#got a lil carried away

[perfectlyripeclementine]

19&20?

🙈💕

hehe, good questions. i like these ones.

19: which spots are your sensitive spots?

my neck, definitely - lips there, hands there. i enjoy being choked sometimes when the mood is right but more than that i just enjoy the feeling of someone’s palm on my throat. collarbones, also. nipples, kind of an obvious one, and the underside of my breasts, that ridge that defines their shape. also, a sure way to get my thighs shaking is to slowly kiss up my inner thighs.

20: do you prefer when people are rough or gentle with you?

my favorite is someone who can do both at the same time. like, pull my hair with a deep, soft kiss. let me feel your nails dig into me while you hold me tenderly. when someone is fucking me really sweet, really gentle, i love a little “take it. take it.” also, i LOVE slow and deep, slow and hard. that’ll get me every time.

i do also really like when someone gets carried away with me. i like to be pushed around. i love my ass slapped, love fingertip shaped bruises on my hips. loooove someone holding my thighs open.

right now could really go for someone teasing me hard, letting me beg and beg, but being so gentle with their touch on me. “you want me to fuck you so soon? i thought you liked being teased? did i misunderstand? do you want me to stop?” (and the answer is: no baby. please don’t stop. i love wanting you.)

[fleursbending]

matt murdock is soooooooo taylor swift coded

wait,, you and matt are lover coded..???!? i cannot make this up!! okay but im in my matt feels so this is ur fault (in the best way possible) ari!!!🥹🫶🏻 a few bf hcs for the matt enthusiasts out there!

after a long day at work you'd go to a local diner together and yes the fool is blind but he would sooo be lovesick just head tilted in your direction with a gentle side smile!! he'd be so enamoured by your very being

:] -> that's his face as you talk about your day and he'd just be nodding, "mhm, mhm" *proceeds to stuff his mouth full of fries and still makes sounds of acknowledgment*

don't get me started on how much he'd whine when you both would have to depart from each other like it'd literally start the moment you try to get out of bed

he'd be pouting and just mumble in his morning voice,, "wait, where are you going?"

and you're like?!1?1 work? hello!!

the type of bf to be like "let's just stay in bed for five more minutes" and then 5 minutes go by,, 10,, 15. before you know it your both late to work and foggy is just scolding matt abt how he can't keep pullin this lovey dovey shit!

pillow talk for daysssssss. his hands would just be grasping at the plush and curve of your waist, hands, face, carding through your hair.

basically he is a slut for physical touch and just the feeling of his skin against yours (not even in a sexual manner) - it brings him back down to earth. especially after a rough night of being a vigilante.

totally would just be so enraptured by you and everything you are as you begin to doze off. butterflies soaring in the depths of his belly, heart and starry eyed type beat.

like oh wait,, that's my partner,, all mine,, and they love me back??? oh!!! oh they are so astoundingly breathtaking. (basically the OPPOSITE of what edward cullen did baickwlwl)

he'd call you on your work breaks, even if it's just for a moment like it would go a lil something like this:

"...hey honey :)"

"hi baby, is everything okay?!"

"oh,,yea! just wanted to hear your voice :) i miss you"

"matt,, i miss you too. i love you, yeah?"

like stop he is so bbg i could actually cry my heart is so💔💔💔 !!!

i just feel like he'd love so deeply once he realises the person that is infront of him?, is his?? like he'd be so mesmerised and willing to finally just accept it all.

essentially he would remind you every single moment he could of his unexpandable adoration he holds for you. he would guard you, protect you if it meant his life was to be put on the line.

i just see him loving without shackles and boundaries,, obviously it would take some time to turn that corner. but once he hits it, really lets it sink in - what is infront of him - his person?!? like you are entirely his to desire, to treasure and be with. well let's just say bf!matt would not hold back😔💘

[jesuistrestriste]

do you have any advice for writing smut because your fics are DIVINE

first of all, i luv u <3 thank you so, so much 🥹 and second, i’ve honestly been writing + enjoying it for yearss but just never got around to posting any of my stuff anywhere until recently. for writing smut in particular though, i really like to focus on the details of the scene.

allow the reader to feel like they’re there, you know? describe how the character you’re writing about looks (i.e. flushed, sweaty, tousled hair, brows furrowed, lips parted, etc.), describe the setting + actions in a way that highlights the senses (the bed’s covers felt cold against my back, their body pressed heavily against mine; their soft skin was warm and slightly sticky, the air in the car was getting dense with the moisture from our constant heavy breathing, etc.) and — this is gonna sounds corny — but just have fun with it! most smut is anything but serious, so don’t feel like everything has to be *perfect*.

also dialogue is one of my fav things to write in my fics, but i’m trying to get better at it rn. one thing i’ll say though, is that i personally feel like smut is hotter when there’s more details in the sensations + scenery, and the dialogue is used sparingly and more for emphasis, but that’s just my opinion!:)

[shinotail]

its you and your family!

[jupiter-reimagined]

112 believing Mark is a really really really reaaaalllllyyyy good shapeshifter

so she casually offers him human meats and raw food

actor : oh fuck im hungry, whats for dinner?

chandler : meat. found a new supplier who was willing to strike up a deal. not sure of the taste yet though.

112 : well i like it well enough, its also really nicely cooked. want some?

actor : oh absolutely i do

dark : incredible, did the supplier get blood as well?! this'll last me weeks!

actor : i.. i thought you only drank human blood?

dark : of course i do! eugh have you ever TRIED animal blood? disgusting.

actor : and.. chandler got both the meat... and human blood from the same supplier?

112 : well obviously! it is human after all!

actor : on second thought i'm not really hungry..

chandler : why? something wrong with my cooking? >:/

actor : hahaha... no not at all? ive.. ive uhh decided i want to try being a vegetarian now, is all! yea...

[ask-the-pioneer]

Out of curiosity why do you bow before eating?

"It's a sign of respect."

"When I kill to eat, I know I am taking a life. I do it out of necessity. The creature's life moves to me so that I can survive and prosper. With this gesture, I pay tribute to its sacrifice."

"The bow is also to acknowledge the work of a person who brought the food, to feed me and the others. You're not pressured to do that, but even if the meal isn't to your liking, you would still recognize the effort. Our colony was small, with Hunter as the only adult, so any food brought back was celebrated."

"In my later cycles, the ability to craft explosive spears became incredibly useful for hunting and self-defense. I had a natural advantage, but it was to be exercised with caution."

"Truth is, I can do a lot of damage with my «powers». It's a big, alienating responsibility. And it was an issue in my younger cycles when I couldn't control it well - sometimes people around me would get hurt, but despite that, I was shown kindness and given guidance by my mentor. My adoptive family did not treat me like a freak, and it mattered a lot to me. It still does."

"I feel no need for bloodlust. I am content with my life… for the most part. Whatever grievances I may have, I know it's bad to take it out on others. For the temporary relief it gives, you realize it really is not worth it. To kill for sport, it makes my stomach turn - a sad waste of life. Just because I can, doesn't mean I should. Cruel thoughts are the domain of a scared animal. I don't want to live in suffering because of such fear, and most of all I don't want my family to think less of me. Does that make sense? I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, or lose their trust…"

"When I hunt for food, I often think of what my mentor would say. Those thoughts guide my spears, the memories remind me to be kind in the face of the vast, indifferent world. Most of the creatures out there have it considerably worse than me, trying to survive nature day by day. I've been blessed with a mark, I know things that a typical slugcat would never need in their life. I don't think I can ever go back - knowledge, like my «powers», are both a blessing and a curse. And, dare I say, I think it is better that I have those powers… for I know, at the very least, that I trust myself to use them wisely."

"The bow is a sign of respect, and a gentle reminder of the things that I stand for."

[kiimmyko]

nother snoc hte hng

[blindmagdalena]

A Taste of Heaven

18+ 1.3k homelander x afab reader, no pronouns. breast play/sucking, pet names, coming untouched. written for this ask from @chubbunnyy 🖤

Homelander just can't help himself. He's addicted to you.

It starts with Homelander's head in your lap, face tilted away from you as the two of you watch a movie together. He's barely paying attention to it, eyes half-lidded, every blink a little slower. The sound of your nails scraping deliciously along his scalp has long since drowned out the drone of the television.

It doesn't take much longer for his waning attention to fall solely on you. He brings his head forward to stare up at you, the sight of you bringing a loose, charmed smile to his face. Your attention is still set on the film, lips slightly parted as you watch.

The curve of your breasts is a particularly tantalizing view.

Licking his lips, a pang of arousal shoots through him like a bolt of lightning that settles neatly between his legs, growing into a steady, warm throb.

As if feeling his eyes, you glance down, huffing a soft laugh when you realize he's staring. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, though you clearly don't believe him. As you shouldn't. "Don't mind me. Watch the movie."

Though your eyes narrow with a touch of suspicion, they do drift back to the screen.

Smile turning sly, Homelander nuzzles into your lap, inhaling deeply. The comfort of your scent—your heat—is unparalleled. With your plush thighs cradling his head, he brings his ungloved hand up over his shoulder, hooking his fingers into the space between your thighs, his index finger pressing in against your cunt through the layers of your clothes.

He gives your thigh a squeeze before he starts to rub back and forth. Although you resiliently keep your eyes trained on the movie, he can sense your excitement in the shifting cadence of your breath. Hear it in the skip of your heart. Feel it in the steady way your body warms, blood rushing to flush your skin.

His cock begins to fill out, the signs of your arousal sending his own into overdrive.

The way you pretend not to notice makes it feel like a game, like he's doing something he shouldn't, turning these otherwise understated, intimate touches between lovers into an exciting taboo.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he pushes further on your restraint by moving his hand to the hem of your shirt, toying with it a moment before bypassing it entirely. The backs of his knuckles slide up your torso, sensitive enough to feel the goosebumps prickling your skin as he does.

Your fingers have gone still in his hair, which tells him that—regardless of where you're looking—every ounce of your attention is fixated on his touch.

Perfect.

Reaching further, he cups the underside of your breast through your bra. He uses his thumb to rub slow circles until he coaxes your nipple into a solid peak. He squeezes, wringing a rough little exhale from you that goes directly to his fully hardened cock.

He bites back a groan, shifting subtly. The leaking head of his cock presses up into the curve of his cup, the miniscule amount of friction more than enough to rattle him while he's so intensely fixated on you.

The longer he works you with his warm palm, the hotter you get. The shallower your breaths become. Watching the effect he has on you is intoxicating, as is the way you try to resist him in this unspoken game.

He's half tempted to ask if you're enjoying the movie—despite knowing full well that you're not absorbing a single word of it—but he doesn't want to risk breaking the captivating spell his touch has over you.

Greedy for more, he catches the middle portion of your bra between his fingers and deftly snaps the fabric, freeing your breasts, which startles an inhaled little noise from you.

Every sound you make feels heightened, more delicious and hard-earned than the last. Eager to pull more of them from you, to satiate his own burning hunger for you, he withdraws his hand and hooks his fingers under the hem of your sweater, shifting it up until he can finally see the naked curve of your breast, nipple swollen from his teasing.

It makes his entire body throb.

Mouth watering, he swallows the hard lump of anticipation in his throat and parts his lips, shifting close enough to take your breast into his mouth, moaning into the soft pillowy feel of it.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, coaxing another muffled keen from him. The build to this moment has worked him up to the point where he's rocking his hips against nothing, seeking relief for the desperate ache of his leaking cock while his tongue swirls hungrily over your nipple, cheeks hollowing slightly when he sucks.

"Mmm, fuck," you breathe, composure shattering against the wet, hot pull of his mouth. You drag your nails all the way down to the back of his neck before taking another firm handhold of his hair, cradling him to your chest.

His eyes flicker halfway open, lids heavy, eyes glazed over. He nudges in against your breast in a half-hearted nuzzle, alternating between swipes of his tongue and sucking, swallowing as if he's drinking you down, and not just his own wet mess. You start to murmur mindless little nothings, encouraging him, your own eyelids flickering.

The praises falling from your lips wash over him like sunlight, adding to the feverish heat building under his suit. He's thrusting more shamelessly now, one boot planted firmly on the ground, the other propped up on the couch.

You're watching him, all former pretenses dropped. Your eyes are blown black, your own pleasure etched into every line of your face. You taste incredible, sweet and slightly salty on his tongue. He's certain he'll never be over the novelty of you, of this body and heart of yours that you give to him without hesitation.

Mine.

He pants softly through his nose, wishing you'd touch him, slip your hands into his pants and jerk his aching cock.

Anything to relieve the mounting pressure.

Instead, your other hand cups the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. "That's good," you coo, making his rhythm stutter. "You feel so good."

His brows pinch tightly together, eyes screwing shut. Like a mind reader, you manage to press every one of his buttons. His thrusts grow jagged, his breaths turning into soft whines as he chases the climax building between his thighs, his entire body practically vibrating with it.

He comes with a muffled cry, his legs lifting clean off the couch with it. He might drift away entirely if not for the way you hold him through it, moaning your own pleasure so very sweetly as he comes untouched in his pants, worked into an absolute frenzy by the feel, taste and smell of you.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through him, turning his vision red hot. He keeps his eyes tightly shut, still and silent until he has breath enough to gasp wetly, finally releasing you from the molten heat of his mouth.

Gravity returns gradually and his lower half drifts bonelessly back down onto the couch, his iron-wrought muscles reduced to the structural integrity of jello. Still cradling the back of his head, you bend down. He weakly pushes up into the kiss you press to his forehead. His lids are heavy as you stroke his hair, his face, soothing him through the aftershocks of his release.

Once enough of his senses return, he opens his eyes, smiling lazily up at you. Only then does he become aware of the movie credits playing in the background.

"Good movie?" He asks, a slight slur to his words.

You laugh. The sound of it is more divine than any gospel.

"My new favorite, I think."

His smile widens, the taste of your skin lingering on his tongue.

It tastes like heaven.

[hotdrinks]

[ID: A greyscale drawing of Martin Blackwood and Jon Sims lying close together in bed with their legs intertwined and foreheads touching. The scene is dark, but martin holds his phone between them, the light from the screen highlights their faces. There's a speech bubble by Martin's head to indicate that he is talking excitedly while Jon looks at him fondly. End ID]

Jon is the king of the infodump but Martin also has many Cool Facts to share.

(jmart cuddling for @milkteamoon thank u my friend <33)

[whinesandwhimpers]

cw; noncon, kidnapping, dp in v

you being assigned with ghost and soap to go help los vaqueros and yandere!alerudy want you the moment they lay their eyes on you and even more so after you interact with them for the first time

yandere!alerudy faking your death on the mission and hiding you away, chaining your ankle to the floor and pushing you onto a thin mattress in their secret safe house (the other vaqueros don't know about) so you can't escape, watching you bring your knees up to your chest and cry

yandere!rudy slotting himself behind you, pulling your back against his chest, wiping your tears and telling you how they'll take such good care of you if you just behave like a good girl

yandere!ale's self restraint snapping when you start yelling insults at them, ripping your clothes off and pushing your legs apart, kneeling between them so you can't close them, can't hide yourself from him

yandere!ale wrapping a hand around your throat and with his other hand forcing two fingers into your mouth to get them wet before he's pushing them into your dry pussy, and you're crying out in pain, your nails digging into his other arm

yandere!rudy shushing your cries, bringing one hand up to squeeze one of your tits and play with your nipple, his other hand reaching down to rub your clit, the feelings his actions cause making you unwillingly wet in response easing the friction of ale's fingers against your inner walls

yandere!ale ignoring all your pleading to stop and let you go as he unbuckles his pants and pulls out his big hard cock, watching your eyes widen as he strokes it a few times with a wicked grin on his face

yandere!rudy using the hand that was tweaking your nipples to cover your mouth after your protests get louder

yandere!ale plunging his fat cock in your pussy with one quick motion, making you scream into rudy's hand, his violent thrusts making your lower back rub against rudy's clothed cock

yandere!ale keeping his dick buried inside you as he lifts you up and leans back, bending your legs around so your knees sit beside his hips and you're on top, pathetically lying on his chest and covering your crying face, he's jutting up into you a few times before he stills, waiting

reader about to move when you hear rudy unzipping his pants behind you then feel his cock pressing against your already filled hole, making you startle and wail repeated 'No's and 'You can't's

yandere!rudy who rubs your bare back soothingly before whispering in your ear about how you're gonna take both of their cocks like a good girl with a threat of punishment for misbehaving, before he's pushing his dick in alongside ale's, making you feel impossibly stretched from their big sizes

yandere!alerudy building up the speed of their thrusts as they find a good rhythm, pulling you off ale's chest so he can play with your tits and rudy can reach your clit

yandere!alerudy who makes you involuntarily reach a new high and cum on both of their cocks, screaming out in pleasure

yandere!alerudy both finishing at the same time, dicks pulsing and flooding your abused pussy

reader thinking they're done, at least for now, until ale pushes some of your hair out of your face and, staring at your tired face, says "i think our girl can handle another round, rudy"

[el-pada]

the waiter usagi hc is cute but i like to think he'd be the shittiest doordash driver ever

[fleuraimer]

i NEED to hear your thoughts on reader's arguments with boxer!carmy. what's their first argument about? who usually caves first?

you, anon, are a hero and a scholar and are about to receive the greatest blurb in the history of the the tumblr industry (pls someone understand this reference 😭😭)

BUT IT ALL SERIOUSNESS, this is fucking gold; i love you for sending this.

tw!! ooooohh they get into it yall. carmen being a man (ik, i’m sorry). some suggestive content. happy ending.

bf boxer!carmy and reader fighting!!

concept 1. concept 2. bf boxer!carmy hcs.

ok, so, me thinks bf boxer!carmy and his pretty broad actually argue a lot. so often it teeters just on the edge of being unhealthy. but, they also know each other and realize they’re two petty asf ppl (😭😭). so, even though they argue often, it’s usually over stupid shit, or their little fears (like who was supposed to wash the dishes that night, or how carmy’s profession holds a great deal of power over his life, enough to take it away—

she tries hard not to think about it too much; that argument is a losing game).

if carmy’s being frank, it’s half the reason he’s so fucking obsessed in love with her. she’s feisty—she’s trouble, and carmy’s never been good at staying out of it, even before he was the one starting the fights.

however…

when they fight—oh boy! do they fight.

i’d like to think bf boxer!carmy has a hugeeeee jealousy problem (lil insecure loser ☹️🫶🏽), and so that’s usually how their more heated fights begin.

i think their very first BIG fight has to do with a mix of his jealousy issue and the nature of how their relationship came to be.

allow me to set the scene:

so carmy wins the fight against timmy boy (surprise??) and starts talking to his pretty broad, finds out her and timmy aren’t exclusive, just messing around, and takes the green light.

a few weeks go by and everything is going smoothly—you know, the usual, extravagant dates and expensive gifts, lots of pampering and affection from both ends; the rose-hued, honeymoon stage—and carmy invites her as his plus one to some big party/event for his job.

he knocks on the front door of her apartment at 7:15 pm on the dot with a stunning bouquet—baby’s breath and lilies and anemones—of flowers in his right hand. he’s dressed to the nines; a fitted black tux—double breasted, with peak lapels, and slightly high-waisted trousers—and a brown dress-shirt, first thee to four buttons undone (whore 🥸) with a black chiffon, nearly iridescent slip over it that makes that same brown look an earthy, rich green at a swift glance. one gold bracelet, one gold ring for each hand (middle and pinky fingers), his unnecessarily attractive little gold hoop earrings, and a simple gold crucifix hangin’ ‘round his neck.

he raps his busted knuckles against the door with his left hand, and then patiently leans against the frame and awaits the telltale sign of her heels against the hardwood floors.

he counts to seventeen before her front door is swinging open.

the first thing he notices is that smile (that smile, the one she only ever gives to him—not eddie (god forbid), or nacho, or benny, or fucking timmy—just him). pearly whites, with bow and cherry gems (i loveeee teeth gems if my pfp didn’t make that clear), on display, framed by those plump, painted lips—brown liner, blackberry pink lipstick, and a nice, shiny gloss—that never seem to leave his head; burned into his memory, melded to his mind.

his eyes drop to the baby pink toes he’s become far too fond of, the white strap and silver chain of her dior heels placed prettily over top. flits his appraising gaze up to her ankles, the left one wrapped in the anklet he gifted her on their fourth date, a (boxing) glove charm hanging from the gold link. up—up, up, up—they go, trailing the soft ruffles and tedious buttons lining her long sleeve knit dress, hem hitting just at her shin, tight fitting—cinched to her figure—with a swoop neckline that shows off just the right amount of cleavage.

he stops when his eyes find hers again, brown sugar and saccharine.

he pushes off the door frame and steps through, ‘til they’re standing toe to toe and her head is awkwardly bent backward so she can keep eye contact.

“hi, bear,” she chirps, soft and taunting. grins at him while her jewel adorned hands slide up the smooth lapels of his tux.

the left corner of his mouth kicks up into a smirk as he snakes his left arm around her waist, dragging her closer.

his head spins with the scent of cinnamon and evergreen, and he wants to nuzzle in her neck because of it.

“hey, cub,” he rumbles back, and neither of them acknowledge the way she practically melts into her, she just curls her fingers into his lapels, and he tightens his hold on her waist.

she looks at the flowers in his right hand, “those for me?”

carmy turns his head to look at the flowers, lifts his hand with a noisy crinkle to present ‘em to her.

still, he shakes his head, puts on his best poker face and huffs, “nah, i’m taking that real pretty broad down the hall on a date tonight. just dropping in to say ‘hi’.”

her grin drops, face flat, eyes narrowed.

she unfurls her fists from his jacket, starts pushing him away, out from where he came.

“well, since we’ve finished swapping pleasantries—”

this time when he huffs, he’s huffing out a laugh, “i’m kidding. hey, baby, i’m kidding. swear.” he drops the flowers (unimportant; he can get more if she really wants them) to the ground at the side of their feet and wraps his other arm around her waist, crowding her space, barely giving her room to breathe, let alone slip from his grasp.

she wriggles in his hold, still shoving uselessly at his firm chest. “carmen, let go—”

and, well he’s definitely in trouble, but there’s not much to be done about that now, is there?

he takes both her tiny, pounding fists and locks them behind her back in one fell swoop “never. now look at me.”

she looks into the hallway, just over his shoulder, to piss him off.

his eye threatens to twitch.

“look at me, cub. don’t make me say it again.”

she rolls her brown sugar eyes, but does thereafter shift her gaze to look at him. raises an impatient brow.

“i’m sorry for saying that. it was a shitty joke—”

“it wasn’t fucking funny, carm.”

he grunts, “all right. wasn’t funny, i’m sorry, baby.”

she continues to glare at him for another 30 to 45 seconds, but then her shoulders are slumping and her face is scrunching in that cute little pout and she’s whining like a sweet little baby.

“wasn’t funny, bear,” she grumbles, and carmy snickers.

“y’already said that; gimme a kiss.”

she shakes her head, fussy, and now it’s carmy’s turn to raise an impatient brow.

“what was that? speak up, baby.”

“no,” she groans, stomping her foot, trying to free her hands from behind her back, but there’s no way she’s getting out now, not if she wants to act like a brat.

“try again.”

“n—”

he yanks her into his chest, “try the fuck again.”

but when has she ever just willingly rolled over?

“let me go, carmen.”

“give me a fucking kiss, cub.”

—

they show up to carmy’s work gathering an hour and a half late, but who’s fucking fault is that (this, too, is a losing game)?

when they step into the venue together, all eyes immediately fall on them. how could they not?

carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto, the bear, and his new girl.

timothy ‘timmy’ grayson’s ex girl.

they don’t let it phase them, the side eye and poorly disguised whispering, just find their way to their way to the open bar and mingle with their inner circle.

the night quickly descends from business to casual, but that could just be because they were so late. as the older patrons slip out, the inconsequential jazz humming in the background is shut off, and then the ceiling is shaking with the bass of keep it g by asap rocky.

somehow, carmy’s on his second glass of bourbon and his girl just finished her third glass of wine and they’re…tipsy.

it’s not even like the song playing is inherently sexual, at all, really, but carmy’s lips are trailing over the back of her neck, uncoordinated—messy—and his fingers are digging into her hips because the way she’s fucking grinding on him should not be legal.

“god, cub,” he grunts in her ear, rolling his hips back into her.

“mhmm,” she moans in the back of her throat, subdued, swallowed down, and places her hands over his that grip at her like a lifeline. she lets her head fall back, settle in the crook of his neck so she can nose at the hinge of his jaw and suck a pretty hickey there, too.

he fully thrusts into her, the bass of the speakers muffling the too audible slap of their bodies connecting.

she squirms and squeaks, “bear!”

he growls, “what?”

she giggles in the shell of his ear. “down, boy. i gotta hit the restroom.”

carmy, very reluctantly, lets her slip from his grasp and venture to find the woman’s room. he nurses on another drink—whiskey, this time—but paces himself as he waits for his girl’s return.

that is, until he sees his girl in question talking with timothy fucking grayson. then, he downs the rest of his drink like water and calmly—calmly—walks up to them.

now, if (and this is a very big fucking if) carmen wasn’t being a complete a***** ******* ****** ***** *****, then maybe he would’ve noticed the rather unkempt state of his pretty broad, her soured expression and guarded body language.

he was being a complete redacted though, so he just steps behind her with his chest puffed and his jaw set, just itching for timmy to say something fucking stupid.

and that stupid fucking smirk on his stupid fucking face might scratch that itch just enough to satiate him.

“what’re y’doin’ with my girl, timmy?”

he doesn’t register the way she bristles against him at the term.

my girl.

“just makin’ friendly conversation,” he shrugs, still smirking, and carmy has never wanted his knuckles to split so fucking bad.

“friendly conversation?” he nearly coos back, the condescending, possessive prick. “why don’t y’find someone else to go make friendly conversation with, yeah? fuck off.”

he walks away before timmy boy gets the chance to respond, dragging his girl behind him.

when they make it back to the bar, he finally has the decency to assess his pretty broad. or, hound her, more like.

"what was he sayin' to you? and what the hell were you doin' with him in the fuckin' first place? if he bothers you again you come straight to me, understood?"

he's met with silence.

he frowns, looks down at his girl to find the same expression on her face, and goes to repeat himself. "i said, underst—"

"take me home, carmen."

his frown deepens. he bends in the knee to try and catch her eyes, but she turns her head away as soon as he glimpses her brown sugar irises.

"cub—"

"take me home, carmen. now."

and they've fought, all right? small tiffs here and there, "pick your fucking shoes up, carmen!", "stop fucking touching shit, carm!", "god, carmen, just leave me alone!" but this is different. deeper.

he's still frowning as he nods, mutters "okay," softly, as to not upset her any further, and places his hand on the small of her back to guide out of the venue doors and out to the valet.

usually, after a date, carmen will pull in to a parking space and get out first to open the passenger door for his girl and walk her up to her apartment, before either getting sent off with a goodnight kiss or getting tugged through her front door to continue where they'd left off.

this time, though, she out the door before the cars even full parked.

carmen rushes to keep up with her takes the stairs to her apartment two at a time.

"cub, wait up!"

she does no such thing.

in fact, she only seems to move faster in lieu of his request (brat).

he nearly misses his window to at least say goodnight to her, with the way she quickly keys into her home and tries to slam the door in his face, but a foot in the frame easily rectifies that.

"hey!" he barks at her, shoving the door open and slamming it shut after him.

"don't slam my damn door, carmen!"

"don't try to slam your damn door in my damn face, then!"

she frustratedly groans, arms flailing in exclamation. he watches her cautiously as she looks frantically for something—something, anything—before she's bending down to take off her dior heels.

clearly, something has pent up—boiled, festered—within her, because she chucks a shoe at his head (and for someone so unassuming, she has a damn good arm).

he ducks just before it can hit him, instead banging into the wall.

"what the fu— ow!"

she doesn't miss the second time.

"fuck you, carmen!" she screams at him.

"fuck you! you just threw your fucking shoe at my head! twice!"

"and you fucking deserved it," she cries, taking a step closer to him, pointing an accusatory finger. "you dick!"

"what the fuck did i do?" he shouts back, taking a step forward himself, brows furrowed in frustrated confusion.

"you— y-you—"

he takes another step toward her, "huh? i what? spit it the fuck out, baby."

not for the first time, she pouts like a kicked puppy, and her hands brace on his sturdy shoulders, and she pushes at him, angry. but, certainly for the first, carmy actually loses his balance. nearly trips over his feet with the way he stumbles backward.

"ugh, asshole! you made a bet!"

he frowns, bewildered. "what?"

"don't fucking lie to me, carm—"

"baby, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"stop fucking calling me that!" she screams, "with timothy! you made a bet with him before the fight, a bet on me!"

carmy's mouth hangs open, forming to phantom explanations that all fall too short or get too intimate—personal; she doesn't need to know the backstory, the why in his road to success. she can't, not yet. not so soon.

she shoves him again at his lack of response, and, for the second time, carmy stumbles back.

"fuck you, carmy!" she screams, eyes brimming and— fuck, she was not supposed to find out this way (well, ever, really, but surely not in this way). he racks his brain for sufficient a justification.

"fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! is that how you fucking see me? i'm just another belt you meatheads pass around and compete for? fucking kill yourselves over?"

"that's not true, baby—"

"i'm not your fucking baby!" she goes to shove him again, but he's ready this time, steeled. she throws her weight into each nudge and push and shove she gives to him, grunts and grumbles through the exertion of it, but he's stock-still like a statue now, and immovable force to be reckoned with.

"you done?" he mutters when she's huffin' and puffin' too hard to keep going.

her eyes snap from his chest to his baby blues, glaring. "fuck—!"

"—me? yeah, you've already said that, several times actually. now are you gonna let me explain, or do you wanna keep screamin'?"

her eyes, somehow, narrow further, teeth barred.

carmy prepares himself.

"do i wanna keep screamin'? well, since you fucking offered," she gripes, pounding her fists into his chest again. and he lets her. "you don't fucking think, do you? just puff your chest and fucking take it if you want it, right? god, carmen, i'm not some fucking toy—"

"i never implied that you were—"

"so you didn't bet you could fuck me better than timothy at the weigh-in?"

he snaps his mouth shut.

she scoffs, shakes her head. "un-fucking-believable," she mutters under her breath.

she sighs, and the (arguably) worst is over. but it's not like he necessarily welcomes the tears, either.

she sniffles, red-rimmed eyes sparkling in a pool of saltwater, and weakly shoves at his chest again.

"f-fuck you, bear," she weeps softly, voice cracking, head hanging, and carmy's never wanted to fix something so badly in his whole goddamn life. more than mikey. "i thought you fucking liked me—

"i do—!"

"stop lying—!"

and suddenly, carmen's had enough.

"be quiet," he barks.

the room falls silent.

he sighs, grips hers arms to keep her close and up right. drops his head to rest on hers, eye-to-eye, and she's too tuckered out to fight it.

his adams apple bobs, "i'm sorry, y/n," he whispers, and she doesn't think she's ever heard him so earnest before, so sad. "i'm sorry i made a bet on you, and hurt your feelings because of it. you're not a toy, or a belt, or any other prize, boxing or not; you're a human fucking being. and i'm sorry."

she sniffles again, and he takes her lack of shoving and yelling as clearance to continue.

"i'm not fucking sorry it worked, though." he can feel her tense, so he hurries on before she gets the wrong idea. "i'm not fucking sorry i saw you in that damn pink dress, in your damn pink heels, with you fucking pink toes. i'm not sorry that i talked to you after the match, and made good on my promise to timmy."

"carmen—"

he squeezes the sides of her shoulders, "i'm not sorry 'cause i do like you, cub, so fucking much."

she lifts her head, teary eyes blearily finding his, and she frowns up at him, like she doesn't believe him.

"why're lying?" she whimpers, all watery and sad sounding, and carmy just wants to swaddle her in a blanket and kiss her tears away.

he smiles gently at her, "m'not lyin', baby. do you think i'd still be here if all i wanted was a fuck and duck? that's what the ring girls are for, cub."

she makes a face at him, "ew! g-ross, carmy, don't—!"

he bites back a smirk. "you drive me insane," cuts her off, sliding his hands from her arms to her shea butter smooth palms. "you drive me up the fuckin' wall, actually. but i love that about you. i love that you don't take anyone's shit, including mine. love that you put me in my place, and tell me off when i step out of line." his tongue peaks out to lick his chapped bottom lip before he continues. "i love the way you curl up in a ball every night before bed because you can't sleep any other way, and i love the way you bitch and moan about your bones feelin' too stiff in the morning because of it." he regards her fondly, eyes flitting over every feature. “i love your teeth gems, and your long ass nails. i love it when you’re bare-faced and bushy-tailed, or when you’ve got a— what is it?”

she chokes on a snotty laugh, “a full beat?”

“a full beat!” he repeats, enthusiastic and beaming. they both take a moment to giggle, carmy’s hands finding purchase on her hips to draw her in, chest to chest. “i am sorry i hurt your feelings, cub, so fucking sorry. but i would make that bet ten fuckin’ thousand times over if it meant i’d end up anywhere with you.”

and now she’s crying for a whole different, much sweeter reason.

she pouts at him cutely, “bearrr!”

and it’s like nothing even happened.

“whaaat?” he groans, feigning annoyance. “snotty girl, look at those tears,” he tuts, “such a crybaby.”

“that’s not fair—!”

“hush,” he muses, walking them back toward her bedroom, deft fingers working to unfasten the many buttons of her dress. “you talk too much, anyone ever told you that? whatever, you should let me fuck you.”

“what?”

“you should let me fuck you.”

“you literally ate me out for an hour before we left, that’s why we were so fucking late. and who says you fuckin’ deserve it?”

carmy smirks, that’s his girl.

fuckin’ trouble.

he quirks a brow at her, fingers pausing their decent.

“you gonna let me earn it?”

—

a/n: hope u like it babies bc getting this done made me SICK (im serious i can’t fucking breathe right or swallow properly anymore 🙂‍↔️🫶🏽)

not proofread!!

[comingdownwithme]

PLEASE I WANT MORE TICCIJEFF LORE I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABT IT!!!! IT SEEMS FUNNN!!!!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have anything too concrete in regards to the silly lil background I made for this ship, so it's probably subject to change later (Especially since I haven't been caught up on the more recent updates on any of the Creepypastas' stories), but here it is anyways! (And have a stupid bonus doodle while we're at it because I couldn't help myself)

Basically, the Woods and Rogers family lived in the same neighborhood for most of their lives, and the kids met during some social event like some neighborhood party. Liu (8) was the first to spot Toby (10) and mentioned how weird he was to Jeff (13) , who- instead of taking it as a deterrent- walked up, told him bluntly that his lil brother thought he was a weirdo, and promptly introduced himself. Thus started a friendship filled with genuine care and sincerity alongside the usually teenage dumbassery! (With Liu being dragged along on occasion against his will)

Jeff was always patient with Toby. Even when his tics and stutters got bad he'd always stay by his side, made sure the other boy had someone he could talk to, someone who would listen, someone who even bothered to try and understand him. And Toby, in turn, would do the same, even when Jeff's own thoughts scared him on some days. The two were near inseparable as years went by, moreso when they continued on with school where Toby would be bullied or judged.

(If Jeff let the awful, curious temptation simmering under his skin let loose, sending a student or two to the nurse after a particularly bad insult, who's to say)

One day though, Jeff and Liu's parents made the decision to move to a better place when their dad landed a good job. They'd be able to go to some place bigger, get things they were never able to get, learn under a school that offers better opportunities.

Jeff would've been happy- especially since the rest of his family seemed to be- if he wouldn't be leaving his best friend.

The weeks before the move was tense, especially in the Woods' household. How the hell were you just supposed to leave a staple part of your life? To let go of something- someone who had been such an integral part of it?

(Would he be ok? How's he going to make it through school? Who's gonna talk to 'im when his dad is out again- God knows where?)

(If Jeff cared a little more, felt a little more than the average friend, who's to say)

Still, the duo tried to spend the time they had, tried to make sure Jeff would leave without any regrets.

When the Woods' boys were packing their last things into their car, the Rogers family standing aside, watching their close, family friends as they prepare their leave, the two teens promised they'd keep in touch.

Years down the line, a white-hooded monster would reminisce about better days as he held a cigarette between bloodstained fingers, wondering what might have been if they had just stayed. The maddening, burning pyre of grief and anger that fueled his bloody venture had simmered into a low, thrumming heat in his melancholy, and the man wondered what his best friend would've thought of him now after everything, after one tragedy after another turned him into something even he considers to be less than human.

Somewhere, deep in the woods, a man, haunted by the glimpses of a life he was never supposed to remember, grips his axe in a white-knuckled grip.

[cupid-tune]

Smooch

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[macksartblock]

In terms of prompts if you wanted to do a gothcleats, platonic or romantic that would be pretty cool, or just link in general

love is stored in the garfield film on your phone