#i mean i get what y'all mean but it honestly just sounds like you only consider her a 'good' person if she's dating your heroic salvabro

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 49 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 48.1 | lesson 48.2 | lesson 49.2

now...

it's CANON that he knows he can't cook

so why the fuck 😭

luke :(((( baby :((((((((

i'm glad simeon is finally opening up though. luke being able to event talk to simeon about (before simeon himself, mind you) this proves that he's more than mature enough to have conversations like this. i love seeing how much he's grown since the beginning of the game

didn't take a screenshot of this bc i can only post 10 pictures per post, BUT i'm glad the fact that raphael showed up out of nowhere wasn't glossed over bc why is he here ??? respectfully

this is why simeon don't talk to nobody 😭 y'all can't take SHIT seriously

but in all honesty i'd just shut down and stop talking bc i get overwhelmed easily

but oh luke...

i hope he takes this as a "hm maybe the celestial realm isn't as good as it seems, maybe things aren't just black and white" instead of immediately jumping to "no simeon's too kind to be a demon bc all demons are mean and they suck", but i feel like the devs are gonna go with the latter simply bc they love giving luke development and then ripping it away seconds later

(for context, the other response was something along the lines of "he really cried his eyes out, huh?")

regardless of how much luke has grown and matured, he's still a kid. like, a kid kid. they cry when they're upset, when they're angry, when they're throwing a tantrum, and when theyre confused and/or overwhelmed. i feel like the latter might be the case with luke, which is why i chose the "i'm sure he'll be ok" option

more on this here

they're making it sound like simeon is queer/trans and honestly...i'm here for it. but that's partially bc i fall under both umbrellas. i love projecting 🫶🏽

i do wish it were this easy to come out and have your family/friends accept you bc it was a doozy for me 🫠

ANYWAYS

angst. give me more. PLEASE

i'm just so so glad that he's actually opening up. in the past, it felt like every time we get a crumb of vulnerability, he'd shut back down and act like everything was okay. idk if it's because he's more comfortable in his identity and place in the world, or his place in mc and the brothers' life, but he's more prone to actually talking about what's bothering him. it makes me happy

...this makes me a little less happy

ik simeon his his qualms with the celestial realm, but all in all, he probably still sees the place as his home and the people there as his family

what if this whole arc ends with the celestial realm opening its gates to (certain) demons? what if the boys get to visit their old home for the first time in literal millenia? and what if they get to show satan around?

idk y'all i'm trying to be hopeful, but hope can only get you so far when it comes to this game 😭

development at its finest

not focusing on a way to "fix" simeon, but to help deal with the situation at hand despite and because of simeon's condition

...ig the angst could only last for so long. back to the nerdy shit

[enobariasdistrict2]

"elena's such a bitch when she and damon are together she's so much better of a person when she and stefan were dating" like both of them are terrible only elena's actions reflect on her morality not who she's dating stop that at once

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[baronessvonglitter]

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The gang + powerful overlord reader who is trying to reform

A/n: Tbh I don't have the strongest grasp on what makes an overlord an overlord but I tried. Everything here is platonic!

Warning: Very slight alluding to suicide. It's in one sentence and not supposed to be about suicide but I just wanted to warn y'all in case.

(Not beta read!)

You honestly didn't want to be an overlord. But if you had some power maybe the citizens of hell would leave you alone. And you were admittedly powerful. Which wasn't by your own doing, just like in the living world everything was down to luck. And you won the lottery. So you decided to spend the money and became an overlord. Just to lower the chance of demons pestering you.

It worked. It worked too well. You took out a few overlords, it was dirty. You caught them off guard in the middle of going about their life. You don't keep up with politics. To your surprise, you took out two heavy hitters. Which did result in people not pestering you. But not just that it resulted in them outright avoiding you. You didn't feel good about killing them, you just killed as many as you thought would need to make you noteable. If you had just killed the two it would have removed more unnecessary deaths that you caused.

People would literally light themselves on fire rather than be near you. Out of fear of what gruesome way you would kill them. Not that you would kill them but rumors spread. It went from you just stabbing the overlords to torturing them in the most messed up way possible. You being this insanely powerful and sadistic being. That was the only way they could imagine you killing some of the most powerful creatures in hell.

So it was like that for years. As you were walking around the death and carnage you didn't mean to cause. Amidst all the screams you heard a TV playing. You check it out and it was some sort of ad. You recognized Angel from Val. Whenever Velvet was the one to show up at meetings she would always manage to bring up her and the other Vee's social media presence. Which with Val would involve his pornos. At least he's able to escape from that prick sometimes. Despite the glitch he was somehow causing and his face being hidden you also recognized Alastor.

You didn't know much about your colleague's personal lives. You barely showed up at the meeting but this piqued your interest. But it was quickly cut off by the news.

"Breaking news in hell today!" One of the broadcasters, Katie, spoke, "We have just received word from the Heaven embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before!"

Well fuck you guess. You were never worried about exterminations. Not only did you have a safe area then none of the angels seemed to visit, if they killed you you'd be out of this dumpster fire. Granted you could go to an even worse dumpster fire but you didn't know that for sure.

But you were interested in whatever that first ad was for. Granted everyone was panicking so it wasn't like you could ask anyone about it. However, the news cut right back to the ad.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" A woman with an x over her eye spoke.

It cut to Husk (Who you've only heard snippets about from Alastor.) and Angel.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel." Husk's eyes lingered below him. Clearly reading a script. If his eyes didn't give it away his monotone voice certainly did. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I've been a bad boy. And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place." Angel moaned. There was a slight sigh coming from behind the camera. Okay ew. You were not trying to see porn while going for a walk. Just as you were about to walk away Angel spoke up again, "On the path to redemption!"

Oh! That sounded... quite nice actually. You didn't exactly believe in the idea. But a chance to get away and even a chance to redeem yourself was a very nice idea.

You went to the hotel's door and racked against the door. Which was kind of stupid. Hotel doors don't need to be knocked on but it still felt like the right thing to do. The fucking princess of hell herself opened the door with a somewhat panicky smile plastered on her face.

"Hello-" She bit her lip "One second." She left but left the door open a creek, "Vaggie it happened again!" She yelled you could hear the rest of what she was saying but you saw a red glow approaching the door.

Before you knew what was happening your hand (and whole body was being shaken by the Radio demon himself, "Why hello y/n!" His staticky voice greeted, "Are you here to watch this wayward adventure fail as well? Or perhaps you aim to entertain it?" Alastor unnerved you. While you were the same on power level he was unpredicted any vengeful thoughts he had were hidden behind his smile.

He was gently pushed away by Charlie. "So sorry about the wait, just wasn't expecting another powerful overlord." She vaguely gestured to Alastor, "So do you want to check in?" Her voice was cautiously hopeful.

"Yep!"

Her eyes turned the size of saucers, "OK! Great so um sorry I'm just so excited! You can go choose your room! A few are already occupied by our guests and staff! But it's pretty easy to tell which rooms are taken." She rambled. As she guided you through the hotel the woman with an x over her eye pointed a spear at you as you passed by.

A short one-eyed girl scattered around. The exact opposite of how she was in the ad. She stabbed a bug with a whole knife getting dangerously close to Husk being at the end of her knife in the process.

Angel glanced at you and any color his already pure white face had drained. Uh oh.

"One minute." You said and walked over to the spider demon, "Fyi just to let you know I also want to kill Val. Just say the word and I might finally be able to go through with it." You said in a hushed voice. He was still tense but visibly relaxed.

You soon found a room and got somewhat set up. You'd have to bring some stuff from your house tomorrow. But today you decided to just collapse onto your bed. While your first impressions weren't of a super chill place, it did give the impression of a family. Maybe your life wouldn't be so much of a living hell here.

[winxanity-ii]

BIG FAT MEANY

ship: stepbro!megumi x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering, dub-con); overbearing/possessive brother (aged up: reader and megumi are in early 20s) word count: 4.5k (lololo forgive me y'all got a bit carried away with the storybuilding 💀 promise this won't happen all the time jajaja ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before... ★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You weren't a hateful person. Not at all.

In fact, you were practically a ball of sunshine—inside and out.

You loved everything.

It was the simple things in life that made your heart flutter: the moon on a clear night, the smell of fresh rain, lazy afternoons spent with your friends from college, and, of course, your family.

Especially the love between your mom and stepdad, Toji.

He came into you and your mom's life at a time when things were pretty dark—your dad had been having an affair with his secretary, and your mom was left heartbroken. But then, when you were fifteen, Toji walked into the picture, and everything changed for the better.

Out of all the things you cherished, though, there was one thing—one person—you absolutely hated.

Your stepbrother, Megumi.

You hated how mean he was to you.

How he always managed to push your buttons.

How he treated you like a child, even though you were only a year younger than him.

And what you hated the most?

How pushy he got when things didn't go his way.

"Megumi, I said stop!" you whined, pushing at his annoyingly close chest.

Your mind could only race, trying to piece together exactly how you ended up in this predicament.

The night had started simply enough. It was a Friday—date night for your mom and Toji, which meant the house was practically dead.

Normally, you would've just stayed at your dorm, but tonight was different. Your dormmates had been all over you about some party happening on campus, trying to drag you along, but you weren't in the mood.

You'd barely been able to dodge their constant nagging, so instead of getting sucked into something you didn’t want to do, you decided to come home.

A weekend in your room sounded a lot better than getting roped into a night of drinking and chaos.

But instead of holing up and rotting away in your room, Megumi had caught you on your way upstairs. He'd asked—well, more like insisted—if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

It had been a little out of the ordinary, but you shrugged and went along with it, thinking it'd be a decent way to pass the time. And for a while, it had been fine. You both settled on the couch, watching the newest Scream movie.

Until now.

"Megumi, what's your problem? It's just Yuji..." you finally managed, voice small as you sat up properly on the couch, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

"My problem?" he repeated, scoffing like you'd just said something ridiculous. "My problem is you acting like you don't know what’s going on. That picture—he sent it to you for a reason. But you're sitting here like it’s no big deal."

Your brow furrowed, hurt blooming in your chest at what he was insinuating. You hated it when Megumi got like this—sharp-tongued, confrontational, like everything you did somehow annoyed him.

All over a damn picture...

It wasn't even a big deal, honestly. You and Yuji were just chatting as always when among the messages he sent a picture of himself fresh out of soccer practice.

You could vividly recall the boyish grin plastered across his face, eyes bright with his usual warmth.

But it wasn't just the smile that caught your attention.

His shirt, the one you knew had probably been soaked with sweat from practice, was pulled halfway up, wiping at his forehead. It casually exposed the lean muscles of his abdomen, glistening faintly from practice.

He hadn't done it on purpose—he probably didn't even think twice about sending it knowing him—but the way his body looked in the picture was enough to make your face burn upon seeing it.

But apparently, what wasn't a big deal to you, was to Megumi...

"Is he your boyfriend or something?" he demanded, glaring down at you. "Yuji, I mean. Is that why you're all flustered? Because he sent you some half-naked picture and now you’re freaking out like some lovesick idiot?"

"What are we, twelve?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and turning your body away from him, your tone sharp. "For your information, it's none of your business what Yuji is to me. We're in college, Megumi. I don't owe you any explanations."

You could feel the heat rise to your face again, but this time it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. It was the fact that he felt like he had any right to badger you about this.

He wasn't your parent, your guardian—hell, he wasn't even a friend half the time with the way he acted.

"Why do you even care?" you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. "You're always like this. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

You didn't see the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze sharpened at your words. You were too focused on staring at the wall, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

You stood up abruptly, ready to head back to your room, away from his snappy attitude.

But just as you turned, a large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your steps.

You froze, looking over your shoulder to see Megumi. He was staring up at you through his dark hair, head tilted slightly, a burning look in his eyes that made your heart race in a way you didn't like. His grip was firm but not painful—just enough to keep you there.

"Megumi, let go," you huffed, your lips pouting as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. You gave a light tug on your arm, but his hand didn't budge.

He didn't say anything, just kept staring at you, his expression unreadable. That silence—his stubborn, infuriating silence—only made your frustration build.

Why did he have to be like this?

"I said let go!" you repeated, yanking on your arm harder this time, but his grip tightened. You felt a hot flash of anger rise in your chest.

"If you don't—" you started, your voice trembling with frustration, "I'm gonna tell Mom and Toji when they get home."

His eyes flickered for a second, and just as the words left your mouth, he scoffed, standing up in one smooth motion, his form towering over yours.

You could feel the heat of him, the intensity of his presence making you instinctively take a small step back.

"What?" he sneered, his voice low and mocking. "You're gonna tell them that you're whoring around?"

You gasped, your eyes going wide in shock, heart slamming in your chest. "What the hell, Megumi?" you started, but the words barely made it past your lips before he cut you off, stepping even closer, his voice quick and biting.

Megumi stepped even closer, his body towering over yours as he stared down at you through his dark lashes, his voice dropping into something almost mocking.

"Or are you gonna run to Toji?" he taunted, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. "I bet you'd like that, huh? Telling him how mean I'm being to you... like some helpless little girl."

Your breath hitched, your back pressing against the wall as he closed the space between you, his presence overwhelming. You felt cornered, heat rising to your cheeks in a way you couldn’t control. His words, the way he looked at you—it all left you speechless.

You hated that he had this effect on you, hated the way he made your pulse race, not just from anger but something deeper, something you couldn't quite place.

Megumi leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or maybe you like it when I'm mean to you. Is that it? You're always whining, but you never tell them, do you? Why's that?"

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your eyes darting off to the side to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "B-because," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks still burning hot.

You swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes, though the way he was looking down at you made your heart pound even harder. "Because… you're my big brother..."

You expected him to laugh, to scoff at you like he always did, but instead, his expression didn't change. If anything, something darker flickered in his eyes as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" he asked quietly, his voice low and almost dangerous. "That it's just because I'm your big brother?" He tilted his head slightly, still staring down at you, his eyes narrowing just a bit. "You sure that's it?"

You could feel the heat rushing to your face again, heart pounding painfully in your chest as you struggled to find words, any words, to push him away.

Your mind raced, and though you wanted to focus on the anger bubbling up, a different thought crept in, unwanted but undeniable.

Megumi was attractive.

Like, really, really attractive.

You hated to admit it, but standing there, inches from him, it was impossible to ignore. He towered over you, standing at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders filling out the plain black t-shirt he wore.

You could see the faint outline of his muscles beneath the fabric, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the strong line of his jaw clenched in irritation. His dark hair fell over his forehead in that effortless way it always did, messy but somehow perfect, framing his sharp, intense features.

And those eyes—Gods, those eyes.

Even though they were currently glaring down at you with frustration, you couldn't deny the pull they had. Dark, stormy, and filled with an intensity that made it hard to hold his gaze for long. They were the kind of eyes that could make anyone feel small, vulnerable, and you hated how they always managed to affect you.

Your breath hitched as you let yourself take him in for just a moment too long, your body betraying you with a sharp jolt of attraction. But no—no.

You weren't going to go there.

This was Megumi, your stepbrother, and as good as he looked, he was being a complete asshole right now.

You shook your head quickly, trying to rid yourself of the thought. Stop it. Stop thinking like that.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath and straightened up, attempting to put on your most serious face, even though your heart was still hammering in your chest.

"Look, 'Gumi," you began, your voice sounding steadier than you felt, using the nickname you had given him years ago. It rolled off your tongue easily, a little too familiar for the situation at hand, but you needed something to ground yourself. "I'm not sure what’s wrong. And I'm sorry if I did anything to make you upset, but you have got to stop this..."

You trailed off, knowing full well what the 'this' was. And deep down, Megumi knew too. It wasn't just about Yuji, or any other guy, really. It was him. It was how he acted—how he always got so weirdly possessive, so jealous, whenever another guy so much as talked to you.

You didn't even have to be interested in them; the mere mention of someone else was enough to set him off.

You'd seen it countless times. The sharp glares, the biting comments, the way his jaw would tighten at the mention of a boy's name.

It was always the same, this constant undercurrent of envy and jealousy that never made sense, and it wasn't just a protective brother thing.

No, it was something else.

Something darker.

Something you weren't ready to acknowledge.

Megumi's jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he was going to say something or maybe even do something.

You braced yourself, heart racing with both frustration and something you didn't want to name.

But instead, he let go of your wrist, taking a step back.

"Fine…" he muttered, his voice low and almost too calm. "You're right, and I'm sorry."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. Megumi? Apologizing?

He never apologized to you, not like this. Usually, he'd just brush you off, act like whatever happened didn't matter or somehow turn it back on you. But now, here he was, actually acknowledging his behavior.

It felt strange, and you weren't quite sure how to respond.

"Uh, well, um, thank you…" you mumbled, still processing.

It didn't feel real, this sudden shift. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you turned to leave again, ready to retreat to the safety of your room where you could put distance between yourself and this confusing whirlwind of emotions.

But just as you began to walk away, you felt it again—his hand, firm around your wrist.

He wasn't letting you go.

"Where's my apology?" he asked, his tone unsettlingly calm.

"Huh?" you responded, confused by the sudden demand. Your brain barely had time to catch up with the words before Megumi yanked you forward, pulling you off balance.

You stumbled, instinctively putting your hands up to steady yourself, but you ended up falling into his chest instead.

You gasped, your hands pressing against the solid warmth of him, trying to create some space, but Megumi's arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

The heat from his body seeped into yours, making it impossible to ignore how solid and overwhelming he felt against you.

"Megumi—" you started, breathless, but the rest of your sentence was cut off as he brought his lips close to your ear, his voice soft and commanding.

"Shush…" he murmured, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's just finish the movie."

With that, he pulled you back down onto the couch next to him, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you tethered to his side. You were practically sitting on his lap, his arm still holding you close, and your mind was spinning, trying to wrap itself around what was happening.

The movie played in the background, but you couldn't focus on anything except the heavy tension in the room and the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

As you tried to shift away, to put some space between you, Megumi's voice pierced through the room, low and deliberate. "You know," he began, his hand dropping lower, his fingers brushing the inner corner of your thigh. "I just realized something… we never got to bond." He emphasized the word by gripping your thigh, his touch firm and intentional.

Your breath hitched at the contact, and your mind blanked for a second, overwhelmed by how sudden and intense his presence felt. "I-I mean, we still can," you stuttered, trying to defuse the situation, trying to keep this from going wherever it was heading.

But the way Megumi's face pulled into a wicked smirk, the sharp gleam in his eyes, made your stomach drop. He leaned in closer, licking his lips as he watched your reaction, his grip tightening slightly on your leg.

The air around you felt thick, it was as if everything had narrowed down to just this—his gaze, his hands on you, the heat of his body so close to yours.

Before you could even think of moving again, Megumi's hand suddenly gripped your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin as he turned your face toward him. His touch was possessive, controlling, and it sent a wave of something through you—part fear, part something darker that you didn't want to name.

"C'mon, look at me," he said, his voice a low murmur as he scooted even closer, towering over you now. He tilted your head back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes, and even if you wanted to pull away, you couldn't.

His grip was too strong, too sure.

Megumi watched your reaction closely, his smirk growing as he tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "What's wrong? You don't wanna play with your big brother?" The way he said it, his voice dripping with a mock sweetness, sent shivers down your spine, and your heart pounded painfully in your chest.

"G-Gumi, the movie…" you stammered, trying to deflect, to push him away with your words, but it was no use.

You knew nothing good was going to come from this.

He just chuckled softly, his fingers gripping your jaw a little tighter as he leaned even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Forget the movie," he muttered, his voice taking on that dangerous edge again.

Before you could react, Megumi grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to your side with one hand.

You were startled by how effortlessly he did it—his arms didn’t even bulge, as if it was nothing for him to hold you down like this. Your heart raced even faster, panic starting to creep in as you realized how strong he really was.

You tried to squirm, to pull away, but Megumi didn't budge. His grip on you was firm, almost casual, like he was barely putting in any effort to keep you trapped against him.

Megumi tutted at you, a soft noise that somehow felt condescending, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "The movie's still there, silly," he hummed, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel him nosing along the contours of your neck, his presence overwhelming every one of your senses.

"Let's just play a game until the commercials are over, yeah?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as if this were all some harmless joke to him.

"A-a game?" you stuttered, your mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. Your body felt frozen in place, your instincts screaming at you to move, to get away, but the grip he had on your wrists, the way he held you down so effortlessly, made it impossible.

"Yeah…" he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Let's play… who can last the longest."

The words didn't even fully register before you felt the sudden force of him pushing you back against the sofa.

An involuntary "oomph" escaped your lips as your back hit the cushions, and your vision blurred for a second as you stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding in your ears.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Megumi was hovering above you, his body blocking out everything else. His dark eyes raked over your face, taking in every flicker of emotion you couldn't hide, every sign of the fear and confusion coursing through you.

He didn't move, not yet, but the weight of his gaze pinned you in place as effectively as his body did.

There was something in his expression—an intensity that made your chest tighten, made it hard to breathe, and you couldn't help but feel like you were already losing whatever game this was.

Megumi let out a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating in your chest, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry," he murmured, his tongue flicking out to lick the curve of your ear, making you shiver. "I'll go easy on you… for now."

"Megumi—" you started, your cry cut off as his hand cupped your jaw, and he slammed his lips onto yours, his movements forceful and possessive.

Heat shot through your body, shivers running down your spine as his tongue invaded your mouth like a man starving. It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you—demanding, fierce, leaving no room for resistance.

You whimpered against his mouth, the noise muffled by the way his lips devoured yours. His hands wandered along your body, gripping, grabbing, squeezing any part of you he could find.

The pressure of his touch was firm, almost bruising, and with every place his hands explored, your body responded with an involuntary jolt of heat.

Your breath hitched as he hooked his hands under your legs, pulling them up and around his waist, his hips jolting forward into yours. The movement sent a rush of sensation through you.

You managed to tear your lips from his, gasping for air as your chest heaved. "M-Megumi…" you whined, your voice trembling, your head falling back as you tried to make sense of what was happening, what he was doing to you.

He didn't stop. Instead, he groaned low in his throat, his lips finding your neck. He licked and bit along the sensitive skin there, the rough scrape of his teeth making you shiver even as you tried to push the sensation away.

Your mind was at war with itself—one part of you frothing, screaming, fight him, get him away, the panic clawing at your chest. But the other side—the darker part, the one that you didn’t want to admit was there—was keening, practically begging for more of his attention, for more of this twisted game.

And Megumi, as if sensing the battle raging inside of you, just smiled against your skin, biting down a little harder, leaving a mark you knew wouldn't fade anytime soon.

Megumi pulled back slightly, making a deliberate show of licking his lips as he panted above you, his eyes dark and focused. "C'mon, lil sis," he murmured, rocking his hips into yours in a slow, rough rhythm that made your breath catch in your throat. "The game can't start until you're ready."

Your body betrayed you as you watched him put a hand between your bodies, his fingers easily slipping into the confines of your sleeping shorts. "Ohhh, looks like you really wanna play, huh?" he taunted, his voice laced with smugness as his fingers rubbed up and down your wet slit.

A wave of shame washed over you, your thighs twitching with the instinct to close, to shut them and stop what was happening, but his frame kept them wide open.

You couldn't escape the heat pooling low in your stomach, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. A choked whine left your mouth, your back arching involuntarily when he slipped a finger inside.

Megumi let out a groan, low and rumbling, as if he was savoring the sensation. "Damn…" he muttered under his breath, cursing softly as he felt your walls constrict around his finger. His thumb brushed over your clit, making your whole body jerk, and when he added a second finger, the fight in you began to crumble.

His fingers were relentless, rubbing and probing with a skill that left you breathless. Your legs, which had tried to resist, opened wider for him, your body moving of its own accord.

Megumi hummed in approval, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he muttered, "Good girl." The words sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you—humiliation, desire, confusion—but you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him.

And before you knew it, you found yourself overcome with an orgasm. Babbled whimpers fell from your lips as the coil within you snapped, your body shaking with the force of it.

By the time you came down from the high, Megumi had already pulled back, sitting on his haunches as he dropped your legs. You curled your legs up to your body, watching as he began to untie his drawstring sweats, his eyes still locked on you with that same wicked smirk.

You looked away just as you caught a glimpse of the dark trail of hair peeking out from his waistband, heart pounding in your chest.

At this point, you had accepted what was about to happen, and your mind raced as you braced yourself.

Megumi crawled back over you, his hands tugging at your shorts, and you barely registered the feeling as he discarded them over his shoulder. One of your legs was pulled back around his waist, the heat of his skin pressing against yours.

His body hovered over yours, and you felt him nudge your entrance with the tip of his dick, sliding it up and down along your slit.

A shiver ran through you as you struggled to keep your thoughts clear, but it was impossible under the weight of him, both physically and mentally.

"Fuck," he groaned to himself, eyes locked on where your bodies were beginning to connect.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart racing uncontrollably, knowing that whatever came next, there was no turning back.

Megumi filled you in one swift movement, stealing your breath away. You cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain echoing through the room. His groan was long and guttural, reverberating in the space between you.

Megumi's rhythm was steady, each thrust sending a jolt of shock of pleasure through your body.

It felt surreal—part of you couldn't believe you were letting this happen, but the undeniable pleasure clouded every coherent thought.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, the intensity of it all overwhelming your senses.

"That's right," Megumi grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "Take all of me."

You couldn't form words, your mind spinning, too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

Instead, all you could do was moan and whimper, your body moving with his, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. His hand snaked up to your throat, gripping lightly as he maintained a relentless pace.

"You like that, don't you? You like the way big brother fucks you?" he growled, his voice harsh and demanding, his thrusts becoming even more intense.

Your mind reeled, unable to speak, only nodding frantically in response as the pleasure built inside you. You could feel the pressure mounting, an orgasm threatening to wash over you as your body tensed beneath him.

Megumi seemed to notice, his hands hiking your legs up higher, deepening the angle, each movement more brutal and precise than the last.

You lay there, body writhing beneath his as he fucked you like a ragdoll, and a dark part of you couldn't help but thrill in the way he took control. His voice filled your ear with praise, breathless murmurs of "you're doing so good for me," and other words that barely registered through the haze, as if he were drunk off the feeling of you clamped around him.

Soon, his tempo shifted, becoming erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as his low moans became uncontrollable.

The intensity built until you felt warmth spreading inside you, the realization hitting you that he was coming, his release flooding your senses.

The throbbing between you two blurred together, until yours faded, and you could still feel him twitching, even as everything else calmed.

Eventually, he slowed, both of you panting, the room thick with the aftermath. You winced when he finally pulled out, a shiver running through you as you felt the hot liquid seeping out.

Megumi stood to grab cleaning supplies, gently wiping you off, his touch softer now, though still lingering in the tension of what had just occurred.

And as you lay there, watching him, all you could think was, What the fuck just happened?

[hells-wasabii]

Hi could you pretty please do velvette x reader who is Carmilla youngest daughter and how her family reacts (plus zestial pls I ship him and Carmilla so I feel like he's a step dad)❤️

A/N: I blacked out and wrote this.... but yeeees LISTEN!! I love Velvette so much, its not even funny and i had a lot of fun with this prompt! I didn't realize how much i wrote for it until it was too late, and by that point, i really couldn't stop. but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ps i honestly ship them too

Part 1 | Part 2

Character: Velvette

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Velvette x reader who's Carmilla's youngest daughter, General with a bit of Angst and Fluff sprinkled in)

For Velvette, she actually entered into the relationship not really knowing who your parents were. You never brought it up and she never really asked. It didn't really matter to her, since, ya know, you're the one she's dating, not your mum and dad, or step-dad from what you've mentioned.

Honestly, she should've seen the similarities. They were there for sure, but let's face it, there are so many demons in hell that it was probably just a coincidence, right?

Carmilla also knew you were seeing someone as well, though she really figured that you would bring this special demon around when you were ready.

Oh, they were both wrong. So very wrong.

They found out simultaneously, of course, as cliche as it was. You were on an evening out with Velvette with no clear destination in mind, just simply enjoying the evening and each other's company when the next thing you knew you were face to face with your mother.

It... didn't go too well.

What had once been a peaceful evening nearly dissolved into a turf war all in an instant. If you hadn't been able to separate the two with a promise to talk to both separately later there was no doubt that everything in a three-block radius would be collateral.

Zestial and your sisters would find out soon thereafter, Carmilla of course telling them when they see her come home looking quite distraught.

As stated before, to Velvette, it really didn't matter. though it did sweeten the deal. It would give her plenty more opportunities for her to provoke the arms dealer, something that she already took a great deal of pleasure in.

Zestial would be skeptical of the relationship at the start but eventually comes to accept it fully. His patience won out this time. He's seen more than enough relationships like this go up in flames and he'd never want that for you. He considered you a daughter after all.

As for your sisters, both of them were simply happy that you were happy. They were more worried about how y'alls mom would react. And you can't tell me that they didn't already know, either.

Carmilla on the other hand... To her, family is everything. I mean, she killed an angel for you and your sisters. She'd do anything for her kids, and that includes keeping someone like that upstart from breaking your heart. She wholeheartedly believed that Velvette was only dating you to get one over on her. It really comes as no surprise when she goes all the way to Vee Tower to confront the youngest overlord herself.

"You need to stay away from my daughter."

The fashionista bit out a curse as a needle pricked her finger. Velvette doesn't usually startle easily, but shit, between her being completely focused on finishing and the fact that her workshop had previously been silent save for any sounds that she had been making herself, she thought that even the most stone-cold bitch would've jumped.

What good was the security for if those nitwits couldn't keep unauthorized demons out of her workshop? The influencer swore that if any blood got on the material for this dress she'd personally kill the guards and whoever-

Oh.

Of all the people she expected to see, Carmilla Carmine, the uptight weapons dealer, and apparent mum of her girlfriend, was not one of them. Or actually, scratch that. She was completely expecting this to happen sooner or later.

"Well, it sucks to suck then, wrinkles, I'm not going nowhere." The fashionista bit back, a smirk settling on her lips that quickly fell when the older woman tried to push her point.

"I know what you're trying to do and it-"

"Obviously you don't." All mischief gone from her tone, Velvette set her work to the side, careful not to crumple the fabric. She rose to her feet and began to cross the room to Carmilla, who in turn stood taller, determined not to let this miscreant make a mockery of her, her family, and most importantly her youngest daughter. "I hate to break it to you, but the only way I'll break it off is if SHE wants to."

Velvette paused, her eyes boring into Carmilla's with a conviction and passion that the arms dealer hadn't felt from the influencer before. When the younger woman spoke again, her voice was softer than before, laced with a sincerity that would leave the mother speechless.

"I love her."

Its this singular interaction that leads to a truce between the two (technically five if you include Zestial and the Vee's) Overlords. They would come to some sort of mutual understanding that if both of them were to be in your life, they'd have to play nice. At least in front of you. At Overlord meetings, well, that's a whole different story.

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide pt. 3 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader / max verstappen x fem!reader Summary: in which you now kind of know French and a not so stranger is still here Warnings: smut, oral (f-receiving), angstyyyy (?), cheating (again, i'm sorry), 18+!, not proofread!!, bad French (correct me please!!), bad Dutch (correct me please!!) Word Count: 1985 Author's Note: ok so I think we'll end fille stupide here 🤭 I absolutely loved writing this (if you couldn't tell by how fast i was able to write it lmaooo). I honestly WOULD NOT mind writing more scenarios for them in the future. Like if I ever write mean dom charles, my mind will automatically come back to them. please don't forget to leave feedback! love y'all french edited by @shewantsvengeance!!! dutch edited by @deanlovescassie!!!

PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

STARTLED BY A loud bang in the kitchen, you jolt awake. The bright sun streaming through your windows blinds you as you try to make sense of the abrupt awakening and your surroundings. You were no longer naked; a large plain white t-shirt enveloped your body. A t-shirt you don’t remember even putting on or falling asleep in. A t-shirt, that’s not even yours.

Caution gripped you as you inched towards the kitchen, moving slowly down the hall. The muffled sounds persisted, their meaning elusive, while the clattering of cabinets continued. As you finally reached the corner of the hallway, you were met with the sight of a partially naked Charles in the kitchen, an array of food on the stove top cooked. The aroma of bacon and eggs wafted through the kitchen, prompting your stomach to audibly grumble in response. You leaned against the countertop across from him, just watching the muscles of his back flex with each deliberate movement. He stayed?

You let out a breath of air in relief at the sight of him. Not just because he was there and stayed, but because it wasn’t somebody breaking in.

He didn’t even turn around before saying, “Où ranges-tu tes assiettes?” Where do you keep your plates? “Oh, I found them!” He didn’t have to turn around to sense your presence; all his senses seemed attuned to your proximity. Your body called to him, like it demanded his attention. As if your cells were able to alert his own, screaming for them to merge with yours.

You felt a swirl of need form in your stomach at the sight of your scratch marks on his back. As if he was marked for your territory only. You also felt a surge of panic form in your throat as the memories of last night came flooding back. 

Tell me who your body belongs to.

Je t’appartiens, Charles.

A sensation of unease churned in your stomach as thoughts of Max’s face crossed your mind. The guilt weighed heavily, and you felt on the verge of nausea for what you had done to him. How was it possible that something so bad felt so good? It was as if Charles held complete control over you, rendering you senseless and devoid of rational thoughts and actions. Tears prick at your eyes as you observe the bruises on the insides of your legs and felt the welts on your neck. Your body looks and feels both used and abused. Nothing about this situation is okay. Last night, you both had been remarkably careless. 

The panic began to subside only when Charles turned around and met your gaze. His eyes, an unusually light shade of green, captured your attention. His disheveled hair hinted at just having woken up not too long ago.

“I didn’t know you stayed,” you began, confusion laced in your voice. “I heard the door shut last night.”

“Fille stupide,” Stupid girl. A smile crept on his face, carrying a mocking undertone that seemed directed at you.  “I went to store to get you a pill last night. Je suis revenu.” I came back.

You despised how profoundly his words impacted you, how his return stirred a need for you to rationalize both your actions and his, even when there was no justification for what had transpired. Anxious, your fingers fidgeted with the end of the T-shirt that rested at the middle of your thighs. He advanced towards you, trapping you between him and the counter – a familiar position whenever you find yourself in his presence. His hands find their way to your face, their size enough to envelope majority of it. His fingers sprawl on your jawline, and his thumbs rest on your cheekbones as he looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. Like you’re a textbook and he has a test to study for. 

“Tu es tellement belle,” You’re so beautiful. Despite his sweet words, a sinister gleam in his eyes followed the contours of your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pressed himself to you, “I meant what I said last night.”

Mine, you’re fucking mine.

The ache in between your legs was growing with each passing second. He was too close, his smell and warmth surrounding you, creating a sense of intoxication. You felt the need to press your thighs together, but Charles stood between them, smirking down at you like he knew. 

Words fail you as you gaze up at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He stands there patiently, waiting as you study the furrow of his eyebrow. He stands there patiently, waiting as your eyes delve into his, memorizing every shade of color within them. He stands there patiently, waiting as your gaze fixates on his lips.

It was almost as if you didn’t have a choice. Like he was a pre-determined answer to your life. A definition to your word.

“Guess I didn’t give it to you hard enough last night, hm?” It wasn’t until your hands settle on his biceps that he realizes you’ve given him consent. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere. Roaming your body like an unexplored map; squeezing your waist, pinching your nipples, squeezing your butt. He just can’t get enough of you. “Need me to take the ache away?”

A moan escapes your lips as you yield, unable to resist him. Your body, seemingly under his command, surrenders to its desires. 

His tongue presses against yours, never losing contact. He quickly flips the both of you around, pushing you until your back met the countertop of the island. With determination, he lifts you onto it, shoving anything that finds solace there, to the floor. His hands push you down, so you now lay sprawled on the counter in the center of the kitchen. You replacing the breakfast Charles had made.

“Mon dieu,” My God. He growls at the sight of your legs spread and bare for him. “Je pourrais mourir heureux.” I could die happy. You have no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Especially when his tongue met your clit, licking you as if you were the last meal on Earth and he was starving.

His two fingers slid into your heated core, curling them to brush your g-spot with every stroke. “Tellement bon,” So fucking good. He’s moaning into your pussy, sending you into oblivion. 

“Putain de salope.” Fucking dirty slut. He manages to mumble in between your legs, the vibration of his words pushing you closer to the edge.

Around his fingers, you clench. You revel in the feeling of him in you, no matter what or how it’s done. Your fingers clench in his hair, it’s longer than the first time you met, tugging to anchor yourself. His hands on you are equivalent to an out of body experience. You could never tire of it. 

“You like that?” Yes! You wanted to yell. You more than liked it. You loved it.

It wasn’t until his other hand, the one not inside of you, groped one of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, that you went flying over the edge, relishing in the waves of pleasure as he continues to thrust his fingers in you – coaxing you through the orgasm. 

His mouth is hot on you, swallowing anything you’ll give him. Your legs shake, his mouth on you becoming too much as you squirm until he stops and looks at you, his lips glossy and coated.

“Tellement foutrement doux,” So fucking sweet. He murmured as he pulled you up, holding you in an upright position to look at him. You still don’t know what he’s saying, but you didn’t care. Your ears were ringing as you came down from your high, feeling limp against the hands of Charles.

You shut your eyes as you began to feel the panic surge. You gave in, again.  He peppered small kisses to your neck, almost too softly, a stark contrast from how he treats you in the midst of sex. He was soft with you now -- tender. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. As if sensing your panic, Charles tips your chin to look at him.

“Cherie, you are made for me.” You feel the panic claw at your throat, constricting you, and the tears begin to spill from your eyes. “Don’t you see?”

You did see it. You could see it clear as day. After all, there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t on your mind since the first encounter. You don’t understand what’s happening to you. How could you betray Max like this? He didn’t deserve it, and you didn’t deserve him. It feels like there’s no choice when it comes to Charles. It’s as if your body responds instantly to his mere gaze. He’s the batteries, and you’re the remote control. Completely useless without its batteries.

You knew you had to tell Max. You couldn’t bear to hurt him any further. You observed Charles begin to furrow his eyebrows in frustration as he sensed you withdrawing from him. The sight pained him, and it hurt to witness.

“I need to tell Max,” You started, but were quickly cut off by a voice.

“Tell Max what?” 

You felt your heart stop and face flush red, as none other than Max stood just a few feet away in the entry way of your home, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a spare key to your apartment in the other. Time seemed to slow down as you observed Max’s eyes darting between the proximity of you and Charles. There you were, perched on the counter, with Charles standing between your legs. Your cheeks flushed red as you sat with nothing but Charles t-shirt on your body. The kitchen island was wiped clean, everything scattered on the floor. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension.

He didn’t even speak. He simply dropped the flowers and spare key on the entry way table and turned around, heading for the door. You shoved Charles out of the way, running towards the door. Running towards Max.

“Please, I can explain,” you were shouting. Completely panicked. But really, there was nothing to explain. It was clear as day, all cards laid out on the table in front of Max’s eyes.

“You don’t need to explain.” He scoffed, his jaw clenched in anger, as his eyes bounced from you, standing in front of him, to Charles, who remained planted in the kitchen. “Ik ben er klaar mee.” I’m done. He spoke in his native tongue, knowing you understood.

“Ik walg van je.” You disgust me. His words were sharp, stabbing you where it hurt most. He couldn’t even look you in the eye as he stepped out of the apartment as fast as he could.

You convince yourself that something has to be wrong with you. You were so mad that you did this. So mad that you hurt Max. But still, despite it all, everything with Charles feels so right.

Tears spilled hotly from your eyes, falling to the floor as you sobbed into your hands. Charles hurried over, lifting you to your feet and cradling you in his arms. Swiftly, he carried you to your bed, gently placing you on the covers. Pulling you into his chest, he held you tightly, providing comfort and solace.

“Je te protégerai.” I’ll keep you safe. Charles mutters into the nape of your neck, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry into him. “Tu es faite pour moi.” You’re meant for me.

You cried for what felt like hours. Charles only continued to whisper sweet nothings to you as he held you. You cried until you were limp with exhaustion, eyes closing, surrounded in the warmth of Charles. You didn’t deserve it.

“I will be here when you wake up, Cherie.” ----------- sorry max, you need to lose something 🤭

[carmenized-onions]

Don't Say It. | Closing Out

logline; just say it in every way but the one way that makes it weird.

[!!!] series history; did y'all notice the banner rebrands? tell me you think they look nice and good and cool or i'll. start crying.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. how is it more than 7 hours. my god.

portion; 14k was hoping we'd reenter our single digits era but we ball

possible allergies; two mentally ills battle it out (romantic).

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader almost certain there are gendered bits/pronouns but can't honestly completely remember.

(new!) kofi; I have one now! if you've enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

moving into a new place literally in two days!! high stress. so thank you for waitin' as always pwease enjoy and pwease tell me what you think!

You take a good long breath, sitting on the counter in the bathroom. Right. Time is linear and you’re in New York again— Never left. Right. Carmen’s sitting across from you, it’s kind of a shock this floating sink counter hasn’t collapsed under the two of you yet. How long have you been here? Swapping stories took a long fucking time, and there’s still, disgustingly, a lot to unpack. 

“Any shoes left undropped?” You drum your hands against your knees, the question is as much for yourself as it is for him.

Carmen opts to open with a soft ball. “You called me Carmy?” Before you knew me, you called me Carmy?

“I called you a lot of things.”

“Like virgin Michelin Star chef?” He’s failing to hide the upturned corners of his mouth, when he says it. 

You snort and nod, “Like virgin Michelin Star chef, or Carmy, or Carm, or baby boy, baby bear, mister New York— Basically all Mikey’s, I think the only one I coined was Charmin.”

“Charmin?”

“Like the—” He finishes with you, “—Toilet paper bears.” and whether he should be or not, he cannot stop laughing, when you confess this. 

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” “Bitch—Cause you clean up, and you’re a bear, and Carmen sounds like Charmin, and Charmin sounds like charming and I—”

You pause, cringing, parasocial relationship coming to a head now. When your best friend wants you to get with his hot talented brother living in the Big Apple, it’s hard not to fantasize about, alright? “...I found you very charming.”

God, it’s just far too easy for you to render him completely speechless. It’s really not fucking fair. Carmen looks like a deer in headlights, he looks how he did in your car, a month or so ago, when he bit the bullet and asked you out. Well, promised to ask you out. He swallows, no more glass in his throat, but it does feel a little scratchy, kinda like, like pop rocks?

Pop rocks, yeah. Sweet, salivating. “Do you still?”

You squint, like he’s a moron. He is. “Of course I do.” Cherry pop rocks. Yeah, that sort of spritz feeling, on the tongue, and the way it continues to simmer all the way down. “I don’t want you to stop being you, by the way, Carm.”

“Huh?” What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you want him to change, he sucks.

“I—” You’re quick to clarify, straightening your posture. “I think it’s great to— to do the work, and therapy and reading and self-care— That’s all— That’s very good, and you should do it— For you, not me, but I— One bad night is not how I’ll think of you— You’re— You’re not a bad person, is I guess all I’m trying to fuckin’ say.”

You’re sweet. Sweet but with depth, slowly developed, caramelized, tart. Maybe a fruity molasses.

Carmen swallows, it’s hard to digest the sweet. “I— I’m not a bad person, but I could be better.” Pomegranate molasses. It’s got an acidic kick. Sort of like balsamic.

“I could be better, too.” Could you? Please God, don’t try, he can’t compete. No, shit, hold on, stop pedestaling. “You kinda got my ass, with peoples’ princess.”

Carmen cringes, there’s the acid. “I should not have said—”

“I have a fucking saviour complex, Carm. And it’s just as bad for everyone else as it is for me.”

Bite, yet tender. You continue on. “I do need to work on that. And I should’ve explained more when we first met, it was just— You know… I know you know.” Medium rare, steak medallion— No— rectangle. 

Pomegranate molasses, thick—Nearly sorbet thick. Poured onto the plate, centered, perfect circle. Medium rare wagyu steak— A3, maybe; too much fat would ruin the composition. Rectangular, off center. Dust with cherry pop rocks. Bizarre, but it might actually be something. Bad, but something. Not tired or overdone, that’s for sure. Anything but dusty.

Carmen missed you for a lot of reasons this week, but it’s almost annoying how merely being in your presence for a few hours has given him more inspiration to work with than he has had in the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours, without you. But who’s counting?

It’s easy to make things, when they’re for you. When they’re about you.

“I should’ve listened, when you were ready, but I got defensive and—I— I do that a lot, clearly, I just—” Carmen tries not to bite at his nails and fingers, because his therapist, Sara, said not to do that. What the fuck does she know? A lot, actually.

“That’s just kinda how— we’d do things. Like that’s how we—” Carmen frowns, memories dawning on him. “…I guess maybe we never really talked.”

You don’t need to ask who we is. His family didn’t particularly set Carmen up for success. And every figure after his family didn’t really lighten the load. There’s not much for you to say or do beyond, “I like talking to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re allowed to still be mad at me.” Carmen reassures, he’s not sure why he feels the need to do so. “You can— You can tell me to go fuck myself.” 

You shake your head, shrugging. “You can tell me to go fuck myself.”

He shakes his head, immediately, squinting, like you’re a moron; you are. “I would never tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It’s a silent moment of exchanging hard stares and trying to glean something from the other. Once you gather your findings, you finally return to your era of speaking in sync again, with, “I don’t hate you.”

It's a hellish realization, that you thought it was possible, let alone certain, to hate you. He could cry again. “Why would you ever think I hate you?”

You raise your brows, because how could you not think Carmen hates you? “Because you said—”

“I didn’t mean a fucking word.”  He says it differently than he did before. Like it’s a final warning. He immediately recoils at his own voice and its aggression.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen scratches his nose, continuing for the both of you. What more can he say? He’s already said it a million times, so what’s one more? When you try to speak, he doesn’t let you. Because he knows you. He knows you’ll brush it off. “I don’t want you to forgive me, right now. I want to prove I earned it.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

“Yeah, Sara said that, too. You’re both wrong.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your therapist can be wrong, in this scenario.”

“Please.” Carmen props his knee up on the counter, his hands, in some way, mimic a prayer. He holds eye contact, he thanks whoever is in charge that you’re holding it again, too. “Let me earn it.”

Carmen will learn that he doesn’t need to earn anything or prove anything to anyone eventually. He’ll need more than six therapy sessions crammed in during his lunch breaks, for that. But right now, he needs to prove this. Needs to earn you. For now, you'll give it to him. For now, you just nod. 

Carmen chews his bottom lip, he doesn’t want to say it but he has to. “When I said—” You failed Mikey. “—What I said— I didn’t mean it how I said it.”

You bring your legs up, criss crossing them. “How’d you mean it?” How else could he possibly mean it?

“I meant it like— Like— Of course he died.”

They’re Berzatto men, they’re doomed. “Nothing you could have done would have stopped him from dying— And I— It hurt cause it felt like— In—In that moment— In my head—” He puts a hand up, pausing to reassure, “Nothing you did. But I felt like I was ‘Round Two’ for you. Charity. I—”

Carmen swallows, looking down, can’t meet your eyes for the moment, but he points at you. “You didn’t fail Mikey— He failed to know he was worth saving.”

A wound closes up, a little bit, somewhere in your head and heart.  “I think in some ways, I was trying to make up for something—”

You’re quick to clarify, too. “But not cause you’re you— Cause I’m me.” Have to do it all. Have to fix it all. Have to save it all. “Like— I think I might have that edge of paranoia for like, like a long time, if not… forever?”

 You frown; what a bleak idea. “Fuck, I may need to go back to therapy, too.”

“You want Sara’s card?” “Sliding scale?” “Sliding scale.” “Is it weird to have the same therapist?” “Probably.” “I’ll look into it.”

You both laugh, the weighted blanket of tension over you both is finally lifting. Carmen’s capable of looking you in the eyes again. “You did literally everything someone could think of.”

You kiss your teeth, you could’ve done a couple more things. “I mean, location—”

“He never would’ve given it to you.” “That’s exactly it, though— I should’ve put my foot down more. I was never as strict as I was supposed to be.” “But if you were strict he wouldn’t let you help him.” “Sponsors are meant to be strict.” “Then he wouldn’t’ve let you be his sponsor.” “Then I shouldn’t have been his sponsor!” “Then he would’ve never joined the program!” “Well—” “It’s not your fucking fault!”

Carmen doesn’t hate you, Carmen doesn’t think you killed his brother. Heavy exhale of too many emotions and a touch of relief. But you can see yourself in his expression. You can see Richie in his expression. The guilt. The haunting. You swallow, “Not yours, either.”

“I could’ve called more.” “He wouldn’t have answered.” “I could’ve realized why.” “And how exactly could you have done that?” “...I dunno, could’ve— Could’ve been the guy, for him.” “Carmen you were the guy, for him.”

Carmen shakes his head. “You were the guy, for Mikey.”

“I— Okay—” You click your tongue, this is hard to explain. You shift on the sink counter, trying to get more comfortable. You won’t. It’s a fucking sink. “I was the guy, but the guy to another guy isn’t much— you—” You snap your fingers, pointing at him. “You’re not the guy, Carmen. Never will be.”

“Ouch.”

“No— You’re something much more important than the guy. You’re— You’re the, the cat.”

He can’t help but smile, confused. He’s so used to bear comparisons. “I’m the cat?”

“You’re—” You keep pointing at him, thinking the metaphor in your head through. “...The guy is— Is like the host of the house party. He keeps the jokes going, the room light, the drinks and food stocked— He talks people through panic attacks while they sit in the bathtub, he loses at beer pong on purpose to make the other team feel better, the guy makes everyone feel like they’re the center of the universe.”

“And the cat?”

“The cat is upstairs, locked in his room, because the cat will get all jittery if he’s around all that yelling and all those people. The cat doesn’t even like those people. And the guy doesn’t want his cat to go through that. But then, when the guy finally gets all jittery and can’t handle all those people himself—” You sigh, honestly stressed by your own metaphor, thinking of all the moments in your life you needed the cat and didn’t call.

“He’ll go upstairs, to his room, and the cat will be there, and he can talk to the cat— Because the cat likes him. And nothing will be solved, but it’ll still feel good and the cat will still think his guy’s perfect and wonderful even when the guy is just— just him— And the cat asks literally nothing of the guy— Unlike everyone else downstairs— and that’s exactly why the guy wants to give the cat everything over anyone else.”

God, you’ve been talking about cats and guys too much. “Not everyone needs a cat, but the guys that do, really do. And you’re… You’re the cat— Mikey’s and mine.”

Carmen can’t say I love you, because that would be an insane response. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. But it’s the only thing he can think of. The only thing he can say besides that, is, “You’re very good to me.”

You’re not exclusively for Carmen, he knows that. You’re not made for him— You’re made for many things. But maybe you’re curated. The Bear wouldn’t exist without your advocacy. And it’s hard to believe, but there might’ve been even more broken shit at The Beef, if you hadn’t been there before Carmen got there. Mikey got to be your friend, before Carmen did. And you got to be Mikey’s friend, when Carmen didn’t. But you both kept him in mind, you told Mikey to text, you drew schematics for his restaurant, you said you’d talk to him. You thought he was charming. You still do. You’re Mikey’s pick, for Carmen. And it’s not like Mikey’s opinion matters that much, but it’s nice to have approval. Though he didn’t fucking ask for it.

“Such a cat response.” “Is that like being a Leo or some shit?” 

You both laugh. Ah, thank fuck, it’s you two, again. There’s a comfortable silence while you think for a second, before asking, “Can I add another thing to your non-negotiables?”

“Always.”

“I don’t want you to be different for me.” You think back to being in his kitchen, the way he tried to hold back, when you were around. “I get you, work you, home you— If you want me to be your fuckin’ mixologist, you’re gonna have to get comfortable working with me.”

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

He laughs through a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Damn,” You snort, “Are you only with me for my skills?”

“No, I’m with you because you’re— You.” The kitchen needs you, The Bear needs you, Carmen needs you. He’s the cat, he doesn’t need anything more than you. He can work on his codependency issues in therapy, okay? “I— I like having you around.”

You readjust your posture again, it’s hard to get comfortable on a sink. “Well, you better get paid soon, then.”

“‘Bout that.” Boy came prepared. He rifles through the pockets of his black jeans, and pulls out a folded slip of paper. He does a yoga class worthy stretch to hand it to you, from across the sink. A paystub, from The Bear, to Carmen. Officially on fucking payroll.

Yeah, turns out, just a bad week, last week. Being in the red doesn’t last forever. Neither does being in the green. There are ebbs and flows. Next week will probably be shit, and yet the wheel still turns. Carmen also might’ve very well plugged in half of the numbers wrong, according to Sugar, when she eventually got to looking at it. But that’s neither here nor there. So he’s reactive. What’s new? Should’ve believed the you in his head, when she said there will be good and bad weeks. He’s still working on being the only voice in his head. But you’re a good replacement for the other guy, for now.

You stare at it, like an ancient scroll. It’s real. He’s really getting paid— Pretty decent too, he could finally buy some fucking furniture, with this. “Okay.” You look up from the slip to him. He looks like he’s on fucking Shark Tank, anxiously awaiting your approval. “And you’ll act like you?”

“I will act like me.” Even when he doesn’t want you to see it, Carmen will act like Carmen. 

And that’s all you could ask for, really. You’re about to approve the deal, but then you think again, frowning. “The Exec.”

“Ah.” Carmen shuts his eyes, embarrassed by his own brain. “I know.”

“So you thought about it?”

“I didn’t think about— It—” Carmen doubted his own conviction, because he doubts all of himself. But it really was not ever on the table, to give your number…That said— “I thought about loopholes.”

“Catfishing him?” You guess, and he affirms. “Catfishing him.” Hey, great minds think alike. Doesn’t make Carmen feel any less scummy, for considering abusing your likeness for sake of approval. 

“Did you go through with it?” 

It’s Carmen’s turn, to blink, slow to realize that you actually don’t know. “Richie didn’t tell you?” You still live in a world where Carmen isn’t completely batshit. 

You tilt your head, “Did Richie catfish him?”

“No, uhm—” He seems suddenly sheepish now. Can’t look you in the eyes, again. He nods and points to your pockets. “You got your phone?”

“Uh, yeah—” You pull it out, haven’t gotten any sudden creepshow texts, to your knowledge. “Should I be scared?”

Carmen shakes his head. “Nothin’ worse than what you’ve already seen.” He snaps his fingers at your phone, “Look up uh— I think it’s— Chicago Bear on Yankee Chef turf, or some shit.”

You have to take a moment, before typing, to just look at him with genuine pause. “...What?”

“Just do it.” “Did you kill someone?” “I do not have blood on my hands, the Tribune is just dramatic—” “The fucking Tribune?! Shut the fuck up, Carmy.”

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

Okay. Upon searching. Absolutely yes way he’s in the Chicago Tribune. Carmen’s trending on Twitter— Or rather, Chicago, The Bear, Bear, Carmy, Michelin Beef, Fuck the Yanks, and a million other keywords are trending— Local trending, but still trending. Chicago Tribune’s made an article archiving a handful of reaction tweets, summarizing whatever the fuck happened. Alright, this is taking too long, maybe you should just ask the man in front of you— “Oh my fucking God, there’s a video.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t watch—” Carmen is interrupted by his own voice coming through your phone. “—And what kind of fucking Chef doesn’t like black pepper? I’m white and overdone, but you’re an entire other goddamn beast—” “...That.”

It’s a screen recording of some patron’s Facebook Live at some New York restaurant David owns or whatever. Empire? That’s what the blurry signs in the video’s background seem to say. What’s his title at this point, anymore? Doesn’t matter.

It’s nice to see his blurry little face around ten to twenty feet from the camera get yelled at by a Carmen that is also many feet away, but his voice seems to be projecting throughout the whole restaurant; enough to be heard clearly through recording, anyways. “And it’d be enough to just be an asshole— But you’re a creep too— Never fuckin’ pray on my— my— bar staff, or I swear on my life—”

“Can’t make direct threats in New York, Cousin! Penal code!” You laugh when you hear Richie’s voice ringing out in the background. Thank God for whoever’s filming, because they pivot their phone to catch Richie, pretty much next to their table, calling out to Carmen. “It’s a fine!”

He looks tired but wired; they must’ve taken a pitstop here, before heading to the hotel. What a fun road trip finale. Richie is such a motherfucker for not telling you all of this first thing while you put on his cufflinks— This is not dirty details, this is front page shit! Literally! God, he buries the lead like it’s his fucking day job.

“Who gives a fuck about a fine? Everyone—” And back to Carmen. “This is David Fields, he’s the head of the head of the head, in their heads— He’s a fantastic chef, I don’t think he eats or sleeps or knows what another person’s hands feel like— He is fuckin’ brilliant at making the same three fuckin’ plates every fuckin’ day— With the most minute differences— And—And—And— He doesn’t even make them! He takes dishes from prozac riddled fucks like me, makes them worse and then puts his name on it! Unoriginal, a narcissist, and fucking bad at it!”

You don’t look up from your phone, eyes glued to the screen. “Holy fuck, Carmen.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” “Is this good marketing?” “Wait for it, I guess.” “...Are you actually on prozac?” “No. I kind of blacked out. Made a point though, right?” “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Sorry, miss. Could I—” …Fak? Guess he did third wheel on the road trip to New York. He grabs the streamer’s phone. There’s a ‘what the—fuckin— excuse me?’ from behind the camera as Fak pivots the recording to himself. 

“Hey World, I’m Neil, that’s my best friend Carmy the Bear, over there.”

“Jesus Christ.” You look up from your phone to Carm, who was at first embarrassed and is now just trying to hold a straight face, hand over his mouth. “I’m aware.” He repeats. 

You squint, thinking.“...Best friend?” “...I guess he is?” “That’s— Okay— I don’t— Alright, we’ll come back to that.” And return to your phone.

Fak continues, taking advantage of the sudden screen time. “He’s a really good Chef, knows his shit, if you ever want to see how he does it, please come eat— Dine— Dine with us at The Bear, we’re in Chicago— on North Orleans and Huron— You can— Can book with us at The Bear dot—”

“Don’t have the site yet.” Richie interrupts the impromptu ad, hovering over Fak’s shoulder, barely whispering. “Still The Beef.”

Neil nods and continues. “The Beef dot squarespace—”

“It’s Wix.” “It’s fucking Wix?” “Your problem isn’t with the lack of a domain?”

“It’s Google Sites, actually.” You correct for no one, really, looking up from your phone to Carmen, again. “I made him change it so it wouldn’t have that ugly freemium bar.” 

Carmen snorts, shaking his head. Of course you did. “D’you design it?”

You let out a loud, “Ha!” before turning back down to the screen. “I think web design might be the one trade I can’t do.” But you’re willing to learn, if he needs.

Ah, the videographer managed to foist her phone back, returning to catch the very end of the Carmen Show. And it’s a wonderful finale, from Carm.

“—Fuck your two elements, fuck your face— Fuck everything about you— I cannot believe we gave you service— Let alone our best— For a guy in hospitality, you have no fucking right treating my host and somme like that. Fuck you—”

“Fuck you—” Finally a response from David, though it’s quickly interrupted, as Carmen finally starts to back away, not wanting a genuine fight if he doesn’t have to do it, but he certainly wants the last word. “No, fuck you—”

“Fuck you.” “—Chef— Stay in your fucking city— Stay in your fucking city— New Yorks great! Stay in it! We don't play in Chicago— Fuck you!”

Carmen comes back to his road trip squad, he notices the woman recording, and walks up to the camera. For a second, you genuinely think he’s going to square up with her— You’re pretty sure he at least thought about it. “Is she recording?”

“Streaming.” Answers Fak. “It’s the new thing.”

 Carmy opts to use his words, possibly because he could maybe get arrested. “Sorry, sorry— I just want to make it clear—”

He gestures to the fucker in the background, bouncers seems to be approaching. Carmen keeps going, face red but calming down, chasing his own breath. “This man worked— and works with wonderful Chefs who I learned a lot under— And— And— I have all the respect for them, and always will— But-But— when it comes to David Fields specifically—”

Your cherry and lamb dish was perfect. David’s palate is just not worth appealing to. Carmen won’t make that mistake again.

“—What he serves is consistently vapid, dusty, and dead on arrival— like his heart— And—And— When you pay him, dine with him, work with him, you are lining the pockets of some fuckin’ creep that pulls rank on honest cooks and servers. So. Decide if you want that. And uhm— Uh— Tip your servers. Don’t ask for their numbers— Like he does. Be normal. Thank you.”

“Carmen Berzatto, folks! Come— Come to The Bear!” Yells out Neil, as security finally seems to be coming for the Chicagoans.

Richie grabs Fak by the back of his coat, knowing when to bounce, shouting, “No legal names! Godssake— This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one—!”

The screen recording ends, not long after that. You’re going to need maybe a… fifty minute nap, to process that. Maybe, somehow, this is good publicity— Maybe in some way, this is putting The Bear on the center stage. But one thing is fact, Carmen completely abandoned the idea of keeping appearances and getting a star through kissing ass. He completely abandoned the idea of being appealing to the man in his head. 

And he did that for you— And Richie— Which, honestly, makes it mean even more. Carmen’s a good boss. Not always. Definitely not always. But when it fucking counts, he is. Carmen's a good man. A good friend. A good not-quite boyfriend. Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked.

You put your phone away, quietly nodding and thinking, not looking at Carmen. You shrug, attempting to be nonchalant. “Contract and I’ll be your mixologist.”

“Yeah?” There’s such a brightness, to the way Carmen asks. Like a spritz. “Okay. I’ll— I’ll send you a Docusign.” Aperol spritz. There’s more to it, than that though. 

You’re so zoned out, looking at the sinks instead of Carmen, he starts to get worried. He just got eye contact back, come on. Was the yelling too much in the video? He was loud and mean. He always is. He told you not to watch. 

“Tony?” What kind of bitters suit him? A slice of grapefruit might be nice. Bright but acquired.

“Are you good?”

“Wha—” You shake your head out of it, turning your gaze to Carmen. He jumped off the counter to stand by you. His hand hovers by your head— He considers grazing your hair, and chickens out. But he can’t put it down.  “Sorry, was— I was uh— Just thinking of what we could put on a cocktail menu, that’s all.” Yeah, that’s all.

“Don’t work on it, without me.” It’s with a, dare you say, panicked quickness, that he requests this. “Cocktail menu, coffee menu, we should— Should do R and D, together.”

“Yeah, f’sure.” Fucking Chefs, so particular about their menus. “I think it’d be good to uhm— Build it around the main menu, anyways. Sorta match stuff up.” Thankfully, you like particular.

He really needs to not be standing this close, though. Your brain keeps zoning in and out— It’s really not the time to be feeling any sort of type of way about Carmen cursing out that fucking chef and going to therapy for himself and you and he smells nice and he’s reading books and he worked bar all night with you and he looks so nice in bartender black in lieu of his Chef whites and he is trying so hard and— And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. 

And you can’t forgive him either— Well, not aloud, because Carmen wants to prove that he’s done the work— Wants to prove that he’s going to keep doing the work. He’s rendered you with nearly zero options here, to show your affection. 

“Yeah, that’s— That’d be good. I was thinkin’ we’d put your station by Marcus.” Why is he still talking about work? He’s so stupid. He’s wonderful. This is the worst. This is hell. “Coffee machine’s already there, and you’ll tend to share a lot of elements, anyway— I think.”

You shift your butt on the counter, turning to face him head on, he’s just slightly between your knees as your legs dangle off the counter. “Carmen.”

“Yeah?” “I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.”

Light, nervous, sweet, lifting, soft— A delicate kick to it. Pink peppercorn bitters. That’s it.

Aperol— Vibrantly orange liqueur, derived from bitter rhubarb. It’s an acquired taste. Some say it’s citrusy and herbal, others say it tastes like cough syrup. Either way, it’s awakening. Then prosecco. A splash of soda— Lemon-lime would be best. Aperol spritz. It’s an Italian cocktail. It sparkles. Everything in it fizzes, almost competing with each other. It’s meant to be enjoyed before dinner. It’s refreshing. Pink peppercorns and grapefruit would only add to that brightness, that light. It’s not for everyone, but it is everything to some. That’s Carmen. That’s your Carmen. Oh, maybe a syrup on the rim?

You try to be delicate, the way you put the palm of your hand on the back of his head and pull him in, but it’s just not possible. It’s the first time in a fucking month you’ve initiated— It's been one-hundred and sixty-eight hours since you've seen his face, let alone touched it— It’s just not possible to be kind.

Thankfully, based on the way he’s leaning you back on the counter, hands on your waist, it doesn’t seem like Carmen wants kind. There's a sigh of relief, to just kiss you. He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. Possibly way more than fine. The faint whining and pulling your hips to his seem to indicate it’s a lot fucking more than fine.

It would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon to say I love you, but you can mouth the words against him and he can’t tell what you’re wording but at least you know. It’s funny that he can do the same to you, and despite knowing the trick, you can’t tell either. 

Carmen pulls back, just a centimeter, or two. He wants to say something. He’s opening his mouth to say something. He's all dopey and half-lidded. Man, he’s pretty. He knows that right? Yeah, he knows that. “You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth. 

Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” He moves his hands to hold your face. It’s nice. It’s nice to get peppered with kisses— Yeah, pink pepper fits perfectly with him. 

Carm’s voice is heavier now. Maybe from the lack of oxygen. He’s fighting to revive his brain. He’s so serious, when he firmly kisses you, forehead against yours, lips still grazing, saying, “I’m not a fucking virgin.”

You laugh way too fucking hard for his ego. Your hands untangle from his hair, but your arms continue to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s still amped, too bad you’re you, and you have to ruin the mood to poke at him.

“That a recent development?” “Shut the fuck up—” “I’m just wondering, if he was accurate at the time—” “Why are you doing this to me?” “Did you have a tantric affair in Denmark, the people wanna know!” “I— There was no time, alright? It got away from me—” “Remember when you had your first kind of girlfriend like a month and a week ago?” “It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.”

He pauses the banter to just stare at you, take in your features, take in that you’re here and real and half underneath him. “Not forgiven.” You should’ve shown up sooner. You should’ve injected yourself so completely in Carmen’s life eons ago, and made yourself intrinsically impossible to remove. Absolutely not forgiven, for being late.

“Yeah?” Your eyes upturn, deeply amused. Carmen really is the baby brother. Entitled, bratty, cute. You’re planning to say something coy, something playful like ‘Ohoho, how do I earn your forgiveness?’ But you remember something Carmen said, when he was summarizing his Friday night for you— And for Carmen, what you opt to say is so much worse than hot banter, for his brain. 

“I don’t think your mouth tastes bad.” It’s your turn to take in his face and all its features. “I think it’s nice. It’s like the only way I can try cigarettes without getting a headache.”

“I wanna fly you to Paris.” It’s so quick, from Carmen. Choked quick— Like he fought to hold it down but you’ve just opened the Pandora’s box that is his mouth. He keeps going. Your surprised face firmly smushed in his hands.  

“I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since I asked you to run bar— I’ve— I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since you washed my hair— I—I—” Too much affection to contain in words, he has to kiss you, and then he has to keep going, and then kiss you between the ‘ands’, and then keep going. Like a shot and a chaser and a shot and a chaser and a—

“I want you to be permanent and carved in my tables and I want you to wear my jackets and I want you in my kitchen and in my menu and in every dumb fucking conversation I have at Christmas tellin’ family what the fuck I’m doing— I want you in every sentence.”

It’s not ‘I love you’. Because saying I love you would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon. But it might very well be more than that. Trying to avoid saying it might be forcing you both to say something that means more than that.

It’s hard to generate a response as poignant as that. Especially because your cognitive abilities seem to have gone completely offline. Your brain is telling you to kill the moment so you don’t have to face the feeling, telling you to say something stupid like, ‘Why Paris?’, because if you don't, you might say it. But you can’t. You’re totally speechless. 

Eventually, you manage to choke out, “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ah, a smile from Carmen with teeth. What a rare gift you’ve been bestowed. He tries to celebrate this occasion with another kiss that will inevitably lead to a million more but when he goes for his classic move of sticking his head in the crook of your neck to bite you like a cannibal— You get the chance to look somewhere other than Carmen’s face, and realize you are both still very much so in a fucking bathroom at a fucking wedding in New York. 

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.”

Carmen groans, there’s no way you’re doing this to him again, come on, neither of you have to go this time, you have all the time in the world, in this bathroom. Time isn’t real here. That’s how bathrooms work. “He’s not.”

“Carmy’s right, I’m not.” Says definitely totally not Fak, behind the door. “You guys kissin’ yet?”

“Christ.” You put a hand on Carm’s chest, pushing him back from you as you push yourself up with your other hand. “Mood dead.”

“No—” He grabs your wrist, holding your hand in place against him. “Mood not dead— Mood present and alive—”

There’s some fumbling behind the door. “Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. That’s great. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way— Cousin, be a gentleman—”

Carmen leans over and all but screams into your shoulder. “I am being a fuckin’ gentleman, Richard!”

You kiss your teeth, shaking your head, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s dead.” Them’s the breaks. 

A slow, heavy, arduous exhale, from Carmen, coming up to lean his forehead to yours for a second. Enjoying the liminal space before it’s permanently ripped out of your hands. “I hate my family.”

You smile, pressing your forehead firmer against his, nuzzling noses. “You love your family.”

“I love my family.” He sighs. He gives you one last kiss, soft, sweet, perfect. “Thank you for taking care of them.” 

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

God, you’re so quick and mind-bending, he has to go for another kiss, come the fuck on— “Mood’s dead.” You laugh, so cruel, jumping off the counter, maneuvering past Carmen, but you’re sweet— Cruel but sweet— Carefully switching his hold on your wrist to holding your hand, dragging him with you. 

You might be leaving the bathroom together, but Carmen’s pretty sure a part of him is going to stay there, like a ghost of a feeling, for the rest of time.

“Okay— Is everyone waiting to piss?” Is your first question, for the crowd awaiting you and Carmy outside the bathroom. Not strangers, though—Well, mostly not strangers. Richie, Syd, Fak, some guy that looks like Fak. There’s no way they all need to piss, there were three other bathrooms available, it's not like you were hogging. “Is fuckin’ anyone runnin’ bar right now?”

“Marcus is.” Syd answers, hurriedly, as she runs up on you, immediately enveloping you— Practically an attack. It’s not in her nature to hug, but you’ve forced her hand here. Carmen hasn’t even exited the doorway behind you yet before you’re stumbling back into him from the force of her. 

“Squ—”

The words come out of her like a flood, no spacing between the words. “I’m-sorry-I—  We-finished-serving-and-listened-in-on-everything-super-invasive-couldn’t-help-it— You should’ve called me.”

This— These motherfuckers. Oh well, saves you the trip to Denny’s. And frankly, you would hate to re-explain all that. You return the hug with your free hand, the other one still in Carmen’s. You put your chin on her shoulder. “I know.”

There were so many times where you could’ve just gone upstairs. So many times you could’ve just called your old cat. Should’ve just called Syd. She would have been there. Maybe that’s exactly why you didn’t call. 

“I should’ve called you.” Maybe that’s exactly why Syd never called her guy, when she needed you, too. 

“Well,” You pull her back by her shoulders, “We will next time.”

You can’t let the moment stay sincere for long though, shit-eating grin growing on your face, “You’d give up a star for me?” Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek as she desperately tries to get away from you now— Oh how the tables turn.

“Get fucked—” “You love me— I’m all you got, Syd? Woww—” “After my dad I said! After my dad!” “A single widdle tear from me isn’t worth a star?” “It was not widdle— Little— Fuck—”

“This is cute princesses but everyone get the fuck out of the way before I clog an artery.” Richie unnecessarily shoves his way between the Faks to get to you. 

You release Syd to face the man, pensive, waiting for a slap, honestly. Richie just looks at you, now that he’s in front of you he’s dumbfounded, awkward. He knows he wants to say something or wants you to say something but neither of you know what that is. What it should be.

Before he can figure it out, you do. “I should’ve told you.” Besides your therapist, Carmen is the only person you told about the phone call— Well, intentionally, that is. 

That doesn’t really seem to be the thing he cares about. He’s not going to slap you, and you don’t need to grovel. “Am I dead, to you?”

Your brows furrow, for a second. “Wha—”

Richie grabs your free hand, pressing it to his neck. “Check my pulse, am I dead, t’you?”

“First of all, wrong placement.” You have to wiggle your hand out of his grip to take his pulse correctly. “It’s under the chin, align it with your eye—”

“Do I have one?” “Yes, Richie, you have a pulse.” “So I’m not dead?” “You’re not dead—” “Then call me.”

When your breath hitches, he continues. “I’m not a ghost. I’m here. When shit happens, you call me.”

“I know.” Is the only thing you can say without your voice cracking. “I will call next time.”

“You will fucking call, next time.” Richie grabs your face, smushed in his hands. “And you’ll answer my calls, next time.” He forces you to nod— Not that you wouldn’t, but wants to make sure. “Am I heard?”

“You're heard.”

Richie can see over your head, so he barks at Carmen, who’s very innocently behind you, still holding your hand. “Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—”

“I don’t have weird little hands—” 

Syd pipes in, squinting. “Why is that the thing you refute—”

“Why does God let these moments happen to me?” You grumble, words muffled with your face still compacted by Richie’s hands. 

“I think it’s beautiful, actually.” Says some guy that looks like Fak. You just stare at him with your partially forced closed eyes. “Just the vibes, so— like— tender.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” You deadpan, pointing at Other Fak. “Has this guy just learned shit I haven’t even told my own father?”

“We definitely just got here.” Lies Fak, next to Other Fak. He continues, “We didn’t hear anything about the really sad way you both actually did attend the funeral but didn’t—”

Other Fak astutely interrupts to add, sniffing. “But if we did it’d be like, like really meaningful that you both like, did that.” Is he tearing up? Richie needs to check your pulse, are you dying?

“Everyone please back the fuck up?” Carmen sighs, behind you, then beside you, letting go of your hand to put it on your shoulder. “Like maybe give two solitary fuckin’ seconds?”

There’s a stuttering of apologies as everyone realizes yeah, maybe a bit much to immediately jump you. Richie drops your face, everyone takes a step back.

You keep staring at Other Fak. Squinting, you point to him. “Ted?” Guy who they called instead of you?

He nods, “Hi—”

“No.” You wave your hand in front of his face, cutting him off. You turn to Carmen, just shaking your head plainly. “No.”

“Heard.”

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?”

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

“Fak can— Neil can fix shit, I took his spot, it’s fair— Outsourcing someone though—?”

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It was— Should I have called you back in?”

“No, you should have had a broken light until we talked it out or let it be broken for the rest of your life.” There is not much you could ever find yourself getting genuinely jealous about— This, however, is a knife to the heart. Another handyman is a child out of wedlock, practically.

“Heard.”

“I spent way too long stalking you.” Interrupts Syd, she’s looking at her phone, a jumble of aggravated misspelled texts coming from the work group chat. “Fuck, I’ve gotta help Tina with clean up— We’ll—” She sticks a hand out, you reach out and hold it, for a moment. “You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?”

You tilt your head, confused, oh— “I’m still gonna sleep in our room, Syd. You weird pervert.”

Syd lets go of your hand, shaking her own hands around her head, talking just as fast as she speed walks away to the kitchen. “I am not a weird pervert, I’m sexually normal, don’t be weird, goodbye! Love you, fuck you, see you later!”

Richie claps his hands, “We’re closing out, so I’ve gotta go pick up vases or some shit— Faks, c’mon—”

“Y’know we’re just regular guests, right?” Says Ted. They let Fak come on the road trip despite not doing a job? Medals of Valor need to be doled out.

“Pbbt, come the fuck on, here boy.” Richie starts to walk off, and the whistling is condescending, but they listen anyway. Rich looks over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at Carmen. “Probationary forgiveness.”

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

Carmen’s relaxed posture immediately pulls into a taught physique, he’s considering chasing Richie to get more details. “Isn’t Sug here, too?”

“Yessir!”

“Have they—” “They got grouped at the same table. Unc and Stevie have been keepin’ the peace.” “How’s that going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine!” And with that Richie fades into the crowd of straggling guests and clean up crews. 

You don’t know much about Donna, which was a very intentional choice on Mikey’s part. And that kinda tells you all you need to know. You turn to Carmen, pensive. “You wanna go find out?”

He itches at his collar, thinking. “I think if I say I don’t, I’m a bad son.”

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

“Oh, fuck, okay.” He stumbles for a second, you immediately cover your mouth. 

“Sorry! I just—” Inside thought got outside. “I just meant— That was a lot. It’s just like, I dunno, you can’t be bad at something you never opted in for, y’know?”

“No, yeah, that— That’s kind of… a good thought.” He nods, looking at the ground, swallowing the words. “I— I should be a good brother—and—and Uncle, at least. Say hi to Nat.”

You don’t start walking until he starts walking, intent to follow his lead. You’ll stroll casually, until they crop up, making no deliberate effort to find them. You’re both silently hoping you don't. Carmen brings his head back up to you. “You ever meet Mom—? Donna?”

You shake your head, “No, that was kinda one of our few red lines. For Mikey and me. He’d like—” You gesture with your hands as you explain. “He’d talk about her, and I saw like… photos of them from babyhood, but I never met her or heard details— Never like, came over to the house. It was just kinda like a silent agreement. Hard for him and hard for me with the whole— Uh—”

“Drinking thing.”

You nod. “It’s uh— I’m not easily triggered anymore, though, so I think I’m fine.”

Carmen sniffs, scratching his nose. “Well, if you end up not being fine, we can not— Like not talk to her.”

He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s the cat. You nod. “You don’t have to talk to her either, y’know. Could just text Nat—” “She’s right there.”

You whip your head up in tandem with him saying, “Don’t look fas— Fuck.”

You put the back of your hand on Carm’s chest, you both stop walking. “That’s Dee-Dee?”

“Yeah, with the—the leopard print belt and the floral dress.” Carmen’s been growing meeker with each step. You’d think his biggest fear is clashing patterns. This is not the same bear in the Chicago Tribune. “Why, you— You do know her?”

“She looks fuckin’ familiar…” You kiss your teeth, trying to roll back in your memory— Come on, you don’t forget shit, where is she from? You’ve seen photos but those were blurry and she was so much younger. You remember this version of Donna, you remember her from somewhere.

“Fuckin’ — Something with Pete— I saw her with Pete— Nat’s husband—” You point to him, across from Donna, at the table. “Him, yeah.”

“Just them?” Carmen gently pulls your arm down, you’ve gotta remember your manners.

“Yeah, I was— Oh, I was—” You squint. “Did Donna come to your opening?”

“No, she was invited, but she didn’t show.”

“Okay— So, she did, actually.” “Huh—?”

“She was— She was outside, when you were in the walk-in.” You nod to yourself, still thinking through the memory. “Yeah, she was outside— I thought Pete was like her son— It looked like they were fighting or crying so I just kinda— Kinda let it be. You were locked in a fucking freezer so I chose my battles.”

“Oh.” Carmen nods, trying to make it seem normal in his head. It’s not. And he can’t seem to force it. “He definitely didn’t tell Nat.” Because Nat would’ve told him.

You hum, rocking on your heels. “Yeah there's no chance we're going to go say hi now, is there?”

“Yeah, that might be best.”

You fold your lips in a line, still staring at Donna, she looks normal, which makes it feel even less normal. Way too much to unpack, if you go over there. Instead, you’ll stand here in the middle of the banquet hall, and unpack the carry-on luggage, so to speak. “Christmas is in a week.”

It’s a freight train of realization, Carmen drags his hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

You frown, turning your head to him, not wanting to say what you’re going to say. “Do you think she’ll plan anything?” First Christmas without Mikey. Will she have the willpower to plan something, like she usually does?

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

Carmen holds his hand over his mouth, words somewhat muffled. “I’ll ask Nat, see what she’s doing. Baby’s first Christmas, or whatever. That’s a thing, right?”

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—”

Despite staring at their table, the two of you did not notice Natalie approaching you, baby Michaela swaddled in her arms. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen normal human beings that aren’t screaming or shitting constantly in so long— Please— Say something normal and fun.”

You pucker your lips, trying to come up with something. “Ah— Fuck, I can’t think of anything— Oh fuck, sorry I said fuck— God— I’m just gonna stop talking.”

Nat lifts her hand up for a moment to wave you off before re-supporting her baby. “No! No, don’t! Say fuck so much. Say it all the time. She can’t understand, she doesn’t care. I wish I was her.”

“Will do.” You just nod, holding a hand up to Michaela, waving. She grabs one of your fingers, holding on tight. You can’t help but coo. “Hey, baby! Have you been fuckin’ with your mom’s sleep schedule? Awe, yes you have! Yes you have!”

Nat laughs and hums, “Richie told me you used to babysit Eva.” 

“He’s exaggerating.” You leave your hand with Michaela, but look up to Nat. “There were just some weekends he was working and daycare wasn’t running so I’d take her around the city for a couple hours— More like playdates than actual babysitting.”

“That just sounds like you’re a fun babysitter.” Carmen rebukes, Nat nods. 

“I’m good when you only need a second.” You sigh, half taking the compliment. You glance over Nat’s fatigued face. “You need a second?”

“Yes, fuck, could you?” In the same breath, she’s handing you baby Michaela. “She has in fact been fucking with mommy’s sleep schedule— And no one tells you— ‘mommy strength’ or whatever, needs to be developed— My lats— I think they’re lats? Are insane now. Just from holding her!”

You bounce the baby in your arms, sidling her on your hip. She’s a grabber, that’s for sure. Grabbing your hair, your top, Mikey’s chip— No longer tucked under your clothes. You let her. Well— Not the hair— She could cut off her circulation— Relax, EMS. You’re off duty. “How’s it going with—”

Nat knows what you’re asking before you finish the question. “Better than normal, which makes it feel worse. Does that make sense?”

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

Carmen’s staring at Pete. He’s not typically a snitch but this is his sister, “Did Pete tell you—?”

“That mom was there on our fucking opening and he told her we were having a baby? Yes, about five minutes before she sat down.” Nat says it with a perfectly practiced smile and a simmering anger.

Your hands slip just slightly, you readjust your grip on Mickey. You and Carmen speak together, “He what?” 

Nat doesn't mean to ignore your both but she does, “How'd you find out?”

“I just told him.” You pipe up, guilt covers your face. “I saw them when I came that night. Sorry, I didn't realize that was your mom— Or husband, for that matter.”

Sug shakes her head, waving off the apology. “Not your fault, his.”

“Yeah.” Carmen nods, “Back to that, by the way?”

“Yeah, he realized it was kind of a hard lie to uphold— Because mom sucks at acting surprised.” She sighs, “She’s taking it well publicly but I’m expecting a full blown meltdown in the bathroom of which I can’t escape, so. Beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah, those are kind of unavoidable.” You just had one yourself. “Fingers crossed you make it out alive?”

“Oh, I’m making it the fuck out, it’s her you should pray for.”

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.”

“I didn’t ask to be her daughter! If she hands it to me I’m handing it fucking back—” Nat’s brain is always running like a faucet, she cuts off her own thoughts with a new one. “Christmas is in a week.”

“We know.”

“Fuck me.” She sighs so hard it blows strands of hair out of her face. “What the fuck are we gonna do, Carmy?”

“Was gonna ask you.” Carm’s distracting himself with Michaela, she reaches for his hand, she doesn’t grab a finger, she traces his tattoos. God, babies are cute sometimes. “Can we figure it out later?”

“Yeah, like everything else we do, I guess.” Sug groans. But she just as equally doesn’t want to think about it as him. And honestly, she’s just happy to see him acting like a fucking uncle for once.  “Tony, will I see you at work on Monday? You’re onboarding, right?”

You don’t notice the way Carmen’s face stones up, like a secret has been revealed. He’s been preparing for you to say yes. He’s got that Docusign in his inbox, ready to send. Had Nat budget you in. But you don’t seem to be upset about it— Or maybe you just didn’t catch that Carmen selfishly was hoping you’d come right back to him. Maybe it’s just that you don’t think it’s selfish.

“Oh— Uh, yeah, I guess you will.” Michaela starts to smack you for not giving her attention for more than seven seconds. You turn your head to her, bouncing her again, “Pbbt—Pbbbt— Mat leave over?”

“Gonna need to be.” Nat laughs when she says it, like you’re both on some sort of inside joke. Yeah, The Bear’s kind of a nightmare, of course Nat’s always needed. You laugh back, though there wasn’t really a joke anywhere in there.

“Make sure you get your rest.” Sug scoops Michaela out of your arms, rejuvenated from her second of peace. “Your boss is kind of an ass.”

Unfair drive-by, Carmen waves a hand like a white flag, “Alright—”

“I know, I like him anyways.” “Gross.” “I know, it sucks.”

“Okay, okay,” It’s way too obvious how happy Nat is that her brother has someone. “Both of you get the fuck out of here before she sees you, I told her you’d be too busy in the kitchen to say hi.”

She knows her brother, and Carmen’s grateful for it, but, “Are you sure? I can—” 

“I love you, Bear.” Nat gives him a kiss on the cheek, and you a quick hug. “But fucking run, seriously.”

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

You quickly dash off together, blending into crowds to go unnoticed. Mumbling plans out as you sprint. “I’ve gotta help Marcus close out the bar.”

“I’ve gotta pack up our equipment.” “You’re on the fifth floor too, right?” “Yeah, you’re rooming with Syd?” “Yeah, you and Richie?”

“I got my own room.” “Okay, rich boy.” “I— It’s a fuckin’ Holiday Inn, it’s not that bad—” “Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?”

“Oh?” You practically skirt on your heels when you suddenly stop walking, “He’s bold now—”

“I— That’s not— Like we—” He can’t dig himself out of this one, and his darting eyeline is giving him away. “You told Syd you’d still sleep in your room— I just meant like— Like we could— hang out.”

“We could hang out?” “Stop—” “I’d love to hang out, dude.” “We can watch a movie or somethin’—”

You gasp, thought occurring to you. “Yeah, let’s watch a movie. I wanna watch a movie.”

“I don’t like the look that just happened in your eyes.” 

“Yes, you do.” Your turn to smush Carmen’s face in your hands, kissing him with a comical, all too wet, and in no way seductive muah—

Which somehow just makes it all the more entrancing, for him.  “Yes, I do.”

You smile, letting him go, splitting off from Carmy in favour of your bar. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, go be a good boss.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“How are they not seeing him fuck up the soup— That— A whole pot—” “You’re literally saying exactly what Remy is saying right now—” “I— Good. I’m still mad about the five star thing.”

Carmen likes Ratatouille. Likes it enough to nitpick. He relates to the weird rat with a complex family dynamic and having a brother that means well but fucks with him so much. He relates to the no credit, the starving, the death and desire of feeding the ego, Carmen relates to feeling like a freak in his own kitchen. 

It is weird to feel seen by a rat. 

But it’s nice to have you in his room, in his bed, watching some dinky little red-head try to survive in a French kitchen. It’s nice to occasionally watch you instead, out of the corner of his eye. He thought of roughly… fourteen more recipes since leaving the bathroom with you? Who would’ve thought that watching someone use a makeup cleansing balm would be inspiring?

What? It melted beautifully. Or maybe you’re just beautiful? Whatever. You emulsified it in your hands. Emulsion? Coconut emulsion would be interesting; very similar creme texture. On top of a souffle? Delicate. But it still needs zip. The glitter from your eyeshadow makes him think of zesting. Lemon zest. Needs more scent, though. Oh, maybe Kaffir limes. That’s a weird dish. That’s never gonna work. He has to get better at subtracting around you. 

He’s doing pretty good at not saying I love you, though, so, that’s something. 

“The houndstooth pants are cute.” You hum, as Linguini finally kisses Collette— Though by a rat’s volition. A win is a win. You lean into Carmen’s side, watching the movie pirated on his laptop, because hotel tv pay-per-view was so overpriced for no reason. “Oh, fuck, what’s my uniform gonna be?”

“Chef whites, no?” His arm is around your shoulder, it’s nice. “I can get you a jacket—”

“Well, your servers wear black— And I’m gonna be like, like both right?” You turn your head to him. Bad idea. He’s still very pretty, if not prettier in pajamas. “Like, making drinks in the back and then acting as somme out front. So all black?”

“Hm.” Carmen tries not to frown. Tries not to see you wearing black as you being on the other team. “I guess.”

“Richie’s not getting me in a fuckin’ button up, though.” You don’t notice his expression’s minute faltering, crossing your arms, thinking. “Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants, could do what fuckin— Linguini’s doin—”

You point at the screen. “The bright red converse? Could do all black and then bright blue converse? Would that be cute or is that deeply unprofessional?”

Carmen tilts his head back and forth, trying to let you down easy, “I wouldn’t call it deeply unpr—”

“Heard. Okay, maybe like— Like a red bottom heel—” You kick your foot up in the air, for no real reason. A shoe isn’t suddenly going to appear on it for display. “Like not actual ones, duh— Like a black boot and I paint the sole blue—” 

“What’s with you and blue?” He's deeply amused, or maybe that's just Carmen's constant state, right now, twirling his fingers through your hair without a care in the world.

“It’s like, Bear colours. You do blue. Aprons, baskets— I guess I’m thinking of The Beef, but like, your lighting is kinda blue.” You shrug. “I wanna match.”

He nods, eyes on the movie, thinking far too much— Well, for the average person. For Carmy it’s a perfectly normal amount of thinking. “All black, blue sole, blue earrings, maybe? White apron for when you’re in the back?” 

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything.

“Yeah, that’s a cute look. As long as it’s easy to take off.” You hum. “Oh, y’know, Richie wanted to—” 

Speak of the Devil, and he shall call you for the fifth fucking time. “Fuckin— Pause it, hold on—”

Carmen pauses the wonderful rat chef in tandem with you answering the phone with, “I’m not fuckin’ comin’ to pool, Cousin!”

In one ear, out the other. “Fuck you! When are you getting here?” 

“I am not getting out of bed to play pool— A game I have not played— With a bunch of fuckin—”

“If you’re not down here in five minutes, Chip, on God—” “I’m gonna fuckin’ hang up again you motherfucker—” “And what? You’ll just answer again, won’t you?”

Richie’s tone gives him away. He’s giggling, bubbly, absolutely tanked on dirty shirleys. But there’s a very genuine joy to it. You’ve answered his stupid meaningless calls every time, the last four times, despite knowing they are in fact, stupid and meaningless. And that is rife with meaning. 

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Yeah. I’ll answer.”

“Good.” You can hear his smile mirrored through the phone. “Sell your Greyhound ticket to Fak.”

“Bitch, fuck no—” “We can go aroun’ the city tommorow! We’re closed! C’mon have some fuckin’ fun before you start working in hell!” “We’re gonna be stupid New York tourists?” “Eva wanted me to get her face on some m and m’s—” “You want me to come with you to the fucking Time Square M and M store?”

That’s when Carmen shoots up, shoulder against yours, panickedly muttering into the phone, “We cannot go to Time Square a week out from Christmas.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When you realize why there’s a pause, you shut your eyes tight, knowing exactly what you’re gonna get. Carmen realizes after watching your face scrunch up, he puts his face in his hands, “Shit—”

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

“No—” “You said you’re in bed! His bed?!” “We’re watching Ratatouille—” “Without me? You’re coming to the fucking M and M store— Also that big ass toy store—” “This is not a betrayal—” “Matter of fact, we’re gonna go see that big fuckin’ tree, too—” “You just want me to drive us home because you’re gonna be too hungover.”

“No, I want you to drive us home because I love you.” Richie’s slurring when he says it, like it’s some sort of gotcha. “So fuck you, actually.”

Carmen bites back laughter next to you, you just shake your head, tutting. “I love you, too, Cousin.”

“If you loved me you’d come play pool.” “I don’t fuckin’ know how to play pool!” “We’ll fuckin’ learn you somethin’ then!” “Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.” 

“You’ll come?”

You massage your brow bone, “Syd’s not gonna wanna sit next to Fak on the bus, you got room for four?”

“Yeah, but someone’s gonna have to sit on the console.” “I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.”

Carmen, now with two votes to sit on the console up front, presses his face into your shoulder. “What the fuck—” You peer down at him and whisper, “We’ll do shifts, don’t worry.”

“Put me on speaker phone.” “You’re talking so loud that Carmen can very clearly hear you.”

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

You put Richie on speaker phone. Carmen clears his throat, gruff, “Yo, Rich, can we finish the fuckin’ movie?”

“Patience is a virtue, or some shit. D’you see the resos?”

You mouth to Carmen, ‘Reservations?’ Carmen nods. “Yeah, I saw.”

“Gonna be fucked.” You frown when you hear that, but don’t want to interrupt. You silently word, ‘What happened?’ Carmen puts a finger over his mouth, he’ll explain in a second. 

“Gonna be fucked, yeah.” Carmen sniffs, swiping at his nose. “Good kind, though.”

“Yeah. Good kind.” There’s a sigh from Richie on the other end, that heavy sigh. Practically sobering up with just one sentence. “Christmas is in a week.”

“I know.” Carmen kisses his teeth. This is going to be the worst, for all of you. The missing link is going to be all too apparent.  “Good time to be busy.” 

“Good time to be busy.” Richie echoes. “Only way out is through.”

“Heard.” Carmen nods, what else is there to say? “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aright. Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo—” 

That’s when you interrupt, “Alright, what a wonderful phone call this has been goodbye, fuck you, love you, don’t call again, be safe!” You hang up before Richie can reply, head flopping over.

There’s a long silence before Carmen speaks again. “...I’m not tryna do that by the way—”

“No, I know, I’m worth more than a Holiday Inn.”

Snorts of laughter fill the stale air of this shitty little Holiday Inn one bed. Carmen pulls you back into him, arm on your waist. Before you can start the movie again, though, you have to ask. “Reservations fucked?”

He hums, tucking your hair back so he can see the side of your face better. “We started taking reservations last week— Just to test it out. N’ it was goin’ smooth but ‘tuh…” He squints. “Trending today with the whole uh— Chef thing. We’re kinda booked full ‘til the end of the year. And January.”

“Oh shit.” Word on the street is true. Any advertising is good advertising. Even when promoting the wrong fucking website. 

“Yeah, good kinda fucked, but like. Fucked.” Carmy nods, and after a second, grabs your hand. “But Christmas— Christmas Eve ‘n Christmas is off— And New Years— So, so you won’t be overwhelmed, hopefully.”

Your brain is already shooting miles ahead, you’re mentally back in Chicago, already. “We really gotta get on that cocktail menu.” There’s so much to do. New job, new menu, Christmas—

“And coffee.” Carmen sounds calm when he says it, which is deeply unlike him.

“And coffee.” You echo, eyes distant. You shoot back up. “Fuck, road trip is gonna be such a time sink. Okay— Well, okay— We’ll just— I’ll make a list tonight—”

 You’ve gotta figure out your hours. You don’t want to lose Chicago’s Kindest completely— Can’t be available 24/7 anymore, though. Mattina Tony’s gonna hate that. But he’ll be happy for you. Gotta tell Eden’s Club you’re not going to pick up shifts anymore. They’ll say they’re happy about it, but curse you behind your back. That’s fine. 

“List for what?”

“Christmas shopping.” Your eyes flick to him, still thinking. “I win Christmas every year.”

You’re getting Richie new cufflinks— But what of? Can’t just do initials, that’s lame. Fuck, what do you get Carmen? Can’t just do something cooking related— That’s lamer. But it’s also like— His only hobby.

“Don’t think that’s how Christmas works.”

“It fully is. And being in Time Square is gonna widen the fuck out of my search radius. Fuck what do I do for Syd? Fancy knife? They sell fancy knives here?”

Carmen shrugs, “I know a guy in the area.”

“Fantastic. I’ll get a list, you’ll help me out with stores. We’ll get coloured pencils at FAO, we’ll draft up a rough menu on the way home—” “Hey—” “It’s twelve hours of driving, so I think we can get a good chunk done. And then test out and finish on Monday—” “Baby—” “I was thinking we could do a section of house cocktails and coffees named after Chefs—” “I said don’t work on it—” “So like, each one would be themed after what I think of when I think of you—” 

Carmen grabs your face with both hands. “Tony.”

“Carmy.”

“Cannot believe I’m saying this to another person, but loosen your grip.” He strokes your cheekbones with his thumb. It’s nice. “You don’t have to do it all.”

It's a long silence of just staring back at him, so much so Carmy’s worried he has failed at this whole self-help thing. But then, you say, “Sara’s a good fucking therapist.”

“She’s got a pretty flexible schedule, too.”

Your face is still in his hands, you’re basically unblinking. “I think you’re a pink pepper aperol spritz with a slice of grapefruit. Maybe like a cherry syrup rim? Or is that too much? That might be too much.”

Carmen sighs in a way that sounds like a laugh. “How many drinks have you made in your head?”

“Just that one. But I think Richie would be something with whiskey and peaches— And somethin’ about Syd makes me think about figs, I don’t know why, which would go good with—”

Carm pinches your cheek, frowning, though there’s an admiration to it. “I said don’t work on it.” 

You push his hands away, “I haven’t written anything down! I can’t stop my brain from thinking! How many fuckin’ plates do you have in your head?”

He thinks, tilting his head back and forth. “A couple.” It’s a lot more than a couple. “They’re all bad, though.” 

“Bad, how?” 

“Bad, like weird.” Carmen gestures to the dimming screen of his laptop. You shake the touchpad awake. Rat chef is inspiring, and a good reminder of what he's meant to do, as are you. “It’s uh, it’s a good movie. It’s good to make new shit. But like, I need to be controlled.”

You tilt your head, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” Despite the fact that you’re disagreeing with him, there’s a happy hum, in Carmen’s voice.

“No. I think we should make really bad weird shit. At least in like, R and D.” You lean back down, against him. “Gotta try it before you brush off the idea. That’s the fun thing about art, y’know? Might work, might not.”

“I think that’s life.”

“Life is art, art is life, food is both.” 

“Woah.” “That was kind of a bar, wasn’t it!?” “Kinda tough.” “What’s your bad weird idea?”

“Steak with pop rocks.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes go wide, but with a smile. Shocked but delighted. It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. You lean into him further, back of your hand slapping his chest. 

“I know, but I was thinking the sugar would be good—”

“Like a sort of maple or sugar curing thing?” God, you just get it. And you give a shit about getting it.

“Exactly, n’ then it makes you like— Like salivate.” “I don’t think it’s that crazy an idea.”

He’s so excited to have someone encourage his ideas, for once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod assuredly. “We should do it. Try it, at least.”

“Okay. Cool.” Carmen tries and fails to not light up at the prospect of ‘we’. “You’ve still got a hard out at twelve?”

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” You unpause the movie. “And she’s gonna be pissed when I tell her I’ve volunteered us for a tourist spree, so I gotta be on her good side.”

Carmen shrugs, turning his attention back to the movie, arm around your shoulder. “It’ll be fun, if you’re there.”

It gives you both away.

Every sentence gives you both away. The way you speak, the way you act, the way you pose. It gives you both away. The way he moves your hair out of your face so you can see the movie clearly. The way you lift your head so he can tuck his arm under the pillow, so it doesn’t go numb under you. All without asking. The way you see each other, the way you are constantly doting and thinking of the next thing you can make the other—All without checking in. The Berf shirt you wear for pajamas, your refilled toiletries in his hotel shower. The domesticity comes all too easy to both of you. It gives you both away.

“Remy kinda sounds like Carmy, y’know—” “Don’t.” “My petit chef!”

You say I love you in every way but the way that makes it weird and bad and stupid and too soon. 

“Good God.” Is the first thing Sydney says, when you return to your shared hotel room. Face and voice filled with disgust, that is really only half sarcastic. “You’re beyond saving.”

You push past her, bumping shoulders as you do, smiling all the while. It’s nice that she can see you again. Even if she’s seeing that you’re down bad. “I didn’t even say anything—”

“Yeah, no, it’s that face on your face— God, it’s over—” “Baby, just say you’re happy for me.”

“I—” Syd blinks, rapid, hands in the air. “I’m happy for you— Tentatively.” Pending Carmen. Probationary forgiveness. 

“Thank you. I’ll take it.” You squat down to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge, when you do, you’re able to give Syd a once over.

She’s adorned in an old jazz club shirt from your highschool, boxers, and a long bonnet so old you recognize it. You recognize all of it. It’s nearly enough to make you cry. 

Funny, she’s thinking the same thing. Together, you speak. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

“Triple Jinx!” It’s on the third one that you decide to let her win and not say it a fourth time. 

It’s on the fourth one that Syd decides she doesn’t want to win. “Quadr— Man, this sucks.”

You know exactly what she means. You fall out of your squat, sitting on your butt with a frown. “It literally would’ve just taken one phone call.” You could’ve been doing this for years.

She sits down next to you, back against the front of the bed. “There were a lot of moments, where I thought to call you, honestly.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like uhm—” Syd’s face scrunches up her face, she’s already opened her mouth so she has to tell you, but she’s realizing she probably shouldn’t tell you. “There was this fucked day at The Beef, where we set up online orders, and I forgot to tick off pre-order—”

You unscrew the bottle cap, squinting. “I feel like that should automatically be off.” 

“That’s what I’m fucking saying!” She slaps your knee with the back of her hand, “But uh, no it was fucking on— And we got like— Like fucked— Said that already. Hundreds of orders. And it was so much and and— Richie was, at the time, kind of a dick—” 

“You don’t have to mince, I know what he was.” You take a sip of water, nodding. He’s a work in progress, as are you all.

“He was being a bitch and— And— I might’ve maybe lowkey stabbed him.”

“Holy fuck?!” You have to laugh, out of sheer shock. You choke on your water. “Syd?!”

“It— Swear to God—” Syd raises one hand, and puts the other over her heart. “Was an accident. Like— Like I was saying I would, and also I was like—  Thinking about it— But I didn’t mean to actually do it— Like he walked into it—”

“Jesus Christ, Manslaughter Sydney—!” “No! …A little. On occasion.”

“You ever wanna stab Carmy?” “Oh, all the fucking time.”

“Fair.” You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. You see each other, you take care of each other, without being asked. 

“And after a brutal stabbing—” “It was barely a graze, to his ass.” “—You thought to call me?”

“Yeah. You’re like. I dunno. I—” She sighs, taking a beat. “I’ve heard people talk about like— When they’re in a life or death scenario, or panicking, their first thought is like ‘I gotta call my mom’.” Syd clutches onto the water bottle like it’s a life preserver. “But I like— Like I don’t have that instinct, duh, dead mom club— But like, like my instinct when I’m scared is to call you.”

“You should’ve.” You want to take her hand, but don’t. Still working on that hesitation. You’ll both get there.

“You should’ve, too.” Syd lightly punches your knee. She tucks her lips in a line, thinking. “I would’ve been there.”

“I think I kinda got stuck in the same thought Mikey had, with Carmen.” You prop your knee up, hugging it to you. “Didn’t wanna drag you down with me. Didn’t want you to know I— That I’m not really uhm— That I’m not all that great.”

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water. In a good way. She continues. “I didn’t ask you to be my somme, either. I always thought you were cool. I would always think you’re cool.”

“I…” You clear your throat, controlling your micro-expressions poorly. “I— I know. I think I just… Always do too much? Like I do everything to make myself like— Needed.”

If they need you, they can’t leave you. Though, that didn’t really stop you two from growing apart, so there goes that theory. 

“You are needed.” Syd nearly rolls her eyes at you, but realizes that might be insensitive.

Syd could’ve called Terry, when the walk-in door broke. She called you. Syd could’ve called Claire— They’re not all that close, but she could’ve, when Nat went into labour. She called you. Syd could’ve called Fak, when Carmen’s oven broke. She called you. It’s insane that you’d ever think you weren’t her lifeline. 

But she clarifies anyway, “Not that— Not that you need to be needed though, for me to want you around.”

You snatch the water bottle from her. “Well, I know that now.”

“Good.”

You all but chug the water, God you’re dehydrated. Syd laughs, “It’s not gonna fucking run away from you.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” You grin, screwing the cap back on. Sniffing, you sober up a little. “We’re never not gonna be friends again.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Lest you go full on He Had it Comin’ on your fuckin’ co-workers again.”

She scoffs. “I promise to try to not stab someone in your presence.” 

“Deal.” You both laugh. You put your hand out to her, and without confirmation, do a handshake that must be more than a decade old. Dap, up-down, jellyfish out. Though, for your purposes, squid out. 

Incredible, you’ve hit Syd with love and nostalgia, she has to say yes now. “We’re roadtripping with Richie and Carmen instead of taking the Greyhound.”

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” “It will be fun—” “Define fun for me, right now—” “We can get Christmas shopping done—”

“Fuck. Christmas is in a week.” “I know!” 

Syd scrunches up her nose. “What do I get my dad?”

“Sounds like you need to do some window shopping.” You could probably recommend something if you thought about it for two more seconds, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to drag her along. “We could go to a Tiffany’s or something.”

“What and get him a locket?” “I’m honestly just naming stores, at this point.”

She’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. “...Could go to the MET, go through the gift shop. He’s a tchotchke guy.”

You hum, nodding. You can get her to fold. “Look at some expos, get some artistic inspiration?”

Syd’s eyes roll back, and she rolls her head back with them, head on the edge of the bed, in dismay. “...Are we doing gifts?” 

You shrug, “Was thinking I’d get you a little something.”

“So super over the top and extravagant?” “What’s the fun in telling?” “I hate you.” “So you’ll come?”

She sighs, husky. “Yeah…” She says it like she’s upset but you both know Syd is a little excited. 

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

A comfortable silence fills the room. You flop your back down on the floor, laying on the carpet. “Thank you for helping Carmy.”

“Didn’t do much.” Syd shrugs, lazily turning her head on the bed to you. “He just needs pushing, sometimes.”

You hum, nodding. “Well, thank you for pushing.”

“You’re so welcome, dude.” You both laugh, and after another long gap of silence, she kicks you. “Stop lying on the dirty ass hotel floor, we paid for a bed.” 

“There’s something about laying on the floor, man.” You shake your head. “Get down here. I can see the scope of the universe from down here, actually.”

With a profoundly deep sigh, Syd rolls over to you. Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles. “Oh yeah, secrets of the universe, right there.”

“I told you.” You nod, wisely. You frown. “...When do you think it’s like, too soon, to say ‘I love you’?”

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—” “Just answer!” “Definitely right now is too fucking soon!” “Well, yeah, I fuckin’ figured—!” “I’d say like, another month or two, minimum.”

“I think I might explode, by then, if I’m being honest.” You turn your head to her. “I’m really worried I’m gonna forget I haven’t already said it and I’m gonna say it at a stupid moment and it’s gonna be lame and embarrassing and bad.”

Syd turns her head to you. “Yeah, that’s probably what’s gonna happen.”

“Okay, so you’re no fuckin’ help.” You snort. 

“What do you want me to say? You love to the point of embarrassment.” She shrugs, smiling at your demise. But then Syd sobers up a little, turning her body to face you, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you sure, though?”

“I think so, yeah.” You cross your arms, nodding, assuring yourself, practically. “I feel what I think can only be described as emotionally violent— affectionately. And I think that’s what love is. Pretty sure.”

“Hm.” Syd watches you watch her. You’re absolutely getting lost in your own brain. She pokes the space between your eyebrows, you wake back up. “What’s in there?”

You blink, “Thinking of all the worst ways I could say it.” In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth.

“Okay, that sounds awful and unproductive so let’s go to bed, huh?” Syd grunts, sitting up. She reaches for your hand to help you stand up with her. “Just try saying it normal.”

You take a breath, looking her in the eyes, say it normal. “Love you.”

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

“Oh, so I can say it—” “In two months.”

“Wait, is one more month hard off the table now—” “Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!”

Just try to make it to next year without saying it, you’d take that happily. Just make it to Christmas. Okay, maybe just make it until you get back to Chicago…Maybe just take a vow of silence. 

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!”

wooooo

was it everything you expected? i hope so. or hope not? suspense and what not. i won't rant too much about it because i'm loopy from staring at my computer at work all day and then answering asks all night. but please send thoughts!!

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Next Part

[fanfiction4sooya]

Loophole (Sub g!p Nayeon x Sub F!R)

Just wrote this because the thought of subxsub was completely burning my mind and honestly what other bratty sub could be as good as Nayeon?

I really hope y'all like it 💖💖💖 (gonna open my requests this week, love y'all!!!)

Cw: +18, g!p Nayeon, sub x sub, jerking off, mutual masturbation, lots of spit, cum eating, sloppy makeout, little bit of oral, creampie, unprotected sex, lots of pleading, a little bit of dubcon, not really proofread.

Finding a community on the bdsm world wasn't something easy. You searched a lot to find out what you were looking for and when you finally found it, it was a blessing. You learned a lot, but the most important: you learned you were a sub. It meant a lot to you to finally embrace that, to enjoy being told what you could and couldn't do and of course all the other aspects of it.

You also made friends, met real people with the same desires as you. Nayeon and Jeongyeon were two of these friends. They weren't exactly a couple, but you knew they had a D/S situationship going on. You also learned how different one sub could be from one another, Nayeon being the perfect example of the complete opposite of you. She could be bratty and very stubborn when she wanted to, going against her dom in the most defying ways; you were obedient and tended to be quite naive, not really letting yourself think too much when it came to pleasure. You let that to your partner.

Well, you just happened to get caught in the middle of the two of them.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

"She went on a business trip and told me not to touch myself" She whined, laying on your bed like a starfish. "How am I supposed to be like this for two weeks?" She pouted while you had your back turned to her, putting on a big tshirt over your smaller frame, only panties beside the tshirt.

"Well, I think she probably trusts you enough to know you'll obey" You said, pulling two lollipops from your backpack and handing her one.

"I think she wants me to fail..." You smiled rolling your eyes, lollipop in your mouth. She sat down watching you suck on it while scrolling through tiktok, her eyes trailed on your pretty lips as it enveloped the candy.

First she felt her mouth water, this heat going down from her belly to her cock and making it stiffen. You mindlessly smiled at her, not realizing she didn't have some dull expression, but rather a predatory one. Her head slightly cocked to the side and that playful, naughty little smile forming on her pretty lips.

"She told me not to touch myself" nayeon said, sitting closer to you with her legs crossed.

"I think you told me that already" You kept your eyes on your phone, not really picking on what your friend was saying. She huffed, rolling her eyes and lowering your phone from your face.

"Would you please be a good friend and help me?" She pouted a little, smiling right after.

"W-what?" Your voice sounded strained. "What do you mean 'Help you'?" She bit her lower lip, stretching her body back to show you what exactly she was talking about.

Her cock had formed this huge imprint on her shorts, you could see it basically suffocating inside it. Of course you knew Nayeon had a dick, she liked bragging about how big it was but damn it... seeing it in real life was a whole new deal.

"Unnie..." You gulped, doe eyes staring up at her. "I don't think Jeongyeon will like that" She squeaked out a frustrated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"But I am not breaking any rules!" Nayeon said, grabbing your hand and putting it over her clothed cock. "Do you think I can live like this for ten more days?" She shivered when you palmed it ever so lightly.

"I-think it's going to be very uhm..." You were going to say hard but that would not sound good. "D-Difficult" You felt your panties dampening, moving your hand with a bit more force and making her close her eyes.

"Just jerk me off, please" She said a bit out of breath, unbuttoning her shorts and pulling her hard cock out. It was leaking so much precum you wondered if she came already. "Let me use your hand sugar, please..." She moaned, forcing your hand to hold her cock; not really forcing, you just let her do it.

Her cock was big and warm and you felt yourself clench when she bucked her hips for the first time, biting back a moan. Nayeon closed her eyes, tossing her head back to open her pretty lips; you felt hypnotized, not knowing where to look at: her expression or her huge cock fucking your hand.

"feels t-too good" she slurred. "More, please" You didn't know what to do, nor what to say to her. You were conflicted, not really knowing what your next step should be. As she fucked your hand her eyes went back to that lollipop inside your mouth, pulling it out and tossing it out of the way of her tongue.

You two kissed, not really caring for teeth clashing or spit, very sloppy and wet, moaning against each others lips as she bucked her hips even harder against your hand.

"let me help you too" she said panting against your lips as her big hand found her way to your own panties, making you mewl. "lord, you are so wet" She moaned, rubbing your clit.

It was a beautiful, sinful sight. You jerking her off as she rubbed your clit, bucking your hips against her hand, nearly screaming against each others lips to try and satisfy that hunger you two had for each other's touch.

"please let me cum" You cried out, asking completely out of habit. Nayeon nodded, closing her eyes.

"gonna cum too-oh my fucking god" She fucked your hand harder, biting your lower lip as she spilled her hot seed on your hand and clothed tummy, your cum coating her fingers too as she kept rubbing your pussy up and down.

You two kept kissing, licking each other's faces in an obscene display of contentement. Your clit kept pulsing inside your panties as you brought your hand to your lips, licking off her cum and she did the same.

"I don't think it was enough..." She said, giving her furiously red cock a look. "Let me fuck you, please" She pushed you onto your mattress, already pushing your knees apart.

"unnie, we can't. Jeongyeon ..." you tried to say but she was out of her mind, already pulling your panties to the side.

"just the tip baby, please" She cried out, her cheeks pink and her lips completely puffy because of your little makeout session. You pushed her but she wouldn't move for anything. "I need you, please don't let me hanging like this" She pleaded.

"j-just the tip" you breathlessly agreed and she smiled, Nayeon loved getting everything her way.

She stared at your pussy for a moment and moaned loud and clear, spitting on her cock and jerking off a bit. You shivered, watching her eyes darken when her cock touched your warm pussy for the first time.

She tossed her head back as her fat tip already felt so good inside you. She scratched your thighs and you bit the back of your hand when she shallowly thrusted upwards, clenching on her throbbing dick. She lowered her body to kiss you and you two went back to the sloppiest makeout session ever as you scratched her back.

"let me put it all in baby" she cried out, her eyes closed.

You nodded your head no, not really understanding why. It just felt wrong doing all that but it felt so good.

Nayeon grabbed both your hands and pinned them to the sides of your head, easing her whole length inside. You both screamed, your kisses getting messier by the second, a mix of screams, spit and tears from both of you.

She pounded relentlessly inside of you, the wet sounds being muffled only by the two of you moaning, screaming each other's names. You couldn't tell which one was shaking harder and actually you didn't wanted to know, the only thing you wanted was to not stop.

"unnie I'm gonna cum" you screamed out, your vision blurred by the tears and the pleasure.

"me too, fuck fuck fuck" she said through gritted teeth, not stopping when she felt you squirting all over lower half, pounding harder and harder until her balls were empty and your pussy dripping her seed.

She kept humping, saying incoherent things against your neck as she suddenly took it off of you to lower her face to your cunt to eat you out, licking her cum and yours until you passed out due to the force of the first and second orgasm.

She was out of her mind, cleaning you until she drank all of your mixed juices, going up to spit them back into your mouth.

You two kept that for what felt like hours, making out until your jaw hurt. When you finally were able to breathe you realized how screwed she was.

"jeongyeon is gonna punish you so badly" you said, feeling her heavy cock resting against your thigh.

"No she won't, she told me not to touch myself" Her naughty tone was evident. "She never told me anything about getting help" She sighed, feeling your warm body with her hands.

"I don't know if that's fair..." Your obedient little mind couldn't keep up with her brattiness.

"Fair or not, pretty girl..." She kissed you again, humping your thigh. "Let's call it a loophole..."

[starb3rrys]

I just saw Sleeping Together Hcs and AHGZICZGFI, so I'd like to request a part 2 with Jouno and anyone else you like to add if you want to. Bc the first is SOOO CUTEEEE >.<

Hello!! Ah- I am so happy to hear you found my "When Night Falls" Hc's cute. I would be delighted to write your request, hope you enjoy!!

✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮

When Night Falls ✩Part 2✩

Ft. Jouno, Dazai, Fyodor || Part One

✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮

Jouno

Sleeping with Jouno is honestly pretty complex.

Considering Jouno's senses are heightened, I do believe he gets sensory overload when he sleeps with someone else or something he doesn't recognize.

Things like your hair touching his chest, your quiet snoring, the heat radiating off your body can make him feel overwhelmed.

Taking that into consideration, Jouno isn't much of a cuddly person.

He doesn't want to make it seem as if he doesn't love you or like having you around.

Hence why rather than a full cuddle, he just places his arm or leg on or around you.

Its like a way to reassure you he's here and wants to be near you while not being overwhelmed by the feeling yk?

He is honestly a pretty peaceful sleeper, although sadly- he is a very light sleeper.

Meaning any sound, or movement makes him either wake up or alert. (Your light snoring kept him up the first time y'all slept together, but now its like a white noise, weirdly comforting to him now).

Good luck trying to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night.

"Where are you going?"

"Uh- The bathroom?"

"Hm...alright, try not to pee so loud--It keeps me up."

"HOW CAN I CONTROL THAT?!"

Dazai

Sleeping with Dazai is comfortable.

Despite what people may think of Dazai, he isn't overly clingy.

Sure, there are nights when he just wants to be smothered in love and affection but it's usually once every blue moon.

He respects the fact you both need space and hates the feeling of being overwhelmed in a situation that is supposed to be comfy and delicate.

Between you two, its much less cuddling and more of just holding each other.

Lose hands rest on your body as quiet snores fill the room, you both lay in bed enjoying each others presence. (Nothing too tight or restricting).

Dazai tends to always be the one holding rather than being held.

He likes being able to let go or scoot away if the heat gets too overwhelming or adjust if he feels uncomfortable in his current sleeping position.

Dazai is a pretty heavy sleeper, you could really sneak out of bed at night and he would just continue snoring.

In addition, he tends to move around quite a bit; rolling over, scooting away, shifting around- etc.

"Sorry, its getting a bit hot let me just...there we go."

"Dazai- this is the fourth time you've moved."

"OKAY! I promise this is the last time."

"..."

"I have to pee-."

Fyodor

Sleeping with Fyodor was honestly a whole process.

Firstly, you had to practically beg and attempt to convince him to even consider sleeping in the same bed with you at least for one night. (He's such a bitch. I love him.)

Listen- He may love you, but it will take a while to actually get him to be vulnerable around you, especially being unconscious around you.

Once you get past the 4 month long process, we get to the actual good stuff.

The first night you two slept together, Fyodor stayed on his side of the bed, not really moving nor cuddling you--just kinda there. (It was really awkward)

But over time--after realizing that you really mean no harm and just want to sleep next to him--he will actually start to relax and allow himself to be vulnerable.

Fyodor is a very light sleeper as well as a quiet sleeper, rarely ever shifts around.

Once he chooses a sleeping position for the night, he sticks to it.

Fyodor is an occasional cuddler, to be more precise, he only cuddles when he needs to warm up.

Warmth is a big thing for Fyodor, considering he is Anemic, cuddles and warm covers help him alleviate and rest better.

Your warmth helps keep his cold body heated which he appreciates greatly and sees as an advantage.

Although, if the heat from your body and the covers becomes too much, he will quickly move away from you and sleep on his side of the bed.

The next morning, make sure he gets up SLOWLY! or he will fall over and crack his neck.

"So, how did you sleep last night?"

"It was...quite pleasant, although your warmth mixed with the covers warmth got me a bit overheated."

"Is that why you nearly kicked me out of bed?-"

✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮꙳ 𓂃 𓂂𓏸✮

These Head-cannons are so cute, I love being able to write things like these!! Honestly, I was searching up cuddling positions just for the funnies :) I asked my friend for help since I had huge writers block- (ILY) Anyways, Love ya! <3

[retroellie]

Have you thought about something to twisted games but reader reveals that noone has ever went down on her and darl wants to be the first and only one to do it?

Summary: Daryl is surprised to hear you had never been gone down on... He wants that changed immediately

A/N: I've been dead again I know, but y'all I'm in college now, and lemme tell you... I'm so tired of writing essays :( i needed a break from them and college life so have this :) also, the gif looks goofy as hell... it's the first time I've made a gif on my laptop lmao

Warnings: Cunnilingus, pussy-eating, fingering, some dirty talk

Word Count: 2.6K

It had been a lazy day today, at least as lazy as it could get in the apocalypse. You had woken up and helped out with gardening while Daryl went out on a small run with Michonne but then you had both met back at your shared home. You had come home first and you weren’t there long before you were in the shower. That’s where Daryl had caught you, he didn’t think you would mind if he joined you. It was an innocent shower. Surprisingly, Daryl helped wash your hair and he allowed you to wash his back gently as you didn’t want to hurt the scars lying there, as if they would hurt anymore.

The relationship was new, like 2 months. You guys were still finding things about each other, like his scars. You hadn’t known about his abusive childhood or the scars that reside on him, not everyone knew. You found out only a month ago when you guys first had sex, you had been underneath him, feeling him quite literally stretching you open. You had run your hands down his back and felt the raised scars, at first it didn’t register what had happened but you had suspicions. Then after, you were laying in bed watching him get dressed and that’s when you saw them.

You kept quiet about it, not wanting to upset him but you knew. So everything was just new to y’all, it was all so exciting and nerve-racking. After your shower, you both took a long much-needed nap. Daryl had his head buried in your chest as he literally laid on top of you. You loved how comfortable he had gotten with you, he was once cold towards you and would barely touch you or let you touch him. Now he was always on you and he always craved your touch.

When Daryl had woken up though he had gotten a little too needy, walking you up with kisses along your neck as he pressed his knee against your cunt. You had woken up pretty fast, the pleasure coursing through your body and making your body heat up. So now here y’all were, Daryl tongue fucking your mouth as you sleepily bucked your hips into his leg. It was pure heaven at that moment.

It all had been normal enough, nothing new simply because Daryl didn’t want to be too rough with you, especially after being so laid back all day but soon his kisses had trailed off down your neck. He made his way down your chest, then your stomach, then your thighs. You were quick to push him off, not trying to freak him out but you were confused as to why he had his face down there.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confusion reeked through your comment.

Daryl squinted his eyes at you, sitting back on his knees as he shared your confusion. He thought maybe you had been kidding or maybe you just didn’t want to do that right now, maybe you just wanted to dry hump him and then fall asleep once again.

“What does it look like I’m doing…” he chuckled, hands settling back on your thighs but he stayed sitting on his knees.

“I don’t know… that’s why I asked.” You threw back at him, it sounded mean but you were really just confused.

You hadn’t been with many people, you weren’t too experienced. Maybe 2 partners at least and one of them you only had sex once with. You didn’t know much about sex and honestly, Daryl taught you a lot within the month you guys had been going at it. He taught you how to position your mouth while giving a blow job so you don’t choke, how to roll your hips instead of bouncing yourself when riding someone, how to rub your clit teasingly while touching yourself because it makes you cum better and most importantly how to speak up in bed, demanding what you wanted and communicating that towards him. You knew what these things were, you just had to be taught it. But this… whatever Daryl was trying to do was new to you.

“Has no one ever gone down on ya before?” He asked, watching as your face contorted into more confusion as if that was possible. “Ya know, like ate you out?”

You shook your head, considering the fact you had never heard of these terms or had anyone face level with your cunt like Daryl had just done, you probably hadn’t. The thought made Daryl kind of upset, Daryl had remembered the first time you had openly admitted to having your first orgasm with him so he shouldn’t be surprised. In all honesty, he hasn’t been too big of a fan of your ex-boyfriend.

Daryl had met him, he was some college motherfucker who was still in his annoying “drunk college frat boy” era even at age 25. He was annoyed by him but so intrigued by you, he was intrigued by the fact you were with someone like that asshole. What upset him was how your ex-boyfriend used to fuck you, as creepy as it sounds, Daryl would listen to y’all. Not that he had much of a choice, you both had been neighbors to him in almost every location you had stayed in.

He could hear your fake pornographic moans as you pretended to cum, it was obvious but your boyfriend at the time only cared for himself. It was always the same position too, you had told Daryl this after y’all had gotten together. It was always super vanilla and you would never cum, ever. Daryl could tell your ex-boyfriend only cared for himself, in bed and out. That’s how he ended up dead in the first place, he ran off while you were stuck in a hoard only you had someone to save you… Daryl. He ended up getting caught by the hoard later on, but Daryl didn’t even think to go find him.

Daryl knew of your inexperience but this… this was simply unacceptable for him. The thought of you never getting eaten out, never having your pussy eaten out nice and right like you deserved, created a deep desire within him. He wanted to make you scream, wanted to edge you until you were begging to cum, he wanted to make sure his name was carved onto your tongue for the rest of your life but for now, on this lazy day, he was okay with just allowing you to slowly come undone on his tongue.

“Do ya trust me?” He asked, rubbing soft circles on your thighs as he spoke.

You did trust Daryl, with your entire life. It just made you nervous especially when you didn’t know what he was trying to do. There were so many things you didn’t know about yourself, your body was almost completely foreign to you so you weren’t sure what you liked quite yet. You did know you wanted Daryl to make you feel good and if he thought this was a way to do it, you would let him.

“Of course, I just don’t know what ‘going down on you’ means…” You stated, throwing up quotation marks with your hands as you quoted him. Daryl just chuckled, slightly pushing you down but it was more like he was guiding you to lay back down.

“If you stop talking and just let me show you…” he said, pecking your lips once more before he slowly once again kissed his way down your body. “Just trust me, that’s all I’m asking bunny… You know you can always just tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”

You let out a soft moan as he left soft love bites on your chest, leading them down to your core once more. You decided to just let him do what he needed, you knew if you ever felt uncomfortable Daryl would stop almost immediately. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, a bit embarrassed by his face being so close to your cunt, it felt more like a gynecologist visit than sex but you decided to let it get better.

Daryl trailed his kisses down to the inside of your thighs, kissing them one by one as he trailed higher and higher until his nose dug into your clothed pussy. He gasped as his nose hit your clit, swollen and soaked as he chuckled at your reaction. You threw your head back, biting your lip to hold back your moans, which honestly were quite embarrassing since he had yet to even touch you. Daryl sucked on the inside of your thigh, allowing you to feel his nose rub against you as he left a hickey.

He selfishly wanted to keep this moment going, wanted to tease you and see how even the littlest amount of touch made your toes curl. He decided to stop his teasing though because if he was honest, he felt eager to taste you. He kissed your love-bitten thighs once more before poking his head out from underneath you.

"Can I take these off?" He asked, hooking his finger underneath the band of your underwear.

You nodded your head, your eyes still on the ceiling as you were too embarrassed to look into his blue eyes. Daryl had noticed this, noticing your hands on your stomach as you scratched at it. In other words, Daryl could see you slowly going crazy at the feeling already.

"Hey, bunny..." He grinned, reaching up to grip your chin to look down at him. "It ain't gonna be fun if I can't see them pretty eyes..."

You managed to peel your eyes away from the ceiling and finally look at him as his hand rested on your chin. You smirked, murmuring a soft "sorry" as you watched him retract his hand and place it back on your thigh. He opened them slowly, as wide as you were comfortable with.

"Good girl... just stay like that for me hm..." He whispered out, his hot breath against your clothed cunt.

He smirked up at you, hooking his hand underneath your underwear before sliding them down your legs. He was soft with it, running his hand along your leg as he took them off so slowly you thought you were cum just then. You watched his every move with wide eyes, watching him get back into the position he was before. He could've warmed you up but he couldn't handle it anymore, so he dove in.

He was soft with it at first, and the kitten licked your clit as he rubbed up and down your slit. This action made you want to close your legs subconsciously, the action so sudden and quick your body tried to reject this foreign feeling. Daryl kept your thighs open though, one hand on your thigh as the other massaged your slit. You moaned softly, having a hard time making eye contact with him.

You knew right off the bat this was going to be a problem for you, you knew you would not be able to look at his lips or tongue the same anymore. You knew he would be kissing those lips more than he would your actual lips, but Daryl was completely okay with that. Daryl continued his soft actions until he felt you would go insane if he didn't speed up.

He slowly started licking up your slit, teasing your opening with his finger and sometimes sticking his tongue in just to hear the high-pitched moan you would make. Daryl made sure he didn't miss a single spot of your cunt, making sure he was licking up every single drip of you and allowing it to rest on his tongue as he tasted the sweetness of it. He couldn't explain how good you tasted to him, it was as though he was starving for so long and he finally got a taste of the sweet food he's been missing out on for his entire life. It was addictive.

"Fuck... Daryl..." You moaned out, your voice box already giving out as you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the sheets.

Daryl just smiled at your reaction and decided it was the perfect time to shove his 2 fingers in you. He knew you would not be able to last very long, and he was okay with that for now, obviously, he would definitely work your tolerance up to it soon enough but now he was okay with being your first. Daryl wanted to make sure you would never forget this moment like he did with anything when it came to pleasuring you. He wanted to make sure if a younger or more handsome dude came around, you would know who fucked you the best.

Daryl started a slow pattern on your clit, soft kisses followed by kitten licks and then sucking on it before he would slowly rub it with his thumb. It was a crazy pattern, very sporadic, but it was his way of trial and error, seeing which technique made your toes curl the most. So far, you seemed to really like when he sucked on it softly so he made sure to do that the most. He continued his abuse, feeling your walls close against his fingers as it became harder and harder to finger fuck you.

"Fu... dar... I'm... c...fuc..." You could literally not get a single word out of your mouth before a moan would hit you.

Your toes were curled, your mouth agape as you're back arched up until your head was thrown back into the pillows. Daryl started to push his fingers in and out of you at a medium speed, not wanting to overwhelm you too much, and his mouth began to suck softly on your clit. He could tell you were on the edge when your moans turned to screams, feeling your walls tighten even more.

The tight coil in your stomach finally snapped, cumming onto Daryl's fingers with a scream as you shook violently. Your thighs wanted to close around his head but Daryl kept them wide open. daryl fucked and sucked you through your orgasm, feeling your walls contract against his long fingers as you're juices flowed down them. You couldn't stop moving, you're squirming became unbearable and that's when Daryl decided to stop his movements.

He pulled his fingers out of you, stuffing them in his mouth. You watched him in amazement, a new sheet of arousal dripping from your swollen cunt. Daryl made his way back up to you, seeing how sweaty you had become. Daryl smiled down at you with his soaked face, holding himself above you. He popped his fingers out of his mouth before leaning down to kiss you.

You could taste yourself on his lips, it was almost nauseating as everything became too much for you. You ran a hand through his hair, pulling it slightly as you melted into the kiss. Daryl had to physically pull you away from him so you could breathe, he loved how needy you had become. You were so unsure of it at first and now you had fallen in love with it, fallen in love with him even more as he was the one who opened you up to it.

"You liked it huh?" He spoke, pushing some hair out of your face as it stuck to your sweaty forehead. You nodded aggressively, "liked" was an understatement. "Knew my bunny would... Do you need anything, hun?" He asked, slightly concerned at your rapid heartbeat.

You just bite your lip, pulling him into another kiss before pushing him down by his shoulders. He knew what you wanted, he knew you wanted him to go down on you again and he wasn't the one to turn that down.

"Needy little thing huh?" He chuckled as he kissed down your body once more.

"Less talking and more going down on me" You joked back, watching him place himself back in the position he once was in.

"don't gotta tell me twice darlin," He grinned up at you before diving back in. 

[wonton4rang]

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i love u 3000 ¡!

pairing: sungho x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, fluff, some angst maybe, kissing.

summary: short scenarios of firsts with sungho.

note: this will be a series!! hope u all enjoy<33 find the others here as i make them (woonhak and sungho done)

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first encounter: idk if it would be at a cafe or at the gym but I'll go for the cafe because i feel like he would be too into his workout to actually pay attention to his surroundings and see you. so he'd be thinking what to order, looking up at the menu while he stood in the line, you were in front of him and he didn't even see your face but the way you smelled and the way your voice said "i want a caramel macchiato, please, with no sugar" was enough for him to feel as if the sweetness you opted out surrounded him instead and he melt right into it, following you with his eyes when you left the line and yours meeting his when everyone kept telling him to move forward in the line. he finally came to his senses and you laughed at his little blush due to the shame. you can know for sure he would ask to sit with you and launch a conversation about how he zoned out before, ending with your number in his pocket, wrote down on a paper tissue and a huge smile in his face while he walked down the street.

first time he realises he's in love; honestly he knew from the beginning that he liked you, the way he would look for you in his contact list just to see your profile picture setting him up, even if it was the same one. he would even "mistakenly" call you at least twice a week just so he could hear your voice and ultimately your laugh when you said "was this really a mistake, sungho-ssi" and he just went silent before you added "you can call me if you wanna talk, i don't mind" bet. cause he would call you everyday just to ask how you were doing and if there was anything that you may need so he could get it for you. the first day you guys went out was when he finally realized he kinda liked you a little bit more than he expected, looking at you with such a lover eyes that the old people passing by your side kept saying "he loves you so much, don't break his heart". an indirect confession i guess.

how would he confess; kinda obvious (at least for me) but he is wearing the best clothes on his closet, his hair done perfectly, that soft perfume you loved all over his body and that smile on his face only growing bigger when he handed you the bucket of flowers, "what is this, sungho?" , "i would like to ask you out, if you let me. i promise to make you nothing but happy if you allow me" it sounded like a marriage proposal but that's just how serious he was. you said yes, why would you say no? it was sungho and his pretty foxy eyes waiting for your response, the boy who never had an excuse when you needed him and the one who cared for you the most, y'all already looked like you were dating to begin with so now it was just official!!

officially dating w sungho; something i know for sure is that he is such a domestic boyfriend :(( you could find him helping out with the chores at YOUR apartment, doing the dishes and even the laundry while you slept during the morning. he would hold your hand at any moment, hug you while walking on the streets during winter time even if it was uncomfortable, tell you how grateful he was by having you. he would remember all your anniversaries and bring you flowers each time, every time being a different one just so he could tell you the meaning and how much he loved you and hoped for more anniversaries to come. i think he'd also be the type to introduce you to his friends and his family as he sees your relationship as a long-term one.

first kiss; idk why i feel it'd happen at one of your guy's house, like, you are laying down on bed, just cuddling and talking your day, your head resting on his chest and his arm hugging you, giving you the warmth the weather lacked. you were so comfortable with him that even looking up and being so close was not awkward, that's why you did it when he went silent for a few seconds.

"what are you thinking about?" you would mumble and he lowered his eyes to meet yours, making you blush when he just smiled a little bit before saying:

"you"

"i am right here, what were you thinking?"

"about how cute you are, how much i love you and how lucky of man i am to have you and had met you in this life"

"honey... i love you too" you softly giggled and he blushed after saying all that cheesy stuff, you removing the hand from his face and matching his eyes, feeling his breath hitch when his eyes dropped to your lips.

and he really didn't have to ask, he just leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours, you both closing your eyes and shifting in the bed so he was on top of you, between your legs while he softly caressed your cheeks, staying like that for a little while before pulling out and looking into each other's eyes, gosh you guys are so in love :(

first time he wanted to do more than just a peck; it would happen during a movie night, you always got together at your place to wach a movie or a short serie on fridays, buying some junk food when neither you or sungho wanted to cook. you would sit in your couch, your leg between sungho's and one of his hands on your thigh while you payed attention to whatever was playing on the tv, but when you constantly feel him moving below your leg, his hand making some pressure in the uncovered flesh of your thigh, you had to look at him.

"everything good, babe?"

"yes... i'm just... you know"

"no, i don't" you said, pausing the tv and removing your leg from his lap so you could sit properly and look at him. "is something going on?" he just denied with his head but by the way he lowered his head, his cheeks flushed and his hands held that cushion in front of his pants you knew what was going on. "can i kiss you then?" his eyes met yours again. "i wanna kiss you"

but sungho really didn't want to seem like a pervert right now so he would try to say no just to end up with you straddled on his lap, kissing him with hunger and circling your hips on his erection, his tongue would get into your mouth and he'll take control from then on, his hands guiding the pace and movement of your hips by holding down on them. a few moans would escape his lips and tbh he couldn't be more ashamed to be making out w u for the first time due to a boner. but oh well, it was not going to be the last time either.

first time meeting your family; when i say "sungho domestic boyfriend" I mean it!! he would be so excited to finally meet your parents, you met his a few months ago so he couldn't wait to meet the people who gave birth to the love of his life :( he would bring food and help your mom cook it, asking about your childhood and making a few jokes when your mom got too emotional about you being all grown up. i feel like your dad would love him even if they don't have much to talk about, he would see his good intentions and the kind and lovely vibe he gave would make both of your parents love him sm !! i can personally see him calling your mom every mother's day, and your dad too on every father's day, sending them flowers and a present for their birthdays too. he is just such a family boy to me ;(

first time w sungho; when i pictured this i almost got an overdose of sugar fr fr. he would be so loving, so caring, so soft about it, i don't even see him using dirty talk (at least not for the first time). he would worship your body so much that it would make you feel shy yet so good you couldn't explain the mixture of feelings, his kisses would be long and wet, his hips rocking against yours during missionary (because yes, he would fuck you in missionary 99% of the time) and his hands holding your wrists pinned down to the bed on each side of your bed. "you look so pretty, y/n, you feel so good" would be something he would say when he left your lips for a second, looking into your eyes before smiling a little bit about how into you he was (pun intended). he would also be the type to softly moan in your ear and intertwine his fingers with yours while fucking you so good :(( and i also see him using his tongue to make you shiver, could be by kissing you or by playing with your ear.

overall, sungho is a good boy, he is mature and very loving, he seeks honesty and stability so if he ever falls for you, have in mind that he would like to be with you for as long as he can. he is a funny person too, making jokes to enlighten the mood when needed but also knows when to remain silent. his mood wouldn't have huge swings and i don't think he would be one to argue or be jealous. (he could get jealous tho but he'll let you know about it before it gets uncomfortable)

commitment wise he is a 10/10, his full attention is on you when you need him, i think he wouldn't cheat and he is such a lover boy :') but he would expect the same back so if you lack he would feel a little sad too.

so if you are looking for a long-term, marriage oriented and responsible, respectful, honest yet funny relationship, sungho is definitely your pick !!

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also, can we talk about those pictures of him???? he looks so pretty, dazzling, cute yet hot asf?? make it make sense, he can't be a gym bro and look that good 😭😭

[juniefruit]

☆- biker bf minho -☆

y'all, happy almost friday. winter gloominess is kicking my butt fr. p.s, I like motorcycles, so this is totally not self indulgent...

word count: 946

Before you met, he was closed off and not really all that personable. His friends pestered him about it, too. He would never go back to living like that, though. Just looking at you brings a smile to his face without him realising it. Has he gone soft? Just for you. One thing he loves you for is that you understand his humor. He’s naturally sarcastic and witty. He can let his guard down around you and truly be himself. He knows when it’s time to joke around, or when to just chill out and take it easy.

Bonus points if you have a bike of your own, he would eat that up. Like, you get to go on little motorcycle adventures together? Sign him up. He loves when you can ride side by side looking cool af. 

Granted, he also loves having you on the back of his bike. He tries to act like having your arms wrapped around his waist doesn't affect him, but of course it does. He’s a sucker for physical touch, perhaps even touch starved before you started dating. When he has to speed up and he can feel your arms tighten… he has got to stay focused on the road. 

He looks absolutely godly in his tight leather riding gear. The jacket hugs his torso and shoulders just right, and the pants… (redacted)

If you have your own gear already, cool. If you don’t, he would love to go shopping with you to find something. It has to be perfect (his own words), because safety is the most important thing. 

So there’s this thing called a Cardo, but there's other brands too. It’s like a bluetooth speaker you can put inside your helmet, it can play music or act as a microphone. He got you one immediately. He couldn’t wait for Christmas, or Valentines, or your birthday. He’s too impatient for that. He enthusiastically ran up to you one day, with the box in his hand. For you!! He exclaimed. He helped you set it up, and afterwards, to test it out, he insisted you try talking through it in separate rooms. He was all smiles and giggles for the rest of the day. 

He’s not big on PDA, but he’s fine with holding hands or wrapping his around your waist in crowded spaces. Also, he definitely puts his hand on your lower back when he has to squeeze by or grab something near you, muttering a small ‘excuse me babe’. 

When you’re riding seperately, he will try to annoy you through the intercom. He’ll spew dad jokes, or honestly just make random noises. Until he figures out you muted him and he gets whiny and upset. You pull up to a stop light when he flips up his visor hastily. “Yah! y/nnie, did you mute me? What if I had something suuuper important to say?” 

Even though you constantly tell him to be careful… He knows his limits. As a biker, it’s in his blood to do at least a couple risky things a week. Whether it was a dare, or just to show off, he will pop a wheelie on the road. A couple times a month, he meets up with his other biker friends just to hang out. At first, you were intimidated. I mean, being surrounded by 8 biker dudes doesn’t sound too inviting. Minho promised they were nice, or at least some of them tried to be. He begged and whined, promising to take your share of cleaning the house for a week. When you finally complied, it really only took about 15 minutes but to Minho it felt excruciating. Minho gave you a soul crushing hug while repeating thank-you’s for a good while. Lucky for you, they were actually quite nice, but they take some getting used to. 

He definitely custom ordered sticker packs of his cats to plaster onto his helmet. He was so ecstatic when they came in the mail, and he spent the rest of the day showing off his newly decorated helmet to you. 

He definitely sends you funny videos or selfies of him in his gear while he’s out. He’s a victim of “helmet confidence”. Meaning, as long as nobody knows who he is, he’s 100% doing funny weird shit. It fuels something in him when he sees you flustered or embarrassed, it’s just a part of his nature. 

Motorcycles do require a bit of regular maintenance (if you want them to run properly) and over the years, Minho has learned how to do repairs on his bike at home. It’s cheaper than always going to the shop. He’s well versed in what his bike needs. He’s always offering up his help for your own bike. On bright spring days, the garage to your condo is pulled up, and the bikes are parked in the driveway. The bright green leaves are practically glowing as they shimmer against the blue sky. Minho’s got on a tank top and shorts; with a few tools by his side. When he calls you over, it’s because he made the executive decision to show you how to fix this one specific thing he’s working on.  You lean in close to him. His teaching voice is soft but firm as he’s always checking to see if you’re still paying attention. You’re more so paying attention to the way his biceps ripple when he moves, or the tiny sweat droplets forming on his brow. 

I would like to think that his motorcycle would be all black with a few mint/teal accents. It’s a sports bike, something along the lines of a Ninja or GSXR.

If you like drabbles like this, check out my masterlist :3

[himexyandere]

Leaves Fall Just Like Us

Pairing: Yandere Male!Spider x Female!Reader 

Word count: 1750

Content Warning(s): Possessive behavior, manipulation, drugging (via venom), nonconsensual groping, slight mindbreak 

A/N: So this is my first post on this separate, yandere-centered blog, I hope y'all like it! 💗 (Also, our ML's name is pronounced like "rain")

You weren’t sure how or even when you managed to get yourself lost in a mansion, which you originally assumed to be abandoned. That assumption of yours was swiftly proven false as you noted that no part of the mansion looked neglected. Aged, yes, but there were hardly any specks of dust to be found.

In contrast to the cleanliness of the place, there were spiderwebs in almost every corner, nook, and cranny that you’d laid your eyes on. The afternoon sun illuminated most of the space, but you could tell that based on the burnt oranges and light pinks decorating the marble floors, the light was fleeting and wouldn’t last for much longer. 

You had to leave—now. 

As soon as that singular thought crossed your mind, you began to backtrack immediately, feet seemingly on autopilot. You didn’t make it three steps back before you ran into something solid, eliciting a surprised-sounding grunt from whatever you’d collided with. Ignoring the fear sirens blaring in your mind, you whipped around without a second thought, only to come face-to-face (or more like face-to-chest) with a human. Or at least, that was what you would’ve liked to say—

Your eyes scaled the figure, just barely flitting to the side as inhuman appendages flooded your peripherals, continuing upward until you were gazing into the eyes—multiple pairs of eyes—of what you assumed to be a man-spider...? You were screaming before you knew it, which caused the humanoid spider’s eyes (all eight of them) to widen as he raised his arms surrenderingly, dropping a book he had been clutching onto in the process. 

“Please, don’t be afraid!” He rushed to calm your fright while attempting to make himself look as disarming as possible; which, of course, wasn’t an easy feat as he was an intimidating height equipped with six pedipalps sprouting from his back and chelicerae framing his face. “I mean you no harm, I swear!” 

“W-who—” Was all you could manage to say in response as your body trembled of its own accord. 

The man-spider gave you a little smile then took a small step back to give you some more space. That didn’t really help, though, because now you could see just how tall he really was. For the most part, he was built like a normal, human man — if it weren’t for the obvious spider-esque parts, of course.

“My name is Raigne,” The man before you canted his head a little to the side. “May I ask what your name is, my guest?” 

“[Your Name]...” You offered him your name without a second thought, leading you to wonder if it was out of politeness(?) or innate fear. Perhaps it was a mixture of both? 

Then, as if you’d only remembered where you were and that you were indeed an active participant in this conversation, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at Raigne. 

“Wait, ‘guest’..?” He’d referred to you as “his guest” mere moments ago, but getting over the bizarreness of the situation was difficult, admittedly.  

“Well, yes, you are in my home. That makes you my guest, doesn’t it?” The smile on Raigne’s face widened a touch. “Though it appears we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, dear [Your Name]. Tell me, how did you end up here?” 

Honestly, you were just as confused as he was. You remembered traveling with a group of explorers to find abandoned structures for an ongoing research project the lot of you were participating in, only to end up in this unfamiliar place. You were alone and there were no signs of your group. At one point, you tried writing it off as a convoluted dream until you came to realize that pinching yourself did not result in you waking up. 

After racking your brain for a suitable answer to give the man, whose home you’d unknowingly intruded into, you eventually came up with nothing. “I… Don’t remember…” You felt bad, but you didn’t want to lie. 

Fortunately, Raigne was pretty understanding and instead offered you a sympathetic smile. 

“That’s perfectly alright, I’m sure the answer you’re looking for will come with enough time,” He said before bending at the waist to pick up the book he’d dropped. “In the meantime, would you mind coming with me, [Your Name]? Regardless of how you got here, I would still like to treat you as a guest, if you don’t mind.” 

As apprehensive as you were to trust a complete stranger, (never mind the fact that he was, well… A spider) you didn’t see any other choice at the time being. After a few moments, you gave him a nod and a hesitant smile. 

“S-sorry, thank you for having me, Raigne…” 

The smile returned to Raigne’s face, wider than before in a way that seemed unnatural, accentuating his chelicerae. 

“Please, it is my pleasure, [Your Name].”

You’re unsure of how much time you’ve spent with Raigne. Days? Weeks? Months? At this point, it very well could have been years, but you had no way of knowing, nor did you really care to. He provided you with a room, clothes, food, and entertainment — what more could you ask for?

Being with Raigne was a pleasant experience as well, once you overcame your initial fear of him. He was polite and accommodating, on top of understanding. He knew how scary spiders could be, so he took the time to ease your worries by reassuring you with some spider facts. 

“Most male spiders don’t bite, nor do they produce much venom, so you’ll never have to worry about that!” Was what he told you in response to you asking if he was a venomous spider.

His answer brought you a sense of relief, and you noticeably began to relax around him afterward. Not only was Raigne a gracious host, he was also an interesting person overall to conversate with and you found yourself enjoying his company quite a bit. 

As you sat with Raigne in his study enjoying a cup of coffee and chatting idly, your gaze was drawn outside the window behind him as the movement from a falling brown leaf caught your attention. 

“Huh… Looks like it’s gonna be autumn soon.” You remarked as you swirled your finger around the rim of your now-empty cup. 

Raigne stopped talking and followed your gaze out the window, staring in silence as the frequency of falling leaves increased. His odd shift in behavior should’ve been the first sign that Raigne was feeling… Off. 

After your conversation, Raigne quickly retired to his room with the excuse of “feeling a little under the weather”, and shut his door without another word. It couldn’t have been something you said, right? Your conversation up until that point was light, amicable… So what the heck was up with him? You figured you could wait until later to ask him, since now seemed to be a bad time. 

Later that night, after getting ready for bed, you decided to go back to Raigne’s room and check on him. 

“Raigne? Are you in there?” You called out softly after knocking on his door twice. 

No response. 

You pressed your ear to the door, only to realize that it was already open. You pushed your way in, worry clouding your senses as you scanned the dark room. You’d only been inside Raigne’s room a handful of times before this, but for some reason, it was a little more… Foreboding during the night. 

“Raigne..?” You tried calling him again as you stepped fully into the room, looking around the spacious area to find him. 

A soft click sounded from behind you, but it was already too late. 

Before you could even think to turn around, you were wrapped up in a familiar pair of arms and pedipalps, holding you rigidly in place until you felt a pair of fangs sinking into your neck. Then came the injection of an unidentified fluid—venom, you presumed, even in your stunned state. Who else could it be but Raigne clutching your body, back flushed with his chest as he bit you?

“I’m sorry, [Your Name],” Were the first words out of his mouth once he was through with the envenomation, followed along by a low chuckle. “You’re sweet, did you know that? A little too trusting as well… But that’s what I love about you.”

Raigne then nuzzled into the crook of your neck, right next to the spot where he’d sunk his pincers into you not mere seconds ago. 

“W-why, d’you…” Your question was slurred and delirious-sounding, which only made Raigne coo at you in the same affectionate way one would do to a cute, struggling kitten. 

“Hmm? Do you mean to ask why I’m biting you when I told you that male spiders typically don’t?” You couldn’t even nod, but he seemed to know that he’d hit the nail on the head. 

“Well, my dear, I did tell you that most male spiders don’t bite… I never said that I didn’t,” Raigne chuckled again, still nuzzling against you. “Oh, and about the venom… It isn’t lethal, don’t worry. Why in the world would I want a dead bride? I’m a spider, not a specter~” 

As he continued speaking, the frequency of his nuzzling increased, and you still found yourself unable to move a muscle. Your entire body was paralyzed. 

“Did you know? Autumn is the mating season for most spiders,” Raigne’s unoccupied hands began to wonder then, starting from your shoulders and trailing down to your breasts. “I was wondering how I should court you... I truly apologize for not doing it properly, but I really could not help myself!” 

He bent down closer to whisper in your ear, as if his words were much too sacred to be spoken aloud, “You are so alluring… I’m surprised by how uncouth I am behaving because of how much I want you.” 

His words took on a somewhat warbly tone, entering into a raspy, dreamy-like pitch. It didn’t help that he was still groping you, hands eager and thorough in their exploration of your chest. In his mind, he had all the time in the world to do so, after all — and it wasn’t like you would be going anywhere anytime soon, what with his pedipalps still holding you and his venom in your blood.

Raigne fully intended to make you his bride.

Once that thought crossed your hazy mind, the idea of freedom slowly slipped away until you could think of nothing else...

[yandere-sins]

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you. 

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Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either... 

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥