and childhood. mikey reminisced about it in an excited, animated manner, and their eyes lit up. they were all clearly so passionate about it. an air of nostalgia laid heavy, you were never a part of these memories, but in the vivd manner in which they described it, you might as well have been.

after a few drinks, the conversation shifted back to the music centre. "so, you know, you guys barely gave us any details about the thing you're doing! and i'm only now finding out that you guys know each other?" emma whined, "i need to know more, c'mon!" her face was flushed slightly from the alcohol. your mood heightens. you loved talking about it. "kazutora's our bassist and also guitarist, mitsuya does vocals, well, you already know that i do guitar but on the occasion i play drums." kazutora grinned "i'm really excited to finally start playing together, y'know? i don't know if it's sustainable income but, it's fucking fun" "i'll be teaching as well anyways and i'm still getting a degree so i have that going.." you respond. "we rented a studio. we should all practice this weekend, yeah?" mitsuya asks, "sure. sounds great"

"you guys gotta play something for us" baji said. "hell yeah!" kazutora responded enthusiastically, "c'mon, guys, c'mon let's make a toast" "toast to what?" "to.. new adventures and.." mikey glanced at you "to new friendships", chifuyu whooped and the sound of clinking of glasses filled the air.

baji, chifuyu and kazutora booked a cab to their apartment, chifuyu was slumped onto baji and remained fairly incoherent. you hoped that his hangover tomorrow wouldn't be severe. mikey was of a similar state, face flushed and a dazed expression with glossed over eyes. he seemed clingier than usual. hina and takemitchi dropped off mitsuya. the four of you got back in emma's car.

mikey's head lolled to the side, almost, just almost resting on your shoulder, you feel the need to resist the urge to shift slightly closer so his head falls completely on your shoulder. ultimately you didn't need to do anything because he moved anyways. closer than you would've expected. your arms touched and you felt your face heat up.

you figure he wouldn't mind and wrap your arm around his shoulder. he hums contently at the warmth and the comfortable weight. you cant help but smile at the sight.

emma glances at the pair from the rear view mirror and a soft expression falls on her face. it was about time mikey found someone he could be completely and wholly vulnerable with.

'emma'll wake me up when we reach home' you think, as you shut your eyes too, and lean your head on his.

__ tags: @manjirosfairmuse @dollrndo @dancingnewcat @bowloficecubes @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe extra notes: i wish i could've expanded on hina and takemitchi more tbh! might make a game night chapter next.. not 100% sure though. if you guys have any ideas do drop them in the comments!

i know this is supposed to be a mikey x reader fic but i really wanted to expand on the platonic relationships b/n reader and everyone else. i feel like that's something that a lot of x reader fics lack, (totally not that it's a bad thing!! many x reader fics that are isolated to the character n reader are great!! ) but i did want to give my two cents on these relationships and improve my writing!

[delicrieux]

—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, ch.1: things of present and future importance

pairing—carmy berzatto x f!reader genre—drama, romance, age gap, boss/employee relationship warnings for this chapter—trauma, anxiety, swearing, and sum depression as dessert word count—2k

uh-oh, carmen is losing it again, this time in front of his new employee, too. 

author’s note: give me this wet dog of a man and give him to me NOWWWWWWWW

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | read on ao3 . next >

important! some of the dialogue scenes are written as a script & dialogues that overlap are marked in [] <3

there’s a lot of things wrong with this situation, but carmen does not have it in him to care. maybe he never will, and that’s okay, because it’s his fucking restaurant and he knows he could be kinder, could be gentler, could, maybe, keep all of those splinters in his gut from hurting too bad if he took a few deep breaths just how they say in therapy. deep breaths, slow breaths, and then they look at you like you’re a toddler having a meltdown in the middle of the street and suddenly, suddenly, it’s all go fuck yourself and the door slamming shut.

carmen’s an abandoned puppy – disheveled hair and round eyes that have been unloved (by him, most of all), with his head bent and shoulders tense, not sure whether to flee or attack, but offense is the best defense and just like a bad dog he bites when frightened. it’s all teeth and anger and desperation; jaws lock and teeth sink and he doesn’t let go because he’s starving, even if what he’s fighting for is nothing but a cadaver of a place, space, body – brother? no, don’t think of mikey. he’s starving, has been for ages – approval? don’t say that – and that hunger bubbles to the surface when confronted by a minuscule imperfection, like sauce on the stove left to simmer for too long.

it’s a bad first impression, second impression, third, what the fuck, he’s good at food and not very good at math, unless math comes to food and then, maybe, he can sort it out. still bad, still fucking terrible, to be honest, and somewhere in the frying tangles of his mind he knows that yelling doesn’t help, and that yelling in front of the new hire doesn’t bode well for retention. the last enzymes of his sanity warn him – calm down, just, just calm down, carmen, you’re making it worse, you’re making it fucking worse – but the to-go machine keeps beeping, and the kitchen is too hot, and his staff is too anxious, and everything is amplified tenfold by his brother’s looming shadow that exists to him only. don’t think of mikey.

“can someone please turn that fucking thing off?” it’s his voice, laced by such scorn and a barely contained anger that makes him tremble by the pans. he’s losing his mind. sweat collects on his temple and his eyes sting from the fumes billowing onto his face, “sydney!”

“yes, chef.”

sydney’s a trooper, doesn’t bend under pressure like steel, and he sees her maneuvering in his peripherals, quick and agile to not get into anyone’s way, least of all his. briefly, he thinks about burning this place down. he blinks. the beeping stops – she ripped the cord out of the socked, dropped it onto the floor that sent an echo.

the new hire watches this shitshow unfold by her station, eyes wide and weary, ears perked for orders. her hands move – strong hands, swift hands, long fingers and rough palms that cradle a knife the way a mother would cradle a child. she doesn’t look at what she cuts, but she chops and slices and it’s all automatic – trained response? – and if carmen were to take a ruler and inspect the pieces, he’d be impressed to find that most are even and none are crooked. he’d hum, then, skim through the folders of his mind to re-check her experience, re-check the college she went to. he’d say something like, “good work, chef,” and maybe she’d smile at the bare bones of the compliment he’d given her, and when he’d be alone in his dingy office he’d pull out her resume and examine it with more interest because he’d be too embarrassed to ask.

he’ll grow familiar with those hands, with the dips and curves of knuckles and the tiger stripes of scars running down their expanse; he’ll grow familiar with the touch, too, soft despite the callouses, but only to him. not yet, though, not for another few months till a completely expected storm will halt the trains and he’ll have to drive her home. it’ll be weeks after that awkward silence in the car and stolen glances at soaked t-shirt-clad skin.

her form is unfamiliar to him – he hadn’t any interest to look, nor would he find anything curious when all is covered in oversized fabric and a blue apron. at present, she’s his colleague, nothing more, and a young one at that, too young and too talented to be stuck in such a place and with him running it.

but he will look. sooner than expected, and not for any devout reason, unless loneliness can be considered holy.

he’ll feel bad about it, too, and he’ll feel worse when everything escalates, because it always does.

for now, he cooks by the open flame, letting hot oil sizzle on his hands and the fire lick his fingers, and maybe, just maybe, he likes the pain because he knows nothing else. it’s become empirical to him. an indication that he’s still alive. that he’s still in control of something, even if he isn’t.

richie, richie, good fucking god, richie always picks the worst moments to bitch about.

“are you fucking with me?” carmen’s voice, again, a bit higher this time and just a gruff. doe eyes narrow at the bell-tower named richard jerimovich that has the audacity to look clueless, “do not fucking fuck with me right now.”

richie: shove that stick outta [fuck you] your ass, cousin carmen: are you deaf? richie: boutta go deaf if you keep yapping [don’t got time for this]; listen, i just [you just?] came to talk [talk? now? talk?] yes, to talk, look carmen: now you wanna talk? now? you wanna [jesus] fucking talk right now?

the tension in the air is sharp enough to slice through skin. everyone pointedly pretends not to hear this conversation. carmen doesn’t want to hear this conversation, either. there’s a line of people waiting. he reminds richie of that, and richie reminds that oh, he knows, and –

“richie!” it’s sydney, cheeks glowing with sweat and bandana crooked, “not now.”

richie huffs, looks at carmen with a certain exasperation, a wordless question of ‘really? really? you’re letting her run the show, now?’, and carmen needn’t be a genius to know that richie’s gonna bring this up later. he’ll never hear the end of it, he scarcely does now. it’s a headache in the making. his heart skips, or maybe stops, and for a moment he feels white-hot panic shoot through his veins. it passes with a shiver he doesn’t show. he breathes just a tad quicker – not enough air, not enough fucking air, jesus.

richie retreats with his arms raised in surrender, amused and annoyed simultaneously. a quiet follows his departure, and carmen looks at the staff, gaze jumping from one to the other before settling on her. she’s unperturbed by the chaos, working, watching, assessing, and later he’ll learn she wears that face the same way he wears his anger – as armor.

eyes meet and there’s a certain understanding that glimmers in the depths of her iris. but what could she understand? three weeks from now, he’ll come to learn that she’s used to rough edges and loud voices: he’ll learn that she’s the daughter of the chef that made his life hell back in new york, he’ll learn that she took up cooking because she wanted to appease her father, he’ll learn that her parents have split and her mother is sick and that she’s not calm but disconnected and that she tends to live in her head just like him.

but he doesn’t know that now, so he blames the shitty lighting that blinks and buzzes and, “fak, for the love of fucking god, please fix it.”

he said please this time, and it means he’s cooling off. he thankfully misses the quick look the staff shares – a mixture of relief and pity. either would have been devastating to recognize.

the only upside is that the day goes by fast. too much to do, too much to stress about, and carmen’s used to running on nothing but nicotine and adrenaline and an odd spout of desolation, and he manages everything, keeps the pieces glued together until eventually everything becomes too much and then he crumbles. still picks them up gently, like handling broken glass. he visits the storage often. closes the door for a moment and just lets himself breathe, reminds himself how to. doesn’t calm, only collects, reigns in the anger that coats loneliness. don’t think about mikey.

the staff cleans in a similar silence that douses after a storm.

the night's clear, crisp air compounded with cigarette smoke. he leans on the wall of the restaurant, staring into space, listening to the white noise of a restless city. by now, sydney has flipped the CLOSED sign; by now, his new hire is probably thinking about quitting, elbows deep in cleaning detergent as she scrubs the floor. he’ll have to go over her work and double-check. just in case there’s something more to do for hands that are always restless.

he tries to think but his head is scrambled. too many thoughts rushing in and out, loud, obnoxious, too quick to leave a lasting impact. he’s tired. he’s always tired. he wants lay on his bed and let sleep swallow him whole, but he knows that won’t happen. if he sleeps, he dreams of new york, he dreams of fire, he dreams of voices coming from the other room. one, in particular, holds a familiar rasp and drawl, punctuated by laugher, weaving a tale and stop it, don’t think about it anymore, just stop it, don’t think about –

he tosses the cigarette, watching the embers burn.

don’t think about mikey.

he enters through the back exit, stalks through the restaurant like he's haunting the place. briefly stops to stare at the mirror behind the bar. doesn't really recognize the man staring back.

the clock reads 00:30 am.

marcus was the last to leave, or so carmen assumed by the silence that shrouds the place, but as he makes his way to his office, he hears a locker shutting, and the sound rattles him so much his heart beats in his throat. all of that previous exhaustion ignites into anxiety that makes his limbs lock up.

she halts by the mouth of the kitchen, hair matted from sweat and lower lip marked where her teeth sunk, drooped eyes widening a fraction as she regards him. he can only stare at her in return, at her messy hair and pinched eyebrows and the slight downward curl of her lips.

“you could use a coffee,” she utters, and her voice is jarring – not for any unpleasant reason, but for the fact that he didn’t expect to hear it. he’ll grow to like it, crave it, even, because it’s a lovely cadence and it’ll sound even lovelier when she says his name.

he’s frightened by it now, if one can be scared of such a thing. so he bites.

“it’s almost 1 am.”

“right,” she mutters dryly.

“why are you still here?” he questions, and it almost sounds like an accusation, because he thought he was alone, only to suddenly be proved wrong. feels like an invasion of privacy, to be fucking honest, “your shift ended like an hour ago.”

“oh, I, uh, had some things to finish, so…” she trails off, but she still looks at him, and it’s unnerving, really, how she doesn’t budge under the weight of his stare. he bends under hers, though; the floor is spotless, he has nothing left to do. he misses the visible tension in her face, misses the quick swipe of her tongue on her lower lip as she opens and closes her mouth. it’ll take two whole weeks to grow entranced by the sight. misses the polite smile, too, but hears it in her voice anyway, “night.”

her sneakers squeak and echo and the door shuts. silence settles heavy on his shoulders. he’s not sure if he’s more distraught by her sudden appearance or abrupt departure. both somehow feel bad. in less than half a year, he’ll come to realize that the latter is worse.

ch.2: thank you, love you