#I can’t yap about myself there’s nothing to yap about

[banditblvd]

hii do u have a sona i can draww? :D

Ayee as a matter of fact I do

Here’s my silly do what you will

[stellewriites]

a little self-celebration after being hard on myself for having a creative block recently,, i finally hit this year’s 100k on ao3 🎉

hoping to get to 150k by the end of it

[evie-sturns]

make up - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and your boyfriend chris have a massive argument, and even after he apologises you still dont forgive him. he makes it up to you a totally different way.

contains: smut, makeup sex, angst, arguing, yelling, fluff, swearing.

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

9:38pm

chris walks into the warm kitchen, i lean against the counter with a small smile.

"hi chris!" i speak softly, i walk up to him and wrap my arms around him.

he pats me once on the back before shrugging me off with a small incoherent mumble. "chris-? whats wrong with you?" i ask calmly, cocking my head to the side.

he scoffs, "nothings 'wrong with me', just not in the mood for it.", his voice is hoarse and he sounds pissed.

"not in the mood for what-?" i ask, staring up at him as he continues to look down at his phone, the light of the screen illuminating his features.

"not in the mood for you," he snaps back almost instantly before turning around and walking into the dining room.

my eyebrows knit together as i try to stay calm.

"what do you mean? what did i even do?" i ask, following him into the dining room.

he sits down at one of the chairs with a huff, his eyes closed as if hes trying to block me out.

"chris-" i start but he instantly cuts me off,

"every single minute you wanna be grabbing on me and shit, every. single. minute." he replies quickly,

"i dont understand why youre so obsessed with me or something? like god can i get any time alone?" he spits,

i let out an audible gasp,

"what- why is your ego so big that you automatically assume i'm 'obsessed' with you?" i laugh,

"you're my boyfriend of course i want to touch you?" i follow up, a frown clear on my face.

"you know you can be so damn clingy, pisses me off." chris raises his voice as he stares up at me from the dining chair.

i stare down at him, my eyebrows knit together as i try to figure out how to calm this situation down.

but i can’t, he’s pissed me off now and i’m known for talking back quite often…

“not my fault your a moody grown ass man, but you never fail to act like a child.” i told my arms,

“god, listen to yourself, just a whole load of yap yap yap.” chris mumbles as he makes a mouth with his hands.

he rolls his eyes,

“why are you acting like this?” i raise my voice, folding my arms over my chest with a hurt expression.

“i’m not acting like anything! you genuinely annoy me so much and i’m not sure how much longer i can keep putting up with your bullshit.” he scoots his chair back, it makes a loud screech on the wooden floor as he stands up to meet my gaze.

“well what then- you’re gonna break up with me cause you’re in a sensitive fuckin mood?” i yell back,

“you’re making it hard not to.” he laughs bitterly,

“chris- you get like this too often! i mean all you do is complain and bitch-?”

he cuts me off, “all i do is complain? you can’t go a full hour without whining to me, i hate that about you, seriously hate it.”

i throw my hands in the air, he takes a firm grip of my wrist and clutches it tight.

“let me go you asshole!” i yell, tugging my arm.

he grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

i stare up into his piercing blue eyes as he speaks.

“you are such a bitch, such a fucking bitch.” he speaks codly, a hint of honesty behind his words.

i finally get my wrist free with a loud huff,

“where are you off to now? ‘gonna go have another cry in the bedroom? seems like the only thing you do.” chris grumbles,

“fuck- i hate you!” i scream, storming off down the hallway into my room.

“i bet you do” he scoffs,

i slam the door of my room, i walk over to the bed and flop down on it.

-

i promised myself i wouldn’t cry, i don’t want chris thinking i’m a crybaby.

but now i’ve been alone for 20 minutes, the emotions are finally building up as i replay the argument over and over in my head.

i burst into a sob, instantly trying to wipe the tears away, but it’s no use, they spill down my cheeks quicker than i can control.

i bury my face in my hands as i let out wracked sobs,

i grab chris and i’s shared stuffed animal, which we collectively got for our 6 month anniversary.

i let out shaky breathes as i try to calm myself down

my thoughts get interrupted by two knocks at the bedroom door,

it follows by chris walking in with a small smile, all of his anger from earlier gone.

“hey..” he whispers, a nervous expression on his face

i ignore him, keeping my eyes fixed on my lap.

“can we have a little chat- please?” chris asks softly,

i shake my head, maybe i’m being somewhat immature, but i don’t care.

“i just wanna say i’m sorry, i love you a lot and i wasn’t thinking straight- at all.” he whispers, staring at me.

he sits on the bed infront of me,

“i don’t like fighting with you, and i’m sorry that i managed to start an argument it wasn’t your fault.” he speaks, his hand resting on my knee,

“i’m sorry baby.” he sighs,

i give him total radio silence, my mouth presses in a thin line.

“can i have an answer please?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my knee softly.

i shake my head with a small pout,

“oh- please don’t give me that pout, i hate seeing you so upset.” he sighs,

“i don’t forgive you.” i mumble, i fidget with my nails as i stare down at my hands.

“okay, do you want more time alone?” he asks,

i shake my head with a small “no.”

“would you like me to stay here with you?” he follows up,

i shrug,

“what can i do to prove i’m sorry?” chris asks, scooting up next to me on the bed and resting his back against the headboard.

i shrug again,

chris reaches out and glides his fingers over the waistband of my sweatpants, keeping his eyes locked on my face.

he slowly dips his hand under my waistband, i feel his cool fingertips grace over the lace of the panties.

i nod slightly, a signal for him to keep going.

“can i make you feel really good please?” chris asks, his voice is slightly more hoarse now.

i nod, “fine..”

i try to sound as uninterested as possible, just as a little reminder i’m still mad at him.

chris grabs me under my arms and lifts me onto his lap,

i straddle him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

he reaches for the hem of my shirt, i nod.

“and.. up!” he gently lifts my shirt off over my head,

he reaches round and unclasps my bra, letting it fall onto his chest

“so so beautiful ‘f me.” he sighs, his hands roam over the curve of my waist.

i stay seated happily on chris’s lap, looking into his eyes as he sits up against the headboard.

he reaches round for my sweatpants, gently tugging them down my legs and off my ankles, leaving me in just my baby pink pair of panties. a little bow decorating the top.

my clothed cunt presses against his sweatpants,

his eyes rake over my body with a small groan,

i whine, reaching for the hem of my panties.

“i’m sorry doll, i don’t mean to tease ‘ya.” he whispers, quickly discarding my panties and shoving them in his pocket

i sit completely bare ontop of him, he’s fully clothed still just admiring me.

he gently rolls me off of him onto my back, i lay spread out across the mattress.

he stands up off the bed and gently tugs me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the end of the bed.

he reaches for his belt buckle, which makes a loud clinking noise as he lets it drop to the floor.

chris tugs off his shirt, which is slightly cropped at the bottom.

finally he reaches for the button of his jeans, letting it drop to the floor and pool around his ankles.

he stands in his boxers, his happy trail peeks out the top of his waistband.

chris pulls me even closer to the edge of the bed,

he kneels down on the floor infront of me, his head inches away from where i need him most.

my breathing picks up as i feel his hair graze the inside of my thighs, my clit practically throbbing now with how bad i need him.

“i- chris- please you- you said you wouldn’t tease me-“ i whimper, shifting my hips to bring them closer to chris.

he chuckles softly, his hands wrap around my thighs and position them over his shoulders.

he tugs me close to him, his nose brushing against my clit.

i feel him finally place his tongue onto my entrance, tingles shoot straight through my body.

he licks a stripe from my hole up to my clit, savouring the flavour as he slowly presses his lips to my clit.

he hums against my clit as he sucks on it lightly, jolts of pleasure rushing through me.

chris has never been known for being gentle or slow, he usually goes so rough to the point of me screaming out his name, so this is definitely a change.

he speeds up, i clench around nothing as i get closer and closer.

my hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly at the silky strands.

“oh- oh chris-!” i moan out, he gently thrusts his fingers in and out of me, my walls stretching around his longer fingers.

that’s enough to tip me over the edge, i clench around his fingers.

i let out a breathless moan as i release, chris gently unlatches his mouth off of me with a grin, my juices covering his chin.

he wipes his chin on the back of his hands,

“feeling a bit better sweetie?” he asks, his lips glossy.

i nod, laying my arm messily across my face.

“tell me what you want now.” he whispers, his hands travel up the sides of my torso as he gently removes my arm from my face.

“you a bit sensitive? do you wanna wait a minute?” he asks softly,

i shake my head, “just want-.. you.”

“okay baby.” he whispers, standing between my legs.

“hold my hand if you need to.” chris says, his blue eyes fixed on mine.

i nod, reaching up and gripping his hand.

“okay- ‘s gonna hurt a little bit but you’ll get used to it like always.”

he gently pushes inside of me, his tip stretching me out already.

i squeeze his hand tight before letting out a pathetic moan.

he pushes deeper inside of me, i let out small whimpers.

“i know, i know.” he whispers, his free hand coming up and resting on the side of my face.

he grabs a pillow and positions it under my back,

“feel a little better?” chris asks as his cock sits fully inside of me.

i nod, finally cracking a small smile.

chris leans down, his arms caging around me as his face hovers inches from mine.

he slowly starts to thrust, keeping his eyes locked on mine as his chain dangles in my face.

“oh- fuck- you’re so tight.” he mutters, positioning himself so he repeatedly hits my g-spot.

“chris-“ i moan, gripping his bicep.

chris quickens his pace just so slightly, his tip repeatedly brushed against that sweet spot.

“i’m so sorry baby- fuck..” he groans,

“didn-didn’t mean to upset you- earlier-“ he moans out as his thrusts keep their steady rythm.

“you- you cum whenever you want to baby, don’t gotta ask me for permission.” he whispers,

i nod frantically,

“fuck- oh my gosh!” i arch my back off the bed,

“feels so full chris-“ i whimper, he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach,

“you feel me right there?” he asks, gently massaging my stomach.

i nod, a choked moan escaping my lips.

“such a pretty girl,” he groans,

i whine, opening my mouth wide.

“yeah?- ‘ya want my fingers?” he asks,

i nod frantically, needing something to muffle my noises.

he gently presses two fingers in my mouth, letting them rest on my tongue.

“goood girl, good girl.” he rambles, keeping his fingers resting on my tongue.

“oh- ‘m so- ‘m so close-“ i say through a muffled moan,

my gummy walls clench around him, feeling the knot in my stomach get closer to snapping.

and finally,

it does.

i let out a loud whine against his fingers as i finish, clenching around him so tight.

chris instantly lets go, burying his release deep inside of me.

he pulls his dick out of me with a loud pop, followed by his fingers.

he stands hunched over between my legs as he catches his breath. “god- god y/n.” he whispers,

his cum slowly drips out of me onto the bedsheets, which chris seems to pick up on,

he gets the two fingers which were just in my mouth and gently pushes his release back inside of me, “there we go, gonna take it all ‘f me.”

he finally collapses beside me, pulling me onto his chest.

i bury my head in his collarbone, wrapping my arms around him.

“do- do you finally forgive me?” chris asks with a small chuckle, still completely out of breath.

“i guess so.” i grin cheekily,

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-love r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[julietsf1]

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night (1.2k words)

Warnings: None :) wholesome vibes

AN: reminder to check your smoke alarm batteries!! kisses <3

__________________

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I called out, eyeing Franco with a mix of amusement and mild concern as he confidently moved around the small kitchen. His apron—bright red and definitely way too small—barely covered his front, leaving the rest of him looking like he’d outgrown it by several sizes.

Franco turned to me with a grin that oozed confidence, waving me off like he had it all under control. “Help? Please, I’ve got this. You’re in for the best dinner of your life, mi amor.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His green eyes were sparkling with energy, despite the ridiculous apron that was comically snug around his waist. His fluffy brown hair, still slightly damp from his shower, bounced with every exaggerated movement he made as he whisked something in a bowl.

“I’m serious!” he continued, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction, like he was daring me to doubt him. “This pasta is going to blow your mind. My abuela used to make it for us, and I swear, the whole family would fight over it.”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him in full-on ‘Franco Chef Mode,’ which mostly consisted of him yapping enthusiastically and throwing ingredients into the pan with dramatic flair. “Sounds amazing,” I teased. “You sure your abuela didn’t mention anything about using a bigger apron?”

He glanced down at his too-small apron and smirked. “I think it looks great,” he quipped with a wink, “Makes me look extra muscular.” With that, he turned back to the stove, tossing onions into the pan like a pro. Well, a very confident, slightly chaotic pro.

“So, where was I?” Franco rambled on, stirring the onions with a flourish. “Ah, sí. My abuela always had a secret ingredient for this dish—made it the best in all of Argentina.”

“Let me guess,” I said, already knowing what was coming. “Love?”

“Exactly!” He spun around, pointing the spoon at me again like he’d just revealed the greatest culinary secret of all time. “You’re catching on. It’s the love that makes it special.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched him. He was talking a mile a minute, bouncing between stories about his family and random facts about the pasta, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the kitchen.

“Oh! And one time I tried making this while camping with my cousins,” he continued, stirring the pan with far too much confidence. “We had no pans, no stove, nothing! So we made this big firepit ourselves, and I swear, we nearly set the tent on fire. But the pasta? Still amazing. Not to brag, but it was probably the best meal ever made on a camping trip.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Really? Best camping meal ever, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod, his voice filled with pride. “I think my cousins still talk about it to this day. Of course, they might have been a bit crazy from hunger after the hike and the whole nearly-burning-the-tent-down incident, but I’m pretty sure it was my cooking skills.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased, my eyes flicking to the stove, noticing the onions beginning to smoke. “Are you sure we’re not about to have a repeat of the tent fire here?”

Franco waved me off without even looking. “No way, mi amor. I’ve got this under control. Trust me, once I add the garlic and—wait, did I add the garlic yet? No, no, we’re good. Anyway, as I was saying, the key to any great dish is improvisation. You have to feel the ingredients, let them tell you what they need. You can’t follow a recipe too strictly, you know?”

“Uh-huh…” I tried to hide my smile, but the smell of something burning was unmistakable now.

“So, this one time in Argentina—”

“Franco!” I finally cut in, pointing toward the stove. “The onions!”

His eyes widened in shock. “Mierda!” He lunged for the stove, but it was too late. The onions were charred beyond recognition. With a dramatic sigh, he grabbed the pan, lifting it up to inspect the damage. “Okay, so maybe... I overestimated the heat a bit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. “A bit?”

Franco turned to me with a sheepish grin, still holding the smoking pan. “Hey, it’s all part of the process, right? Even the greatest chefs burn something every now and then.” He set the pan down with a shrug. “You know, I think this is fate telling us we should be eating takeout instead.”

“Oh, is that what it’s telling us?” I teased, stepping closer to peer into the burnt remains of his ‘famous’ recipe. “Your abuela’s going to be so proud.”

Franco groaned dramatically, setting the pan down with a defeated sigh. “Okay, so maybe my abuela wouldn’t be proud of this particular attempt.” He looked at me with that same sheepish grin, charming as ever despite the burnt onions. “But next time, I’ll definitely get it right.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving the mess on the stove a pointed glance. “Next time? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, pulling me closer by the waist, his hands warm against my skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, mi amor. Besides, I make up for it in other ways.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that left me smiling.

“Is that so?” I teased, tugging playfully on the string of his too-small apron. “Because right now, all I see is a confident chef... with no dinner.”

Franco smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good thing I’m great at improvising, then. How about this: I’ll make it up to you with pizza—takeout, of course. No burnt onions, I promise.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really going for the easy option, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look at me, his grin widening. “Sometimes the best plan is knowing when to call it quits.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling through the takeout options. “So, what’ll it be? Pizza? Sushi? Anything you want, I’ve got you covered.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “Deal. But I’ll still win you over with my cooking skills one day. You’ll see.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” I teased, grinning as I pulled him in for another kiss—this one deeper, slower. His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through my chest.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Okay, so maybe you’re better at this than cooking.”

Franco smirked, his confidence back in full force. “See? I told you I’m quite talented at some things.”

We settled onto the couch, Franco’s arm wrapped around me as he ordered the food. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

“You know,” I said after a moment, glancing up at him, “I think I’m kind of glad you burned the onions.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Glad? Really?”

I grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Because honestly? I much prefer cuddling up with you here on the couch.”

Franco laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kissed the top of my head. “Well, in that case, I might have to burn dinner more often.”

[86espresso]

💌 roommate!jack (loml)

part 2 part 3 suggestive lolololol

(au??)

gets you pads & chicken wings and ur like?? and he’s like ‘you said get pads with wings :)’ and then you cry

subconsciously makes a meal for two every time he cooks bc you’re always studying

you instantly hit it off with him because why not and it’s like, immediate besties

*you walk out in a pretty outfit* “look at you! where you goin’?” “dinner with the girls!!” “dinner with the girlss!! do a twirl f’me.” (FUCJ FUCKLPSJW)

“where’s my favorite black shirt? swear I left it on the counter.” “…” “jack?” “I swear I had no idea- look, I spilled orange juice and your shirt looked like a rag-” “so then you threw it in the washer, right?” “It’s in the trash I’m SO sorry” “you’re done.”

“Dude, I need the best fuckin cuddles you can offer right now.”

(#2) listening to you yap while you sit on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs back and forth.

massaging each other after hard days >>>

“I specifically put protein shakes on the grocery list.” “I didn’t look at the grocery list!” “Why? Why- why not?” “I didn’t think I’d need it, sorry babe.” and he can’t even be mad anymore bc you called him BABE.

friday movie nights and you inch closer every time until you’re practically on top of him and u both don’t (do) care.

the one time he puts you to work in the kitchen & you cut your finger on a knife: “shit, mshit fuck- christ, I’m so sorry. Shit, c’mere.” cleans you off properly and puts on a bandaid. (maybe he kisses your finger and that’s when you both realize that you’re stupidly in love or maybe he doesn’t.) kitchen off limits fr now

knows that you hate thunder so you wordlessly crawl to his bed whenever there’s a storm and he wordlessly lifts his sheets so you can get under them. wordless cuddling. wordless lil forehead kisses.

(#2) “did you eat today?” texts when he’s on roadies that make you want to smash ur head against a wall.

^ *when you get together eventually* “this is what a healthy relationship is like?” when he runs you a bath with rose petals & a bath bomb the night before one of your finals and kisses you all over ur face.

“you need to let me in when you’re upset, okay? I care about you and I want to help.”

“so.. I think you’re pretty adjusted to new jersey now (2 years).. maybe it’s time for me to move out? you probably want your own place now-” “wtf ? you idiot this is your apartment and the only way you’re getting rid of me is by getting rid of my cold, dead body.” “you could’ve just said you want me to stay-” “I want you to stay. I need you here.” (owbskhelenlop)

Jack’s thoughts when he unintentionally gets you obsessed with hockey and you start spitting random facts at random time: what have I created. (she’s such a nerd I want to fuck her.)

just as you’re about to walk into your apartment, he comes out and shuts the door behind him abruptly. ur like “oh.. do you- have someone over? I could come back later.” and he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise decorations he had up for your birthday so he says “yes” and you’re in TURMOIL until you find out what the surprise is

”you gave me a home. a sense of familiarity in a new city. a support system for whenever I couldn’t deal with myself. you think I wouldn’t do everything I possibly could, for you?”

he kisses your cheek/forehead every time he enters a room and bypasses r like “???” until it’s common

literally nothing changes after you get together except your ‘outings’ are now dates.

*makes a bite of his food and brings it over to you* “wh-” “open up. all you ate today was a snickers bar.” FEEDS YOU

the amount of inside jokes you both have is crazy. you love that you’ve found someone you can fall over laughing with.

strictest rule in the apartment: no raising voices at each other.

obsessed with your laugh

silly lil arguments that have you rolling on the floor a minute later

play fighting rahh

^ giggling when you attack his face with kisses

“teach me to skate?” jack’s brain: osntdiebdyes yehstseyssy yesyes ye (he gets to hold your hand). “sure.”

/your first time/ “you don’t know how much I used to wish these pretty noises were bein’ made ‘cause of me every time you brought someone else home, and now they are.”

when you moan his name for the first time he goes like batshit insane, has you in tears after three rounds.

not before absolutely devouring you. “patience, baby, I want my cock inside of you too but I need to taste you first. may I, baby?” (he’s already pulling your panties down) (both hands on the phone!:+*)

pt 2 maybee after obsessed jack pt 2 🙂‍↕️

ily!

[knavesflames]

i have a request if it is alright and you're comfortable writing this ! arlecchino x reader who refuses to eat because they are insecure, eventually caving in for their beloved peruere, who Always has her way with words . . . that said if you do write this take your time !! i hope you have a good day <3

Hi! I struggle with this myself tbh, it’s been an ongoing struggle since I was 12/13, so if you’re feeling like this I really hope you’re alright! That being said, I hope you enjoy. I tried to make it as close to your prompt as possible!!

Word count: 985

Contents: fem!reader with implied ed, nothing graphic but she struggles poor thing, husband material peruere fr, shes deffo so soft for her gf

utc!

You have always seemed to have your own silent troubles with body image and eating. Now of course, Arlecchino noticed the day she met you. You can hide it as much as you want to, but she’s become quite aware of your little tricks, and that convincing smile. For the peace of the house, she goes along with them, for the most part. What else can she do when you refuse to admit you have an issue? She instead opts to sit with you when you eat, always snacking on something herself despite her appetite being smaller than the average person. When you attempt to distract either her or yourself from whatever meal you both have sat down to eat, a singular finger will gently tap on the side of the plate or the bowl, a small but silent indicator that she knows what you’re doing, and it isn’t working.

You were getting a little bit better for a while, but someone you hadn’t seen in a while had commented on your body and it had gone downhill from there. Since then, she has watched you with a careful eye, and of course, taken the batteries out of the scale. Arlecchino is one to silently deter you, rather than intervene and make you feel attacked. She has learned from experience that it does not help.

However, when she notices that you once again have not eaten the entire day, she realises that giving you some fruit cubes or a bowl of soup will not suffice. So, she cooks for you. The woman can cook, yes, but not anything other than salt and pepper. She cooks a bland meal, a little variation of your favourite one. She just cannot bring herself to put in the chilli flakes. She casts glances at you as you sit in the living room, noting down each detail she notices about you— the way you’ve chosen baggy clothes over the usual outfits you love to wear. The sad eyes and the way you avoid any hint of a reflection as to avoid seeing yourself. Arlecchino thinks it is so, so sad when the person she loves so dearly cannot bring themselves to love themselves too.

When Arlecchino moves to sit next to you with two plates in her hand, you already know, and you’re already prepared to refuse. Before you could open your mouth, though, the plate is placed in your hands, with one word. ‘Eat.’

You take a few small bites, enough for her eyes to stop watching you constantly. Once you think she’s calmed down, you go about your typical tricks. Yapping on about anything and everything and always attempting to distract her. It does not work this time.

“You aren’t fooling me,” she hums, tapping the ceramic plate with her nail. “I made this for you. Please try to eat it.”

You find yourself faltering at the pleading tone in her voice. Arlecchino does not plead, nor does she ask, or beg. She doesn’t seem to be Arlecchino now, though. She is not The Knave. She’s how she is when she’s alone with you, where she allows you to call her by her true name.

“Peruere, I am not hungry.” You begin, eager to appease her. Peruere is stubborn, though, and wants to hear absolutely nothing about it.

“You are, and you will eat. Please. You look miserable, and I dislike when you are miserable. Why must you suffer for beauty standards that are so unrealistic?” For once, her voice is soft instead of the harsh, cold voice you’ve grown to love. It’s different, but you can’t say you mind it.

“You say that, but you’re beautiful,” you mutter, staring at the plate in front of you. Your hand absentmindedly twirls the fork around. “It’s not the same.”

“I am tall, and I have many scars. I wear a suit. My hands are charred to the extent that they will never return to their true colour. My eyes. I do not fit the so-called standard either, but there is nothing I can do about the issue, so why would I waste my hours suffering at the hands of myself because of it? Why would you, when you are so perfect to me?”

You huff in annoyance, but purely because you know she’s hit a nerve in you, and you know she’s right. It irritates you, because you can’t seem to find a witty comeback. You look at her, and her once stoic face has worry written into her features. You see it in the way her eyebrows crease, and the way her head has tilted to the side. It’s the most emotion you’ll get out of her. You stare at her for a little longer before you cave, and while grumbling incoherently, you stab the food with the fork you’re holding (a bit aggressively), before taking a bite.

You chew for a while, longer than necessary, and she cocks an eyebrow in a silent command. You continue chewing, staring at her for a beat before she realises why you haven’t swallowed yet. She sighs gently, but takes a bite of her own and, the second she swallows, you do too. Peruere decides she’ll take what she can get, and watches as you mirror her until the food has settled into your stomach. Peruere is acutely aware of your little habits, though, and pulls you close to her so you are not able to suddenly stand up.

“You did well. You already look less tired. I do despise when you mistreat the person I love.” She mumbles into your hair, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as you nuzzle into her. Peruere decides that if she has to do this with every meal, she will, because the way your eyes light up when you taste her ever so bland food warms her heart more than she’d care to admit.

[p123apples]

please God, I want to be impregnated so bad. I want him. That beautiful, radiant angel. Like a god, having come down to Earth to cleanse us of our sins.

he is beyond divine. I can’t help but drop to my knees in worship whenever I see his beautiful figure. I yearn for him in a way both primal and spiritual. I would commit more war crimes than every president in United States history just to lick the sweet, glistening sweat from his smooth, creamy skin. I want to listen to his moans as his manhood throbs within , I want to hear his heart race as our bodies become one and our souls irreversibly intertwine in the holy sin of carnal union.

I want to suckle at his motherly bosom, slurping that rich mana milk from his teat as I would stir his cream into my coffee and let his balls boil in it. His cries of pleasure and the rocking of our bed would be louder than the cacophony of ten thousand drone strikes. I would make love to him until my body gave out, and then some. I would let him break my rib cage with any part of his body. I would let him hit me with his car just to be near him for a brief moment.

he’s so perfect it hurts. Every moment without him I suffer a pain worse than breaking every bone in my body simultaneously while drowning and also having shards of glass coated in hot sauce forced through every orifice of my body. I want him, I need him. I want to desecrate his crisp general suit. I want to start a family with him and retire after our twenty seven children have grown up and moved out. I want to see those luscious lips speak such filthy, perverse words into my ear while he slides ice cubes down my gaping pisshole.

I want to fuck him like he owes me money. I would let him step on me, just to feel the soft, firm warmth of his feet upon my face and his groin area. I would sleep under him just to catch his drool in my mouth. I would fish the strands of hair from his shower drain just to smell his alluring scent, and braid them into necklaces to keep him with me always. Or cock rings. Whichever would please him more.

God please, I would do anything for him. I would relinquish my life, all my hopes and dreams, just to become the socks on his feet so that I may warm his mouthwatering toes with my very being, so that he may feel the heat of my love always. I would encase myself in cement and become his doorstep, so that he may wipe his heels upon my face. I would tear my own limbs off. I don’t know what I’d do after that, or why he might want my limbs. But I would do it.

My prince, my god, the light of my life. Please God, let me have him. I want him to be mine and only mine. I would lick the Doritos dust from his fingers and fill his belly button with honey mustard to dip my teats in. I would give him a sponge-bath with my tongue every morning and serve him breakfast in bed. I would let him eat my eggs,straight from the source . i would let him eat steak off my body if it pleased him, no matter how painful the third-degree burns would be.

I would bear the torment of eternal damnation until the end of time to taste the seat of his car but once. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him, nothing I wouldn’t say. I wouldn’t even let myself cum until he gave me permission.

I love you,gojo . Please. Be mine. Be my life, my lover, my sorcerer daddy ,my everything. Say yes. I see it in your eyes, when you’re up there yapping about catching up to suguru or whatever. Answer my calls, respond to my letters. Something. Give me a sign, gojo. I’m waiting for you in chapter 269, come back my glorious emperor,it is time you got out of that airport or you would be escorted

descend from heaven satoru,i am waiting.

[crunchwrapsnoopy]

Second Chances [Touya Todoroki x Reader]

˙⋆✮ That's So True ✮⋆˙

"Looking into big blue eyes. Did it just to hurt me, make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life."

even villains deserve a lil redemption

Dabi x F. Reader

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

WC: 1398

I'm sat on my thrifted couch by the window as rain softly beats against the glass. I press play on the voicemail for what feels like the millionth time, the words already burned into my memory, but still, I can’t help myself. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe hearing it again will change something.

"Y/N, please come back. What I did was wrong, it’s been months... I can’t lose you. The league misses you, too. Toga won't shut her damn mouth about you. Fuck, I’m so drunk right now... I love you. I know I didn’t say it often, but—"

The sound of Shigaraki’s raspy voice cuts through, sharp and impatient. "What are you yapping about?" he snarls. "We’ve got shit to do, wrap it up."

Dabi’s voice stumbles back in, slurred. "Bye, Y/N. I have to get a new burner soon- I’ll try calling again. Fuck, I know you won’t pick up. You haven’t the last dozen times but I’ll try." The message ends with a quiet beep.

It’s been three months since that call. And by then, I’d already been gone for seven. Seven months since the night I left him—the night I left all of them behind. His betrayal, his lies... it was too much. It’s been almost a year since I stepped away from the league, from the chaos, from the life that almost consumed me and swallowed me whole. A year since I walked out and didn’t look back.

I’m lucky, though. So stupidly lucky. My quiet, lowkey role in the league made slipping away easy, there were no repercussions or police coming after me every time I stepped foot outside. I’ve kept off the radar, built a new life for myself—a quiet life. I work at a flower shop now, which is insanely different than working as a villain for Shigaraki and the League of Villains, and it smells a lot better too. I’ve even gotten myself a little apartment on the edge of town, cozy, with a window that overlooks a quiet street, and roommate, which is actually just a little calico kitty that I named Cupcakes.

I’ve found peace here. Real peace. But the voicemail keeps pulling at me like a thread that came loose on a favorite sweater, both painful circumstances. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I know Dabi’s voice will haunt me forever if I don't talk to him at least one more time, and attempt to get better closure than some shitty drunk voicemail.

I text Giran, the broker that supplies the league with everything, including burner phones. Dabi stopped calling recently, so I assumed he lost my number with the last burner, because knowing him, he wouldn't stop calling just to give me space.

Me: Hi Giran! It's Y/N, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was wondering if you know Dabi's current burner phone #? 😇

He gets back to me almost immediately.

Giran: Y/N!! So good to hear from you, kid, thought you fell off the planet lmao. And yea I can send the number. Giran: ###-###-####

He sends me the number, and I dial it immediately, my hands trembling. After a few rings, Dabi picks up, his voice sounding annoyed. "Who’s this? And how’d you get this number?"

"Hey, uhm... it’s me, Y/N."

"Y/N?" His tone softens, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. What’s up?"

I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to talk... are you busy?" I can hear a lot of voices in the background—probably everyone from the League. "If you’re tied up, it’s fine. It’s nothing important."

"Never too busy for you, doll." His voice shifts, and I hear him step away from the noise, the background chatter fading as he walks off.

The noise in the background slowly fades as he steps away, and I imagine him walking down a hallway, his boots hitting the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sounds of his breathing and the soft hum of his movements are the only things I can hear now. It’s strange, this feeling of distance and closeness at the same time.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” Dabi says, his voice rough but clear now, like he’s giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

I swallow hard, staring at the rain outside, the droplets running down the glass, blurring everything in sight. My heart races in my chest, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making sense. “I don’t know,” I admit, running a hand through my h/c hair. “I guess... I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” He lets out a soft chuckle, though it sounds a little strained. “You’ve been gone for a while. Thought you were never gonna reach out.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I reply quietly. “But... I keep listening to that last voicemail you left. Over and over again. I just... I couldn’t stop myself.”

There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the shift in his posture. Maybe he’s rubbing his face, or clenching his jaw. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dabi’s never been one for easy emotions. “Shit,” he mutters, sounding like he’s been through too much to deal with this. “I shouldn’t have left that message. I meant what I said but I wish I said it better, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

"It's okay. I liked it." I say softly.

"Really?" He asks, his voice almost in disbelief at me admitting that I enjoy his shitty drunk voicemail despite everything. 

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. “It wasn't like you at all- guess the liquid courage helped a lil, huh?" I laugh dryly, "It was real sweet its own way. I could tell you meant it, even if you were drunk n didn’t know how to say it.”

Dabi’s silence on the other end feels heavier now. I can almost picture him—frowning, leaning against a wall, trying to collect himself. "Fuck," he mutters after a moment, voice low. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. But... I'm glad you did."

“I’ve been avoiding it,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my phone. "Avoiding you, avoiding everything. But I can’t keep running forever."

Dabi lets out a long exhale, like a weight’s been lifted from his chest. "I get it. I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame you for it. I fucked up." His voice drops a little. "But if I’m being honest... I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would."

My heart skips a beat. It’s strange to hear him speak so plainly, without the usual sharpness in his voice. "I’ve missed you too," I whisper before I can stop myself. The confession catches me off guard, and I quickly add, "But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just jump back into everything. Things are... complicated."

"I know," Dabi replies, quieter now, as if he’s absorbing my words. "I’m not asking you to. I’m just... saying that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to prove it, I’ll prove it."

There’s something in his voice now that feels different, a promise without needing the words. A subtle shift in how he speaks to me, less like the cocky villain and more like a person who’s afraid of losing something he doesn’t deserve.

I stare out the window at the rain, a tightness in my chest as I let the quiet wash over me. I know I can’t go back to the way things were, but maybe—just maybe—I can start a new chapter with him, one where we’re both trying, even if we don’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” I say finally, voice soft but steady. “But... maybe we can try again. Slowly.”

Dabi’s voice is quieter now, but there's an undeniable relief in it. "That’s all I need. A chance. We can take it slow."

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to the steady rain and his steady breathing on the other end of the line. For the first time in a long while, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. There’s no going back to what we were before, but maybe there’s still a chance for something else.

"Alright," I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let’s see where this goes."

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

[majoryeager104]

can you write ua touya but with a so? i love the way you picture this aaaaaa😭😭

of course pooksss omg thanks for the request <3

High school Touya x gn!reader

summary: Touya as your boyfriend going to UA together. First half Headcannons then an x reader bc I’m down bad too 😭😭😭

warnings: language, crackhead behavior from Touya, as usual

High school Touya would be an absolute PAIN

ESPECIALLY if you’re his lover

I think he’d be a dry texter. Like dry as fuck

”Touya ur 30 minutes late to class?! Where have you been 😭😭😭”

”Omw” TEN MINUTES LATER.

SMH

he tries to act aloof and cool to his other classmates but really he just comes off as a major asshole

which he claims is even better

But really he’s just a big softie

he loves the attention and affection that, with his pretty eyes and whiny charming nature, he can very easily get from you.

He’s so upfront about it too

hear me out for a sec

He’s got the good grades, okay? He’s got all a’s he doesn’t play around. 

But he’ll bug the life out of you anyways

He’ll ask you to help him with his homework and act like he doesn’t know anything about the subject 

Just so he can hear you talk

Oh, and then when you’re done he’ll roll his eyes and be like

“Do you ever quit yapping?”

With that smirk (you know the one)

and if you turn him down? Pouts all day.

you won’t get away with it, he always has the last laugh. (Observe teehee)

————————————————————————

“hey doll-“

“not doing it”

you shut your locker with a thud, immediately turning away from him and his Cheshire Cat grin

“Please? I really need help this time”

he pouted, pulling you back towards him to give you those big sad blue eyes of his, his white, fluffy hair barely concealing the mischief behind them. “no Touya, I’m barely keeping up with this assignment myself-“

“we can study together-“

you shot him a glare, and he pouted even more, crossing his arms as he averted his gaze with a huff. “fine. I guess I’ll just fail then.”

he said, barely able to contain his smirk as an idea popped into his head, but you saw it, rolling your eyes with a tired smile. What was he up to now?

1:30 PM

Touya (dni)

baby please

you

NO. SHOO 😤

————————————————————————

Soon enough, classes were dismissed, and you were walking alongside each other on your ways home. You lived nearby, so he always walked you home, on top of that, he’d carry your schoolbag for you, pulling it from your grip with a wink. “that looks heavy doll”

He swung it over his shoulder, carrying both his bag and yours with a smirk widening on his face

“what’re you up to?”

You giggled, watching his expression as the two of you approached your house. “Oh nothing. Can’t a guy help out every once in a while?” He pouted, once again failing to hide his wide grin as he walked you to the door. “Do you wanna come in or something?” You said cautiously, smiling as you realized his plan, or so you thought. “Eh, for a minute I suppose” he shrugged, his grin growing. You rolled your eyes, opening the door as he let you inside in front of him. You waved to your mom in the kitchen, who smiled when she saw you two, greeting the two of you as she walked out of the kitchen towards you. She gave you a hug, and then looked at Touya

“Thanks so much for coming by to help with y/n’s homework, Touya, I don’t know what she’d do without you”

“Of course! I’ll gladly help her anytime she needs it”

your eyes widened as you looked over at him, a triumphant grin on his face. His plot clicked in your head, those knowing blue eyes of his sending you a wink as he pulled you towards your room

“cmon Y/n! Wouldn’t want those grades of yours to slip!”

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 24: Property of: Darling

Screenshot credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 24: Haunted House

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend's schedule has switched temporarily, and he hates the loneliness. So she joins him at the restaurant for one morning and leaves him a parting gift. Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, mentions of The Devil, mentions of Mikey, comfort, fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns Carmy takes care of Nat, feat. Nat. (1503 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

12 Oct 2024

Radiator update: still fucked. Life update: Darling came to The Bear.

“Oh, this place is a little creepy,” she whispered as we entered. She swept her gaze around the front of house, the slatted ceiling, the wilting florals in the small, handmade vases on the four-tops from the night before.

“Creepy?”

“Yeah. It feels. Uh…” She gathered her coat together in the front and crossed her arms over it. “I don’t know, a little haunted?”

“Probably Mikey. He would haunt my ass to spite me.”

An uncomfortable grin slowly spread on her features. She covered her mouth with her hands. “I really shouldn’t be laughing…”

Doctors aren’t the only people who use dark humor to cope with pain.

“Come on, kitchen’s back here.” I beckoned her to follow me.

Her schedule changed for a few weeks while one of the other surgeons was on paternity leave, so she needed to be at the hospital for second shift, which meant that she’d be at home alone while I needed to be at work, I’d go home to an empty apartment all evening, and then she’d get back home when I was on my way to passing out. The first day, it didn’t bother me too much (her schedule change started on a Monday); by the time Thursday rolled around, the fucking loneliness hit me. It was so fucking quiet in the apartment. How I existed in that silence for so fucking long, with nothing more than echoes from my past, ghosts of The Devil, of Mikey, of the gardens at NOMA to keep me company, to play endless loops in my head, I have no fucking idea.

But it’s probably part of why I’m fucking psycho.

I needed, more than anything, to listen to Darling tell me about her day, about Monique, about the shitty families that annoyed her. I needed to hear her giggle and snort at my stupid jokes, and I needed her legs across my lap while I worked out those knots in her calves. Fuck me, I needed her in my lap mumbling sweet little things into my mouth while her hands danced over my skin, wove into and tugged on my hair. Morning sex was fulfilling as ever—even if she was practically shoving me out of bed to keep me on time after because somewhere in these several months, my brain must’ve latched onto sex equaling sleep—but sex is not what I’ve been starved of. Lack of sex isn’t the roiling, screaming, hollow in my being that involuted and metastasized into the monster, the animal that chewed away and retched out the good parts of me as undigested lumps; it was lack of intimacy. I can protect myself with my armor, but I can’t hug anyone while wearing it. And under that armor, I atrophied into this mess.

God’s a sadist. We’ve established this.

“Pretty boy?”

My head snapped up from the marble counter towards Darling. Warm smile on her face. She was pointing to my left, out of my view. I followed where she was gesturing and found Nat there, looking like she hadn’t slept in a fucking week, holding a stack of manilla files. Her hair was a frizzy fucking mess secured to her head in some way, she had no makeup on, her eyebrows were half-missing, she had these purple-green shadows under her eyes, her lips were chapped. Wrinkled t-shirt, fleece jacket.

My stomach sank through the floor. She hadn’t looked like that in a thousand years. I didn’t even know what was wrong yet, but I needed to fix it. I needed to fucking fix her. Her hair was such a mess, did she even brush it? Who the fuck did this to my sister? Why does she look like that?

“What-what’s wrong?” is all I managed.

She held up a hand. Spoke with her eyes closed. “Emily colicked all night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Mikey—I’m fine, I promise, I just miss him. I’m just gonna secure the schedule with Richie, and then I’m gonna go back home—"

“Home, yeah, please. For fuck’s sake, get some rest,” I said. I skittered around the counter and took the files from her. “What are these?”

“Documenting and accounting for Cicero, just put them in the filing cabinet, top drawer, left side.” She rubbed her forehead. “I need. Coffee.”

“Did you eat?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Carm—”

“Nat, fuck you. Did you eat?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “No. I did not.”

I went to put the files away. Got back in the kitchen and set about making Nat her favorite omelet. She went to the office, saying something about “turning into a lump” until Richie got there. I got into the flow of dicing peppers and forgot Darling was even there until I felt her hands around my waist and her gentle warmth press into my back. Thank fuck I was used to her pulling adorable shit like this at home—I knew to put the knife down because my eyes would drift closed of their own accord, and, still without my input (this woman has my body on a switchboard, I swear to Christ), my head would loll back to rest on her shoulder. She swayed us lightly on the spot. Hummed. Pressed her lips to my neck.

“I think it’s so sweet how you two take care of each other,” she whispered.

Fuck me, that was dangerously close to fucking me up. My core tightened with a familiar heat, and this pleasurable prickly sensation buzzed along my inner thighs and low in my back, weirdly enough. At work. I’m at work right now, pretty girl, you can’t go whispering things in my ear. I need to survive another 10 or so hours without you, and if you’ve fucked me up this bad, I’m just going to cause problems for everyone else. You have to be at the hospital today, too, so it's not like I can go home and rail you senseless to get it out of my fucking system.

“Call me later, hm?”

I nodded. “Mmhm.”

Was it planned? Did she plan to make a wreck of me? Certainly seemed like a possibility based on the smirk she had on her angelic features as she waved goodbye and exited the kitchen. I nearly overcooked the eggs thinking about the way her hips swayed as she walked away. That had to be on purpose, too, right? Was I imagining things? Was Darling teasing me?

My head continued to spin 20 minutes after she’d left. Felt like I was on a boat or had just started going down in a particularly fast elevator. Sug was slumped over at the desk, head on her arm, looking more like a half-molten wax sculpture than an entire person, but she offered me an exhausted smile when I brought her breakfast over to her.

“Aw, you also made me coffee, Bear,” she cooed. Then blinked. Rubbed her eyes. She pointed at her neck. “Uh, you have, uh…”

A lipstick print?

She grabbed her fork and sliced off a bite of omelet. “You might wanna get that off before Richie gets here. Or Syd. They’re gonna have a field day.”

I popped over to the bathroom to take a look at it. It looked like a tattoo. There was a perfect lipstick print right over the tendon on the side of my neck in a color somewhere between pink, maroon, brown, and red. Blue-leaning instead of orangey. Warmth bubbled in the pit of my stomach, not that dissimilar to arousal, but this one was of a lower intensity. It was comforting. It soothed me more than it riled me up.

Fuck, it looked fucking gorgeous. It was so symmetrical, so neat, had perfect edges, no smudges. It followed the angle of the muscle as it crawled up my neck. The color wasn’t jarring or bland. Most of all, it was from Darling. It was hers. She might as well have written a “property of” notice and tied it around my neck. So, Richie and Syd and Tina and Marcus were going to see it—so what? They see my tattoos, do they not? They see the adornment I chose to put on my skin so others would see; they can see this one, too. No, you don’t understand, all of you—I belong to her. Not you. Not this restaurant. Not Cicero. Darling. I belong to Darling, and all you fucks are just gonna have to get used to it.

Sug, with her mouth full. “Carm, this is so good. Thank you.”

“Modified Syd’s recipe,” I replied automatically, heading back over to the office. “I left out the potato chips because I doubt your stomach would’ve liked them at this hour.”

“Mmhm.” She looked up at me. Her eyebrows crashed together. “You’re not gonna… take that off?”

The lipstick print?

Good question. “The color suits my eyes,” I said.

[beeswearpants]

so i watched the venom 3 trailer, freaked out like a schoolgirl, and god, how on earth will i be able to watch this in a theatre- in public- I’ll want to scream… ill want to squeal… i can’t watch this in the theater man!!!! its genuinely a concern I have to have its so funny to me cause god

little fun fact about myself I already made someone leave a theater from a venom-related reaction

i went to see spiderman with my friends, the last one. And i know nothing about marvel i’ve never seen any of it, I was just sitting there the whole movie, mildly confused but okay, but then… ending credits….

in a wave of pure shock and adrenaline, i screamed to the top of my lungs (APPARENTLY) “VENOM????!?!?!?” upon seeing them. so much so that it made a woman angrily storm out complaining cause she got so fed up with it. and this was the last spiderman movie!! the one where everyone is screaming and clapping and yapping all the time- so it must’ve been baad–

And I didn’t see no woman i didn’t notice i had screamed, my friends told me about it later cause I was LOCKED IN, i did NOT notice any of that!!! i felt so bad but i was STUNNED

my guys??? my gays??? on the big screen??? without warning?????? a surprise from MY guys??????????? HUH?????? OUT OF NOWHERE????? on the fuck ass marvel spiderman movie?????????? MY GUYS???? i was on the edge of my sit!!!! adrenaline!! pumping on my veins!! i was SHOCKED!!! hands over my mouth!!! made a lady leave the room!!

oh oh!!! and watching venom 2? i fell down my chair and scraped my knee-

every 5 minutes i had to pause it and run away from my computer, literally sprint away around my house giggling jumping-

the night club-coming out of the closet-sorry you’re not my type- scene? hit me so hard i fell down my chair, scraped my knee.. I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, when i came to i was on the floor, i had such a visceral reaction I FELL

watching venom 2 in the safety and comfort of my own home made me fall down and scrap my knee-

I’m gonna die a venom related death I just know it

it’s gonna kill me someday

so it’s genuinely something i have to worry about and its so funny to me, APPARENTLY i cannot conceal my reactions when it comes to venom and i am tone deaf about it

god ill be on that movie theater squirming foaming out of my mouth in a straitjacket trying to contain my reactions

im scared. im not gonna make it. they'll have to take me out back the mall and shoot me😦😦

[razorblade180]

Bed History

Firefly:Caelus, I have a very important question. Silver Wolf has told me some…interesting things. So I was wondering…

Caelus:How many people have taken me to bed?

Hologram appears

Silver Wolf:You knew what I meant by Smash. Don’t even pretend. You took me to bed. *disappears*

Caelus:So that’s one person right there. There’s March dragging me and Dan Heng into interesting situations.

Firefly:*red* You’ve slept with a boy?

Caelus:I will emphasize that was not on either of our plans that day. Only March’s. Other than that, there’s Sparkle you know about Stelle.

Firefly:I’m sorry, what was that?

Caelus:Huh?

Stelle:*opens door* Naaaaah I heard that shit. You slept with who!?

Caelus:…A Masked Fool.

Firefly:What!?

Stelle:When!?

Sparkle:How!?

Caelus:I-

They all turn their heads, including Sparkle. She then looks back at them as she chews on some popcorn.

Sparkle:You’re out of popcorn by the way.

Caelus:In my defense, this happened when you were dead and the first time I saw Robin was her body fading away. The vibes were at an all time low.

Sparkle:So your favorite trash compactor was mixing drinks and trying to dance sadness away. It kinda funny in a painful way. Like a comedian trying to save his performance.

Caelus:See? She’s just annoying and yaps. You ever just wanted to shut someone up who’s so smug?

Firefly:By sleeping with them!?

Stelle:I hate to say it….but if I had ran across Aventurine again back then and he called me Ms. Stelleron one more fucking time…

Firefly:Far be it from me to predict the actions of a Fool but how the heck do you even convince someone like her to entertain that idea?

xxxxx

Sparkle:Well well well look what the cat dragged in. A funny looking raccoon confused in the big city.

Caelus:You really think you’re above all. Just the ultimate risk taker with no care in the world.

Sparkle:Don’t know what you mean. Like any supporting character, I’m filling up space and watching the show. So what if the stage blows or the performance gets canceled. Another starts, so why be scared to step on any or play whatever?

Caelus:You really are crazy.

Sparkle:Perhaps~ like I said, anything can happen so anything goes. No need to get cold feet or stuck in the same scenes.

Caelus:Ever slept with a bomb?

Sparkle:….What?

xxxxxx

Firefly:You. Are. Insane.

Sparkle:It was a good question.

Stelle:Honestly i respect the hustle.

Sparkle:Maybe don’t die and make people sad. It was a one and done. Although…I’d give the performance four stars. It makes me wonder how well the leading actress performs.

Stelle:Keep dreaming.

Firefly:*pouts*

Caelus: *pinches cheeks* I’m sowy. Don’t be mad.

Firefly:I’m not mad. Also stop playing with my face!

Caelus:Not until you’re happy again. Although this side of you is cute.

Stelle:Very cute. *pokes face* Hehehe

Firefly:*blushing* (Why are they like this so often?)…..

Sparkle:Alls well that ends well.

Stelle:I can’t tell if you’re a matchmaker or a home wrecker.

Sparkle:Why not both? Don’t put me in box. Unless it’s with a certain fallen angel. Hehe, oh how I bet dear Chicken Wing Boy would cherish any familiar face these days. The Songbird might actually faint if her brother wanted some elation in his life. Only time will tell.

Firefly:I’m telling Robin you said that.

Sparkle:It’s hilarious you think I haven’t told her this myself. Her brother is hot and everyone knows it. He’s gotta put his sins somewhere and I know where.

CFS:You are an actual menace to society.

Sparkle:Said the Stellaron Hunter with her two stellarons. *vanishes*

Stelle:…So do you need my list of people?

Firefly:It’s two people and one is me. The other you just complimented his craziness.

Stelle:….I gotta step my game up.

Firefly:That’s not the message you should take from this!

Caelus:What’s your history.

Firefly:Just one. Could be two but maybe I should reevaluate.

Caelus:I respect that decision.

Firefly:…I mean you can sound a little disappointed; nothing is set in stone.

Stelle:Don’t fold so easily! You had me on the back foot blushing and kicking my feet. What’s so different here!?

Firefly:Silver Wolf gave me FOMO!

Caelus:Did she on purpose, or did you ask questions and never stopped?

Firefly:Not important.

Hologram appears

Firefly:I asked questions.

Caelus:Thanks for wingmaning.

Silver Wolf:Eh, I was bored and out of resin.

Stelle:(Step one; find a wingman…)

[evie-sturns]

Friends - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris are friends with benefits until you notice a change in his behaviour, he starts to get angry about how clingy you are.

contains: fwb!chris, arguing, angst, yelling, crying, making out.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘---------------—-

chris and i have known each other since we were barely able to speak, i've known him my whole life and we've always just. been. friends. until around 8 months ago. i don't even remember how it happened but suddenly his hands were roaming over me, and we fucked.

we both decided after that experience that would be friends with benifets, how could we not after getting a feel for eachother? it was so convinent because i'm always over at their house with nick and matt, they're also my closest friends.

7:39pm

i lay on the sturniolos couch in my small shorts and a tank top, nicks laying beside me as we talk about absolute bullshit.

"nick, you're seriously yapping now" i laugh, "no but tell me thats not the best wednesday video ever, i'm getting matt." he declares, heaving himself up and running out the room, he comes back with matt.

"i will happily cook salmon tomorrow for the wednesday video." matt says with a deadpan face, he speaks like he's being held at gunpoint.

nick claps, "let's go get the shit now" he says with a know it all smile on his face, "dickhead." i scoff to nick, he shrugs with a wide grin.

"you wanna come get the stuff from the grocery store with us?" matt asks, i shake my head "i'm not dressed for the occasion" i joke.

he laughs before grabbing the keys which are attached to his jeans loop, he walks with nick outside, shutting the front door behind him.

i put my phone down on the pillow beside me before standing up, aimlessly walking upstairs.

i open the door to chris's room, "chriss" i say with a smile before entering the room.

"why aren't you with nick and matt." he says, sitting up against his headboard. "hello to you too." i say sarcastically, jumping into bed beside him.

i lay my leg over chris's thigh, my hand reaching out and tracing random shapes on his arm, he pushes me off casually, an awkward silence filling the room.

“can i not touch you now or something.” i say jokingly, chris snaps.

“can you fuck off for once?” he raises his voice, i sit up in bed as my heart thumps. “what?” i say, slightly shaken up.

“all you do is touch me and be around me,” he starts, my mouth falls open slightly.

“we are FRIENDS with benefits, i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together?” he says, emphasising the ‘friends’.

“so for fucks sake, act like it, act like we are normal friends because the only thing different about us is we fuck, nothing. else.” chris finishes before standing up off his bed, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind him.

tears pool in my eyes, first of all he knows i can’t take being yelled at, he also knows that i’ve always been insecure about how clingy i can get.

i didn’t have any friends other than the triplets when i was growing up, they were all i really needed. so i’ve stuck to them majorly,

i always ask nick if i’m coming over too much, and if they want me to stay at my apartment i can, but nicks always shut down that, telling me that he will literally lock all doors so i can’t leave.

but that was just nick, nick wanted me to stay, did chris like me round?

i sit alone on chris’s bed, replaying each word than came out of his mouth over and over in my head.

“i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together”

“can you fuck off for once?”

i let out a small sob, tears starting to paint my cheeks. i bring my knees up to my chest as i bury my face in his pillows

i let out shaky breathes, having a poor attempt to calm myself down.

-

7:46am

i don’t know when i fell asleep, all i know is that i’m slowly starting to wake up in chris’s bed.

his arms are wrapped around me, spooning me as he snores lightly into the back of my neck, i stir as i look down.

i sit up in bed, chris’s arms still on me as he lets out a tired groan. all events of what happened last night start coming back to me. i instantly try to get out of bed but chris has a firm grip around my waist,

“chris, let me go.” i whisper yell, he shakes his head.

i place two hands on his wrists and try to pry them off of me. chris is slowly waking up, i feel tears start to form again, knowing that he most likely had to sleep next to me cause i fell asleep in his bed.

i let in trembling breathes, chris sits up. “sh shh.” he says, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits up against his headboard.

“can i please talk to you.” chris says, his voice hoarse.

“chris.” i say, small droplets of tears rolling down my cheeks as i fight his grip.

“i’m going home now.” i say again, “no you’re not.” chris starts.

“i am so sorry.” chris says, grabbing my face and making me look at him.

“i am so sorry.” he repeats, rubbing my arm with his free hand lightly

“i am so sorry for opening my mouth last night , i am so sorry for making you cry, i am so sorry for walking out of the room, i am so sorry for yelling.”

“i love you so much, more than you understand and there is actually no excuse for what i said, i don’t know why i said it. i have never felt truly loved by someone other than my family so it’s really throwing me off that you want to touch me, you want to be near me.”

“i think i’m so scared of getting to attached to you and then you leaving, because i can’t handle that, i don’t want you to leave, ever.”

he finishes, my tears came to a halt as soon as the words ‘i love you’ left his mouth.

“do you mean it..?” i ask, looking up at chris.

he grabs my jaw staring at my lips,

“chris, i have morning breath.” i laugh slightly

“i do not care at all.” he says, slamming his lips onto mine,

his arms holding me tighter than ever, he doesn’t let me go for the rest of the morning no matter how much i protest.

—————-

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 2

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: …Yeah, last night was pretty hot, wasn’t it lil’ lady?

(N-no way…Me and Roger?)

Just the thought of what could’ve happened in bed set my face ablaze.

Kate: Thank you for bringing me back. I’m sorry for the trouble… But…to make a move on someone drunk

(Sure it’s my fault for not remembering what happened last night, but still…)

Unable to deal with this embarrassment, I scowled at Roger.

Roger: Sorry for any outrageous expectations you had, but I didn’t do any of that to you.

Kate: Right, I let my guard down and was eaten up…what? You didn’t…?

Roger: Yeah. The moment Ellis and I brought you here, you threw up.

Kate: …I threw up?

Roger: Yeah. Violently.

I froze, eyes wide, as I realized that something even more shameful happened.

Roger: But don’t you worry. Ellis had the sense to call a maid to undress you.

Kate: …Then why are you dressed like that, Roger?

(Also earlier…)

Kate: Didn’t you say that “last night was pretty hot”!

Roger: I was gonna leave after you fell asleep. But you grabbed my shirt like it was your favorite stuffed toy and wouldn’t let go. So I had no choice but to sleep here. It was “hot” last night ‘cause of your high body heat.

(Um…so that means I got drunk and caused trouble for others?)

Kate: I am so terribly sorry…!

I bowed on the bed while still wrapped up in the sheets.

Roger: …I thought so.

(You thought what?)

He suddenly grabbed my chin and our eyes met.

Kate: …??

Roger: Had been thinking about it, but…you’re like a dog.

Kate: Dog?

Roger: You’re just like my corgi back at home. He barks and yaps, digs his own grave, and makes himself sad. Just like you.

Kate: Wha?!

Roger: Haha, show me that pitiful face. I couldn’t see well without my glasses on.

Kate: Then put your glasses on?! Or rather, you’re too close. Please let go of me, now.

Roger: I get more fired up when someone tells me no or says they don’t want to.

Provoked, I was about to start whining like Roger’s corgi…when someone knocked on the door.

Liam’s voice: Kate, are you awake? I made breakfast that’s easy to eat after drinking if you want it?

Harrison’s voice: No response. I wonder if she’s lying dead inside right now. They say that the day after drinking a lot is dangerous.

Liam’s voice: What?! Kate, Kate, are you alive?!

I could hear Liam and Harrison from the other side of the door.

(They came to check on me because they were worried. B-but…)

I wanted to open the door, but I wasn’t wearing anything.

Worse…Roger’s here.

Roger: You’ve only been here a week, but everyone already likes you.

Kate: Now’s not the time for that!

(What sort of misunderstanding would they have if they saw Roger half-naked in my room…)

Liam’s voice: If anything happened to Kate, I’d…Sorry, I’m coming in.

Kate: Ah.

Roger: Haha. They’ve seen everything.

--

(...This is the worst)

To be honest, I wish I could forget everything that happened after the door opened.

When Liam and Harrison saw Roger and me on the bed, they froze like statues and I spent half an hour frantically explaining that “nothing happened last night between us.”

—Finally clearing up the misunderstanding, we sat down for breakfast.

Roger: Glad everything was cleared up, lil’ lady. The way you tried to explain yourself was adorable.

Kate: …And whose fault was it that I had to explain myself.

Roger: I wonder. Let me know if you find out?

(Ugh, he has a comeback for everything)

(I’d like to withdraw the thought that he was a mature older brother with common sense…)

And correct it to…Roger’s an extremely egotistical person who’s a bully, pushy, and treats people like dogs.

But it’s definitely thanks to Roger that this fruit sandwich I’m having for breakfast tastes delicious again and that I have the energy to argue.

(I don’t know if I should feel happy or frustrated)

Kate: Huh? Now that I think about it, it’s rare to see everyone together today.

Elbert: Yeah…Because Victor called us.

At that moment, light footsteps were heard coming into the dining room.

Victor: Good morning my beloved Cursed Ones and Fairytale Master!

Harrison: You’re too loud.

Victor: I’ve gathered you all here today to discuss something important.

(Discuss something important? What could it be…)

The usually cheerful Victor looked serious.

Victor: Am I making Kate work too hard?

Kate: ……Excuse me?

Victor: I’m the one that made you Fairytale Keeper and asked you to record Crown’s evil deeds! But I can’t possibly imagine the burden it must be to record all nine members. It was a huge oversight on my part. So we’re now going to have a contest for the rights to an exclusive Fairytale Keeper. Yay!

Kate: Exclusive Fairytale Keeper…contest?

Harrison: That topic came out of nowhere that it’s hard to keep up. In short, you’re going to be the personal Fairytale Keeper to one of us.

Kate: I see. Thanks for the simple explanation.

Liam: I want you to be my exclusive Fairytale Keeper. Then I’d always be with you.

Ellis: If you become mine…will you be happy? I’ll do my best then.

They each had their own motives, but were all interested and fought over the kind of contest.

Victor: Tada! I made this just in case something like this ever happened.

(This is…)

Victor: A fair and square ladder lottery*.

With the lottery, it was decided that the contest was going to be arm wrestling— 

Victor: And the winner is—Roger Barel!

Roger: Well, it was bound to happen. Their muscles are just for show. The only one looking bony was Ellis.

The tournament became everyone else vs Roger, with the goal of beating him.

Despite never taking a break, Roger won one game after another, winning them all.

Also Jude was given a forfeit since he disappeared half-way through.

Roger: Now then, lil’ lady. I wanted you to be my exclusive Fairytale Master no matter what, you know?

He looked at me so passionately that my heart skipped a beat.

(What reason did Roger want me to be his exclusive…)

Roger: Organizing materials and helping me with research and investigations…Research is a lot of work. I’m in a situation where I’m gonna a hand from a dog. I’m counting on you, Kate.

(Hm? …Dog?)

Kate: So you’re saying…you need a dogsbody?

That sly grin gave a clear answer…

(You are the worst…!)

--

A few hours later, Roger was in the palace office with investigation reports in hand, along with Victor and William.

Roger: Victor. These are the results of the analysis on the illegal marijuana seized during a recent mission that you asked me to do.

Victor: Thank you. Your quick work’s always a big help.

Roger:  By the way, I wanna ask why you rigged the lottery to arm wrestling so that I’d win.

William: Haha…see Victor. Roger’s a sharp man. It’s best to confess.

Facing blood-red eyes full of amusement, Victor held his hands up in defeat.

Victor: I surrender. I’ll confess. To tell you the truth, I’m still wary of Vogel. They publicly claim that they want to deepen our friendship, but I’m certain that they have other motives. Should they plan to harm us in any way… You know who they would go after first, right?

Roger: …Our lovely Fairytale Keeper.

Victor: Yes. Therefore I thought you’d be the best to protect her. You always keep your composure and you’ve got a strong arm.

Roger: Thanks. But in the end, it all depends on the person themself. I can only do so much.

William: Is that a no then?

Roger: No…I’ll look after her for the time being. Been needing a dogsbody you know?

With some sort of hidden meaning in his words, Roger agreed to their proposal.

Roger: Oh right, you can transfer the remuneration for the report later. See ya.

A steady man never forgets to mention that before leaving.

Victor: Roger really is a shrewd and rational man.

William: Vic, like Vogel, you haven’t revealed everything yet. …What’s the “other purpose” for having Roger and Kate work together?

Victor: Roger’s a strong man. Not just physically and mentally, but he’s also someone that can survive all on his own.

William: Perhaps. I’ve never seen him distressed or depressed.

Victor: It’s wonderful to be unshakeable. However—Unpredictable chemical changes is what makes life so interesting.

William: So you paired the two to satisfy your own curiosity? Ahahaha, you’re as terrible as ever.

Victor: You don’t need to tell me that. You know I’m not a good person.

William: Yes, to your very core.

–

After becoming Roger’s exclusive Fairytale Master, I was assigned to organizing his basement lab.

Kate: I don’t think this is in a Fairytale Master’s job description.

Seeing the books scattered everywhere and piles of paper on the desk, I glanced at Roger.

Roger: A Fairytale Master should get a variety of perspectives so that time isn’t wasted.

That’s a stretch

Are you trying to win me over? 

That may be true +4 +4

Kate: That…may as well be true.

Roger: Your honesty’s a virtue.

Kate: Did you say something?

Roger: Nothing. Come one, let’s get to work.

The lab was filled with an extensive amount of medical books, equipment, and chemicals that I’ve never even seen before.

(It’s pretty amazing…)

Roger used to be a doctor and had been treating the members’ injuries since joining Crown.

He still continued with his research and trials, and some of the books had difficult to understand titles.

(...What exactly is Roger researching?)

One by one, I picked books off a stack and shelved them by subject.

(Um, this is anatomy so…it goes here)

The moment I reached for the shelf, I felt a presence behind me.

(...)

The warmth on my back was obviously his pecs…

Kate: Roger, you can’t just go around touching someone just because no one’s around!

Sandwiched between the shelf and Roger, I wobbled around in place to face him. His eyes were narrowed in displeasure as he placed a hand on the top shelf.

Roger: You know you can stop treating people like starving beasts like you did the other day. I just wanted to get this book off your head.

(Um…so I misunderstood?)

Roger: Well…you do look pretty good though.

Kate: …

I gasped when Roger took advantage of my confusion and closed the distance between us.

…But then stepped away.

Roger: I quit. It’s gonna be too much trouble.

Kate: Future trouble?

Roger: Kate. Do you think romantic love exists in this world?

I’m sure every adult has thought about love.

But I’ve never thought about its “existence”.

Kate: I think there are people who don’t fall in love. But if you’re asking if it exists, it does, doesn’t it?

Roger: That’s the general consensus. However, I believe that romantic love doesn't exist in this world. What you call romantic love’s just a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire.

I suddenly remembered the book I had picked up earlier, “Functional Anatomy and Maturation Process of the Brain”.

(Love can be explained through the brain’s structure, right…?)

Kate: But if romantic love’s not a dysfunction or misunderstanding…

Roger: There’s no rational explanation for it at the moment. You can’t separate love from human society, but it’s never been proven. I don’t believe in or value anything that can’t be proven through science or medicine.

Kate: So, then when you…

Roger: When I do it, it’s for release. Once it’s done, that’s it. We mutually agree on no repeats.

Kate: T-that’s to the point.

(But that’s typical of Roger with his rational mindset that doesn’t like pointless things)

Roger: Well, having said that, I’ll play with you for as long as I can if you’re fine with it. Ah, but you’ll have to keep it a secret from the rest of Crown.

His somewhat seductive smile sent my heart racing.

Kate: I’ll pass.

Roger: Haha, how boring.

Currently, my goal was to complete my job as Fairytale Keeper safely. There was no time to think about love.

(No one can predict how people fall in love with each other)

(Meaning it’s not impossible, but)

There’s no way Roger and I would fall in love…I think

—Yeah, biggest and only goal at the moment was to complete my job as Fairytale Keeper safely.

The day after I became Roger’s personal Fairytale Keeper was when my job started.

My first assignment…was to infiltrate a “death party”.

Next

-

*Stealing a tears of themis ladder lottery example

Dogsbody is British slang for someone who does menial tasks. Not related to a dog itself, but still kinda fitting?

[thatfdkupgrl]

There are many things that I dislike about the Ride the Cyclone fandom, and the one specifically that I wanna yap about is how some people see Mischa as a “dumb jock” like character. I wanna state my thoughts on it. He is most certainly the opposite of dumb. As we know, he speaks **4** languages. It takes a lot of skill to be bilingual, let alone in 4 languages. I see him more as someone who has a lot of potential and could most definitely get a scholarship, but he doesn’t try as hard as he can and instead likes to focus on his rap career. Even though he doesn’t try in classes, I feel like his average grades are F’s not because he sucks, but because he sometimes completely forgets to turn it in, or forgets about it in general due to heavily fixating on rap and his other passions.

Like a lot of people, I like to headcanon that Mischa is autistic, so I think of him more as someone who takes more time with picking up stuff socially and emotionally and not in a book-smart way. So when I say I think Mischa doesn’t understand the fact he’s bisexual and can’t grasp the fact he feels a small attraction to men isn’t because he doesn’t know what it is, but because he’s always seen himself as someone who’s attracted to girls, and the thought of going by a completely different label and sexuality is sort of intimidating for him in a way, especially for someone who seems to have fragile masculinity. Other stuff just clicks easier than others for him. For example, I like HC Mischa is Trans-masc. Before Mischa had his trans awakening, he still knew he liked girls. Since that was before he fully knew about labels and stuff, he didn’t mind the fact he was attracted to girls since it was nothing new. His transgender awakening and self-discovery is a whole other paragraph I can get into about my thoughts on the HC and what I feel like he might’ve gone through

I also heard another post mention how some people HC that he sucks at cooking while in reality that would also most likely be false for many reasons. For one being that he’s a major mama’s boy and probably would get a lot of skills from his mother, cooking being one of them. Two, he is very passionate about his culture and homeland, including the food there. He probably has memorized a lot of recipes from Ukrainian food to stay connected to his homeland. The reason I enjoy to HC the fact he mainly eats pizza rolls is because he doesn’t have access to ingredients, and well, a kitchen due to the fact he mainly has to stay in the basement and pizza rolls are quick and easy to make when being burnt out all the time since that can be an aftermath from being angry and enraged all the time. And for the people that do HC Mischa sucks at cooking, I’m not trying to go after you completely, I just love talking about RTC and love to find reasons to write about it. I myself also have HC’s that make 0 sense when looking back on the actual lore, so take what I say with a grain of salt:3!

[cerismo]

RECKLESS, r.c

P1. P2.

𐙚 . . . pairing. toxic!rafe x toxic!black!fem reader

୨ৎ . . . genre. angst, (tiniest little gram of fluff)

.ᐟ . . . content warnings. cussing, arguing

Rafe Cameron was too reckless with her heart. (based on song by Madi)

“how could you be, so reckless with my heart?”

you walk back to the couch you were sitting on. you pick up your phone, it was a text from rafe…

He apologized, but why did he act that way in the first place? When he got home, you didn’t know what to say. You still wanted to talk to him about your best friend. Even though he constantly denies everything, there’s still that nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to be careful.

You hear a truck pulling into the driveway and know it's Rafe. The sound of keys jingling fills the silence before the door swings open, revealing your boyfriend.

“Hey, sweets...” he says, slowly making his way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply hesitantly, knowing what's about to come but not wanting to face it.

Rafe walks over and sits next to you on the couch, his eyes searching yours for a hint of your feelings. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy.

“Listen, about earlier... I'm really sorry,” Rafe begins, his voice soft and apologetic.

You nod, but the words you want to say are stuck in your throat. After a moment, you gather your courage. “Rafe, we need to talk about Sofia. I can’t shake this feeling that something isn’t right.”

Rafe sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve told you, there’s nothing going on. You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” you counter, your voice wavering. “Why are you always texting her late at night? Why do you get so defensive whenever I bring her up?”

“Because you’re accusing me of something I’m not doing!” Rafe’s voice rises, frustration creeping in. “I’m tired of defending myself against baseless accusations.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you hold them back. “It’s not just the texts, Rafe. It’s the way you act around her. You’re different when she’s around. It’s like... you’re hiding something.”

Rafe stands up, pacing the room. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this: there’s nothing going on! You’re letting your jealousy ruin our relationship.”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you snap, standing up to face him. “I deserve to know the truth. If there’s nothing going on, then why can’t you just reassure me instead of getting defensive?”

“Because it’s exhausting!” Rafe shouts, his face flushed with anger. “I can’t keep living like this, constantly under suspicion.”

The room falls silent, the echoes of your argument hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands.

“Maybe we need some time apart,” you say quietly, the words painful to speak. “I need to figure out if I can trust you again, and you need to figure out why I feel like I can’t.”

Rafe’s expression changes, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Time apart? Is that what you really want? You think you can just walk away from me?”

“I think it’s what we both need,” you reply, tears finally spilling over. “For both of us.”

In an instant, Rafe’s hand is around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses. “You’re mine. You need to remember that.”

Fear grips you as you struggle to breathe. “Rafe, please…”

He releases you suddenly, and you fall to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. “Get it through your head,” he says coldly. “You’re not leaving me. Ever.”

You watch as he turns and walks out the door, the sound of his truck starting up and driving away leaving a hollow ache in your chest. You sit back down on the couch, staring at the empty space where he had just been, wondering if things will ever be the same again—or if you’ll ever find the strength to leave.

MO YAPS

tagged: @venusxsturnio, @flouvela, @monroesturnns

Guys…I’m scared. What have I become. What is this. Who is this. (it’s the rafe we all know and love sadly) How was it genuinely? I think 7/10. Part3?!?

Lemme know what you think (your support is always appreciated)