#he doesn't care about any of this but he WILL be tagging along to make sure no one else gets into trouble

[mayababes19]

MAMMON (OBEYME! HEADCANNONS) PT.1

Mammon x Afab!Reader

-------------------------------------------------------

Mammon is a Tsundere, no matter what you do he pretends not to like it but he's lying.

Mammon would take you out on the best dates, I swear. He would probably make you help him steal goldie amd other expensive things as the first date but later on you're getting straight royal treatment. Like.. *chefs kiss*. He would LOVE picnic dates while at the park.

Mammon would purposely pull pranks on you to get your attention or make you tag along. The end result is always the same... you both get caught by Lucifer or Diavolo (mostly Lucifer).

Adding onto my last statement, Mammon would secretly yern for your attention. I mean it. He would get all pouty if you give any of his brothers your attention.

As much as he wants to pretend he doesn't care about you, between everyone else, Mammon will ALWAYS be the first one to protect you. Would even go against Lucifer or Diavolo just to do so.

Mammon would buy you cute plushies or food whenever he has a chance to. Every time you thank him he'll say, "Doesn't mean I like ya? Ya got it?".

Omgggg. Mammon would be so whiney when being intimate. Makeout sessions will have him WEAK and hard in an instant.

I don't care what anyone says, Mammon has a mommy kink. Argue with a wall 😭.

Mammon would be so loud and needy when you're riding him. Literally begging for you to go faster as he's holding onto your waist for dear life.

He loves you pulling his hair and calling him "Baby" with your sweet voice. He'll let out a soft moan or groan every time.

When in missionary, he's holding you oh so close. Mammon just can't enough of you. He'll be whimpering and moaning your name into your ear as he's pounding your sweet cunt.

@screampied

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers. 

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully. 

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does. 

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk. 

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting. 

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them. 

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly. 

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.” 

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly. 

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly. 

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot. 

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?” 

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares. 

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly. 

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off. 

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?” 

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?” 

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about). 

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?” 

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh. 

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”  

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts. 

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't. 

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly. 

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan. 

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him. 

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief. 

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them. 

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.” 

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters. 

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.” 

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise. 

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat. 

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool. 

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven. 

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats. 

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today. 

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen. 

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them. 

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him. 

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by. 

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them. 

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way. 

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself. 

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing. 

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear. 

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out. 

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup. 

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once. 

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal. 

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting. 

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid. 

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them. 

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more. 

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on. 

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face. 

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself). 

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders. 

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him. 

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him. 

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same. 

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush. 

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly. 

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.” 

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face. 

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them. 

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds. 

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him. 

“Carmy.” They glare at him. 

“What?” He feels himself smiling. 

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try. 

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction. 

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it. 

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance. 

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away. 

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow. 

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes. 

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect. 

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault. 

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes. 

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough. 

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head. 

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous. 

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly. 

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly. 

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment. 

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes. 

“Ready?” He asks quietly. 

“I'm ready,” they whisper. 

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too. 

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear. 

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark. 

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face. 

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt. 

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable. 

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words. 

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael. 

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it. 

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time. 

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went. 

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself. 

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug. 

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do. 

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up. 

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously. 

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.” 

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter. 

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him. 

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words. 

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds. 

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned. 

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile. 

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head. 

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses. 

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.” 

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else. 

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes. 

Until them. 

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along. 

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny. 

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms. 

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore. 

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

~

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[pyromaniac-cyndaquil]

pmd chatot for blorbo bingo? ^^

He's a silly rabbit. I love him

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ staying the night at your ex-husband's house was a mistake. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. you and gojo have a daughter. oral (m. and f. recieving), satoru calls you a slut + whore, degradation mixed with praise, mocking, dacryphilia.

author's note: edit—crying bcs an irl read this and alluded to it in one of our convos pls actually kill me /hj

"hey, sweetheart," the man holding your daughter's hand says casually, as if he doesn't know how much you hate the pet name. "you took your sweet time."

a familiar scowl makes its way onto your face and you cross your arms. "satoru, will you ever stop calling me that?" you ask exasperatedly, pressing two of your fingers into your temples.

six years.

you've known satoru for six years, and you were his wife for four of them. now, after a long, painful road, you two were finally divorcées.

it's been a year since you and satoru ended things, and sure, it was hard for all of you, but life moved on. your daughter, to her delight, still gets to see her father on weekends. and unfortunately, you usually tagged along.

"mommy, can we stay for the night?" your four year old asks, looking up at you with big, shiny eyes. "please?"

you hesitate — if it were up to you, you wouldn't stay in this house, the one you once lived in any longer. "sorry, pumpkin. i think we should go. wouldn't wanna intrude on daddy's space any longer."

you hate the look on satoru's face when you refer to him in the same way your daughter does. fucking pervert.

"you two can stay as long as you want," satoru interjects smoothly. he smiles lazily, kneeling down to your daughter's height and ruffling her hair. "it's kinda late, isn't it? i'd hate for you to have to drive all the way back in the dark."

"yeah, mummy!" your daughter says, nodding along to satoru's words. "i'm tired."

you wince and ignore the smug grin on satoru's face as he stands back up with a soft grunt. "we should head home, kiddo. i bet your dad has work to do, and we have our own house."

satoru frowns slightly at the last statement, but he doesn't even consider shooting back — not in front of his daughter. "sweetheart," he says to you, voice coated in that sickeningly sweet tone that you hated, "it's late. and i don't have any work."

when satoru sees the way you scowl at him, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "you have any other reasons why you wanna leave?"

none that you need to know.

both your ex-husband and your daughter, who takes after her dad more, take your silence as grudging agreement. 

"hey, kid, d'you want to go to bed?" satoru fondly asks your daughter, ruffling her hair again. when she nods, sleepiness evident in her eyes, satoru scoops her up and carries her off to her room without looking back.

when they turn the corner into your daughter's room, you sigh and plop down on satoru's couch. your ex-husband was an infuriatingly good father, and it pissed you off. 

a couple minutes later, satoru strolls out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

"so, babe, you dating anyone?" satoru says conversationally as he plops down on the couch next to you. he's close enough to make you tense, but stays just out of your personal space.

"what's it to you if i am?" you mutter, ignoring the pet name. you know that if you tell him to stop, he'll just say it more, so you don't bother.

he scoffs and faces you, resting his back against the arm of the couch. "what's up your ass today?"

"fuck off, satoru."

satoru whistles and tsks at you, shaking his head. "language, sweetheart. you kiss our daughter with that mouth?" 

after a couple seconds, his expression softens and he studies your face carefully. "what's on your mind?"

and just like that, you're back to the times when the two of you were happy. back when satoru wasn't such a dipshit and actually cared about how you felt.

unfortunately, those times were over.

long over, you remind yourself as you dig your nails into the palm of your hand. "nothing you need to be concerned about," you reply. your tone is clipped, and the words come out harsher than you meant them to.

satoru doesn't seem to mind. in fact, he has a lopsided grin on his face as he scoots closer to you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"you wanna fuck it out?"

his words are so unexpected that your mouth almost drops open. thankfully, it doesn't, but a couple minutes later, your legs do.

"fuckkk," you moan, tilting your head back as satoru's tongue trails a stripe up your slit. 

"keep it down, sweetheart," satoru says without looking up. "don't wan' to wake up our daughter, do ya?"

you hum in response, physically covering your mouth with one of your hands to muffle the sounds escaping the confines of your lips.

in the year that you and satoru had ended things until now, you'd slept with a couple guys. you'd even dated one or two of them, but god, none of them could use their mouth like satoru could.

satoru can't help but smile as he eats you out, pulling away momentarily to shake his head at you. "tsk, you were so mean to me earlier. and now look at you." he dips his head to nip at your clit and grins when he feels you flinch.

"i've barely even started and you're already drippin' all over my sheets," he mutters, lips brushing against your inner thigh. "fuck, takin' my tongue so good, you little slut."

"satoru, i w-wanna cum," you mewl, shuddering when his tongue re-enters your folds. "wan' you inside me."

"i already am, dummy."

you feebly attempt to swat his head in response before scowling and insisting that he knew what you meant.

satoru scoffs as he pulls himself up to face level to you. he readjusts his position over you so your back is pressed into the mattress underneath him before pressing his lips to your ear.

"let's put that mouth of yours to use, yeah?" he mumbles, slipping two fingers underneath his sweatpants' waistband and tugging him off. 

it's been years since you last fucked with satoru, and in that time you had forgotten just how pretty he was. you'd never admit it out loud, but you really didn't mind the reminder. setting into a comfortable position, you wrap your lips around his cock, relishing the way his moans get louder and louder.

you hum slightly, resisting the urge to smile when you feel satoru shake from the vibration. but god, his reaction when you run your tongue over his tip? priceless.

"fuck, baby, it's been too long since you've sucked me off. forgot how good you were- aah," he cuts himself off with a breathy moan. "fuckkk."

you briefly stop to look up at him with a cheeky smile. "you still moan like a girl, satoru."

"and you're as much of a slut for me as ever," he grumbles, reaching down and pushing your head into his painfully hard cock again. "d-don't stop, baby. feels s' good."

satoru's moans only get louder from there, until you have to be the one reminding him that your daughter's asleep two doors down.

"m' gonna cum," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hair and tangling his long fingers in it. "swallow all of it, yeah? don't waste a drop."

you nod your head obiediently, using your tongue just the way you know he's always liked to push him closer and closer to the edge until–

"fuckin' whore," satoru gasps, groaning loudly as he cums in your mouth, hips grinding against your face. "aah, missed your s-slutty tongue, baby, fuck."

"missed your girly moans," you manage to gasp before his tip hits the back of your throat, painfully so.

"shut up and swallow," satoru commands, tugging on your hair just enough to make you cry out. "yeah, who's moaning like a slut now, hmm?"

after you swallow all his cum and lick your now-swollen lips, satoru has you open your mouth so he can check. 

"good girl, looks like there's at least one thing you can do right, even if it is just sucking me off. c'mere," he mutters, pinning you down on the mattress and making the bedsprings creak loudly. "m' gonna fuck you, m'kay?"

you nod, reaching out to stroke his saliva-covered cock. "y-yes, please, satoru."

your ex-husband, who you should really not be fucking with, looks down at you with a smirk and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. "you look so pretty, baby. all covered in my cum, never looked hotter."

he nudges your legs apart with his knee before pushing himself into you, gritting his teeth through a smug grin when you cry out in pain. "careful, baby. wouldn't wanna wake up our daughter with your slutty moans, would ya?"

"s-satoru, hurts s' much," you whine, pawing at his chest. "you're too big, i can't-"

"you're too big, i can't," satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. "how do you think our daughter was made, baby? did the storks just drop her off?"

his next thrust is particularly harsh, and something about your pained cry almost makes him cum again on the spot. "fuck, we should do this more often," satoru cooes, reaching up and stroking your cheek. "wait, you cryin'?"

yes, you were crying. your cheeks were wet with a mixture of your tears and the remainder of his cum from earlier, and fuck, all you could think about was satoru's cock. so much for being so over him.

satoru laughs, shaking his head and slowing his pace to give you a kiss. "just when i thought you couldn't get any prettier, you gotta go and prove me wrong," he mumbles, licking his lips. "god, you're fucking beautiful."

he presses his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue slip into your mouth. "i missed you so much, baby. i still do," he mutters in between kisses. he's controlling the pace, purposefully making each kiss's ending sudden as to not allow you to talk — only him.

"you know how many times i've jacked off to you?" satoru breaths, reaching down to grab your thighs and push you impossibly deeper into him. "you know how fuckin' much i want to put a ring on your finger?"

"satoru, i-" you try to say, but his mouth is on yours before you can finish your sentence. and a couple seconds later, more words are waterfalling out of him.

"fuck, baby, you have no idea. i fucked up, but i swear i've changed. c'mon, give me one chance, i-"

"mummy? daddy?"

you and satoru both flinch and whip your heads towards the door when you hear your daughter's voice, preparing to make up some far-fetched story to tell her besides we were fucking.

thankfully, the universe allows you two seconds to cover yours and satoru's bodies with a blanket before your daughter opens the door and pokes her head inside. "i heard noises."

you look at satoru for help making up an excuse, and thankfully he has one ready to go. 

"oh, we were just watching a movie," he lies, running a hand through his hair. "go back to bed, kiddo. we'll tuck you back in in a second, yeah?"

your daughter looks at you before looking back at satoru and nodding. 

"close the door, please!" you call as she turns to leave. when the door shuts behind her, you let out a long exhale and bury your head in satoru's chest.

and to your horror, the door opens once more.

your daughter looks at you with shiny, curious eyes. "mommy, are you and daddy back together?"

satoru saves you from having to answer that impossible question with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "go back to bed, pumpkin. i'll be there to tuck you in."

ten seconds after the door shuts for what you hope is the final time, you turn and glare at satoru. "you're gonna tuck her in?"

satoru scoffs in mock disbelief, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking you up and down. "if you wanna tuck in our four year old daughter covered in my cum, be my guest."

you nudge his arms off of you and bury your face in a pillow, groaning softly. "fuck you, satoru."

"love you too, sweetheart."

[angelltheninth]

May i request a jinwoo(solo lvling) smut drabble pls:D?

Yes! The anime adaptation is so good!

Pairing: Sung Jingwoo x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rivals with benefits, banter, slight pining, competition, possessive sex

A/N: Excited to see him become the badass that I know and love.

RwB!Sung Jinwoo used to hate seeing you on the same dungeon as him, not exactly trying to steal his thunder but clearly enjoying tagging along to mess with him

RwB!Sung Jinwoo would tease you a lot when he'd clear more monsters then you but offer you a consolation prize in the form of a kiss, it used to be a joke between the two of you but as tensions grew so did the realization of that offer until you found yourself on the receiving end of it

RwB!Sung Jinwoo treats it as a somewhat friendly competition to see who can make who finish first, he's not very confidant, he doesn't have much experience himself but he enjoys the cocky then flustered look on your face

RwB!Sung Jinwoo avoids kissing you when you have sex to minimize the chances of any more romantic attachments forming, you only hang out when you go to clear dungeons and when you have sex

RwB!Sung Jinwoo respects your abilities yet refuses to admit defeat easily, always striving to be better and faster, to prove to everyone that he's not the loser he once was and when he feels especially down he turns to you and under the guise of your benefits wants to not think about his worries for a while

RwB!Sung Jinwoo is a very passionate and giving lover despite your differences and bickering, when he does something he does it well and that incudes you

RwB!Sung Jinwoo always makes sure you finish, it doesn't matter who does it first but you have noticed his orgasms are a lot stronger after he makes you come, even if his dick wasn't inside you at the time

RwB!Sung Jinwoo is careful not to hurt you further in case you got injured and keeps his pace slow and even until you start riding his cock harder because how dare he think his cock can break you when a demon couldn't

RwB!Sung Jinwoo doesn't mind you seeing other people but absolutely does not want to know anything in detail, he will always fuck you harder if he notices you talking to someone that you're even a bit flirty with

RwB!Sung Jinwoo always leaves first and clears a few more demons before going home because that's the only way he can deal with, ignore and push down these feelings he's been getting whenever he sees you

[chaepink]

I have a small question! Can we get some time whenever you are up for it, Maybe some more of the Yan!sub boys? c:

pathetic sub!yandere boys ♡ pt. 2

pathetic yet adorable yandere boys that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask them to do.

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist | part one

dom!reader, previous stalking, unhealthy relationship, pet play, bondage, use of blindfold, mention of strap/cock, mention of choking, mention of marking

note: part two cause part one did so well!

Yandere subs that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask, sexual or not. Ask them for some homework answers? They'll steal the answer sheet for the week's homework for you from the teacher's desk undetected. You've been craving certain snacks and tell them that? Weird enough, you find a pile of those snacks on your bed the next day with a note that has a heart on it that lets you know exactly who it's from.

But in bed? That's a whole different story. Believe me when I say that they want to feel weak and small underneath you in bed. Choke them, spank them, edge or overstimulate them, and they'll babble out 'thank you's to whatever pleasure you're giving them. Such a good boy that just wants to be obedient for you.

Tell them to sit? They'll sit mere seconds later, looking up at you for your next command. Tell them to make you feel good? They'll make you cum as if their life depends on it. You're gonna have to yank their hair so that they don't overstimulate you, making them whimper at the pain as they look up at you with sad puppy eyes, asking you what they did wrong.

They're so desperate to please you that they'll hack into your phone to search your search/porn history for stuff that you want to do to them but haven't asked yet. It's not like you haven't caught them doing so either.

You like pet play? You find them in your room with nothing but a collar around their neck, a leash that's connected to said collar on the floor in front of you as if its beckoning you to grab it, a pair of cat/bunny/dog ears on their head that looks so real that its as if they're actually connected to his head, and- oh? whats that buzzing? Turns out that they put in a tail vibrator in themself too! what a surprise! How about you call them a good boy and fuck him until he can't think anymore as a reward? Watch as he mewls like a slut when you take out the vibrator before pushing it back in him.

What about bondage? Well you'll find them tied up oh so prettily on your bed with some red rope that compliments their skin so well. They'll already be prepped, of course, not wanting to waste time on it so that you'll fuck them quicker. Maybe they'll even have a blindfold on which will heighten his other senses. So how about you touch him all over so that he begs for you to just fuck him already. Don't listen to him though, just continue teasing him until he's soaked the blindfold with his tears and as his dick leaks out pre-cum, desperately humping the air to seek any friction. what a slut!

Turn them into such a mess that all they can think about is the way your strap/dick is hitting all the right spots in him as they lay there taking it all so well. Make him scream out in pleasure, the sounds filling the room which would surely end with an angry complaint from your neighbors complaining about the noises the following day. But he doesn't 't care, why would they when you're fucking him so well?

They're so horny that they're willing to tease you in public just so you would punish them. With some friends and he tagged along? He'll innocently grab your hand to place it on the bulge in his pants, making you widen your eyes and glare at him before he reaches forward to grab something. This makes his shirt ride up which just barely shows the pair of lace panties he's wearing underneath that are peeking out from his pants. How about you drag him to the bathroom and finger him until he cums, a hand on his mouth to silence his loud moans, hm?

About to leave the house to go somewhere with a friend? He'll say goodbye to you wearing the sluttiest outfit right when you're about to exit the door, his ass practically out and dick bulging against the fabric. You can't resist how good they look so you quickly text your friend that you have to cancel and to meet up another time before shaking off your belongings and rushing towards him with hunger in your eyes. Sure you feel bad for your friend but thats the last thing on your mind, the outfit on your yandere being the only thing that you're thinking about at the moment. The way you're looking at him makes them feel so small as if they're the prey and you're the predator but oh do they love it so much.

You know their antics are just to rile you up but you can't ignore them, not when you want to make them scream your name so bad and make them cry from pleasure. It's not your fault, really.

It's not like they're complaining either. They'll gladly get on all fours and present their lubed up ass to you the moment you tell them to. They'll turn their head back to look at you with eyes that absolutely begs you to ruin them. They're just a mere toy for you to use for your own pleasure after all.

Do whatever to them, they'll take it all like a good boy. Leave marks on him so that he can be reminded of the previous night, filthy thoughts flooding his head as he gets hard again. He'll stare at them in the mirror, heading tilting up to look at the small bruise around his neck from your choking. The red mark on his waist is obvious, reminding him of just how hard you gripped it to fuck him even deeper and faster.

Everything you do just makes them even more obsessed with you but you don't mind. After all, you're just as obsessed with them as they are with you.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[cyberm4n]

You've now filled my head with nothing but Alastor and Lucifer brainrot. Any other sharing thoughts you have for them? (I cannot stop thinking about them, I quite literally thought about them sharing me during my entire 8hr retail shift yesterday)

alastor and lucifer sharing you pt 3!

pt1, pt2

this was highly requested, thank you all for the love <3 im tagging anyone who asked/was fine with it last time but now you can fill out this taglist form to ensure you're tagged for future posts!

tags: @lu-ferri12 @my-anime-garden @princessdreamss @polytheatrix @reaper-of-light-12 @ambi-squirrelly @hazelfoureyes @meggletoomanyfandoms @afernandez21

cw: angst ig?? idk reader is upset cause they keep fighting, general relationship issues for a moment, smut, reader gets eaten out, there's some light praise and condescension i think, alastor has a master kink, alastor discovers he LOVES eating pussy, there's like a weird sexual tension between alastor and lucifer for the majority of this if you squint, the ending is VERY suggestive

other: not 100% happy with formatting on this but i wrote majority of it on a 6 hour flight so like. you win some you lose some. not proofread that well, i kind of ramble at times too but it's fine. 2.1k word count and half of it is formatted in a headcanon cuase, again, lazy 6 hour writing. i also don't use the bolding and coloring that much cause it'd be a lot of work.

left the ending a little open, will probably do a poll tomorrow on if people want me to take this that direction.

■ okay so sex aside i would think outwardly everyone knows you're in a relationship with lucifer at the very least

■ but it's kept lowkey with the other part of the relationship

■ which both are fine with btw

■ lucifer loves pda so he's happy, alastor isn't a fan so it's whatever

■ the public part works out because alastor would genuinely be worried about someone trying to use you to get to him

■ it's bad enough that it's known the king of hell has a new partner, but nobody knowing that if they fuck with you they're fucking with the king of hell AND the radio demon is a silent advantage

■ if anyone knows, it's charlie. but only to the extent of like the fact it's a hinge relationship, everything else she doesn't know and honestly doesn't need to know

■ she's just happy her dad seems happy and is getting along better with alastor

■ i think alastor is the kind to really start caring during the relationship vs. lucifer caring about you deeply before

■ so occasionally alastor will pull you aside, or if no one is watching will just press a quick kiss on your forehead.

■ meanwhile lucifer is always making it known he's in love with you

■ arm around your shoulder, holding your hand, everything

■ again, alastor doesn't really mind unless lucifer decides to be an ass abt it

■ look they still compete with each other sometimes they can't help it

■ then it becomes a game of how much the other can get away with before you either get upset or it's too telling

■ that's the other thing is like, the competing gets really fucking annoying to you

■ we saw them in hells greatest dad it wasn't a want to be a better dad it's just wanting to out do the other

■ and when it transfers to your relationship it gets agitating fast

moving on

■ relationship side alastor isn't as involved with that

■ but if either of them did something that upset you or like there was a lovers quarrel between you and either side it's a big deal to them

■ especially if you're only upset with one half of the hinge

■ cause like, sure, they could compete with each other and purposefully drive you apart

■ but tbh.. both of them lowkey like this arrangement much more than they thought they would

■ so they end up talking to each other about it and figuring out what to do

■ same if you're upset with both

■ not that you're upset often it's just that when you are it's usually cause they crossed a line in their little competition

■ and they hate making their girl feel like a prize to be won :(

■ whatever their solution is, they do it together.

■ show you they can get along, that they both care about you enough

■ you're in your room, a bit of a blow up happened earlier after they got into one of their arguments

■ it's not that you genuinely think theyre using you to get to the other but sometimes with the way they act it's easy to doubt

■ anyways, they both come in, it's late

■ i cry when im frustrated/upset and i think it's a pretty normal reaction, so let's just say you're crying a little

■ they're both immediately at your side, apologizing profusely

■ you've never cried like this before

■ it scares them. alot.

■ for once there's absolutely no competition, the only worry is making you feel better.

■ both sitting next to you on the couch, lucifer murmuring how much he loves you, and how he knows how much alastor cares for you

■ i hate the whole "alastor doesn't understand emotions" thing because he does. he has to, he knows how to read people well.

■ it's just he hasn't ever comforted someone

■ he doesn't know what to do when someone he cares about is upset

■ so he's glad lucifer is here, as alastor just sits at your side nodding along and gently rubbing your back

■ alastor only tunes back in when lucifer offers to give some space for the night, and a little murmur from you agrees but asks they both come to bed that night

■ given its usually only lucifer who actually sleeps in the same bed as you alastor is surprised

■ but lucifer is beckoning him out for some space.

"cmon, we'll be back in an hour yeah?" he chimes from the door, and with a squeeze of your shoulder alastor is out of the door, but he opts to walk along with lucifer. "we gotta do better" lucifer sighs as he walks, not looking over at alastor. he's not accusing alastor, he seems equally disappointed in both of them.

"for her?" alastor adds, and lucifer gives a hum of agreement. "this while ordeal has been quite... stressful as of late, no?" alastor adds, "to our own faults, yes" lucifer murmurs, giving a sigh. alastor nods, and the two men walk in silence for some time, ending up in the parlor, husk far since gone to bed. "want anything?" lucifer pulls alastor back to reality once again, he's standing behind the bar while alastor had been staring off, his mind running with thoughtd of god knows what.

"whiskey, my friend?" alastor suggests, and giving it a considerate thought lucifer pours two glasses. the silence falls over them again, just the sound of the clink of their glasses on the counter.

"so tell me, how do you do it when you pleasure her?" alastor breaks the silence, lucifers eyes dart up to him. thinking for a moment before replying "i don't really think tonight is the time for that—" lucifer says, but in a gentle tone.

"no no, in the morning." alastor says, staring down at his glass. "you two indulge often in the morning, correct?" alastor says, now his eyes uncomfortably on lucifer. Watching as the other man almost pales a little, swallowing thickly.

lucifer immediately falters, giving a sigh. "look it's not— i‐ that's not her fault–" lucifer immediately starts, assuming this is a confrontation. his eyebrows raise as alastor shakes his head. "oh please, if i had problem with it i would have done something" he says, a static crackle echoing through the room. "no, i want to know how you do it when you... when it's just about her. how can i do the same?" alastor asks, and this is even more surprising to lucifer than this whole fucking idea in the first place.

■ so lucifer of course explains some stuff to him, of course it's hard because unless he's done it before it's hard to articulate some of his "moves"

■ i mean lucifer can hardly resist going down on you everytime, he's definitely experienced but it's hard to transfer that knowledge at times

■ but he's impressed alastor even asked

■ so when they return to your room, they're a lot more calmer with each other than before.

■ that night changed a lot between them tbh

■ it's slightly awkward for both of them when everyone gets settled in the bed

■ you're on your back, lucifer on your right side and alastor on the left.

■ they're both holding you to the best of their abilities

■ lucifer gives alastors hand a squeeze before shuffling it to have a better grasp on your waist

■ you all peacefully sleep through the night, not shifting much but it's pretty comfortable

■ is the morning you're mostly cuddled into alastor, which is entirely lucifers doing

■ when you're all awake though alastor gets arguably nervous

■ but you being you, you slump over onto alastors chest, murmuring some affection to him

■ lucifer gives a nod, it's time.

■ he'd honestly probably move to get out of bed, assuming some privacy is wanted

■ but he feels a shadow wrap around his forearm, it's a light pressure

■ alastor shakes his head, mouthing a small "please"

after lucifer processes for a moment what exactly is about to go down, he's okay with that. he settles back in, his eyes on the two of you as alastor tilts your chin up, pressing a kiss to your lips. "my dear, would you mind if i tried something a little different with you?" alastor chimes, and you blink your eyes open again, still a bit sleepy as you give a nod.

he gently maneuvers you on the bed so you're laying on your back, his hands pawing at your sleep shorts and pulling them to your ankles. lucifer watches, honestly a little mezmerized by the whole ordeal. he feels proud in an odd sort of way. “I think our little doe deserves a treat, would you like that?” alastor murmurs as he spreads your thighs open. You take a shaky breath before murmuring some form of agreement, maybe even a little plea.

without further prodigy, alastors finally leans down his tongue swiping down your folds, hands grasping your hips to pull you to his face. your hands go to hold lucifers, but he shakes his head tutting at you. “ah ah, that’s not very polite princess” he chides softly, guiding your hands to alastors hair.

and alastor makes good use of the tips and information lucifer gave him, his tongue plunging into your sweet little hole as his nose bumps your clit. his eyes wander up, making eye contact with you as he eats you out so wonderfully. you tug at his hair and he practically growls in pleasure, opting to change tactics and focus his mouth on your clit while his fingers slide inside you, gently curling into your sweet spot.

and lucifer watches it all, absolutely mesmerized. he doesnt know what it is about watching this but theres something about knowing alastor is doing exactly as told to in this scenario that makes lucifer feel warm. he lets alastor steal the show, doing only minimal work. maybe hes softly cooing praises or gently reminding you to show your appreciation to the one making you feel this good.

as you get close, evident by the murmur that falls past your lips, alastors eyes snap to lucifers for a moment, and he takes a moment to think before understanding. usually when youre close alastor is all over you, telling you to be such a good girl and cum, just slight praises and coaxing. given the fact hes face deep in your sweetness he cant really do that, so that job is up to lucifer now.

“isn’t alastor doing such a good job duckling? you want to make sure he knows how good hes treating you, dont you?” lucifer coos, scooting in behind you on the bed so you stop trying to writhe away. “I think he’d be so disappointed if you didnt cum for him, you think you can do that, hm? you wanna cum all over your masters tongue?” lucifer says directly in your ear, and alastor feels a bit of a warmth in his stomach by being referred to as “master”

when you give a weak moan in response lucifer sighs, shaking his head. “be a good girl now, you can do it little doe” he says which is what sends you toppling over the edge, your hips rutting up into alastors mouth, whiny moans coming from you as alastor desperately licks up your sweet release. this whole thing was quite enjoyable for alstor, but hearing lucifer call you “little doe” his petname for you made him smugly satisfied.

after some aftercare which mostly just involved more cuddling, alastor feels satiated enough to shift to leave, before getting a look from lucifer. he reluctantly stays, feeling as you come to lay at his side once more. lucifer seems to take note of something, giving alastor a nod down, he glances down, seeing the obvious tent in his pants. alastor looks back up, slightly annoyed. a like “yeah, no shit dumbass” kind of look is exchanged.

alastor looks back down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sigh happily. but alastor tenses as he feels a hand on his knee, shooting a glare to lucifer as he traces his hand up a little. the two meet as and alastor takes a shaky breath as lucifer leans in just a little, breathing out the next few words with a calmness alastor admires:

“just keep cuddling her”

[lgbtlunaverse]

This page from the adventurer's bible makes me want to cry

Like basically any neurodivergent dungeon meshi fan, I see a lot of myself in the Touden siblings. But I was blindsided by just how much I suddenly related to Falin in this little comic from the adventure bible's complete version.

It's about the Touden siblings' differing relationships with their parents, and why Laios still holds their treatment of Falin against them, while Falin herself doesn't.

We know that Falin was isolated and ostraziced by their village after she saved Laios from a ghost, displaying her uncanny affinity for magic. Her parents, instead of defending her, sent her away, which angered Laios so much he ran way himself before Falin even left for magic school, hoping to make a living so he and Falin could live together alone.

He tells Marcile this, but when she goes to Falin, she says she sees things differently. Her father sent her to magic school to protect her form the rest of the village without having to cause a conflict. He didn't explain that, and we actually see her burst into tears when he says it.

But, well... Laios was gone for a year before Falin went to magic school, and everyone else in the village avoided her. The understanding Falin has with her parents to me looks like one borne out of necessity, she literally didn't have anyone else to talk to.

And this is where we get to the page that made me want to cry

Like I said, I relate to the Toudens because I'm neurodivergent myself. that feeling of suddenly realizing you're disliked, but not knowing what you did wrong or what you should have done instead? Yeah... that's one I recognize.

When I was around 9 years old, the same age Falin is in this comic, a bunch of kids in my class decided to make a "game" where you lost if you touched me. It was basically the 'cheese-touch' from diary of a wimpy kid, except I always had it and couldn't pass it along. They'd pretend I was poisonous or disgusting and run away from me screaming or gagging. The point was to make fun of me. But my autistic little 9 year old ass thought "Oh I get it! It's tag but I'm always it!" So I... played along. Running at a boy and having him fall on the ground screaming in fake pain because you tapped him is, in isolation, pretty funny.

It wasn't until months into the "game" that I realized it was meant to be meanspirited. That the reason I was the one who was always 'it' wasn't an arbritrary rule but the whole point. Because I was weird and gross. I wasn't in on the joke, I was the punchline.

Falin may have come to understand her parents' intentions, but she didn't always. The adventure bible actually tells us that she at first didn't even notice that the rest of their village disliked her. She clearly knows now, but she had to be told. So when her mom tried to exorcise her, she just saw it as an activity she got to do with a mother she usually didn't get to spend much time with because of her poor health. It's only Laios who notices something is wrong.

(Sidenote, Laios being hyper-aware of people's poor attitudes towards Falin but completely blindsided when he's in the same spot, like with Toshiro, is also very relatable as an eldest sibling)

It probably also took Falin months, until after her brother had left and she had no one but her parents, to realize why her mother had been doing all those things.

And I know they're not the same. Even misguidedly, Falin's mom was trying to help her, not make fun of her like those boys in my class. (Though, as a queer person who also cares a lot about the queercoding in Falin's storyline, a parent trying to 'exorcise' their child of a fundamental part of them the parent thinks is evil or corruptive? yeah... that's not perfectly wholesome)

But do you know what I did, when I finally figured out the game was always meant to make fun of me?

To me, it looked like I had a choice.

See, those boys eventually figured out I didn't understand that they were being mean to me. I'd laugh every time I managed to catch one of them, I was visibly having fun. And while it no doubt only made me more of a weirdo in their eyes, they never informed me that I shouldn't be enjoying myself. That the point was for me to feel hurt.

So now that I did know, I had a choice. I could either get upset, and let the insult land as it was supposed to. That wouldn't stop them, because making fun of me was the original goal. Or I could ignore it and go on as usual. They had already accepted that I didn't get it, and they weren't gona stop me from having fun, so why should I?

And the thing is that I had... one friend, in that whole class. One person who actually liked talking to me and hanging out with me. I was lonely. And the 'game' provided me with another social interaction, mean-spirited as it was, that I desperately needed. And it was so delightfully simple. Navigating actual friendships as a kid with autism and adhd was so fucking complicated, and I'd never know when I might break an inivisble rule. But I knew the rules to the game perfectly!

Sometimes, if I was chasing one of them, the others would trap him and hold him down so I could tap him. In those moments it actually did kind of feel like I was playing with them, rather than against them. And it didn't change much, they didnt start actually liking me. But they were willing to roll with the fact that I wasn't upset, and I took advantage of that because I needed to.

So you can look at Falin seeing the best in her parents as her being naïve, but I look at this page and I see myself, at first unable to differentiate between playing and being made fun of. And then later, when I did see the difference, deciding not to get mad about it because that'd mean losing that social interaction, and I couldn't afford to.

Like I said, Falin probably first realized this in the year she spent with her brother gone, and everyone else avoiding her like the plague. If she refused to talk to her parents, like Laios did, she'd have no one left.

I see a lot of people relating to the fight between Laios and Toshiro. that frustration when you realize someone you thougth was your friend actually hates you, and they never said anything, never gave you a chance to fix it because you had no idea that you were even doing something wrong! And I can see that, too. But sometimes, when people don't fully hate you, it feels better to go along with the pretending. Because adressing it won't fix it. Because the problem isn't a specific behaviour, it's you. And if they're willing to tolerate you, despite the fact that it's you, then you'll take it. Because other people do hate you, so this is the best you'll get.

[audisive]

♪ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY.  sad girl alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: you've had a bad day, simon's there to fix it.

tags: comfort, crying, self-indulgent, fluff

  Your head laid on the skin of his arm, your face pushed into the comfort of his chest. The sharp edges of your earrings – your favorite ones, he recalls – sank and dug into his skin meanly, but he couldn't care less. As disgusting as it sounds, it could not compare to the way his heart ached to protect your own when he hears you take sharp inhales just to exhale with a sob, sniffles occasionally there to accompany your weeping. It was anything but his priority with the way his arms tightened around you and the way he'd hoped it would be enough to ease your worries and take your pain away; pass it onto him if you must. Anything to make you feel better.

Oh, the things he'd be willing to but could not do to instead receive a painfully unfunny joke from you in the place of your sobs. He settles on wiping the tears off your face, knowing how it makes you feel when it dries and sticks to your skin uncomfortably. The small droplets were everywhere and increased with every passing minute, but he took the time to wipe them off one by one. Had you not been in agony, you would've been in awe at the way this gigantically scary man was being so gentle with you; it was one of the best reminders of how his heart belonged to you and how well he'd taken care of your own.

Simon holds you forever – at least that's what it feels like – and whispers sweet nothings into your ear to distract you, even just for a little bit. "'S fine," he reassures you, each word filled with promise and not an ounce of doubt. "You'll be okay, y'hear me? I got you." It's warm, and he still faintly smells of gun powder, mixed with the well-used cologne you'd bought him for his birthday last year. You don't pay any mind to the smell of tobacco lingering; you know it's not his.

You've long since learned – all thanks to him – to refrain from apologizing for your show of vulnerability and emotions. It leaves you guilty, still, eating you up at night with the knowledge of his uneasiness when it comes to emotions, but for him, nothing's better than learning to get over his fears with his one and only love. Love always makes us do things we don't want to, right?

His arms found the way to wrap themselves around you heavily like a weighted blanket hours ago and have continued to stay. It serves as a comfort for you, along with his words. In his sweater, his arms, his bed, his room. He's all you can see and all you can feel, but you're not complaining, and neither is he.

You calm down after a moment, letting your breathing grow steady while the wet spots of tears in his sweater dried up. Simon Riley hates to see you cry, but damn it if he can't be the one to comfort you.

"There's m' pretty girl," he whispers in that charmingly rough yet gentle voice of his, looking down at the way your lashes glisten with salty little tears when you find the strength to press your cheek to his chest instead of burying your face in the warm surface. "Feelin' better now, sweets?" He's so terribly sweet to and with you that you think you might cry again just because. You barely even nod, but you know he notices; he always does.

"Y'wanna talk about it?" His hand plants itself onto your back; it gives you a sense of stability. Everything about him is so large in a way that engulfs you whole, and it would terrify any sane person. Perhaps you aren't, not anymore, but you found the warmth and comfort of your home in him. He kisses your forehead without so much as a pause when you shake your head. "A'right, we'll jus' stay here, then."

And stay, you do, cuddled up against him. It doesn't take long before all the crying takes its toll on you, your head starts to hurt, and your eyelids start to give up. Before you know it, you're pulled into the deep depths of unconsciousness. It's too early into the night; you've skipped two meals, and you've worked yourself near death. You know full well that you'll wake up with a raging headache after crying yourself to sleep, too. You'll wake up too early in the morning; your muscles will be sore, and you're still starving. You might as well pass out immediately after waking up.

Still, you sleep at ease and without worry. Why would you not? Simon will be there to fix it. ♡

  divider by @cafekitsune !

[princeoftheeternalbog]

OP characters reacting to you kissing them and running away (here's part 2) established relationship ish. Feel free to ask for other characters.

ALSO I've definitely seen another creator who did this idea with op characters but I can't remember who so if someone could tell me I would really love to credit them :(. I tried to make mine different but still it's the principal of it.

Slightly suggestive in some parts so mdni.

Luffy

Thinks its a new game like tag but with kisses and it ends up actually becoming one. You'll both wait for the other to become distracted and then you'll strike, planting a kiss and sprinting off around the ship or the island you're docked at. It's not hard to chase after each other because the trails of laughter are so easy to follow and it always ends up with one of you on the floor from a tackle or something similar.

Zoro

Gobsmacked. Genuinely his jaw drops especially if there's other people there and you get away so easily only because of how long it takes his brain to boot back online. Oh but he doesn't let it go. He waits until you're in a similar situation, either talking to someone or doing work and he sneaks up to pull you into a deep, intense kiss that leaves your knees weak. Like he fully puts the moves on you, hand on your lower back, other hand cradling your jaw, hes literally licking into your mouth and then he just disappears for the rest of the day. Asshole.

Sanji

You are not running away from this man. Not in a scary way but he can't do just one short kiss, as soon as you're leaning in his hands settle firm on your hips and that grip is not something you can wiggle out of. You can try to run away but he just laughs at you and pulls you closer to him, ofc he would let go if you actually wanted him to but he knows what you're trying to pull. Says something like "Oh? Trying to run darlin? How sweet." swoon- Just don't even bother, he will always try to win if your affection is involved.

Nami

Honestly thinks nothing of it. A lot of your affection is sweet but quick because yk pirate life. But if you look disappointed from her lack of reaction then she catches on quickly and starts playing along. So sweet even though she can be scary. Oh but don't try to run if she's initiating, like Sanji you aren't going to get out of her grip. If she wants to shower you with affection, she is going to thank you very much. If you do manage to slip away she's surprisingly quick and surprisingly stealthy. Like you'll think you got away and you walk into a room and she drops down from the ceiling like fucking batman.

(maybe not that dramatic but shes good)

Robin

She lets you run away but only because she knows she could summon a mouth to kiss you at any time and in any place so she's content knowing she always wins. Also thinks it's really cute when you try to rile her up like this, she just finds it so endearing and usually ends up playing into it anyways- "My, my, aren't you getting so bold my love". Sometimes will purposefully trip you up while you're doing these antics so you can't get away or so you're plan is ruined, absolutely pretends she has no idea what you're talking about.

Usopp

Highly likely he was doing something when it happened. Highly likely he dropped something onto his foot as a result. Yowls like an injured cat and then when his brain catches up it's like steam comes out of his ears. Stands there with his mouth open and pointing at you like you betrayed his entire family. Very funny and very cute. Also a possibility of him smacking you out of fearful instinct in which case he'd probably cry his eyes out and beg for forgiveness. Nami makes it worse by punching him in the face for hitting you. A mess all around if you get him at the wrong time so just be careful.

Ace

Immediately sprinting after you, it's actually a bit scary. But like hey he's not letting you get away with just one measly little peck on the cheek. Absolutely nobody on the crew helps you unless it would be funny, i.e. someone tripping Ace up so he faceplants. If it's near the beginning of your relationship then you likely go back out of concern which he takes as a chance to catch you, but if it's later then you already know this man's antics and you know he wouldn't be injured just from tripping so you use it as an opportunity to get away💪. You still have to kiss it better later though when hes whining to you about how cruel you are for leaving him in the dust(he would do the same).

Izou

Don't bother. As soon as you turn he snatches you by the back of your collar and pulls you onto his lap, proceeds to resume his conversation like nothing is wrong but his arms are firm around your waist and his cheeks and ears are a particularly pretty shade of red. Once his conversation is over and the other person has left, he turns his attention to you with a very pointed look. He's not actually irritated but if he enjoys watching you squirm that's his business. "If you wanted a kiss you should've just asked my love" and then he's practically devouring your mouth. Doesn't care about the other people in the vicinity. Doesn't care that he's smudging his lipstick. Just wants to fluster you more than you flustered him.

Marco

Do you even want to run away from this man lets be real- anyways.

If he's doing work then he just laughs and lets you get away with it, tallys it in his head for later, but if he's free and hes in a good mood then he absolutely plays into it. Will chase after you. Will cheat by using his powers. Its a bit scary but also very attractive, somehow ends with him pinning you in some way (☺️), looks very smug when he wins. Like you'll end up flat on your back, legs trapped under his and his hands restraining yours and he's just grinning- "Oh what a surprise. You were so easy to catch-yoi" Yeah yeah shut up. Absolutely asks what his reward is just to see your shocked face (absolutely asks again later when you two are alone).

Sabo

VILLAIN!!!!!! Sorry only way i can describe how devious and obsessed this man would be. Like Izou he tries to snatch you immediately but you planned for this so you manage to spring out of his grip in time. You falter a bit at his reaction then because he just blinks at you for a while. You start to feel a bit nervous and when he finally grins at you, you definitely feel nervous. "Playing like that are we honey? How about I give you a headstart then?" Evil. You know he's going to catch you. He knows he's going to catch you. He's just giving you false hope but yk hope is hope so you take the chance.

You don't get far. It's not even fair how quickly he catches up to you and gets you underneath him, it takes him barely any effort, not even a strand of hair is out of place. Spends the next 10 minutes kissing you on the floor of the hallway until Koala comes back and promptly drags him back into his office.

[kaeyas-beloved]

It’s The Way He… || #2

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Dainsleif, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh, Xiao, Wanderer

Summary: Just cute/heartwarming/breath-taking things he does <3

Genre: Fluff + Snippets

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), injuries (Cyno), petnames (my love; Kaveh),

a/n: did a pt. 2 because the last one got lots of love and I though they were really cute so I wanted to do some others <3

|| Pt. 1 ||

Alhaitham

It’s the way Alhaitham props his chin on you - your head, shoulder, just whatever is easiest at that moment - as you read. His eyes, a beautiful mix of green and orange, will skim the page you're on. It's no quantum physics or retelling of historic events, but if you like it then he'll give it a chance. Just, don't be too upset when he asks you to read faster, he wants to know what happens next is all.

"Are you almost done? I've finished the page. What? What's that look for?"

Cyno

It’s the way Cyno is so serious as he dresses your wounds, a stark contrast to the genlteness of his touch. It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut, a rash, burn or a gash from battle, it’ll receive the same level of attention and care from the general. If he had it his way he’d get Tighnari to fix you right up, because at least Cyno knows you’re in good hands, but that can’t always happen, so he’s your next best. In a way that’s alright, at least this way he can personally see to it that you’re looked after.

“This will sting a little, sorry, but it has to be cleaned. I’ll try to lessen the pain as much as I can and finish quickly. If you’d like, I can tell you some jokes to take your mind off of it?”

Dainsleif

It’s the way Dainsleif never forgets the little details about yourself. You could mention it once and he’s already committed it to memory, he's committed you to his memory. For 500 years he's walked alone, maybe not always physically, but it still felt like there hasn't been anyone with him. You are the first connection he's had in so long, and even if he's doomed to live long past you, the image of everything that creates you, he’ll will himself to remember for as long as he can, because just the thought of you makes him feel like he's alive once more.

“You told me once that the stars brought you peace. I thought it’d be nice to look out at them tonight, for they too do the same for me. However, if I was to be truthful, you, without a shadow of a doubt, bring me the most peace.”

Heizou

It’s the way Heizou leaves a riddle on the kitchen counter for you every so often before he leaves for work or errands. There’ll be clues scattered around the house for you to find as well, each one becoming more cryptic than the last. Of course, he knows you well enough to not make them so tough you can’t figure it out. He wants you to receive your prize after all~

“Did you figure out today’s riddle?” … “Heh, that’s correct, I knew you’d get it! Now, come and claim your reward. I think you’ll really enjoy it this time~”

Itto

It’s the way Itto runs up to you the instant he sees you in the streets of Inazuma, arms ready to grab hold and lift you as high as he can or as high as you allow. He'll even do a little spin with you he's that happy to see you. It doesn't matter if you’re alone or with someone, he is a loud and proud oni who shows off the person that owns his heart!!

"There you are my partner-in-crime, my beetle battle buddy, my number one! Say, if you're not busy how about you tag along with me? I just found this awesome raman place that's pretty cool if I do say so myself. How about we check it out?"

Kaveh

It’s the way Kaveh readily helps you with your outfit and any bells and whistles that go with it. As a renowned architect there are times where he’s invited to formal events, and you are his first go to for a plus one. And where there’s formal events there’s formal attire, and the hassle of making sure everything is perfect. Be it a tie or some piece of jewelry, Kaveh and his keen eye for detail are there to help attain that perfection.

“Ah, here, let me help. Sometimes, it takes another pair of eyes to catch if something’s off. Of course, you look stunning regardless my love. There, shall we head off?”

Wanderer

It’s the way Wanderer stumbles to match your pace. For as long as he's lived he's moved at his own pace, never once slowing or playing catch-up for others. For you though, he'll stop to admire the things he's overlooked due to his immortality, he'll race to make sure you don't run too far from him that he can't raech you. No longer does he run away from those he loves, now he runs alongside them.

"What? You stopped for a flower? It's pretty? Please, I can think of many more things that are prettier than some flower, but I suppose we have some time. Who am I to stop you from doing what your little heart desires."

Xiao

It’s the way Xiao carries with him the little gifts you give. May it be a flower, a picture, a letter or another object of some kind, the yaksha will have it tucked into the safest pocket he has. To you it may have just been something you picked up or made while thinking of him, but for Xiao, it’s his good fortune charm. Something that has a tangible weight to it, his constant reminder that someone is waiting for him back home. However, he can never bring himself to tell you this, covering up the why he brings it everywhere with some barely strung together excuses or redirections.

“Of course I’d take it with me, why would I not? Huh? You think I’d have no real use for it? Tsk, you still don’t know the ways of the adepti, do you?”

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[thevoidstaredback]

Honestly, Danny doesn't know how he gets into these situations. It's probably the fault of a deity or an Ancient or someone. It's most definitely Clockwork's fault.

Going on that mission with Constantine sounded like a good idea at the time, and Raven was going to be there! She's the best impulse control on the team. He realizes he should've clarified why Raven was going with them. Evidently, it was not to help or be impulse control for the Ghost King and the Alcoholic Soul Whore. (Don't tell Constantine that's his nickname) Raven was going along because she had business at Titan Tower. It should've been obvious, but Danny is not the most observant.

Either way, he was wrong. He thought going on this mission with John - there was a demon running around an apartment building and people were, apparently, quite upset about that - would deter the Justice League from hounding him like roaches. He was right about that, but also very wrong because the proteges took the opportunity to sniff him out like the bloodhounds they are. Unsurprisingly, Red Robin was at the head of the charge.

Raven, the traitor, sat back and laughed at him. She wasn't laughing, but it was obvious that she found his misery amusing.

Anyway, this lead to a citywide hunt for Danny. Anytime he spotted even a hint of any of the Titans chasing him, he was gone. He couldn't stray too far from Constantine, though, and Beast Boy had a nose like a damn elephant.

The chase lasted a solid three hours before he had to let them catch him, if only so that he could tell them to leave him alone because he's there on official JLD business. Not like that would actually work, but he had hope. Unfortunately, he forgot that Red Robin is Bat Trained.

Danny took a second for himself before the Titans caught up with him. Was this really better than Deadman harassing him about his first time in Gotham? No, it wasn't. It wasn't any worse, either, and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"Are you finally done running?" Red Robin asked, landing in a crouch in front of him.

Danny folded his legs to sit criss-cross in the air as the rest of the kids that had been chasing him joined RR. "You make it sound like I'm a criminal."

"You ran like one," Beast Boy pointed out. Fair, but rude. "And, dude, I don't know if you know this, but you smell horrible."

Danny placed a hand on his chest with a dramatic gasp. "How dare you! I took a shower just last week!"

Raven was now unamused.

Superboy gagged a bit. "He's right," A small shudder. "I couldn't smell it before, but I can now that you're so close to me."

He sighed with equal dramatics as his gasp. "I guess I can never get rid of the smell, even after all this time."

Wonder Girl tilted her head to the side slightly. "Oh? And what smell would that be?"

"The smell of death," John Constantine, ever a man of impeccable timing, turned onto the side street to join them. He largely ignored the kids in favor of the ghost child who isn't actually a child but no one listens to him when he explains that so he's probably going to stop trying. "It lingers. C'mon, kid, we've got a demon to exorcise."

Danny huffed like a petulant child, "Still not a kid!"

Constantine continued walking away. "Still don't care."

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette

[meownotgood]

WEEK ONE — masturbation + aki hayakawa, 18+, gn!reader, jerking off, pillow humping, sexual fantasies, edging, a hint of degradation, aki just can't help his feelings for you

kinktober masterlist

Everyone knows Aki has a crush on you. 

It's as obvious as it could possibly be. He's always staring, always coming up with any excuse he can to slip away from work for a while and come talk to you. He leaves frequent gifts on your work desk: notes in his handwriting, flowers or snacks or souvenirs he got for you from Hokkaido. 

He's unusually awkward when your name gets brought up in conversation, he's jittery whenever you're around — The last time you tagged along on the division's monthly drinking night, Aki was practically a mess, choosing to drown himself in as much alcohol as he had the pocket change to order, simply to keep from losing it because you'd sat next to him. Of course you had to sit right next to him. 

You've kept him infatuated for forever now. The thing is, Aki doesn't care if he's obvious. You're so pretty, he thinks. He's thought so from the very beginning. You're pretty and interesting and smart and it isn't his fault; he really can't control how his heart flutters and his head goes dizzy every time you talk to him, it just happens. You just have that effect on him. 

He can't help but feel shy every time you call his name in that sweet voice of yours; so polite, sticking to Hayakawa-sir even though he's told you before that you can use his first name. You grin every time, and you explain, But you get embarrassed when I call you Hayakawa. He can't help it when his face turns red all the way to the tips of his ears because you're teasing him, giving him a hard time for how stuttery he's getting. 

You were particularly teasing today. Aki knew you must've been in a good mood from the moment he arrived at headquarters. You held him by his arm, you cooed praises into his ear for how hard he's been working lately. Told him if he ever needed a break, he could come to your office any time he wants to and you'd give him a massage or make him some coffee. You insist. 

Maybe that's why he can't sleep right now. 

He's tried to get some sleep this time, he seriously has. He hates when he's like this. When he finds he's unable to stop thinking about you, he'll try everything he can to wind down and make himself forget. He'll go for a run to try and get his energy out, take an ice cold shower, smoke until his lungs are burning to attempt to quell the noise in his mind, and yet tonight, none of that has worked. 

Nothing can chase away those thoughts of you, those memories of your pretty face and your teasing hands. Nothing convinces his heart to stop pounding within his chest. Aki tosses, turns. His sheets rustle and his mattress shifts underneath his weight. 

It's a real conundrum. He's felt hot all over ever since he climbed into bed. His face is warm, he's practically sweating. Turning again, he takes a quick glance at his alarm clock, the screen reads 11:54 which is several hours since he first attempted to sleep and a few minutes since he last checked it. 

You were touching him so much today. So much, more than he's used to, even for you. No-one else ever touches him like that, nobody ever hugs him, holds his hand, makes him feel wanted. He wonders if you know how worked up you get him, if you can tell his heart is racing, or know the reason why he's shifting is because his slacks are getting tight. 

11:56, now. Aki's head is spinning. 

This is stupid, wrong of him, even. He's not super close to you. You're just one of the Public Safety office workers. If he wants to be technical, he could be considered your superior, actually. A superior fantasizing about one of the little devil hunter assistants. He's terrible. 

Aki can't help but yearn to feel your touch elsewhere, everywhere. He needs it, needs you, warmth buds in his core and there's a steady ache between his legs. He was short on breath before, when you'd grabbed his arm and pressed real close, and even now, just from thinking about it, he's — 

Fuck. Aki twists, rolling from his side onto his back, he rubs his knotted up temple with his finger and his thumb. It's too much. You're going to be the death of him. 

His breath comes out heavy and shaking and loud in his ears. His chest rises up and down, his trembling fingers slip under the blanket, then underneath the waistband of his sweats, and his heart begins to pound faster in anticipation, hammering against his ribs.

He hesitates for a second. In the end, he gives in like he always does. Shame pools thick in the pit of his stomach, but it isn't enough to stop him from working his hand down — His palm brushes the soft fabric of his briefs, he gropes the shape of his cock through his boxers and he's already stiff. He sighs, he lets his head toss back. 

You'll forgive him for this, right? You'd forgive him for getting hard when all you did was barely touch him, and for using thoughts of you to get himself off, wouldn't you? He's just so lonely, so stressed out, that's all this is. You have to forgive him, you have to understand. Aki swiftly decides you would, because he can't wait any longer; he's been needy like this for hours upon hours now and at this point, it's far too late for him to stop. 

Aki pushes the blanket away, he tugs his sweats and his briefs down to his thighs at the same time, he hisses when his cock comes free. Slowly, he wraps his palm around, and he brings his thumb to the head, rubs it slow, feels himself throb steadily in his hand. 

He's already dripping, precum beads in droplets at his slit and dribbles down to dirty his knuckles, each of his fingers. There's wetness sticking to his palm. A disgusting sound echoes as he pumps himself, up and down nice and careful, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. 

It feels so fucking good. Aki groans in pleasure, immediately forgets how perverted this is, he closes his eyes, thinks of you. He isn't the type to do this, he's never felt this way about anyone, he doesn't even touch himself because he's never had a reason to — but you've changed everything. 

You're the reason for this, and when he's got his cock in his fist, you're all he can think about. He imagines your touch, your voice, your warm breath on his skin. Aki tries to picture how it'd feel to kiss you, to press his lips on yours and have your tongue in his mouth. How it'd feel to hold you, to have you be the one to jerk him off. 

Your hands are so perfect; Aki's memorized the way they look, the way they fold when you're writing or grabbing his arm or holding your drink. They're dainty compared to his, they'd probably feel softer, so much gentler. Ever since a few weeks ago, he's fallen into the habit of using his left hand to touch himself as opposed to his right. It's clumsier this way, but it's easier to imagine his hand is someone else's, yours. 

Your soft hand around his dick, stroking him just like this — Aki doesn't know if he'd be able to last. If he'd even be able to look at you, let alone talk, let alone do anything but plead your name.

Your fingers are so pretty, you'd complimented him once, Aki remembers how you sat next to him and intently watched him sign paperwork like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He'd shaken his head and written you off then, but he wants to know if you'd compliment him again, if you'd still think so when his fingers are cradling your face or pushing past your lips. 

Would you still think he's as pretty — his fingers wrapped around his cock, his hair down and how you like it, his earrings you say you like so much glinting in the low light — if you saw him like this? 

He wonders if you'd tease him the same as you do at the office. Oh, Mister Hayakawa, you've been wanting this for so long, haven't you? You're so fucking dirty. How long have you been jerking yourself off every night to the thought of me? So damn needy, you just want me to take care of you, huh? 

Yeah, he's dirty, he's rocking his hips into his grip, he's whining and sighing soft gasps of pleasure, louder than he probably should be. He's pumping his fist faster as he pictures your face down between his legs; you'd look precious with your hair tucked back, your lips would feel as plush as he'd imagined and you'd stare up at him with such an innocent expression, your eyes practically sparkling as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He can't take it. Aki pants with weight behind every breath, he twists his wrist and squeezes, pumps even faster and thinks he just might lose his mind right here — and then, he takes his hand away. 

He lets go, his dick falls against his stomach and he keeps one hand in his hair and the other beside him, despite how badly his nerves are screaming for him to keep touching. He allows his breath to even out, stares at the ceiling and waits for his mind to clear.

He doesn't want to cum yet. Not when it's only been a few minutes. If he cums now, he'll probably get too exhausted to cum a second time. So he can't, not right now, not when he has more he wants to think about. 

Twisting over on his side, Aki brushes his bangs away when they fall messily around his face. He presses his palm to his forehead, feeling the sweat trickling from his skin. His fingers twitch. He debates what he's about to do for a few seconds.

He shouldn't, it'll be a hassle. But when he knows how good it's going to feel, he can't resist. Hurrying, he lifts his head and grabs his pillow from underneath, he adjusts, burying his face in the sheets when it starts to feel warmer. He situates himself on his stomach, pillow firm between his legs. 

Deep, slow rolls of his hips cause him to forget any of the sense he was still holding onto. He exhales hard, shakes even harder. Aki fists the sheets in a tight hand, he leans his head into his forearm, he grinds his aching cock against his pillow until his thighs are beginning to hurt.

If he was more confident, confident enough to tell you how he feels, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe if you knew, you'd let him fold you over his bed and fuck you just like how he's been dreaming of, slowly and dizzyingly tender, enough to make him forget about everything else. Maybe. If he's good. God, does he even deserve it? 

Either way, it doesn't matter what he wants. He'll do whatever the hell you ask him to, whatever you'd be willing to give him he'd be happy with — He'd be content just fucking the space between your thighs, or having you talk to him while he gets himself off and humps his pillow like a pathetic idiot; anything you want, whatever you want. As long as you're there, as long as he can hear your voice and feel your touch, and not be so alone. 

The smooth cotton of his pillowcase is slick and wet with his precum. His cock is throbbing incessantly, pleasure spreads through his entire body and he doesn't care that his mattress is squeaking, that he's losing rhythm. He breathes heavy with every rut of his hips and imagines you're here, you're beneath him. 

Arms strung around him tight, you'd lock eyes with him and he wouldn't dare to look away. Feels so good, you're perfect, Aki, you'd praise, and he loves your praises, You wanna cum? Oh, but you can hold out for a little longer for me, can't you? 

Aki shivers. Of course. If you're the one asking him, he just has to. Especially when you call him Aki.

Aki, that's it, keep going. You're so sweet, so good for me. I belong to you. I'm all yours, forever and ever. Does that make you happy?

You're his, all his. You'd sound so perfect moaning his name as he bullies his cock into you. His first name, his and no-one else's, no extra politeness or honorifics. You'd say it softly as he slides inside, say it when you're begging him to fill you deeper, repeat it when you're telling him he's got to beg for you if he wants to finish. 

C'mon, Aki. Cum for me. Give me all of it. 

Yeah, Aki mumbles out loud to himself, his voice is breaking, he thrusts his hips with reckless abandon, I'll give you everything, oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum… 

He shoves his face into the bed as much as he can manage to muffle his noise, his fragile moans and loud whimpers. His shoulders tense, muscles aching. A few more shallow movements and he's done; he chants your name over and over again as he finishes, cumming all over his pillow and his sheets, thick ropes of white dirtying the fabric, making a mess. 

Falling limp, Aki lays like that for a while, catching his breath. Everything begins to fade, working through to tiredness. He should get up and shower, wash his sheets and his pillowcase, but he's so exhausted he can't even manage to move. 

He feels warm all over again, just less intense this time. Aki realizes he was saying your name as he came. Embarrassing. He can only hope he wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. 

He'll fall asleep now, at least, with warm thoughts of you to fill his head. A date with you would be nice sometime. Nothing too crazy. He'd take you anywhere you wanted to. He also wouldn't mind taking you back to his apartment and making you something for dinner, whatever you'd like. 

If you were here now, he'd hold you as close as he can get you, breathing soft and slow while drifting off silently, his arms wrapped secure around your waist.

He's almost asleep. But —

Ah. He'd forgotten he has to work at the office tomorrow. So he's going to have to face you, first thing in the morning. 

The next time he sees you, he doubts he'll be able to do much talking. But he'll get busier soon, there's a lot of devil hunting missions coming up. Who knows when Aki is going to see you next, so if he doesn't tell you his feelings soon, when will he? 

He's decided. Tomorrow, he's going to ask you out. 

[kwanisms]

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ bf!Chris × fem!Reader (× implied Minho) wc: 1.8k summary: Your boyfriend really doesn't like it when his friends pay a little more attention to you nor does he like it when you playfully flirt with them. genres/themes/au: smut; bar themes, established relationship; idol au, boyfriend!Chris warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, mc flirts with someone other than their partner (Chris), bar setting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special tags: @yoonguurt @sanjoongie @millennial-fangirl MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i will be completely honest, I forgot I even wrote this. It's been in my docs for almost a year 💀 but here it is! Thank you for reading! If you like this, please reblog and leave feedback and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), mild dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering (f receiving), mild degradation (f receiving), implied threesome. I think that's it lol

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[01:08] — isn't this what you wanted?

It was just a bit of harmless flirting. Something you’d done a few times before. It was just your nature to flirt when you drank and Chris knew that. He had never let it bother him before so why was it any different now.

Maybe it was the way he saw Minho’s eyes roam over your scantily clad body. Maybe it was the way you lightly laid your hand on his bicep when speaking to him. He didn’t like the way Minho teasingly flexed his arm, letting you feel the muscles he’d spent so much time working on in the gym.

He didn’t like how close the two of you were standing. He didn’t like the way his friend’s eyes lingered a little too long on your ass when you turned to speak to Han. Maybe that was the final straw. The push he needed to close the gap and grab you by the elbow, leading you away from his friends and into the empty bar bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Chris,” you chastised him, trying to step around him and return to the bar. He wasn’t having any of it as he pushed you against the wall, arms caging you in as he placed his palms flat against the tile walls on either side of your head.

You’d only ever seen this side of him once before. The time you were over at the dorms for a movie night and as a joke, Seungmin grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto his lap as you bickered with Felix about making space for you on the couch. The guys hadn’t known back then that the two of you were a thing but Chris had made it abundantly clear later that night as he was pounding you into the mattress in his room, pinning your wrists above your head to keep you from muffling your moans.

Since then, no one had attempted to make a move or flirted with you. Until tonight anyway.

Chris thought of himself as not being the jealous type but the moment he had seen you perched on Seungmin’s lap, laughing along with the guys, the green monster reared its ugly head and he wanted the world to know you were his. He could handle random guys flirting with you because he knew they’d probably never see you again. But his own members? You saw them all the time.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” He asked, his tone low and full of what you discerned was lust. Even though you didn’t like his being jealous, you had to admit it was probably the best rough sex you’d had with him. Normally he was so sweet and careful with you, only going hard when you asked.

That night, he was completely in control and had his way with you and there was no shame in admitting you liked the contrast between the two personas.

“I thought you liked the attention,” he continued, his voice dripping with a mixture of desire and sarcasm. You felt your knees become weak as he gazed at you, his eyes darker than before. You’d really done it now and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I-I…” you stammered but faltered when a crooked smile spread across your boyfriend’s lips.

“You what?” He asked, pressing his body closer to yours, heat from him radiating into you.

“You thought you’d flirt with one of my friends right in front of me, dressed like that?” He asked, nodding down at your choice of attire.

It was a black dress, one you’d worn before and picked with the sole purpose of dressing up for Chris. You only ever dressed like this for him because you only wanted his eyes on you.

“It wasn’t like—“ you murmured but stopped when Chris brought one of his hands up, pressing a finger to your lips. “Wasn’t like that, baby?” He asked. “You thought you’d dress up a little and not expect to be the center of attention? That wasn’t your intent at all?” He asked, moving his finger to caress your cheek, a huge contrast from the way he spoke to you.

You leaned into his touch, lips parting as you let out a sigh. You felt the pad of his thumb brush over your bottom lip before he slipped his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. The sweet gesture turned lewd as he watched the way your lips wrapped around the digit.

His own lips parted as you sucked, tongue swirling around the tip of his thumb the way it did when he had his cock in your mouth. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” he groaned, hips rolling forward to press his erection against you. “Fuck, Chris,” you moaned, his thumb still in your mouth.

“You sound so pretty when you say my name like that,” he mumbled, pulling his hand from your face and reaching down to lift the hem of your tight skirt. “Chris,” you moaned as his fingers pressed into your panties, your arousal pooling in them. “We can’t do this here,” you whimpered as he pulled aside your panties, pressing his fingers past your folds, finding your clit easily.

“The door is locked, baby,” he said, leaning in to tease your neck with his teeth. “Besides,” he added, whispering in your ear. “Who are you expecting to come in here? Minho?” He growled. “N-no,” you whined as he worked the pads of his fingers against your clit in slow circles, dragging them down to your entrance only to pull away, teasing you.

“Chris,” you managed to whine but fell silent as he lowered himself to his knees, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Keeping your panties pushed to the side, he leaned in, tongue tasting you as he toyed with your clit. Your hands moved, tangling in his dark locks, tugging gently.

Oral with Chris was never quick or to the point. He loved to tease and take his time, coaxing you to your orgasm. This time was different, he’d never managed to have you squirming and moaning in mere minutes, tongue flicking against your clit, sucking on it. “Ah, shit,” you cursed, chest heaving as your boyfriend ate you out like a mad man.

He shifted, managing to throw your other thigh over his shoulder but keeping you propped up against the wall as he dove back in, tongue lapping at your entrance. You glanced down, moaning at the sight of your boyfriend’s face buried between your thighs. His eyes were shut, no doubt enjoying the sounds you made and the taste, hands gripping your ass tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt your climax rapidly approaching. “Fuck,” you hissed. “I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. “Do it,” Chris answered. “Come all over my tongue, babygirl,” he added before continuing his assault on your core.

Your hands in his hair tightened, fingers gripping his tresses harder as your hips moved of their own accord, bucking in his face as your toes curled. You came with a whimper of his name and moaned as he licked up every bit of your release. You tried to shy away from his tongue but his grip on you held you in place. “Chris,” you pleaded, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach tighten. “I can’t please,” you whimpered, feeling tears form. “It’s too much.”

Chris chuckled, the vibrations against your soaked core causing you to tremble.

You looked down when you felt him move his mouth away and the sight had your walls clenching around nothing. The cocky grin partnered with his lips glistening with your slick. It was all you could do to not push him onto the floor and hop on his cock right then and there.

He let you down, holding you steady as your legs shook. You managed to stumble over to look into the mirror, turning on the water to wet your hot flushed face.

Chris had gotten to his feet and pulled his phone out but what he was doing you couldn’t tell.

You noticed him moved behind you in the mirror and gasped as he pulled your skirt up, exposing your ass. “Chris!” You hissed trying to turn but he forced you to face the mirror. “Don’t move,” he ordered, grabbing your panties and pulling them down your thighs, letting them fall to your feet as he brought his hand to his lips, wetting two of his fingers before it disappeared behind you and you let out a moan as you felt his fingers enter you from behind.

He’d just eaten you out in a public bathroom and now he wanted to finger you? This was crossing so many lines but why was it so hot?

“Chris,” you warned, head dropping as his fingers moved in and out of you at a steady pace. “You like that,” he asked, his free hand moving to wrap around your throat. “You like being touched in a public bathroom?” You moaned as he curled his fingers against your walls, your knees threatening to give out.

“This is so wrong,” you whined, head falling back as you felt Chris’ lips ghost over the exposed skin of your shoulders. “Would you rather Minho be in here making you feel this good?” He growled, fingers moving faster. “That’s not what I—“ you tried to explain but fell silent. “Have you ever thought about the others when I’m touching you?” He asked. ‘What the hell?’

“What?” You gasped. “No!” You felt him smirk against your skin. He was teasing you. Teasing and torturing you for drunkenly flirting with his friend. “Have you thought about them when touching yourself?” He whispered, curling his fingers again. You let out a deep moan, causing him to chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Thinking about other men when you touch yourself?” He asked. You wanted to tell him it was ridiculous, that you only ever thought about him but that wasn’t entirely true. You had thought about Minho like that before. Of course, it was before you and Chris had even started seeing one another. You were single then and free to think about what you like.

“It does, doesn’t it?” He asked again. “No,” you answered weakly. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

“You’ve already told me your fantasies, baby girl,” he added. ‘Shit,’ you thought. He was right.

You had mistakenly admitted you liked the idea of double penetration. Chris found the confession intriguing. “Have you imagined yourself, full of two cocks?” He asked again,

When you were done you heard a tap on the locked door. “Shit,” you cursed, pulling your skirt down. “We gotta get out of here,” you hissed. Chris unlocked the door and smiled at you.

“We aren’t done yet, kitten,” he said, pulling open the door and your eyes widened as Minho stepped into the bathroom. “What are you doing?” You asked Chris as he shut the door again and locked it.

“What wrong, kitten?” Chris asked, turning to face you. "After all,"

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.

[angelltheninth]

Feeling angsty so could you do Spiderverse characters with the “Don’t you ever do that again!” prompt? Could be either side saying it.

Angst! Everyone could use more am I right?

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, worry, injury, superhero work, late night talks, fear of loss, soothing kisses, crying

A/N: We need to keep things nice and balanced between the fluff, smut and angst.

5. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Peter doesn't take as many risks as he used to before you were married. He still gives it his all, of course he does, but he's not reckless when he fights. There does tend to be an ocassion where he will act like that still, come home with injuries, a bloody nose and such but he tries to keep those to a minimum to not worry you. He faces your wrath for those before, and he would rather fight a hundread more enemies then make you sad, angry and scared for him.

Miles already knows to be careful when doing hero work but he is also a bit of a show off. He makes it a habit to visit you after and one night he shows up in a pretty bad state, unable to go home. You call his parents and make up an excuse that he fell asleep during movie night, all the while he's groaning with an ice pack on his ribs. While laughing about a joke he made his ribs hurt even more so you have to kiss him to make him stop, and to comfort yourself. While his injuries will heal he needs to promise to be more careful, one Spider-man already died in this universe, and your boyfriend won't be next.

Gwen lost someone imortant because she wasn't paying enough attention. You bet she gets pissed off when she sees you jumping head first into danger. But she doesn't just yell, she starts crying while patching up your injuries because she can't handle the thought of losing you. It ends with you being the one who is holding her in your lap, kissing her cheeks with bruised lips telling her how she's your inspiration for doing what you do, you don't regret it and a few injuries, big or small, won't stop you from being her best partner.

Miguel downplays his own injuries but goes off when he sees you put yourself in danger. He's a big guy, he heals pretty fast too but you, fully human and so damn hardheaded. How can he not tell you to take it easy from time to time. You laying in bed with a fever from a venom that you took instead of him. Venom, something that's already in his blood, reckless as hell. Every kiss that he gives you is like the last, his hands fast as they check you for injuries but really gentle, like you'll break in his hands.

Hobie hums a song while you patch his injuries trying to soothe you, his fingers tapping on the bed, foot moving along with his hums. Not a single note back? Why are you so upset? His life isn't in danger or anything, he' ll be fine. Or you can kiss it better, that's an option. Anything, just cry okay? He's proud of the work he's doing, risks are part of it, but its worth it to make a better, safer world for the two of you, and everyone else of course.

Pavitr has a hard time keeping his groans of pain to himself but he doesn't wanna worry you any more then he already has. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his side, whispering that he's gonna be okay eventually. Until then he will take it easy so don't yell at him again, he knows he should have been more careful but at times his body moves on his own without thinking. Kinda like when he kisses you, only more painful.