#my boy is so chic now

[dtwngrl]

OMAR RUDBERG for YSL beauty ✨

#omar rudberg #ysl beauty #young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #dailymen #hot celebs #dailymenedit #flawlesscelebs #flawlessgentlemen #dailycelebs #mine* #oh my god jUST LOOK AT HIM i cant #my boy is so chic now

[britneyshakespeare]

i know a good number of ppl ship zari and lily from duolingo stories but how is not everyone shipping lin and béa... they are such girlfriends

#zari and lily are probably my favorite characters don't get me wrong #& i agree w the headcanon that lily's a lesbian (i wouldn't be surprised if they write a story where she comes out... if thats a plan) #zari is. idk she can really be anything. she is boy-crazy at least for now. #i think zari and lily are so lovable bc they represent two different kinds of--but equally relatable--teenage girl experiences #and yet theyre uncomplicatedly each other's best friends. wow we love it. #it's a very wholesome adolescent dynamic they've got. so pure. so sweet. i do read it as 100% platonic tho ngl #béa and lin though are both OPENLY sapphic. and they have that opposites-attract thing. #béa is a kind of chic young adult woman who works VERY hard #and lin is kind of a laid back homebody. naturally cool tho. lives w her grandmother #they both love watching tv. as do we all. #they're not QUITE as different a foil as zari and lily but that also might work for the better. idk #i know a few months ago i made a callout post of a story where béa is super toxic to lin about not working out hard enough. #i will say. in my personal life since i have also met an athletic and competitive lesbian who reminds me somewhat of béa #in that story at least. and i now. interpret that story way differently. #that was flirting. that's all i will say. #text post #duolingo #duolingo stories #come to britneyshakespeare dot tumblr dot com for the cool url. stay for the tag rants about duolingo stories universe lore. #take everything i say here w a grain of salt #but at the same time: ART IMITATES LIFE #i think it's objectively funny that these characters have such an established place in my mind that i can go off like this #listen guys. my streak is 984 days. i've spent a lot of time in the neighborhood.

[cuddlytogas]

So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.

See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.

But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...

What is the difference between this and this?

Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?

Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.

But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.

And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.

But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.

See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!

As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.

And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:

So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?

Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.

In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.

In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.

This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).

Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.

More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.

This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.

A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.

But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.

#everyone say 'thank you togas' for not including a long tangent about evil rimmer in red dwarf 5x05 #Our Flag Means Death #Togas does meta #and yes these principles DO fall apart slightly in s2 and i DON'T like those costumes as much #don't get me wrong they're fun and gorgeous - but generally a bit less deep and more inaccurate. so. :( #I'm not sure this really says anything new about Our Flag but I just needed to get my thoughts out #i hate hate hate Gritty Period Drama costumes they're so boring and so ugly and so wrong #god bless OFMD for using more than 3 muted colours and actually putting men in heels (and not as a shorthand for rich/foppish villainy) <3 #looking at that Tudors still is insane like they really will go to any lengths to not make men feel like they've got bare legs XD #image descriptions in alt text #and yes i DID just sink about two hours into those so you'd better appreciate them

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

#toshiro mifune #james stewart #jimmy stewart #hotvintagepoll #round 4 #fuck ! that ! old ! man ! ! ! #Youtube

[workinatdapyramid]

pretty boy

jack champion headcannons <3

m! speaks: we need more jack champion fics.. where’s the love for my baby boy :((((

* .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

posts you ALL the time like seriously this man cannot get enough of you

has to try every silly little tiktok trend on you ( even the filters )

“babe i promise this one is actually funny this time”

calls you baby (KMS)

takes you to all of his interviews

this man literally makes sure you bring snacks for him

“boys gotta eat” *shrugs*

PHYSICAL TOUCHHHHHHH

doesn’t matter where you are or who you are with, he always needs to be touching some part of your body

playing with your fingers while casually conversing with others

CLINNGGGGGYYYYYYYYY

refuses to take naps on the couch without you

when you finally agree to lay with him somehow he ends up knocking out on top of you

“jack i physically cannot breathe, get off”

“so you don’t love me anymore?”

brings you up ANYTIME ANYPLACE ( mainly interviews )

“who would you say is your go to person on set for advice?”

“if mason’s busy i’ll call my girlfriend until she answers. i could call her now if you want?”

follows you around like a damn puppy

he is a big simp for you and he knows it

HE HAS NO SHAME ABT IT

facetimes you everyyyyydayyyyy

“baby i miss you”

“jack i literally just left”

skincareeee queeeens

dedicated photo dumps of just you all over his feed

easily jealous.. if someone looks at you too long best believe he’s plotting

“i’ll kill him”

spam texts you while you’re asleep

jack 💗: wanna hear abt my day? i got to hang out with jenna and all of them today. it was sickkk

jack 💗: should i get pizza or tacos?

jack 💗: plot twist i got chic fil a

jack 💗: wyd rn????

jack 💗: y/nnnnnnnnnnn hellllooooooooooo

jack 💗: would you still date me if i was a worm?

y/n :)))) : jack it’s 1am

this man is sooo gooofy like cmon now

always gives you his hoodies

he loves when you wear his clothes

sends you every meme that pops on his fyp

he definitely has a playlist for you and every little date you’ve guys ever been on

will drag you to the gym with him just to keep him company

hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugsssss

his tall ass always leaning over you

flirting with you like there’s no tmr

dad jokes

always makes you laugh

loves your parents

he’s always offering to help your mom cook when he is over

calls trinity your guys adoptive daughter

always prefers being the little spoon

makes cringey couple tiktoks with you

EYE CONTACT ( mans can never not stare at you )

nose kisses

he literally adores you

* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

he’s so baby girl i love him so much ( prt 2???? )

might make a fic based on any of these ;) feel free to request in the comments or my ask box!!!! hope you guys enjoyed <3

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #spider x reader #avatar the way of water #x reader #headcannons #workinatdapryamid #🎫 #drabbles #jack champion is so boyfriend i love him so much <3

[neo-percs]

KEEPSAKE:: na jaemin

WARNING:: 80's au, playboy! Jaemin, car sex, riding, hair pulling, oral, fingering, teasing, fingering, slight edging, overstimulation, slight rejection, teasing, sexual tension

SUMMARY:: after a failed date you expect some sort of a reward for putting up with Jaemin Na who still seems to be hung up on his ex.

Jaemin Na has been on many dates. One would even say that he has hooked up with half of girls after a date— which were all unsuccessful. It's not that there was anything wrong in particular with the people he has taken out, it's just that none of them have piqued his interest for a second one. And it just so happens that you had been taken on one of the said dates.

When Jaemin asked you out on a date to the movies and dinner you hadn't expected the movie to be some trashy chic flick about an American actress going to Italy and falling in love with her friend's married Italian lover. It dragged on for 2 hours and you couldn't stand to sit through the first minute of opening credits. But not only did you sit through a silent car ride on your way to the restaurant but when you sat inside the restaurant it felt like this terrible date would never end.

"I used to be on the volleyball team before I graduated and I started working with my friend, she's cool- she even has a neck tattoo" he rambled on and on for what felt like a lifetime. Only nodded off as he rambled on and on about working at the old movie theater and something about how his manager only shows up to be a dick.

But low and behold the lovely waitress with a tight-lipped smile "Would you like your bill.. or would you like to swing by a little later?" She asked politely looking at the both of you. "You can give us our check now" you answered quickly before pulling 30 dollars out of your pocket when the check was set on the table.

Once Jaemin had caught his eyes on the cash in your hand he shook his head "You don't have to pay, what kind of guy would I be to make you pay for your food?" He says patting his pockets which makes you roll your eyes "It's fine" you reply flatly pressing the 20 and 10 dollar tip onto the wooden table and like second nature stand from the worn-out booth walk to the class doors pushing them open and making a b-line to the boys nice and shining Pontiac.

Jaemin grew up coddled, he was popular in high school, and he had the cutest girl in his grade. Now he's digging it with girls who never made it past the first date because he never could find a bond with them while working at the local theater and losing all the cool points he's earned on his way up in high school. Well on your end you didn't care for his past reputation, you didn't care for this date and the fact that you haven't had an ounce of fun since you had walked past your front porch was eating you up inside.

When you heard keys jangling in an instant you turned your head being met with Jaemin walking over to the driver's side of the car. Unlocking the doors you both get in and once the car starts you fiddle with the radio never wanting to sit through silence and letting the hum of the radio come out softly through the speakers.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you had failed to realize how dark it had started to get, the once blue sky turned to deep orange and yellow hues. Watching as the power lines zipped past you in a blur, if you were going to sit in this car you would be damned if you had to sit in awkward silence and do nothing.

Just as Jaemin had turned onto the highway the road was seemingly empty as it got darker out and the headlights of his car lighting up the black asphalt on the road. Your view flickering between the road and Jaemin who was watching the road with one hand on the wheel as the other slumped against the middle console.

The sight of his thighs sat stiffly while his jaw clenched. "Jaemin, if you're not over your ex why'd you ask me on a date?" You ask curiously as you tilt your head leaning in a bit pressing the swell of your chest against his hand on the console. "What? I'm over my ex, I have been for a while now. What makes you say that?" He asks as he sputters over his own words at the thought of being hung up on his ex.

"You haven't asked a single thing about me on this date. You only talked about you, and might I add you even talked about your coworker which doesn't help your case at all" you say flatly. "Seriously?! I am over my ex I swear" his voice goes up a few octaves higher as he tries to think of something that obscures the idea.

"When was the last time you slept with someone and enjoyed it then?" You ask with a twisted grin on your lips. You knew the answer but you wanted to hear it from him, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing the words yourself from his lips. "I don't know. And I'll have you know that I have had great sex without my ex" he snarled at you.

"Yeah your words aren't very convincing like... at all," you say as you push your legs under your thighs "I can change that you know? I don't know if by the end of it, you'll even be thinking about her but...I'll occupy your head for a bit," you say, trailing your hand into his lap and rubbing against his thigh.

"What are you doing?" He scoffed as his eyes flicked from his lap with your hand trailing closer to his bulge earning a small gasp from him eliciting a small giggle from your lips loud enough to hear over the buzzing music. "Just keep looking at the road" you whisper as you press your lips to his warm cheek.

Your hand moves closer to his half-hard crotch clad in jeans as you palm him, the feeling of fabric pressed against him has him groaning and running a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "It's not a good idea to be doing this... while I'm driving" he reasons, which makes you shake your head with a soft smile. "Then focus" You look up at him while your hands move to unzip his pants and unbutton them as well letting him lift his hips while you pull down his jeans far enough over his thighs.

"Shit" he harshly whispers at the feeling of your wet palm wrapping around his cock leaking precum and glistening under the orange and yellow street lights on the side of the road. Taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb has the boy biting his plump lips while choking back a small groan.

The feeling of your warm tongue has the boy breathing heavily as his foot presses onto the gas harder spreading the car up. "Ease up, you want the car ride to last don't you?" You ask as you look up at him, your tongue pressing flatly against his tip and taking him deeper, letting your lips wrap around him.

The warmth of your mouth around him almost has his eyes rolling, letting his hand rest on the back of your head, needing to push your head down further but letting you slowly take him into the back of your throat as the tip of your nose brushes against his stomach.

Pulling back slowly you began to bob your head, the wet sound of your mouth around his cock has him lightheaded as he drives slower than he normally would on the highway. Flexing his thighs at the feeling "You're so good at this- fuck y/n" he moaned as his jaw slacked at the feeling of your tongue running against the vein on the underside of his cock that had him nearly shivering.

"keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back. His hair was messily pushed against his forehead as it was soaked from the sweat building at his hairline and his eyes rolled back "You're gonna make me cum" he says breathily as he pushes your hair out of your way turning it into a makeshift ponytail.

Using your hand you hollow your cheeks as your hand takes care of what your mouth wasn't and it had him lost, still trying to focus on the road he makes a turn to the next exit and chooses to go the longer route to your house.

His breathing becomes more and more unhinged as you use both your hands to jerk him off and licking his tip has him moaning while almost swerving into a random mailbox catching himself before doing so. "I'm so close" he moaned as he clutched your hair tighter realizing how agonizing it felt when you hadn't changed your pace at all.

"Please go faster" he begged, making you smile a bit as you moved your hands away from him completely and took him into your mouth while he bucked his hips desperately for a release. you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes are closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him you move faster hoping that would push him over the edge.

"Oh- fuck" he gasped as he gripped the wheel tighter as he felt his orgasm crash on him like a ton of bricks. "I can't...I can't keep driving or I'm gonna crash- fuck" he whined as he pulls onto the side of the road and cutting the lights and engine. The only sounds that could be heard were Jaemin's heavy breathing.

Watching as you pull back with glossy eyes your cheeks and chin are covered in spit and cum which has his head pulled back against the headrest completely dazed. "You okay?" You ask as you wipe off your face with small puffs of laughter falling past your lips. "I'm good...really good," he says with a faint smirk.

"I wanna make you feel good too," he says, his eyes trailing over to your fully clothed figure, your eyes low and red almost as if you had been high, lips puffy and swollen. "You can do that" You nod as you manage to crawl over the middle console and sit against his thighs, your skirt riding up your legs.

"You're so wet" he whispered as he felt the warmth of your slick panties stick against his skin making you look down where you had been sat with slight embarrassment. His finger rubs against your clothes slit watching as the wet patch on your panties becomes bigger. Pressing his thumb down on your clit had a moan falling past your lips as your hand trailed to his wrist pulling his hand past the waistband of your panties.

"I need you, here." You mumbled as you felt his nimble fingers running against your slit making you whine desperately. Grinding against his fingers you can hear him laughing breathily as he watches you fall apart on top of him. "I'd call you desperate if I didn't want to fuck you so bad," he says as he presses his forehead against yours, watching the way you get off could make him cum untouched.

"Just shut up" you whined out with a small gasp pressing your lips against his hungrily your hand raking through his hair, your tongues lapping against the others and sucking on his pulling away with a small 'pop' you bite your lip as you keep eye contact with him. "Fuck this feels so good" you whisper your forehead still pressed against his as he rubs your clit in Figure 8's.

"Yeah?" He asks as he pulls his hand away and out of your panties earning a small whine from you. His fingers push your panties to the side. "Why?" You practically cry out. Jaemin's eyes never leave yours watching them gloss over from the loss of pleasure. "I want you to cum with me," he says just above a whisper while he takes his length into his hand pumping himself a few times before pressing his tip against your entrance, and with a harsh hiss he's slowly pushing inside your tight walls.

The warm and wet feeling has him drunk on the feeling of you around him. Pushing his seat back far enough that both of you are comfortable Jaemin watches you grind your hips against him slowly as he bottoms out inside you, the feeling being all too good for his liking.

"It's so big" you groan as your hands press against his abdomen lightly bracing yourself to start moving. The soft thudding of your thighs meeting against yours sends goosebumps all over your skin. Jaemin couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself as he finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head.

"No bra?" He groaned watching as your bare chest bounced with every movement you made which has you smiling with your lip caught between your teeth. "You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Jaemin couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock is buried deep inside you moan and dig crescent-shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around makes him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god," you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans reverberated through the car.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

He slowly thrusts into you letting you get used to his size not realizing you were beginning to bounce yourself on his lap desperate to feel pleasure. His pace practically teases you and shows you how desperate you are from your small moans and whimpers.

Jaemin; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer, and begins to thrust his hips up into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips push into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "Oh my god!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Jaemin's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

he placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as whimpers left his lips at the feeling of your walls closing around him. "Just like that, yes, please please please!!" You beg, feeling yourself getting closer and closer as he punctuates his thrusts. You pull his hair, again and again, harder and you can't help but become more aroused from the sounds he lets fall from his lips.

Sitting up completely Jaemin doesn't hesitate to kiss against your warm skin, from the valley between your breast to sucking on your nipples, the warmth of his mouth has you utterly out of it while you fuck yourself on his cock begging for some sort of release. The sloppy sounds make your head spin, your hand trailing from his hair to between the both of you.

Rubbing your clit in hopes that this would send you closer to your orgasm. "Fuck- oh fuck" he moaned against your chest as you clench around him as he felt pussy drunk with you on top of him. Jaemin could barely comprehend a thing as he stopped you together.

"Get up," he said breathlessly as you pushed yourself off of his lap, you slowly started to crawl back into the passenger seat thinking even the sex was a complete bust. But the feeling of his hands on your waist keeps you from moving. "Bend over into the seat," he says moving out of your way as you feel a smirk on your pretty lips.

With your back arched and your face pushed against the headrest you knew that you were done for, Jaemin pushed inside you again and without a care in the world thrusts into you at the same pace he was going before.

"Harder- please" you moan out as the windows begin to fog over, Jaemin begins to buck his hips into you at a faster pace as the slick sound of your pussy and precum mix loudly along with the patterning of your thighs slapping against his. You feel ecstasy at the way he made you feel so full.

His large hands onto your spine making your chest push into the seat, not that you minded at all. Jaemin from behind absolutely loses his mind as his fingers card through his brown locks. Fucking into you with harsh and sharp thrusts that have your toes curling. Your ass bouncing against his lap has him tossing his head back leaving a stinging sensation in both of your thighs.

you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands the seat tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat pulling your back against his chest.

"Aw look at you, all fucked out. What would your friends think about me bending you over in my car and fucking you like a slut hm?" He asks as his grip around your throat tightens, you can't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "Yeah, it feels so fucking good Jaem" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Jaemin pounds you into his front seat without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against the seat while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders sweetly in a faux tone. His thrusts are nonstop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelop you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum for me. I know you can" he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through his throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "Inside. Please cum inside me" you whimpered before you felt the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Jaemin into an orgasm-struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning off you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre-orgasm clarity.

"I see why so many girls like you Jaemin," you say breathlessly with a smile making him chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair slowly pulling out of you with a hiss due to loss of warmth. "Well it's a pleasure to live up to your standards," he says as he reaches into his glove box and pulls out wipes cleaning you up.

The both of you get dressed again and are seated, Jaemin starts the car and the both of you are back on the road with the faint sound of music filling the air as the both of you exchange small words every few minutes until Jaemin turns on the road your house was located.

Pulling into your gravel driveway he parks s and opens his door walking onto your side and opening it offering a hand that makes your brows shoot up at the sudden chivalry, taking his hand and shutting the door behind you he walks you to your front door and as you turn to look at him you see the small smile on his lips. "So...this was nice," he says as he looks down at his feet.

It wasn't... Not until the both of you had sex in the back of his car at least. "Right... just- let me know when you get over Chae" You pat his chest with an awkward grin on your face as you watch his head fall back letting out a groan. "I told you. I'm over her- seriously we broke up and I haven't talked to her since" he shakes his head.

You could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn't, but Jaemin was eager to see you again so it meant he was moving on. One step forward. "Let me know when you're ready for something serious, Jaemin."

You snap your fingers as you give yourself an idea, your hands find themselves under your skirt which has Jaemin in a small shock at your actions seeing a flash of your pink panties as you pull them down your legs and ball it in your hand. "Until then have the panties as a keepsake to get off whenever you like," you say, stuffing the ball of wet fabric into his pockets. and with that, you leave him at your front door with his hand in his pockets clutching your frilly panties.

Opening the door and shutting it behind you Jaemin stands at your doorstep biting his lip turning on his heel and walking back to his car watching how the windows were still a bit foggy. Opening the driver's side to the door and sitting down in his seat he sighs, dragging his finger across the glass in the shape of a U and to small dots in the shape of the tip of his index finger a smiley face left behind.

"I gotta get her on that second date" he huffed to himself as he pulled out of the driveway of your home.

#𖦹—( neo percs ) #nct smut #haechan smut #mark smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #renjun smut #(fic:: edit & repost)

[yanderestarangel]

꒰♡꒱─ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓

TW: afab anatomy, dub con, dark themes, ftm reader, v!sex, sub!reader, stepson x stepfather, dilf!wesker, praise, smut.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who always takes care of you, always sending you large amounts of money, regardless of what you ask for, he will give you his black card so you can spend it on whatever you want, he will just want his favorite stepson to a little kiss and spend some time with him... especially because you both know that he only married your mother to be close to you.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who manipulates you to keep you away from your friends, he just wants you for himself! You're his sweet boy, so don't be surprised to see Wesker using his money and powers to keep you trapped at home, keeping you like a cute, cuddly doll that he can control and twirl around his fingers, like a beautiful marionette.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who considers you his only weakness. Wesker would destroy the world for you, he would destroy everything he built throughout his life just to have the guarantee that you would stay by his side forever, regardless of the price it would cost - and when he completes, all his plans, you will live forever next to him, beautiful and molded perfectly by his hands, his pretty boy.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who takes you to the most chic and private dinners, with businessmen from the 'umbrella corporation', introducing you as their precious stepson. He will pamper you with expensive suits that adorn your ass for him, getting possessive if any guy tries to flirt with you - he would probably pull you into some room or take you out of the building, throwing you on the expensive leather seat of his BMW, towering over you as he took his hard, throbbing cock out of his pants, while you could see his red iris glow behind the dark lenses of his glasses. "-Are you going to act like a brat and let others take what's mine? Are you really going to do that boy?" Wesker would growl angrily, as he ripped the fabric of your pants, exposing your pussy to him. "-Daddy will teach you a lesson... after all, bad boys don't get rewards."

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you with all your desires and dark fantasies, he loves to fuck you in the most expensive hotels and the best panoramic views of the city, making you doggy style and pounding your cunt from behind, while pulling the rope of a collar of diamonds you wore around your neck - obviously given by him "-I could fuck you like this all day..." Wesker grunts in response to your sweet moans, slapping your ass. His thrusts become stronger, bringing you closer to the edge of release. And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "-Not yet, my dear," he whispers in her ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "-You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission, you can do this, right? Like the good boy you are to your daddy hm?" He begins to move, establishing a rhythm that exposes you to the fullness and power of his thrusts, filling you completely. "-Such a good boy, accepting me so well, squeeze those thighs and stick out that fucking ass more! Yes baby boy, exactly like that..."

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you all over the house, while praising you for handling his dick so well in your little cunt. "-Such a beautiful and cute pussy, just for daddy's cock isn't it?", "-atta boy, do you feel that, angel? it's all for you... take my cock like a good boy.", "- Fuck-! I love hearing you beg for more... I'm going to make you cum so hard, baby boy...", "-You better get used to this my little boy... Because from now on on. Your life will revolve around me... And I will always make sure you are satisfied, whatever the cost..." Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as pleasure washed over you. You could feel the tension in your body growing, your pussy clenching around his dick as you neared the edge of orgasm.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who would lock you up in one of his mansions, in a beautiful golden cage, he would cut your ties with your mom... friends and even normal civilization, nothing exists beyond him now, you are just his, he will leave you just there , for him and for him. "-You will always be my doll boy... won't you?" Wesker would smile darkly, as he handed you the clothes he wanted you to wear. "-You'll never get rid of me... I'm your daddy forever... right my prince?"

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 ©𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 2023. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

#yanderestarangel #afab reader #tw smut #resident evil smut #resident evil #albert wesker x you #yandere themes #dark smut #ftm!reader #ftm reader #male reader #albert wesker x y/n #yandere albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker smut #albert wesker #albert wesker x male reader #albert wesker x ftm reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil headcanons #wesker x reader #wesker x you #albert wesker imagine #tw dark content #tw dark fic #dark concept #yandere x male reader #re4 #albert wesker resident evil #male!reader

[periprose]

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet. 

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too. 

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself. 

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad. 

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember. 

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing. 

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age. 

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it. 

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little. 

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

/

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry. 

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

 Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.” 

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

/

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too. 

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick. 

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice. 

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

/

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.” 

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included. 

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient. 

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone. 

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late. 

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt. 

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

/

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear. 

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all. 

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees. 

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort. 

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small. 

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust. 

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you. 

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again. 

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are. 

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said. 

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off. 

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod. 

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something. 

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb. 

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours. 

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security. 

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far. 

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you. 

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that. 

/ 

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this. 

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough. 

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too. 

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance. 

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often. 

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too. 

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.  

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him. 

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better. 

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about. 

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?” 

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other. 

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do. 

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

/

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further. 

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

#michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear #x reader #reader insert #michael berzatto fluff #fluff #angst #carmy berzatto x reader #jon bernthal #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto #neil fak #the bear s2 #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #the berzattos #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #michelle berzatto

[iwanty0uu]

How would aot boys react to reader saying she want a break and goes to sleep on the couch

Ony :

- “Baby girl what’s the matter?” He asked as he wrapped his hands around you, nuzzling into your warm body on his bed, his dark features enhanced by the blue light of your phone. You didn’t respond which earned a poke in the hip from him. “ You dont wanna talk t’me? What i do?” You hummed in response, scrolling through his following and his liked posts, all the girls that you felt looked better than you.. the insecurity started to get to your head. “Hey Ony..I think we should take a..you know..brea-” You heard the bed creak beneath you as he straightened himself up. “Y/n.. don’t play with me. You not deadass. How you finna be upset with me and not tell me what I did so we could fix it?” He said, his tone changing in frustration and confusion, but internally, he was afraid.. “Ony I dont wanna agrue nd I can tell Im just gonna make this worse.. I’ll sleep on the couch for tonight” You mumbled softly. “Like hell you will, the fuck. You gon talk to me whether u like it or not and if i gotta read your notes app to figure out who or what the fuck got in my baby’s head I will.” He grabbed your face peppering it with butterfly kisses.

• “We’ll figure it out together girl”…

Armin :

Armin was very observant, so when he noticed your distance, he panicked and it bothered him for days. “Love?” He asked from the living room, slowly entering making sure not to invade your space. You looked up in response turning your phone off to give your boyfriend your full attention. “ I got your text.. about, you sleeping on the couch tonight and stuff, n I don’t know if this is because mood swings or if its something that I did or if its something that you’re upset with me about not saying that I have to be the center of your life and emotions and everything because I know that you work really hard in school and-” He paused abruptly collecting his thoughts. He averted his eyes from your now concerned gaze. You never knew it would affect him this much. “What I’m trying to say is.. I got you chic-fil-a and a new blanket to make you feel better.. and hopefully we can watch a movie and talk about it?

• “I’ll give you your space but I’m only a call from our bedroom away okay?”…

Connie :

The ping of the basketballs in the gym echoed in your ears. You watched as your boyfriend got a little too friendly with his personal trainer who you weren’t jealous of, but you simply weren’t fond of her. Who would want their man getting touched up on by a girl for lord knows how long.. but Connie assured you that the only reason she’s here is because his usual trainer broke his arm and in three weeks, he’ll be healed enough to get back in action.He wanted to ask if you wanted to join him for the day but your energy was low so he let you be.. All was well until you were facing the window in the car, being less talkative than usual. The sun retired for the day and the sky was dark, “I’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight”… “ No ur not..”… “You cant tell me what to do..”…. “ k .”

11:04 pm

You felt a sudden jerk, which made you open your eyes skightly, and a pair of hazel eyes met yours.“Hope you got all the space you needed girly..you wont see her training me again tomorrow, she was annoying anyways..”

• His plump lips met your temple as you nustled into his neck, “night”…

Jean :

You never knew when to stop playin. You set up your phone in the kitchen to record your boyfriend’s to your little “prank”.

8:15 pm- jean comes home

8:30- jean showers after greeting you

9:25- jean lays on couch

9:28- “Jean baby.. I’m gonna sleep here tonight..I need some space..”

9:30- “Back in my day, when the women needed space, they’d sleep with the oxen and mules..so”

You stared blankly at his unfunny joke, walking into the kitchen keeping deadpan eye contact, revealing your phone. “It was a prank fucking old ass man.”

• “Oh aii…”

HOPE YA LIKED IT- 𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓮 <3

#black reader #black coded reader #attack on titan #iwanty0uu #fem reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #connie x black reader #aot connie #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankapon #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x reader #armin x you #armin x y/n #armin x black reader #armin x black y/n #armin x fem reader #jean x reader #jean x you #jean x y/n #jean x #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader

[eveningepiphany]

far from sober | H.S

my masterlist

part II

summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol

a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x

———

Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.

You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.

Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.

You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.

So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.

Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.

It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.

“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.

“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.

Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.

But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.

His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”

Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.

“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.

“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.

“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.

“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.

“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”

He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”

Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.

This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.

He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.

“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.

Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”

Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.

Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.

You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.

“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.

He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.

“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.

He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”

“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.

You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.

Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.

You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.

Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.

“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.

“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.

“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.

You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”

“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”

You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.

You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”

His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.

However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.

He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.

“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.

“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.

He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.

You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.

The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.

“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.

“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”

He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.

“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”

The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.

“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”

He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“

He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”

You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.

“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”

“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.

And so touchy.

“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.

He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.

The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.

You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes

They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.

Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”

You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”

He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.

“So I can take your shoes off.”

You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”

“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.

He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Christ. This is harder than he thought.

“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.

You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.

It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.

There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.

“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.

You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.

“Have you always looked so… like… this?”

He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”

“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.

“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.

“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.

He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.

He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.

He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.

And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.

You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.

He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.

He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.

A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”

He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.

Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.

You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.

The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.

His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.

You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.

A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.

He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.

You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.

Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.

Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.

He’s so nervy and cute around you.

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.

It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.

It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…

You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.

He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.

“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.

“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.

He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”

This hits you hard.

And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.

She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.

As noted earlier, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.

Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.

He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.

But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”

“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.

He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.

He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.

He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.

And he just hugs you.

Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.

“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.

———

PART II, found here

a/n pt2:

back again guys, hello!

this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.

that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.

but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x

all my love, <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #best friend!harry #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #best friends brother #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #drunk! y/n

[candyk0rn]

Could you potentially do headcannons for JJK men seeing their S/O who’s normally always in baggy clothing or lounge wear in something fancier for the first time if possible? You can choose who and no need to do my request!

I love your writing so much and you’re so talented have a good day/night!! And make sure you’re taking care of yourself :D

𐬺Layers𐬻

Hey! Thanks for the request, so glad you are liking the writing! It’s always rough writing for a fandom I’ve never written for/am new to. Hope you enjoy!

‘How Jjk men would react to an s/o that normally wears baggy/casual clothing wearing fancier clothing for the first time’

Included: Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Gojo Satoru

F.Megumi:

Your taste in more comfortable clothing is actually something that drew him to you in the first place

He has a strong liking for comfort over quality or looks

Which, when the both of you begin actually going out, he made some effort to dress a little nicer

It was the first time he had taken you to lunch, he waited outside of the cafe patiently for you

His head quickly turned when he heard you call for his name,

..but blinked in confusion when he saw you

He didn’t even realize the heat rising to his cheeks when he blankly stared at you

He didn’t exactly say anything at first when you finally got to him, not sure what to say

But he knew he had to say something, so it was the truth

“You look nice.”

It’s a nice sentiment, and after he says that he smiles

Megumi enjoys seeing you dressed like this, and he’ll admit it in his own subtle way

It’s also entirely obvious that he is flustered the entire time the both of you are out

Help him 🙏🏻

G. Satoru:

Satoru is the kind of guy who believes relationships should go both ways

Which, rightfully so.

But you show up in something more tight-fit and chic

And he is FLATTERED and FLUSTERED™️

He’d say something stupid like

“Oho? Wearing that just for me?”

If it’s a day around the city, trying on different clothes, tasting different foods, seeing different popular sites

You best believe during clothing shopping he hands you clothes he would’ve NEVER showed you before

“I think I’ll like you in this one.”

“You mean “me”, right?”

“I said what I said” then he starts giggling and kicking his feet fr

He definitely understands how you’re drawn to comfort over fit, that’s how he met you after all

But he will admit to you that it pleases him when you wear something a bit more form fitting

I.Yuuji:

Hopefully Megumi is there 🙏🏻 Yuuji needs someone to pick up his jaw for him

He doesn’t care to hide his shock when he sees you dressed in finer attire for the first time

He might play around and pretend not to recognize you at first

He feels so much more protective of you

He was already keen on not sharing you with girls and guys who hit on you, but now he’s so much more so

He can’t keep his hands or eyes off of you,

Though that’s nothing new

After the first interaction, he doesn’t bring much attention to it

At least, not intended attention

He feels bad, he doesn’t wanna keep calling you out or anything

Like..maybe you didn’t want him to say anything? Maybe you just wanted to dress up?

Poor boy is stressing over NOTHING.

He’s just not a big fan of change, is all

But he likes this one a lot! Even if it’s only for certain occasions

He looks forward for all of those occasions

He will make more plans in order to see you more dressed up

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #fyp #for you page #x reader #x y/n #self insert #fanfic #fluff

[theworldofotps]

Daddy's Biggest Fan (Drabble)

Pairing: Hook x Reader Word Count: 574 Description: Y/n takes their child to see Hook wrestle for the first time

Requested by: @sunrise28sblog I loved writing this and really hoped you enjoy it. ________ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose​ @99hook @madhatterbri @sjwrites22​ @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk​ @xladyxfatex​ @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ @demonqueen29​ @itsicantbelievethis666​ @lilred91​ @rebellious-desires​ @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497​ @thatpanpal​ @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart​ @vebner37 @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars @seeingstarks​ @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior​ @blaquekitty​ @ironshamelessyouth​ @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin​ @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana  @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera  If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. Hook Taglist: @wickedval __________

Y/n smiled as she walked slowly down the hallway her hand gently holding that of her three year old son, they made their way through the backstage area. “Daddy?” The small boy called out craning his neck to try and see which wasn’t easy given he was so small. Y/n scoops him up so he could see better as they made their way in the direction of Tyler’s locker room. “Don’t worry my love we’ll find him we just have a few more turns and we’ll be there.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek they walked a little longer and y/n stops gently setting her son on the ground.

“Look who it is bubs.” She pointed up the hallway smiling when her son’s eyes landed on the man, he loved more than anyone apart from her.

“Daddy!” His squeal caused heads to turn light chuckles hitting her ears as Tyler quickly turned around and gasped bending down. Y/n let their son’s hand go watching as he quickly toddled down the hallway towards his dad.

“Hey buddy you excited to see daddy wrestle for the first time?”| Tyler asked holding his son close smiling into a face so similar to his own chuckling as the small boy cheered nodding his head and hugging him. Y/n walked over joining them and smiled when Tyler wrapped an arm around her waist kissing her softly. “Hello gorgeous I thought you two were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago?” “Sorry babe we ran into your dad, and you know he can’t resist spending a few minutes with his grandson.” Y/n smiled listening as their son excitedly chattered away to Tyler about well she couldn’t really understand what but they both seemed to be having fun. Making your way into the locker room you sat down on the couch. “And you’ve already seen daddy’s title but I’m defending it tonight.”

Pulling your phone out you snap a couple pictures of them and a small video, the video would be something for yourselves. Despite sharing some things Tyler was still a private person when it came to his life and your child.

“Are you guys going to be ringside or stay in the gorilla?”

“I figured the gorilla since he’s still so little and I don’t want the crowd to be overwhelming for him. But uncle Dan said that he had a nice quiet spot all set up for us.”

Tyler smiled nodding his head as he sat down beside his fiancée and their son crawled over onto her lap, he’d been dreaming of this day for the last three years and it was finally here. He couldn’t want to see what his son thought of seeing daddy wrestle in real time. When a knock sounded on the door the trio made their way from the room making their way to the gorilla. “Okay I have to go out now, but I’ll be back when I’m finished.” He kissed the small boy’s head then stood up and kissed y/n with a soft smile as he moved the hair out of his eyes.

“You’re going to do great we’ll be here when you’re finished.”

“Thank you I’ll see you in a few I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

“Love you daddy.” Tyler’s smile widened more as he ruffled his son’s hair, and his music began sending them both a wink he walked out feeling on top of the world.

#hook aew #hook fanfiction #tyler senerchia #aew #hook x reader #aew hook

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

There's so much diversity on our screens right now! My currently airing favorite queer dramas include a hot af trans chic and her very obedient beefy cop boyfriend, a reincarnated gay soulmate couple where one gets visions of the future and the other dreams of their past lives as mythological creatures, a sweet mind-reading 30yo virgin with low self-esteem and the hot capable gay co-worker who is simping on him, a bitter former national athlete who is going blind and his rebellious ex-con caregiver boyfriend, and a sappy collegiate gay couple bonding over cooking delicious food together while looking very pretty. And as a bonus, I get to watch Pavel return to his soft-hearted bad boy roots as he stars in the first ever live action omegaverse series (that doesn't feel like omegaverse until the dialog occasionally hits you over the head with a steel chair reminding you that men CAN get pregnant, even if the show will most likely never show it to us, lolll) playing an Alpha racecar driver surrounded by deceitful people who likes to get dicked down by his Alpha boyfriend. Seriously, what is all the beautiful crazy we're being gifted with y'all? What a time to be a BL fan.

#asian gay dramas #the sign the series #cherry magic thailand #last twilight the series #cooking crush the series #pit babe the series

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

Steve tries everything to get Eddie's attention during this week's hellfire meeting. Chewing loudly, making comments about rolls, flopping his entire body on to different couches. Eddie barely sends him a glance. The only time Eddie seems genuinely annoyed is when Steve starts popping his gum.

It's not his fault! Eddie's so pretty and fucking packing and Steve just wants to be braindead fucked out. Steve keeps popping his gum and scrolling on Instagram until he fades away and hours go by without him realizing. The gum tastes disgusting now and Steve gets up to spit it out. He climbs up the stairs to get some water and heavy footsteps follow him. He smiles, bratty and amused.

Eddie presses him down low on to the counter and Steve keens and pushes in to him. "Keep that fucking mouth shut for one more hour. Then I'll be really nice to you. I promise. But you need to be good. Be my good sweet boy for just a little longer." Steve whines now and Eddie bites his neck and growls. "Be good. Last warning. I've been counting that fucking gum noise. I will make you pay for it." Steve relents.

Sometimes Eddie's nice and takes the rings off when he spanks Steve red and blue. Sometimes he doesn't. And honestly, Steve just wants to struggle a bit not really upset him. Eddie deserves a day off. Satisfied with Steve's submission, he gets off and goes back downstairs.

It takes about 20 minutes before Steve is clawing at the walls again and sends a picture he's sure he hasn't sent to Eddie yet. It's boudoir chic. All lacy panties and garter belts. A few minutes goes by and he gets a picture back. It's some tally marks on the margin of Eddie's notes. A text pops up right after. "Text Robin you won't be at work tomorrow. That ass is mine."

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve

[morallyinept]

Pedro Boys & Kinks 🥴

Today we're getting kinky with the Pedro Boys...

NSFW due to the nature of the smutty talk.

Check out more of my Pedro Boys Rambles here.

I make no apologies for this. Well, maybe some...

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel Miller - Nylons. 

This rugged old man with the bad knees loves to tear through your pantyhose like a rabid madman in the throes of a Cordyceps freak out! Le freak, c'est chic. He's drooling, darlin'. He loves to lick your pussy through them, watching the wet patch bloom into the silky mesh of your oozy camel toe. Feel the smooth slide of them against his morose face as he runs his scruff up your legs and into your parted thighs. Those thick, calloused fingers are soon tearing them open as he literally dives face first into your sopping cunt. I mean, he's been starving for a while now. Chef Boyardee ain't cutting it. Joel's a hungry man and it's not long after that, that he's planting his crimson capped mushroom deep inside you; fisting at the shredded hosiery around your thighs. In the days before the outbreak, Joel was an absolute sucker for a pair of black hold ups with a lacy top. And if they had little satin bows on? Well, that's a sure fire way to finish him off. And Joel Miller is fucking indestructible, right? 

Well, mostly. Abby Anderson might have something to do with that… Sssh! 🤫

Francisco Morales - Gagging. 

The best way to hook this Catfish line and sinker, is to take him right back deep into your throat and watch as he loses all his shit. Frankie's gonna start killing people! Lots of spit, sucking, drooling and if you cry those mascara tears from the strain down your cheeks? Even better, hermosa. You can bet that Frankie will bust more than just his nuts as you chow down at the all-you-can-eat dick buffet and swallowing all of that Fish yoghurt. (Urm, eww?) You'll have this handsome pilot flying high, and without the use of nose powder. Standard Heating Oil cap stays on. The whole damn time.

Ezra - Urophilia & Squirting. 

Ezra is a kinky scoundrel deep down. We all know it. Don't be fooled by that doe-eyed, self-redemption of our ramblin' man. Even with one arm he can still get his freak on with vigour. And don't let the fact he has one arm hold him back either. Oh no, little bird. He'll fingerbang you so hard until you're gushing all over his arm and he's licking it all up greedily. S'better than mining for Aurelac. Ezra's biggest kink is railing you when you really need to pee. And you can bet he'll press down on your bladder so you let it out all over him as you cum wildly. Time for a golden shower for our sweaty prospector. Panties down, Birdie.

Dieter Bravo - Abrasion (Touch Sensations)

This trashy floof-panda loves to touch things, always feeling things up when he's high off his tits. Rubbing his face against the wall, fingering through the shag, even licking it on occasion. And don't give him bubble wrap when he's fucked up twelve ways to Sunday n' tripping balls. You'll never get it back. The same applies when you're fucking; your body is a touch soaked candyland for him to explore, mount and peak. And dribble over. He'll take his sweet time doing it all too with awed bloodshot-eyes and then indulge in a post-coital KitKat for a munchies treat. Dieter won't share it though; he's never giving this up. 

Agent Whiskey - Impact Play 

Ol' handsome Jack has an adept arsenal of kinky whips and lassos. Of course he's gonna use them on ya, sugar. We all know how good Jack is with a whip. He loves it when the skin breaks and you bleed a little too. Those thick, red welts criss-crossing over your pert booty that he'll slap whilst he fucks you like a bucking bronco get him staying hard for the duration, ma'am. But he likes spending time soothing you afterwards by rubbing cool and nourishing salves and lotions into your cheeks and kissing all over them like succulent peaches. Cowboy Jack is all about the aftercare, doll. A true Southern dandy indeedy. 

Javier Peña - Quirofilia (Hands/Nails) 

Javier always notices when you've had your nails done. Complimenting you on the colour, the shape; the glitzy gems on your pointer finger that twinkle at him as he fucks your fist in the file room tucked away amongst boxes of Escobar's reciepts and spurts down your skirt. Yeah, thanks, Javi. He loves it even more when they're raking down his back leaving pink claw marks in his tan skin that make him growl and bear his teeth, as he ploughs you deeper into the mattress, cariño. 

Oberyn Martell - Wax Play

Oberyn loves making patterns on your skin as he drips the hot wax onto it and watches you sizzle. Peeling it off when it dries is the best part to reveal succulent pink nipples he sucks on and soothes from the heated burn they've endured. Fucking by candlelight will almost guarantee that the Red Viper will sink his fangs into your flesh to poison you all over again after he sets you aflame. Is it getting hot in here? 

Marcus Pike - Cuckolding 

Well cuck-a-doodle-do-me. Marcus loves watching you get taken by another, far more superior, person, and your pleasure at that suggestion only fuels his own further. He loves hearing how weak and pathetic he is and how he's never made you cum (even if it's a playful lie, I mean it's Marcus-fucking-Pike, come on. The man spends hours pulling them big O's out of you.) And if you poke fun at the size of his cock, (even if it is a whopper) he'll ruin himself right there fuelling your laughter as he watches you get railed without being able to touch. Guarantee it. 

Dave York - Knife Play

Murder Daddy Dave loves to watch you squirm as he runs the whisper of a cool, sharp blade against your milky skin. A gentle nick or a subtle graze into the skin where the blood bubbles up, makes his cock harder than the thought of Carol's Sunday casserole. Holding it to your throat as he dicks you down is even better. Play victim for Daddy, Princess. And when you beg him to use the handle in place of his cock, well Daddy Dave is only too obliging for his good little cum slut. Good girl. 

Pero Tovar - Sploshing. 

I mean it's food, d'uh. Sit on a cake and let this hungry Spainard feast off of you like his enjoying his last meal. Fruit, honey, cream… okra. You name it, he'll eat from the serving platter of your tasty flesh, and will then eat you out afterwards. Either way Pero will be getting his fill one way or another. Better have some Pepto handy.  

Din Djarin - Shibari 

The Mandalorian can either bring you in warm or bring you in roped up. Taking his sweet, agonising time in tying the silk fibres of the Shibari rope around your limbs, Din prolongs both of your anticipation through adept fingers akin to wizardry. But it's worth it to see the pretty and intricate knots and weaves that leave their patterns indented into your flesh long after he's untied you. And it'll be hours and hours before he does, Mesh'la. With your back to him, he'll subtly push up his helmet to kiss his artistic handiwork and leave deeper marks etched on you still. This is the kinky way. 

Marcus Moreno - Suspension.

Marcus loves nothing more than twisting your body into shapes whilst you're suspended in the air, manipulating you into all sorts of heroic poses. Pulling you back onto him as he pummels deep and hard, and you've no way to escape him. You can only float there, suspended in mid air and take what this sweet hero gives when he lets out his dark villainous side to play. 

Max Phillips - Humiliation & Degradation.

Max loves the power of claiming his victims; a Vampire's hard-on. But this bloodsucker also loves it when a human gets one up on him and shows him who's the real boss by reducing him to nothing but a naked, quivering pale mess on the floor at your feet to walk all over, spit on or do anything else that you feel he's deserving of. Threaten him with an open window. Sharpen a 2B pencil. Well, he did bite you, babe. Time to get your revenge. Make him crawl naked to the staff room to fetch your lunch then use him as a footstool whilst you eat it. Just don't be surprised later when the dynamic shifts again and Max makes you his lunch. Nom.

Silva - Feet 

This handsome Wrangler has travelled a long way to lay at your feet worshipping them. Stroking, nuzzling, kissing; sucking on that big toe you loathe, licking up the arch and groping the ball of your foot. He'll suck on your pinky toes whilst you suck on his cock. He'll be jerking his own gently and lost in the sensations of your intimacy as he fawns over your feet. Silva's in pedi heaven. Lord knows he'll need one himself after wearing them boots all that way, mind. 

Comandante Veracruz - Voyeurism.

Veracruz has no qualms in fucking you infront of his men, claiming you and reminding you all that you're his plaything that he's kept hostage. Or instructing and watching his men take turns to fuck you when you misbehave whilst he lays back on the cot, dick in hand and blowing up. Both are equally pleasing scenarios to the eye for the Comandante. And the Comandante always gets what he wants. 

Maxwell Lord - Electrostimulation 

Attach the clamps on his nipples, on his balls and then charge up the juice and watch this man squeal and grunt like a Red Wattle hog. He also likes a shock wand when he's been a very bad man. And Maxwell is in dire need of a whole lotta punishment, considering he tried to take over the world. Charge him up like a battery and watch the sparks shoot out of the end of his cock. Better than fireworks.

Javi Gutierrez - Furries 

I mean, sweet Javi G dressed up in an oversized, fuzzy teddy bear suit and pawing at you? I'll just leave you with that image to do with as you wish… 

#jett's pedro boys #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #jett has spoken #joel miller #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #marcus pike #marcus moreno #francisco morales #din djarin #agent whiskey #max phillips #maxwell.lord #comandante veracruz #silva strang #javier peña #javi gutierrez #dave york #pero tovar #oberyn martell

[one-of-tankhuns-neurons]

I cannot let this show go without writing my goodbyes... Deep Night Final EP

Deep night was everything and more. It was a show that was made with insane love, thought and care and it fucking shows. That loves shines through the screen and it is GUARANTEED to warm your cold dead heart. Cheewin has always made his shows a bit more grounded, a bit more queer, a bit more real. Since YYY you can just tell there's someone in the crew that understands queer experience and this was it again. The good parts, the sad parts, the struggle without exploting it for pity. It showcased confusion and acceptance and love and love and love. So many different kinds of love.

Wela and Khemtid

These two developed so beautifully, from people who misunderstood eachother, to people who felt attracted to each other but still didn't get it, to people who listened, apologized, leaned on, supported, loved, cared for eachother. Khemtid's enchantment with wela blossomed after they fought about Wela's job, he realized that acceptance was the better route to take and he just worked hard to get it right, to make up for it, to help. Wela at the same time tried so hard as well to understand Khem's feelings, making it easier for them to reach the middle ground. He worked so hard with Khem to keep the club afloat, he was never mean to his coworkers, he carried the whole world on his back and still stood proud. They went from strangers to these two adorable dorks who hold hands and smile while kissing. I'm sorry but Khemtid smiling like he just won the world while giving his injured bboyfriend a handjob at the back of the club made my heart burn. That's complicity and partnership and mischief and intimacy. They stand on equal ground and that's so meaningful to me.

Then we have these three dorks

The true rivals to lovers. I talked about this in my previous Deep Night post but it was brilliant. Their storyline developed so subtly and naturally I cried last week. The way Japan and Ken's love bloomed out of love for Seiji... like it's not that they're just dating Seiji, they're dating eachother and that comes from a trust that developed from and understanding, that grew from care into desire. Last week's episode showing Japan as the center of his fantasy showed that, Japan is also attracted to Ken, and Ken's heart has melted for Japan as well, unknowingly. The talk they had was so necessary, so respectful and rooted on concern and an actual attempt to build something that left no one out. Seriously the way they're sitting in the end, with Ken brushing Japans hand, the way Japan held Ken's hand and brought him into the hug to welcome him, to shelter him. I love that it wasn't fetishized. (Because we've tackeled threesomes before in other shows but not romantic love) I love them, they love each other, this is healing.

Freya and Meiji

They are EVERYTHING. Honestly the role of women, specifically queer women in queer spaces has been overlooked for way too long. They take on the role of caring, protecting and supporting the whole club, the boys themselves and themselves. The fact that Freya's character was divorced and was constantly under attack from her ex-husbands family now existing with a same-sex partner was so complex yet beautifuly handled. Meiji was not just some random chic they threw in to gay it up, she was important to Freya, she helped at the club, she wasn't much around but when she was on screen she was Freya's rock. The talk on age... bro that shook me to the bone. Media is so focused on youth their questioning was so valid and so painful to watch... but it healed. Fuck I'm crying watching this. Everyone deserves to be loved by THEMSELVES.

Khem and Freya

gET TF OUT I WANT TO BE ALONE this mother-son relationship was amazing. Both characters grew so much out of love for each other I want to swallow a shotgun. The was it was alway Freya trying to gain Khemtids approval was so heartbreaking, and watching Khemtid LEARN to accept and love his mom, accept and love the club, accept and love the role they play... fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK

Also we cannot forget Dai

I don't even have words to explain how great this character was. Outfits on point, personality strong and unmoving, loud and authentic and accepted and part of everything and capable and necessary and just EVERYTHING. And the fact that Dai was perceived as a potential love interest for Freya without it being a joke or mockery was gold. Apart from that, all of these characters and storylines are interwoven in a net of complexity, social norms, real struggles but also real coping mechanisms. I also want to LOUDLY RECOGNIZE the work put into it, as they all worked hard to actually get on stage and perform acrobatics like their characters. There was just so much attention to detail and to making things right I want to cry just thinking about it. Please please please if you havent... Watch it. It may not be revolutionary but it's perfect to me. Deep night is a very queer show that decided to open a lot of wounds just to let them heal properly. THANK YOU DEEP NIGHT. I expected nothing from you and you're now part of me.

#deep night final ep #deep night the series #nah but i cried like 18 times writing this #and theres so much stuff I didn't mention #the whole discourse on recognizing this line of work #i love them #khemwela #kenseijipan #bl drama #deep night bl #thai bl #im crying again #wela and his moooooom #freyameiji #ql #thai ql #queer