#cheesy ending is cheesy

[twilight-zoned-out]

Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?

The first scene of the Doctor Who Special:

#:D #[ID: The Fourteenth Doctor looking tired in front of a green screen of space \End ID] #it's still just as cheesy and silly as it was during 10's run #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #the image looks like something a fan would make tbh #the only very jarring part of the budget was how nice quality the camera was throughout the episode #I kind of wish it was a little less crisp because it made everything look a bit off in a way #but I also haven't watched 13's run so maybe it's not as stark of a jump as it felt for me #10 especially always felt very fuzzy and warm in terms of camera quality #tenth doctor #the star beast #twilight-zoned-out #doctor who spoilers #dw #dw spoilers

[sukunasweetheart]

Thinking of breakup angst with sukuna...

Thinking of the build up towards it, the way you have been fighting over the littlest things for months now

It leads you to think about how self centered he can be, how you always feel like you loved him more than he loved you and how crushing it felt to have that realisation fall upon you every time

He can be so career focused sometimes, with the long business trips, work parties, etc. always working vehemently to get higher, threatening to leave you behind

And one particular night, the argument gets so heated that you dont get a wink of sleep afterwards, only staring blankly at nothing as you try to calm the chaos in your head. Sukuna heads out without a word the next morning, and you make the final decision in your head, alone, by yourself.

By the time sukuna comes back home with the intent of reconciliation, he finds that youre packing the remainder of your belongings into a suitcase in the bedroom, ready to move out of his home.

"what the fuck is all this?" he asks, his tone coming out harsher than he means it to be.

"what do you think? i'm breaking up with you. i'm moving out," you can barely stop your voice from wavering. you've cried too much this week.

"oh, come on. you know you don't mean that," he reaches out to grab your arm, but you withdraw away from his hand so fiercely that it even surprises him.

"don't you talk to me like that," you speak firmly, "like i'm being dramatic. why won't you ever treat me seriously? i am leaving, sukuna."

you continue your work, neatly folding up some of your shirts. you're already almost finished. he looks around, and the house looks half empty.

oh. you really mean it. you're really trying to leave.

"no, you're not. you're not leaving. not after everything we've been through together," he tells you defensively, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from folding your last shirt, trying to get you to look at him again.

"like what? constantly yelling at each other until our throats are sore? i'm really sick of it. and i'm sure you are, too."

"don't put words in my mouth. i may have gotten sick of our fighting, but i've never gotten sick of you," sukuna hisses, refusing to let you continue packing your things. you feel yourself getting swayed by his words.

"well, i am. i've gotten sick of you," you say quietly through gritted teeth.

"oh yeah? say it to me properly then. look at me dead in the eyes," he demands, voice getting lower.

"you heard me. i don't need to say it again." you pull away from his grip and try to get this last shirt folded. he grabs you again, by the hand this time, and the piece of clothing unravels once more.

"no, i didn't hear shit. convince me that you really want to leave me - and i'll let you go."

in a fit of anger, you turn to face him completely, but your resolve crumbles away when you see his expression. not the one you'd assigned to him in your own mind, but his true features, under the bright bedroom lights.

he looks serious. he looks concerned. he's asking you to tell him it's not true. tell him that you want to stay.

"...let me go. i'm leaving..." you say, voice finally breaking. like a broken faucet, your eyes begin leaking tears relentlessly and your throat closes up in that painful way that you hate, but nothing compares to the pain in your heart at the thought of really breaking up with this man here and now.

he lets you go...

and calmly takes your things out of the suitcase to put them back. you didn't miss the relief in his eyes that showed up for that split second.

"bring it back! i hate you," you attempt to raise your voice, but really, it's only just your ego speaking.

"you can't even say that you hate me in the correct tone. we're not breaking up," he mutters, hanging up your coats and putting them into the closet.

having been defeated, your legs give way and you sit down on the side of the bed, sobbing.

through the blur of your tears, you watch as he meticulously goes through your suitcase, putting everything where they belong. and you sob harder. he knows too much. he arranges your creams, perfumes and accessories in the perfect order on the dresser. he spends a good fifteen minutes, putting all of your belongings back where they should be.

and by the time he gets back to you, he's like a different man. the mattress dips from his weight as he sits next to you, bringing a box of tissues with him to wipe your tears away.

"we can talk tomorrow since we're both tired today," sukuna tells you as he dabs your eyes with the tissue, "i'll take the day off." you just sit still without responding. now that he mentioned it, the fatigue seems to fall upon you suddenly, like a brick. he coaxes you under the sheets.

soon, you find yourself in bed, in his arms. it's been a while since the two of you had cuddled so intimately. you feel oddly shy, the same way you did all those years ago when you first started dating him. there's a special kind of warmth that sukuna's body emits - and you're surrounded by it under these blankets.

"i'll try to do better... so don't go anywhere," he speaks with a softer tone.

because, it's true, he can't imagine living a life without you.

those are the last words you hear before you drift off to sleep.

the next morning, he's still in bed with you, and you're pleased to see he kept his word about taking the day off. checking the mirror, you're horrified and embarrassed about your swollen eyes from all the crying last night.

sukuna takes a look at you and chuckles without ill intent. but in your flustered state, you slap his arm until he's saying "my bad, my bad" in between laughs.

there's still some awkward tension between you and him, but going through breakfast together seems to melt some of that away, until you're ready to bring up yesterday's event.

it goes better than you'd expected, and after the discussion, the only thing that's left is to wait and see whether things will change for the better or not. whether his promises are empty or not.

"i didn't realise that you were so lonely. 'm sorry," he apologises as he plays with your hand, "i may work a lot, but you're always on my mind, doll."

it's like a huge weight off your shoulders.

and he begins to be more like his playful self again, after the talk.

"i'll need you to tell me that you love me today. since you told me you hated me yesterday," sukuna says with a smirk, hugging you from behind.

"well, you need to earn it," you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

"alright. will you say it back if i say it first?"

"sure."

"i love you."

"..."

"now that's not fair, is it?" he tickles you without mercy.

you burst out in laughter, thrashing around uncontrollably, trying to push him away.

"okay, okay! i love you!" you tell him in between breaths.

seemingly satisfied, he lets you go and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. he'll never let you go.

the following day after work, sukuna comes home earlier than usual, and he doesn't wear a grumpy expression in front of you. he greets you with a hug and kiss. it's a small gesture, but it makes you happy.

and slowly, the relationship begins to rekindle itself.

#crazyy how everything changes overnightt hahaha #blame it on the power of communication #my sensitive ass cant handle breakups or prolonged conflict so i had to make it cheesy at the end sorryy #maybe one day i'll be able to post proper heartbreak haha #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #soft sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[heartbreakprincewille]

Also the montage of all the wilmon scenes? Broke me. Absolutely broke me. How far they have come. What they had was SO beautiful and I am so glad that they got to cherish it.

#young royals #yr s3 spoilers #and i will defend this ending till the end of my life #they DESERVE a cheesy ending after all the anguish they faced in two seasons #literally I'm a sucker for sad endings but this earned its happy ending since its first scene

[hualian]

Hua Cheng's "secret technique" to dice throwing 🎲🦋 | Heaven Official’s Blessing S2 Ep4

San Lang once said “If my luck could be of any help, you can just take it all”, and sometimes love is lending someone all of your luck T.T

#tgcf #tgcf spoilers #hualian #xie lian #hua cheng #san lang #tgcfedit #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #mxtx #mxtxnet #mine #tgcf: gifs #gifs: donghua #tgcf season 2 #tgcf donghua #caption is so cheesy but I love hualian so much #and so ends the dice/gamblers den scene T.T #you delivered so well I will forever love you gamblers den

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

#cw self harm #self harm #guess who’s still on a brainwashed!soap kick! #the ending of wall-e but make it ghoap #you know when walle resets & eve brings all of his stuff he showed her at the beginning of the movie and its the song that brought him back? #fun fact i dont actually like callbacks all that much #i think they can be cheesy and kind of shoehorned #and unless its done a decent amount of time after the initial thing it can feel rushed and inauthentic #but im all over them when it comes to amnesia aus #its the ‘im with you til the end of the line’ effect #but the reversal of ghost finding so much comfort and safety in his mask #being confronted by soap whos been forced into one against his will to strip him of his autonomy and humanity #it makes me froth at the mouth i swear #muzzles in general make me feral #i am not immune to the dog analogies #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod fic

[theflikchic]

Making the Collector's pronouns he/they was a stroke of genius. Because not only is it obvious (at least to me) for his species of godlike beings to be mostly genderless, but they set it up so that King called him "they" first to let the audience know a) how close he and the Collector are and b) that the audience was aware of that pronoun. Thus, at the end, when Luz says "They're leaving!" about the Collector and all the characters say goodbye, it makes perfect sense that all of the characters would say and do this in-universe, but we can tell out of universe that the line "they're leaving" actually means all of us and that we're being waved goodbye to.

They/them are some powerful words.

#the owl house spoilers #the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #toh series finale #toh s3 spoilers #watching and dreaming #i love good writing #what a good way to do the ending without feeling cheesy LIKE #owl house spoilers #owl house s3

[all-made-of-stardust]

okay but here’s why I actually straight up started crying towards the end there.

when the Hells first arrived in Uthodern, the atmosphere was fear.  the city was dark.  temples were closing their doors.  the center for knowledge, where so many people came for answers, did not have knowledge.  did not have answers.  people were scared.  scared that they couldn’t find help, scared that they couldn’t reach out to loved ones, ask if they are okay.

and suddenly, within their very walls, within their homes, a horrible beast sprouted forth from the heart of the city.  there was death, there was destruction.  there was despair.  because if their own home wasn’t safe, then nowhere was.

the darkness was winning.

then a woman with purple hair and odd markings spoke into the captain of the guard’s mind and told him that things were better.  things were okay.  and he believed her.  because what else could he do but to cling to hope?

because that’s what the Hells brought with them, as this terrifying celestial beast that once brought death now steps out, wearing a peach bow, surrounded by the radiance and light that the city so sorely needed.  he is guarded by such an odd group, but they all exude calm.  there is a small gnome wearing a pink handknit sweater riding on its back.

they guide this noble, beautiful beast through an entire city, and the whole time they are showcasing to everyone that the darkness is not winning.  not now.  not while there is still hope kindling in our hearts.  not while ancient beasts can once again see the stars.

the world may be ending, but it hasn’t ended yet.

not if Bells Hells can help it.

#cr spoilers #umudara the sentinel beast #umudara #critical role #bells hells #i have a lot of emotions about this scene okay #aabria is right it was such a nice metaphor #i was reminded of that scene towards the end of Children of Men #where all the fighting and all the death stops for one blessed moment #because there is a child #because there is hope #as someone who eternally considers herself a dogged optimist #even in times of absolute heartache and sorrow #i know the absolute bulwark that hope can be #it's cheesy and silly and absolutely ridiculous #but the power of friendship truly can be the most magical thing in the world

[lionfission]

Happy one year Anne-iversary to the end of Amphibia!

A fantastic finale to an unforgettable show. I'll always remember watching "The Hardest Thing" at 2 am with my siblings and crying my eyes out :'))

#Amphibia #amphibia fanart #marcy wu #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #my art #... I actually watched it in January while waiting for the next Owl House episode to come out so it still feels fresh lol #kinda cheesy but I was reading some interviews with Matt on the finale and how it references other media and it struck me #Shows like these don't just die when they end... they live on through their impact and influence on everything that follows it #Imagine what the next generation of writers and animators will make!! I'm sad it's over but also so hyped for what comes next #I'm so happy to be alive at the same time these kinds of stories are being told through animation #Whew okay rant over

[akiacia]

the things that come back

#akia art #olba #baxter ward #olba mc #more cheesy tastes 🤣 reconciliation or catharsis or smth #for context maggie did the (stay in touch and split 'amicably')! #ik the nuances are too granular to account for ingame but it would've been fun to see reflective dialogue from the mc :< #i find the interaction btwn culpability/agency in this dlc fascinating #baxter blames himself for everything out of self-hatred but also to control the situation in a way that gives it Knowable Dimensions #smth smth fearing the ocean bc there's a beginning but no foreseeable end #how fitting for him to feature in a game titled 'beginning and always' #hope i haven't totally bungled him tho LOL #back to goofy stuff now that i've gotten All This out of my system 🤣

[cursedvida]

“she… called my name”

that was the moment i was fully ready for this budding relationship

The best thing is that just moments before he had decided to leave her to fend for herself with the other humans despite Raka's protests, but he doesn't waste any time rushing to help her as soon as he sees her in trouble. He's a soft boy, too innocent and honorable to just walk away. Always in favor of dynamics that involve a nice guy with a problematic girl that ultimately becomes his downfall.

#but finally he’s actually the end of her #because good boys always melt iron hearts #lol i’m being cheesy but it’s ok #just was a har day in the work i need to rest #mae x noa #noa x mae #nomae #kotpota mae #kotpota noa #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota

[carmybears]

Assembly Required

or - The Inherent Eroticism of Swedish Furniture

This started as a joke and quickly spiraled out of hand

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: What's a new apartment without a trip to Ikea? Building Ikea furniture with Carmy and christening a new apartment

word count: 3.8K

warnings: explicit content, 18+; oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of carmy's gold chain, established relationship

There’s nothing quite as humbling as assembling Ikea furniture.

For such a young man, Carmy had already accomplished a lot more in his life than he ever really expected he would – not just graduating culinary school but excelling in it, working in some of the finest dining establishments in the world, winning a James Beard award, and reopening the family restaurant essentially from the ground up. But god help him if the assembly instructions for this Ingolf dining chair weren’t just going to get the best of him.

Over the course of the past several months, you and Carmy had been in the whirlwind process of moving in together. Deciding to get a place together was one of the easiest decisions he had made since returning to Chicago – he already essentially lived in your apartment, so it only made sense to find a place for the both of you when his lease was up. Apartment hunting had been something of a chore, and he shuddered to think of some of the places you’d seen in listings before stumbling across a shockingly spacious 1 bedroom with a decently renovated kitchen, a surprising amount of natural light, and a relatively easy commute to both the restaurant and your office.

House Hunters, eat your heart out.

As your move-in date came ever closer, every spare moment of your time together had become dedicated to preparing for the move. Many nights, the two of you had shared stories about your own respective days at work over piles of clothes to donate or cardboard boxes lined with packing paper and bubble wrap. Not exactly the sexiest of dates, but he knew that he’d have you all to himself before long.

The day of the actual move went surprisingly well, despite the long hours you’d spent moving boxes from one apartment to the other. Carmy already had very little stuff to actually move, and you’d talked him into hiring professional movers to take the furniture and heavier items to the new place. It left the two of you with plenty of time to methodically move from room to room, unpacking as many boxes as you could before absolutely running out of energy at the end of the day, collapsing on a hastily made bed. It was only at sunrise, when the light began to stream directly into Carmy’s eyes, that you realized you needed to buy curtains.

Well, you needed more than just curtains. In fact, you needed several pieces of furniture and had planned to use Carmy’s second consecutive day off as an opportunity to drive out to the Ikea in Shaumburg and check several items off of your shopping list.

You arrived shortly after opening, and Carmy sipped a gas station coffee lazily from a paper mug as the two of you wandered side by side through the store, occasionally sidetracked by a display featuring items you most certainly did not need. If he hadn’t been with you, he wouldn’t have necessarily enjoyed the shopping process – He had always chosen his furnishings based more on function than form, which he supposed was how he had ended up with a tattered, striped couch that you deemed “fit for a frat basement” and insisted was not allowed in your shared apartment. Still, seeing your eyes light up as you strayed away from his side to pinch the fabric of a throw blanket between your fingers or inspect a set of glassware was surprisingly endearing to him as you leisurely meandered your way through the labyrinthine showroom.

You returned home that afternoon with a bounty of flat packed treasures – four ingolf dining chairs, a Fjallbo coffee table, Hemnes dresser, plus whatever other odds and ends you had thrown into the bright blue and yellow canvas bag. The rest of the day had been spent assembling furniture, a growing mountain of cardboard and Styrofoam amassing along the outskirts of the living room with each item you constructed. The coffee table and dresser had come together with little difficulty, although now Carmy was suspecting that he had met his match as he struggled to comprehend just where exactly he was supposed to be placing a screw in the first of four dining chairs that remained to be assembled.

“You look stumped. Lemme take a look,” you offer, crawling across the new area rug to him.

“Take it,” he relinquishes the instruction sheet to you readily. “I think it’s scrambling my brain just lookin’ at this too long.”

You study the instructions for a moment before pulling the miscellaneous pieces closer to you, brow furrowed in concentration as you pick up the allen wrench and begin the assembly process

He watches in admiration as you work, the chair starting to take form before his very eyes as you hum along to the song playing on the Bluetooth speaker you had set on your newly assembled coffee table. You’re dressed in an Original Beef of Chicagoland t-shirt that you’d stolen from the back office at the restaurant shortly after the grand opening of The Bear, and your crossed legs were bare, save for a black pair of athletic shorts that left very little to the imagination. For a moment, he’s entranced by your thighs, the thought flitting across his mind how he wouldn’t mind being in between them right about now, when he notices a garish mark near your inner thigh.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asks, fingers automatically reaching out to brush across your skin where an angry looking bruise has formed.

“Hmm?” you glance away from your work, down to your lap. “Must just be from moving around all these boxes. It’s no big deal.”

“Sure it doesn’t hurt?” His hand rests on your bare thigh a moment longer and it’s practically Pavlovian the way his mind starts to wander, thinking of all the ways you still have yet to christen the new apartment.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You’re hardly paying attention to him, your eyes glued once more to the page. “Do you see a screw laying around somewhere?”

His mind is lost in thoughts of you – your skin against his, your breathy moans in his ear – when he sees you looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A screw, Carm. Do you see one laying around here somewhere?”

Without waiting for an answer, you rock forward onto your knees, crawling all around the half assembled chair. He starts to look halfheartedly, idly picking up random pages and pieces of cardboard in search of the missing screw, but mostly he’s just eyeing your ass as you crawl around.

A part of him thinks that maybe he should feel just a little bad that he’s not being more helpful in your search – it had been a long weekend after all, and you still had a long way to go before you were fully unpacked and settled in. But on the other hand, he could easily count on one hand how many times the two of you had been intimate in the past two months – busy work schedules, packing lists, and the occasional bickering about what furniture to keep or sell always seemed to get in the way whenever you two had time alone. Or plain exhaustion – can’t forget about that.

Eventually, you give up, sitting back up with your palms pressed to your knees as you let out a groan of frustration. “I can’t believe we’re missing a fucking screw.”

“I think I know where you can get a fucking screw,” Carmy mumbles, not quite sure what devil on his shoulder has clouded his better judgement.

You look at him incredulously, immediately clocking the innuendo. It’s not like you two don’t talk dirty when the occasion calls for it, but damn Carmy can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck as he realizes how crude his thoughts sound when spoken aloud.

 “Sorry, I’m as surprised by that as you are,” he apologizes quickly. With fidgeting hands, he starts to rifle through the debris on the floor again, struggling to meet your eye.

When he hears you start to laugh, he steals a look back over at you, noticing that the tension has left your shoulders as you melt into his side, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. He looks down at you and allows an uncertain smile to cross his face as he admires the way your eyes crinkle in laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“That has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said me,” you wheeze. “Please say more.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say another word because you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him into a kiss, still giggling when your lips first make contact. As he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer, you melt against him, kissing him in earnest now. Something stirs in the pit of his stomach and he wants more – especially when he feels your fingers twist and tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulls you flush against him and you groan into his mouth, planting your knees on either side of his hips. You’re all warmth and softness in his lap, and he swears the very blood in his veins turns molten as he realizes how badly he wants you underneath him.

With a swift arc of his arm, he clears the miscellaneous debris from the rug before easing your back down to the floor. His lips are working their way along the line of your jaw when you hear the clatter of something small and metallic skittering across the hardwoods. And just like that, the spell is broken.

“Do you think that was the missing screw?”

“Hmm could be,” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips into that spot at the base of your neck that usually makes you squirm. Instead, you’re craning your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the screw among the small mountain of trash, saying something under your breath about how you should check it out.

He inches away from you as you begin to prop yourself up on your elbows underneath him.

“The chair’s really that important right now?” he asks, just barely leveling the twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“We need someplace to sit, Carmy,” you counter.

He snorts just a little at your reasoning. “I can think of someplace better for you to sit right now.”

His remark earns him an eye roll from you, but you pause for a moment in hesitation. He takes that moment as leverage, gripping your hips tight in his hands and drawing them up to meet his, groaning in the back of his throat as your bodies make contact.

“You feel what you do to me right?” he asks, shamelessly incapable of stopping himself from rocking his hips against yours in a desperate search for friction. A small whine escapes the back of your throat and his gaze softens as he looks down on you. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

He strokes your cheek, fingers grazing down your cheekbone and along your neck, where he can feel your pulse fluttering rapidly. He knows you well enough that he swears he can see your thoughts happening in real time as realization washes over your features.

“We’ve just been so busy,” you offer weakly. “It’s been hard to make the time.”

“I know, I know,” he presses his lips to yours briefly. “Just be here with me right now, baby. I’ll build you all the chairs you want after.”

You nod furiously, balling his shirt up into your first as you pull him back down to you in a searing kiss. He slips an arm underneath you, pressing you ever closer as his fingers slip underneath your shirt, gliding against soft skin until you’re breathless underneath him. He feels you clawing at his t-shirt and together you both move in a flurry to discard your clothing onto the ground beside you. He’s planting open mouthed kisses onto every accessible inch of feverish skin until he has you bare underneath him.

Your fingers are fiddling impatiently with the zipper on his jeans, pushing them lower down his hips until he kneels back on his heels to finish the job for you. You sit up too, pulling his shirt over his head in a hurried motion before grabbing his arm and coaxing him over to the couch with you.

“Floor not good enough for you?” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses over your collar bones as he presses you down into the cushions.

“I’m just already sore,” you protest, your fingers tracing idly across his shoulder blades.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” he croons into your ear, bringing a hand up to knead at your breast.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

And he does know – the subtle aches in the back of his legs and in between his shoulders have been present all day after the grueling hours of moving in the day beforehand. That’s not going to stop him now though, not as your legs fall open under his hands. His dick twitches at the sight of your pussy, evidence of your arousal glistening at the apex of your thighs and he’s like a man enchanted.

“This all for me, baby?” he asks you softly, reaching out to stroke your folds, wetness gathering on his calloused fingers as you squirm into his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, pleading with him as you grasp his wrist in a feeble attempt to guide his fingers where you so desperately want him. “Carmy, please.”

You don’t have to ask him twice as he sinks two fingers into your snug walls. He studies your face as he touches you – the way you bite back a groan as his fingers stretch you out, admiring the way you tilt your head back, baring your neck to him as the pad of his thumb brushes roughly against your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Carmy.”

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this for me, baby.” It’s true, you do. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do in this apartment, with your proudly thrifted couch, half-built Ikea furniture and granite countertops that he could fuck you on every night if you wanted. With his free hand, he palms heavily over the front of his Calvin Kleins and makes a mental note that the kitchen is next in line for christening. But he has something he wants to do first.

You whine when he removes his hand from between your legs, but before you can protest, he’s maneuvering your thighs closer to the edge of the couch and angling your hips toward himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

He can feel your thighs trembling already in anticipation around him and you’re swearing under your breath before he’s even had his first taste of you. He starts with a few furtive licks, allowing the smell and taste of you to invade his senses before delving in deeper, lapping at your drenched pussy with languid strokes of his tongue. Wrapping one arm around your thigh, he pulls your leg over his shoulder, causing a shift of your hips that has the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. He steals a look back up at you just in time for you to cry out in pleasure, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair. Increasingly frantic, you tug at the roots, guiding his mouth where you want him, hips grinding senselessly into his nose and wanting mouth.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groan above him as his lips close around your clit, humming softly. He glides two fingers back into you, thrusting them in and out of you in time with the tight circles he’s making around your clit with his tongue.

“Carmen,” you sob his full first name – not Carmy, not baby, not Chef – Carmen. “Don’t fucking stop. JesusfuckingChrist don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop – wouldn’t dream of it. Even as your thighs clamp together around his head, he’s dizzy with the taste of you, groaning into your pussy as he pushes his tongue into you, big nose pressed into your clit in just the precise way that has you falling apart for him. You’re babbling incoherently as you cum on his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to lap up every wave of pleasure that rolls over you until you’re squirming, oversensitive under his lips.

“Too much, Carm,” you beg. “Please.”

 He nuzzles a kiss into your inner thigh, lips pressed right above the bruise he noticed earlier, before crawling back up to you. Your chest is heaving against his as you limply wrap your arms around the back of his neck and he drags his lips along your throat.

“Absolutely insane that we haven’t done this in so long,” you pant, curling your fingers tightly in his hair to angle his mouth back toward yours. He swallows the groan you make when you taste yourself on his tongue and his dick twitches in his underwear at the sensation of your fingernails scratching at his scalp, raking down his back.

“C’mere,” you mumble against his lips, and in an awkward tumble of limbs, you both maneuver so that he’s laying prone on the coach with you sitting at his hips. He can feel the heat of your core so easily through his briefs that he thinks he may go insane. You drive a merciful hand under the waistband of his underwear and grab his aching cock so firmly in your hand that it makes his head spin just a bit as your thumb grazes over the tip. You pump the shaft expertly once, twice and he’s not even quite sure that he’s speaking English anymore.

“Wanna be inside you so bad, baby.”

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor?” You’re easing his underwear down his thighs, all the while looking him directly in the eyes, your gaze heated. He knows right then and there that he wouldn’t last 5 seconds in your mouth.

“Another time,” he rasps, reaching toward you in a desperate attempt to feel your delicate fingers or the soft curve of your hips – he’ll take any little bit you have to give him. “Just want you now.”

You rock your hips against him, coating the length of him in your wet heat; a low groan in the shape of your name escapes his throat. He wants to chastise you for teasing him, but before he can find the words, you sink down onto him with a soft “Oh.”

There’s a moment of stillness and he drinks in the sight of you, eyes fluttering shut and lips thoroughly kissed and swollen. He can’t help the way the words tumble out of his mouth – “I love you.”

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” you grin cheekily.

And that’s when you move.

You’re hot and wet around him and he’s absolutely mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing into you repeatedly as you move above him.

 “Fuck, you ride my dick so well, baby,” he praises, cupping one breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh there in time to the rhythm of your hips rocking against his.

There’s a slight tug at the base of his neck as the hand you’ve leveraged against his chest catches on his golden chain, your fingers curling around the glistening metal as if to tether yourself to him. Something flips like a switch then and he needs more of you.

He grabs your hips roughly on the next thrust, pulling you back down onto him so that he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out and grasp at the back of the couch for balance but let him continue to guide your hips, doing everything you can to keep up with the rougher pace he’s setting for you.

“You good?” He checks in, praying the answer is yes.

“Fuck, Carm,” you groan, digging your fingers into his arm and he can feel the stinging sensation of little crescent moons pressing into the skin. “s’good.”

He can feel how badly your legs are shaking as you match his every move. Heat pools in the bottom of his stomach and he knows he won’t be long now. Maintaining the pace as best as he can, he slides a hand between your bodies, swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud of your clit in a way that makes you swear out loud.

Your thighs clench hard on either side of him and it’s all he can do not to fall apart immediately. You’ve all but collapsed onto his chest and your breath is hot on his neck as you whine to him that you’re close.

“I gotchu,” he promises, fingertips still working in time with his hips. “Come for me.”

And you do.

The sensation of your pulsing walls around him is all at once too much and not enough as he digs his heels into the couch, thrusting erratically into you several more times, chasing his high. With a throaty groan, he screws his eyes shut as a wave of euphoria washes over him. For just a few brief seconds, it’s as if there’s nothing in his world but you.

Limbs heavy and bodies absolutely spent, you lay facing each other, just barely able to fit laying side by side on the couch. If he had the foggiest idea which box a throw blanket had been packed into, he would have pulled one up and around your shoulders. Instead, he settles for curling himself around you, skin still flushed and heated from moments before as you tangle your fingers idly in his hair, gazing at him through heavily lidded eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose and runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone as your eyes flutter shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he jostles your shoulder lightly.

“Mmmh,” you harrumph. “I know, I know. We should get cleaned up.”

“No, I was gonna say we have some chairs to build.”

The smack he receives to the chest is well deserved. Nevertheless, you allow him to coax you from the couch to a warm shower. Afterward, as you finish dressing and preparing for bed, he pads back out to the living room, sifting once again through the pile of cardboard until the glimmer of something silver catches his eye.

You step into the room just in time to see him setting the lost screw atop the coffee table.

“A project for tomorrow,” you promise.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He thinks of all the tomorrows you have ahead of you – together in your shared apartment, in your shared lives. And he can’t help but be excited for every single one.

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader #mine #pardon a cheesy ending and the fact that I got lost in the exposition sauce #would you believe the exposition was longer before i made edits?

[kyopmi]

getting all ready for bed with sakusa kiyoomi, tucked in and the lights already out, but you suddenly get the giggles thinking of a silly joke from weeks ago and you cannot stop laughing. you try shoving the blanket over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter and hoping it won’t disturb him, but with the way your shoulders are shaking and with your adorable muffled snickers, how could it not?

eventually, kiyoomi has enough — he has practice early tomorrow and needs his beauty sleep — so he just fully grabs you in his arms and all but squishes you against himself, trying to stop your movements so he can go to sleep. unfortunately for him, his plan backfires as your laughter only seems to increase at his actions, with your face squished into his chest and hands gripping his t-shirt. kiyoomi groans and grumbles something about the time being past midnight and that you’re gonna get nightmares if you don’t stop soon.

although, while you’re trying to apologize in between giggles, you miss the smile that’s on kiyoomi’s own face, because in the end, he loves it the most when you’re happy.

#what a cheesy ending ugh i love this man too much #this was in my drafts and inspired by a real life event but the joke wasnt even that funny #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fluff #&works

[milf-harrington]

29. putting ear over their heart, for steddie 💕

please enjoy some domestic fluff w the barest sprinkling of angst (like a tiny smidgen, barely a paragraph)

---

The apartment was quiet when Steve got in, back from lunch with Robin down at the cafe by her university.

It wasn't the kind of quiet Steve was used to, the kind that lurked in empty hallways. A dreadful, empty sort of quiet that sunk into your bones like water in the lungs of someone drowning.

This was a new sort of quiet: radio playing on the kitchen windowsill, the window by the couch left open with Eddie's ashtray tucked next to the cord for the blinds. Music and voices and engines from the street wafted in on the breeze, immediately dampened when Steve reached up and pulled the window back down with a thud.

It was a lived in sort of quiet. An Eddie's-either-not-home-or-he's-asleep-somewhere quiet.

Considering the window had been left open, Steve was betting on the asleep somewhere option.

Trying to stay quiet, Steve headed down the short hallway and pushed open their bedroom door. The blinds were open, and the bed was half made, the pillows left piled to one side with their cases folded on top like Eddie'd gotten distracted halfway through.

Steve snorted, fond, and stepped back into the hallway.

Their apartment wasn't big- two small bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen/living room combination with enough space for a dining table in between - so it wouldn't be hard to track his boyfriend down.

And it wasn't, Steve found him in the second-bedroom-turned-"office", stretched out in a sunbeam, like one of the stray cats he insisted on feeding.

He had one arm sorta stretched above his head, the other resting on his tummy as he snored into his armpit, guitar and notebook discarded to the side. The vacuum was in there too, and Steve had to step over it to get inside the room.

Apparently, Eddie had made a valiant attempt at cleaning while he'd been gone.

The thing is, when Eddie cleaned, he had to make a whole thing of it- turn it into one of his roleplaying games, with outfits and silly voices, or else he'd never actually get it done.

His usual version of a cleaning costume was to just keep his hair out of his face with a headband made out of a bandanna, folded into the cliched little triangle and all, and a long sleeved shirt so he could dramatically roll up his sleeves.

Today, he'd gone as far as to put on an old apron he'd accidentally stolen from a past job working at a deli. The duster he'd shoved in the front pocket was dangerously close to slipping out, only kept in place by the angle of Eddie's hip.

The thing is- Eddie was, like, a really deep sleeper. And he didn't tend to move much. And he was sort of just lying there, bandanna wrapped around the top of his head, hair splayed out under him, head tilted just enough to show off the long-healed scars in his cheek. And Steve was, much to his own dismay, a worrier.

And it had been a good 3 years since the spring of '86, and he could literally see Eddie's stomach rising and falling with each breath but-

But.

Feeling ridiculous, but knowing he'd just get more and more anxious until it became an actual problem, Steve sighed and carefully lowered himself into a crouch. He reached out, intending to shake Eddie awake, just to make sure he would, but paused as his fingers brushed fabric.

If he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the day, on the floor no less, then he probably needed it.

So, sticking his tongue out in a habit he'd definitely gotten from the man sleeping on the floor right now, Steve carefully moved the duster and the arm laying over Eddie's tummy and threw a leg over his hips.

He knee-walked backwards until he was hovering over his thighs instead, and then carefully laid down on top of him, turning his head so his ear was pressed against Eddie's sternum.

It took a second to settle, for the sound of shifting fabric to stop and then-

thu-thump. thu-thump. thu-thump.

He laid there for a little longer, just listening, just checking, until sun-warmed arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Steve didn't know if Eddie was fully awake, but he didn't say anything about waking up to Steve on top of him.

Instead he let out a long, pleased sigh. Dug his fingers into Steve's hair and gently scratched his scalp, movements slow and sleepy.

In a few minutes, Steve would sit up and ask Eddie what he was doing napping on the floor and Eddie will explain that he'd been cleaning, and then he'd gotten an idea for a song and he didn't want to forget it.

Then they'd get up, Steve hauling his boyfriend off the floor with dramatic grunts and groans like men twice their age, and finish cleaning the apartment together.

But for now, Steve just settled in a little more comfortably, listening to Eddie's heart beat.

#sorry this took me awhile i was drawing mermaids #i also wrote this in one sitting so it's a little messy but hey! that's what ask-prompts are all about in my book #me reading a cheesy ending: ''YEAH WOOO'' #me writing a cheesy ending: ''oh. gross'' #anyway #i hope you like it <3 #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #asks #sharpbutsoft

[rystiel]

i’m only on s1 of torchwood but seeing jack NOT immediately give his “hi. captain jack harkness 😏” to everyone he meets is so funny like… does he just do it to put on a show for the doctor? like sure he’s flirty here but it’s not on the same level as how he is in doctor who?? is his flirt-introduction designed for provoking a “stop it” from the doctor???

#like realistically i know he wouldn’t be Hi…Captain Jack Harkness-ing everyone #but he DOES do that in doctor who #even when the timeline in doctor who overlaps with torchwood #like… ok gayboy #get your snarky little doctor comment #captain jack harkness #doctor who #torchwood #doctorjack #hey y’all #he may end up flirtier in torchwood though idk yet lol #maybe he’s just happier around the doctor thus more flirty or some cheesy shit idk

[lorena12me]

Nothing like having someone to wake up with every morning and share… your kitties quilt.

#timber #timbern #tim drake #bernard dowd #red robin #tim x bernard #robin tim drake #dc comics fandom #batfam #I'm so so so sorry #I just wanted to draw a normal cheesy thing #and ended up drawing a meme #like always. #😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣

[specshroom]

🔥Firefighter! Yuuji🔥

(CW: Burning building, Reader has boobies and is called Miss once but is mostly referred to as they/them. Inspired by that one fanart, you know the one.)

Reader comes home to their crappy apartment from a long day of work, showers, makes themselves some easy dinner and gets all cozy on the living room couch with their cat. 

They barely make it to the bedroom before they fall into the sheets, conked out for the night.

They're so deep in sleep they don't wake up from the faint smell of smoke or the sirens or the yelling. They don't even wake up when there's rushed knocking on the front door and yelling coming from the other side. 

However they do jolt awake when they hear the front door being forced open with a loud bang!

In a haze they still manage to reach under the bed for a metal bat they stashed there for occasions just like this.

They creep out the bedroom, bat in hand ready to swing. "Hello? Is anybody in here?" A man's voice calls from the living room. 

They mentally scoff. What kind of burglar calls out like that? Idiot. 

They can hear the heavy footsteps of the man walking closer towards the hallway they crept in. Holding the bat tighter, they wind up and just as a quite large man comes around the corner they swing hard. 

"OW!" 

The bat hits a hard surface. Confused they finally take in the man Infront of them. He's wearing a hard yellow helmet (the thing they hit, they realise) and a thick black and yellow jumpsuit thing. It kinda looks like a fireman get-up and Holy shit, they assaulted a fireman. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I thought you were a burglar!"

They drop the assault weapon and crouch down, assessing the helmet thats not even dented. 

"That's ok, it's alright, I'm fine! see?" The fireman tries to reassure them. Now that they have a better look at him he has an unreasonably bright smile on his face for someone who's just been assaulted. His bright smile contrasts with the few scars he has on his face in a way that's strangely endearing. 

They feel themselves smiling back and sighing "Oh that's good, I'm sorry again haha..... Why are you in my home?"

The fireman jolts up like he's just remembered something important. "Oh shit! The buildings on fire!"

"WHAT?!“ 

"Don't panic, Miss. I'm going to get you out of here." He says with a determined look that makes them believe his words. 

That's all he says before hoisting them up bridle style into his strong arms. Reader yelps. "I'm not injured. I can walk." They say, struggling in the strangers arms out of instinct. 

"The building's floors and ceilings might be unstable. Sorry, but it's safer if I carry you." The full seriousness of the situation dawns on them and they just nod at the man as he steps towards the door. "Wait! Wait! My cat!" They suddenly remember the creature they parent and struggled out of the man's hold running into their bedroom where the little guy is lazing on the bed, not a single care in the world. They scoop the cat up and run back to the fireman who is scoping out the hallway and talking on his little walky talky. They waist no time, allowing the well built man to pick them up as easily as they picked up the cat in their arms.

He successfully makes it down the few flights of stairs, cautious yet quick. "Cover your mouth! We're almost there!" The man says. They cover their mouth and nose with one hand and cover the kittie's with the other. Eyes shut tight, hiding their face into the man's neck. They don't open their eyes even when they feel a wave of cool night air telling them that they're outside the building and safe. 

The fireman carries them to one of the ambulances and sets them down gently. "You alright?" He says crouching In front of them and looking them up and down, breathing a little heavy. They nod wordlessly, looking into his bright eyes. 

Once he's satisfied that they're unharmed he stands and says, "I have to go." He points to the firetrucks stationed outside the burning building. The reader just nods again and mutters "Thanks." The man smiles at them again as if nothing is wrong and everything is going perfectly, it makes them believe he's right. He jogs over to where the other firemen are talking amongst themselves. 

They get a better look at the building now. The powerfull jets of water flowing in through the windows. The other residents of the building watching in various states of panic, relief, silence, fear. Luckily, when Reader looks around for neighbours and familiar faces all seem to be accounted for. The firemen seem to have done a really good job minimizing casualties and destruction. 

After about an hour the fire is in dieing smolders and the building no longer emits a furious heat, only ashy smoke. Reader is sitting on a bench, cat in their lap with an emergency blanket and a free cookie the ambulance responders were handing out. 

They don't notice the tall figure walking up to them until he's standing beside them. "Hi, how're we doing?". They look up to see the same firefighter from before. "Pretty good....considering." They shrug. He huffs and sits down next to them. "Well, good news is nobody died and your apartment's probably fine too."

"Oh that's good." They say and cringe at their weak conversational skills. He's just talking to them cus it's something that firefighters do with citizens in these situations... Right?

They look over at him as he looks at the doused, chard part of the building. "Uhm, is your head alright?" They ask the man, pointing to his helmet covered head.

He looks at them confused and then laughs. "Oh yeah it's totally good, see." He pulls off his head gear revealing a head of short pink hair. He tussles it with his hand and bends down showing them that there's no bump or bruise.

Before they can think not too, Reader reaches out to lightly caress the strands of hair at the top of his head. He freezes, his eyes wide still looking down, bent over for them. They quickly bring their hand back to the cat on their lap. "I like your hair." They say looking down at the kitty. Yuuji looks up at them with still wide eyes and straightens his back. His cheeks tint pinker than his hair and Reader chuckles at the sight.

"Thanks... I like your..." He's clearly rushing for something to say, not expecting the conversation to go this route. "Shirt." He settles on. His eyes flick down to the baggy old shirt with some anime character on it that they use for pajamas.

A well timed breeze blows through and Reader is suddenly reminded of the fact that they sleep without a bra on.

They tug the blanket closer and mutter "Thanks". Yuuji just continues to look at them with the same pink tinted face.

"Brother!" A loud voice calls and the two turn to see a big burly man calling his coworker over. They look back at each other and both grin at one another. "Uh, I'll see you around?" The pink haired man says while playing with his hair and picking up his helmet. "Yeah, I hope so." Reader waves slightly at him. He walks away still looking back at them and waving until he reaches the man who was calling him "brother". The man roughly pats him on the back and throws his arm around his shoulder. Mr Pink hair looks disgruntled as The big guy yells out to another black haired, serious looking fireman. "Did you see that Megumi? Yuuji thinks he's a Hot Shot now!"

Megumi just sighs and rolls his eyes. "Please get back to work, Todo." Yuuji struggles in Todo's hold, looking back at Reader for a second to see them still looking at him. They turn around quickly, embarrassed at being caught. Yuuji smiles and Todo, having seen that too, cries out "Brotherrrr!" hugging Yuuji tighter, brought to tears at his brother's perceived rizz.

Reader looks down at the cat in their lap and says softly "His name is Yuuji." They grin at the cat and the cat looks back with a sleepy, disinterested expression.

-★

#running straight into a burning building so firefighter Yuuji can princess carry me out of that bitch #couldn't stop thinking about firefighters for some reason and then i remembered that one fanart™ #the ending is soooo cheesy but whatever ITS CUTE! #yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #itadori x reader #jjk #jjk yuuji #yuuji headcanons #itadori yuuji