#the blue is messin with me

[rinzay]

*Sobbing*

HOW DO YOU GET RID OF IT 

[candiednova]

falling stars

[batmess]

i was watching grown ups 2 and there's that scene where the frat guys start to atack each other while screaming "K*LL K*ILL" and other dude screams "no, guys! not each other!" well THAT'S bastard munchen in my eyes

[bookwyrminspiration]

nothing makes me feel more bumbling and uncoordinated than trying to get thread to do anything ever. please señor i am but a small lad

[tohokuu]

jjk men zipping up your dress

REBLOG MY WORK.

warnings : suggestive, light fluff, tension

a/n : something i did to my girl bestfriend the other day and it made me gay. also i didnt k is what to call this so… the name is misleading but 🧍🏽‍♀️

GOJO

“satoruuuu, can you please help me?” you whines prettily. gojo straightened up, looking at you away from the netflix tv show that kept him occupied.

“yeah. what’s up, baby?” he asked. you came closer, tiny little crop to sticking to your skin while the material of your jeans hugged your hips a little too tightly.

“i think i got them a size too small, baby. they won’t fit and i don’t wanna wear any other jeans with this top.”

gojo motioned you forward, leaning over to work his thin, long fingers around the buttons of your jeans.

these weren’t regular jeans. they were the ones with four buttons as a replacement for your zipper.

your panties peaked from underneath, if they could be even called that. you wore your thong out of your jeans today, showing off the cute dior imprint on the sides.

“toru, hurry up. i’m getting late!” you whined. gojo ignored your protest, squeezing your ass closer to him to make it fit inside your jeans.

“babe, if it wasn’t for your ass, this would’ve gone in perfectly ya know?” you rolled your eyes. fingers slowly trailing into his white hair, you tugged lightly while he worked four buttons through each hole.

you leaned back, getting annoyed at how long he was taking. you swung your hips side to side, a small habit when you felt bored.

but you were knocked out of your gaze when gojo pulled you roughly by the belt loop. you heard a thread snap and you looked down in shock.

his blue cerulean eyes stared up at you, blown wide open with lust and dominance.

“stop. moving.” he repeated.

you listened to him. not moving another inch as he pulled you closer using a finger hooked around a belt hoop.

TOJI

“tojiiiii, can you get this for me?” you said as you went up to your boyfriend. you turned around, showing him the extremely backless dress you wore. he raised his eyebrow, smiling to himself.

“you goin’ somewhere, pretty?” he asked. you nodded your head.

“i’m going out with shoko and utahime.” you chirped.

“mmm, dressed like this? coulda thought you was out to fuck other guys.”

his comment left a sour taste in your mouth. pulling away, you looked at him sadly, lip a little wobbly because how could he think of you like that?

he smirked at your distressed expression.

“i’m only messin’ wit ya.” you crossed your arms over your chest, still mad.

but toji knew how to make it right. he grabbed each wrist, pulling your arms around his neck and lifting your chin up so you could look up at him.

“look at me, babygirl.” he spoke in his husky voice.

you looked up, eyebrows still furrowed.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute with that face, ya know that? thinkin’ that it’ll really make a difference at all.” he crooned.

“shut up, toji. it wasn’t funny.”

“i think it was, babydoll.” he leaned in to your neck, pressing soft kisses around the column of your neck, right below your ear. you found it difficult to not gasp, breathing a little heavier as you tried to push at his shoulders.

toji wrapped his hands around the silky thread that ran across the span of your back, tugging it tightly while pulling you against his chest.

you gasped.

“ ‘m not done yet, where you think you’re goin’?” the deep timbre of his voice made your thighs press together, trying to hold in a squeak.

you felt your dress stick to your body tighter and together until a small snap was heard and your dress was all good to go.

toji pulled away, raising an eyebrow at your now pushed up tits.

he flicked your forehead softly, walking away to go back to whatever he was doing.

SUKUNA

“kuna, how do you do this??” you asked.

you walked up to him, almost tripping in the cloth that pooled around you.

he looked down from his throne, brows squinting as he saw your tiny form in a haori that was much too large for you.

he sighed..

“why are you wearing my haori, you bumbling fool?”

you tilted your head, looking down at the cloth that was wrapped around you, engulfing you in linens and silks.

“what?” you chittered.

“what exactly are you trying to achieve, brat?” his voice low and venomous.

“i just wanted to look pretty in a kimono.” you cried.

“well, that isn’t a kimono, for starters.” he sighed, watching your eyes tear up a little at the little mistake you had made.

within seconds, he appeared before you, a deep red kimono in hand.

his calloused hands pulled down his haori, exposing your shoulders to him. you blushed now, feeling more than exposed.

“k-kuna, what are you doing?” you asked.

“shut up. i’m aiding you.”

you kept quiet, fidgeting around a little until he raised his eyebrow at you, silently telling you to stop moving.

the haori was long gone and your body was naked and bare before him. he didn’t dare touch you slyly, though. his hands only grazed where needed and his eyes never left the fabric, not daring to look at anything he wasn’t supposed to.

his hands pulled the kimono taught around you, fixing it around your shoulders and then taking the obi to wrap around.

“life your arms.”

you did as told, lifting your arms and making a T-pose.

he worked the obi around you neatly, finishing off with a small brush to your side and a step back to admire his work.

“you look… presentable.” as he cringed.

you knew he just meant that you looked beautiful.

GETO

your roommate was the only available help you currently had. it was an awkward situation you got yourself stuck into.

“hey uhh, geto, can you please uhh zip this up?” you asked meekly.

he got up quickly, coming around so you could see each other in the mirror. you moved your hair to the side so it wouldn’t get stuck in the zipper.

he inhaled sharply, staring at the tramp stamp at the end of your back. it was cute, he thought.

he pulled your body back roughly, “sorry, my bad.” he wasn’t sorry.

you nodded, letting him carry on with the annoying zipper that just wouldn’t go up. his cold hands touched your back, making you arch away from him.

“sorry.” once again, he was not sorry in the slightest.

his heavy fingers played with the zipper a bit, trying to even it out so it could move up and down smoothly. a part of him could feel in his chest that you did this on purpose.

you probably wanted him to lay his plush lips along the juncture of your neck, kissing the skin and marring it with reminders of him.

but he pushed those thoughts away, reaching all the way down to where the waistband of your panties were, playing around with the zipper until it finally came up.

“mmm, there you go.” he said, but not before giving you a look through the mirror that made you regret not grabbing and kissing him.

CHOSO

you decided to head to the beach with your boyfriend today. you were tired and figured you needed a day off before getting back to work.

you packed your skimpiest bikini that left little to the imagination and left for a two hour beach drive.

things would’ve gone smoothly until the elastic on your swimsuit snapped.

you rushed across the sand, running to your boyfriend.

“choso, choso, my swimsuit snapped!” you whisper shouted.

he got to work quickly, putting a hand on your waist to pull your back against him. something about how rushed his actions were did something to you. a fire brewed in your belly as you thought that other people could see how close he was standing next to you, more than half naked while your tits almost flew out of your swimsuit.

“mm, maybe i’ll have gojo rent a private beach for us.” choso hummed behind you.

“why’s that?” you asked.

“so i can fuck you completely naked on the beach, obviously.”

your face turned red. “choso!” you shouted. he chuckled behind you, bending down to kiss at your neck. he bit the skin lightly, nipping just enough for you to let a small moan out.

“mmm, you’re not ashamed that others could hear, princess?” you shook your head, knowing he’d find it cute if you tried to lie.

“i should just untie this thing and fuck you right here.”

NANAMI

you were excited to wear a ball gown today. it was the first ball you were attending as kento had been invited and you were his date.

he purchased a beautiful white gown with golden accents. “for you.” he had left it on your bed with a note asking you to come down once you were done getting ready.

but if only it were that easy to wear a ball gown…

the top was a corset and you honestly had no idea how to even wear a corset. you whined as your arms got tired and you gave up trying to put this damn thing on.

there was a knock at your door.

“y/n, what’s going on?”

it was nanami. you felt a little hot. your boobs and your back was nearly out and he was the only one who could help with this current dilemma of yours.

you shook the thoughts from your head, reaching forward to open the door to let him in.

he gasped.

“oh.”

he spoke. you cringed, letting yourself curl inwards. “do i truly look that bad?” you asked.

nanami shook his head. “not in the slightest, but darling what’s going on with the back of the dress?”

you sighed, “i don’t know how to wear a corset.”

he chuckled, walking behind you and facing you in the mirror.

there was something intimate about this moment.

he used his front to push you straight against the dressing table, your mouth letting out a gasp. he pushed you down by the shoulder, acting calm and collected while your panties gained an extra layer of wetness.

you watched him in the mirror as he wrapped his hands over and over the bands of the corset until he finally pulled back really tight.

you felt the wind knock out of your legs, but you weren’t sure for which reason.

was it the lack of rooms your lungs had or how tight you were against nanami’s back?

he chuckled, tying the strings at the bottom of your waist, pulling away with just a gentle kiss on your temple like he wasn’t just in perfect position to fuck you.

REBLOG MY WORK.

taglist form.

©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

[moondirti]

ghoap x nanny on🔝

they would go bananas trying to find her a Mother’s Day gift because even though she’s not she’s still so important to baby isla

UK mother's day is in march but i'm putting this out for the US folk <3 also not part of the main series! takes place an undefined period of time later, where isla is about 1 yr old, so the end of part 2 doesn't hold weight here

"Stop messin' with it. You'll ruin the wrap job."

"I'm tryin' tae curl th' ribbon. Eejit at the store forgot tae add th' mae touches." Johnny presses his thumb to the blade, tongue poked in concentration as he follows the tutorial. The lady in the video makes it look so easy, dragging her grip along the length of a blue streamer so that it jumps into a little ringlet when she releases. "Ye think women dinnae notice these touches but thay do. I had tae specially instruct th' flower guy up in Glasgow ower th' phone tae make sure he wrapped mah maw's bouquet in brown paper, fur apparently there's a difference."

But all the scot manages to do is slice his thumb open with Simon's knife, blood beading along the wounded site. He jerks away before it can stain the present, popping the digit into his mouth while begrudgingly handing the tools over to his partner.

Who does it with ease.

"Tha' wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Awa' n bile yer heid." Johnny grumbles, twisting his head to check out the window. "She said she'll be back by now."

"Who'll be back by now?"

The sing-song voice catches them both off guard, the pair clambering to hide the subject of their concentration, open-mouthed as you slip out of your pastel yellow galoshes by the door. An impish smile splits your cheeks, positively delighted by the fact that you were able to sneak up on them.

Isla shouts an approximation of your name from her playpen, pulling herself into a stand and waving her little arms around until you swoop in to pick her up. Simon feels his heart race, anticipation coating his palms in sweat as you sway with their little girl bunched in your arms.

"My little Isla-bug! Missed you so much baby." You coo, pressing kisses to her cheek. But Isla isn't interested in greetings. She squeals, legs flailing and finger pointing accusatorially at her fathers.

"Bug! Bug! Da an' Pa!"

"Are Da and Papa bugs too?" Johnny shuffles in place, scratching the back of his neck when you waltz suspiciously towards him. Almost as if you're trying to sniff out the clues the baby lays out for you, like a little detective duo. "Do they have a bug?"

"Yer a wee clipe you." He narrows his eyes at Isla, bumping noses when she giggles at his feigned grumpiness.

"Don't tell me you actually do." You straighten seriously, frowning once you notice the hand Simon keeps behind his back. "Si, I swear to God. I swear to God if that's a bug you're hiding I'll scream. I'll tell Price–"

That does it. He extends the gift before you misinterpret this further and make good on your threat. He can only imagine the awkward phone call with the Captain, who favours you more than he does his own team sometimes. It would not bode over well.

"Happy mother's day, love."

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes immediately glossing up in tears.

They discussed who would do this part – this vulnerable profession of how much you mean to them, to Isla. Because you're not her mum. Your name isn't on any of the adoption paperwork. You'd only come into her life when she was five months old, and there's no legal or biological ties linking the two of you together, or you to the boys. Just this human, very fragile bond you've forged over the past year. Something undefined, unnamed, but so magnanimous in its existence that it cannot continue existing without acknowledgement.

And while Johnny felt like the natural choice, Simon knew it'd mean so much more if it came from him. He's the one with the history, after all. The one who denied you a place in their life, again and again. Who wrote off your bids to help and took you for granted until it damn near drove you away for good.

It's clear that it hits you hard.

You pass Isla over to Johnny so as to hug yourself, staving off the waterworks by biting your lip. For a moment, that's all you do. Stand there and stare down at the wrapping paper with all the apples on it, the sleek coiled ribbons. Simon's hand shakes a little, unsure, but then you take it and crush him into a hug so tight, it's almost instinctual to push you off.

He doesn't, of course. Instead, his arms curl around your smaller form, cold fingers warming themselves on the curve of your shoulder.

"Thank you." You sniff from against his chest, then gracefully step back to address Johnny too. "Both of you. I can't– I'm so overwhelmed, I don't know what to say. Can I open it?"

"O' course." Johnny nods, sitting back on the couch and patting the open space next to him. Isla pulls on his overgrown mohawk, but the pain is nothing compared to the joy warming his heart. You're so beautiful like this. Flustered. Emotional. He could just bundle you up and hold you forever.

The bow comes undone with one tug. You take your time with the wrapping paper, though, peeling the tape off gently so it doesn't take off the pattern underneath. Your boys sit on either side of you, arched over like a pair of nervous schoolboys.

"My–"

It's a charm bracelet. Dainty gold links extended to the exact circumference of your wrist. Relatively empty, save for a few exchangeable starter baubles and a ladybug charm that hangs right at the centre.

"Bug!"

You laugh like summer rain. "That's right! It is a bug, clever girl. Can you say ladybird?"

"Lalalalala–"

"She'll get i' soon." Johnny smiles. Simon offers a large hand, slipping the bracelet out of it's box. You give him your wrist, and he clasps it shut around.

"Fits like a glove." He murmurs.

Ladybugs for fortune and grace.

You're their stroke of good luck.

[awkward-walking-potato]

My Kitty Cat

Logan was stalking through the mansion, his usual gruff expression firmly in place, when he heard it—my voice, calling out from down the hall.

"Hey, kitty cat!" I called, the grin on my face audible in my tone.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I didn’t need to see his face to know the reaction I’d get; it was the same every time.

“Stop calling me that,” he growled without turning around, his voice a low rumble that might’ve scared anyone else off. But I wasn’t anyone else.

I jogged up to him, barely able to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside me. Logan might be a terrifying sight when he was angry—adamantium claws, unyielding muscles, that perpetual scowl—but I’d long since learned that my teasing barely scratched the surface of his temper.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” I said, stepping into his path. “You know it’s just a little fun.”

He stared down at me, his blue eyes narrowing into slits. “You call this fun?”

I reached up without hesitation, my fingers diving into the thick, unruly mess of his hair. “Sure do,” I said, giving one of the tufts a playful tug. “Look at these little cat ears. They’re practically begging for a petting.”

Logan batted my hand away, his expression darkening further. “I’m not some damn pet,” he snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. “And I ain’t your toy either.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” I shot back, smirking. “You’re always lurking around, giving me that brooding look. It’s like you’re begging for me to come over and ruffle your fur.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck flexing as he ground his teeth together. For a moment, I thought I’d actually pushed him too far. Logan was all about control, about keeping the beast inside on a leash, and I didn’t want to be the one to make him lose it.

But then, instead of the explosion I was half expecting, he just let out a sharp exhale, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“You really get a kick outta this, don’t you?” he said, his voice softer, but no less dangerous.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”

Logan’s gaze bore into me, and I felt the usual confidence I had around him waver. “This whole thing. You messin’ with me. Callin’ me kitty, actin’ like I’m some kinda joke.”

The playful smirk I usually wore around him faltered. “Logan, I’m not—”

“You like pokin’ the bear,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “But you’re playin’ with fire, darlin’.”

My breath hitched at the way he said it, the low rasp of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I’d never heard him talk like that before—like he was barely holding something back.

“I’m just teasing,” I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended. “I didn’t think you minded…”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do,” he growled, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. “Maybe I’m tired of you always treatin’ me like some kinda joke.”

There was a challenge in his eyes now, something fierce and untamed. I should’ve backed off, apologized, but instead, I found myself drawn in, unable to look away.

“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he cut me off with a low, frustrated sound, a noise that sent a flush of heat through me.

“Enough,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re done messin’ with me.”

Before I could respond, before I could even process what was happening, Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me to him. His lips crashed against mine in a kiss that was anything but gentle—possessive, demanding, and utterly consuming.

I gasped against his mouth, my hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as he pulled me closer, like he was trying to erase any distance between us. The kiss was fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, and for a moment, all I could do was hold on and let him take what he wanted.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together as we stood there, the tension between us crackling like electricity. His eyes were dark, wild, as he looked down at me, his hand still fisted in my hair.

“Still think it’s funny to call me kitty?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

I stared up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, every nerve in my body on fire. “Maybe,” I managed to say, though my voice was shaky. “But I think I like this better.”

A rough chuckle rumbled out of him, and he shook his head, his hand loosening its grip but not letting go entirely. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

I grinned, finally regaining some of my composure. “So I’ve been told.”

Logan’s eyes softened just a fraction, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “You keep pushin’ me like that, and you’re gonna get burned.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Maybe I like a little fire.”

He huffed out a breath, somewhere between exasperation and amusement, and released his hold on me. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“Good thing I like to win,” I shot back, stepping back but still feeling the heat between us.

He shook his head again, but there was something different in his expression now—something softer, maybe even affectionate, buried under all that gruff exterior.

“Guess you ain’t all that bad,” he muttered, as if admitting it was some great burden.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, feeling a strange warmth spreading through me at the admission.

Logan gave me one last long look before turning to walk away, but I didn’t miss the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. And as I watched him go, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, all that teasing had finally paid off.

Because the Wolverine might not like being called kitty, but Logan? He sure didn’t seem to mind me all that much.

[thebearer]

the milestones menu: nonna berzatto's homemade pasta

prompt: yours and carmen's first "i love you".

contains: fluff, general fluff. some mentions to dead relatives, carmen's self doubt, but very minimal bc it's very fluffy :)

2 cups of flour- Semolina. 

4 Large Eggs 

Pinch of Salt

Put flour into a mound. Make a center, and add the eggs to the middle. Whisk slowly with a fork, gradually working it in little at a time until nice and thick. Knead the mixture for about ten minutes. Let it rest in the fridge for thirty minutes. Put it in a ball, and roll it out very thin. 

“Can’t believe you never had homemade pasta.” Carmen shook his head, blue eyes peeking out from under the mess of curls. 

“Nope.” You shook your head, grinning over the crystal wine glass, sipping your riesling slowly. “Strictly a boxed pasta girl.” 

“Fuckin’ criminal.” Carmen grinned, a playful, lopsided smirk that had you blushing.

The counter was covered in flour, stopping just where you rested, propped up on the granite while Carmen worked. Your eyes trained on his hands, hands that stirred the eggs into the flour, kneaded the dough until your thighs were clenching. 

“My Nonna is rollin’ in her grave right now, you know that?” Carmen pulled you from your gaze, rolling out the dough. 

“Noooo, don't say that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re making me feel bad, Carmen. I swear I thought Olive Garden made fresh pasta.” 

Carmen laughed, a little shy but louder now- more himself. He’d blossomed with you lately, unveiling new parts of himself every single day. “‘M just kiddin’, baby.” Carmen hummed, eyes cutting to you a little skeptical. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. That sounded douchey, right?” 

You smiled, setting your glass behind you. “No, I was just messin’ with you, bear.” The nickname- his nickname. Hearing it more and more roll from your tongue, each time his heart skipped harder than the last. 

“Is this her recipe?” You asked, picking up the faded recipe card, looped cursive on the aged paper. “Your Nonna’s?” 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I, uh, so when I left to go to culinary school, right? She was sick, and… and I think she, like, knew that when I went to New York that would be the last time she saw me.” Carmen’s face dropped, slow and sad, it made your own heart sink. 

“So she-she gave me all these recipe books and-and cards that were hers. We used to cook together a lot. She taught me how to cook, y’know? My mom and dad were always at the restaurant and didn’t want to cook when they got home. They didn’t want me in the restaurant either so I spent a lot of time with her.” Carmen muttered. You could see the memories playing behind his eyes. 

You liked to picture that version of Carmen, a little boy with wild curls, helping his Nonna cook. Happy memories. 

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, leaning against the cabinets. “She did a really good job. You know she’s so insanely proud of you.” 

Carmen snorted, shaking his head lightly. “Yes, she is. Everyone’s proud of you, Carmen… I’m proud of you.” You hesitate, eyes scanning his features. It was true, of course, but handling Carmen sometimes was like handling a frightened animal. You were never sure what would make him scatter away in fear. 

Carmen swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed red, lips in a tight line. “T-Thanks.” Carmen muttered, wiping his hands on his apron, tossing the flour back into his clammy hands. 

“She, uh, she woulda loved you, y’know.” Carmen’s eyes met yours, intense and piercing. “I wish you coulda met her.” 

“Yeah, me too.” You nod. “I would’ve loved to hear all the baby Carmen cooking stories. I bet she had some good ones.” You smiled, bright and wide- perfect. It made Carmen’s brain numb. 

“Yeah, she would.” Carmen nodded, hands stilling, still buried in the dough. 

He felt it in his bones, his heart, consuming his thoughts. The overwhelming need he’d felt for weeks, since the first time you kissed him really, that he’d been fighting- too scared to say. What he felt every time he looked at you, when he thought about you. 

“Um, I-I wanna say something, and-and I don’t know if I should even fuckin’ say this or-or if it’s… fuck, if you-you feel the same or I just, I don’t wanna fuck this up because this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and-and I’m workin’ on not ruinin’ good shit in my life and bein’ ok with it like-like my therapist says ya know, but-” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in fast, overwhelming bouts that took you by surprise. 

Carmen flustered, reaching a dough covered hand to his face, the sticky batter catching on his brows and hair. He flushed deeply, hands shaking in embarrassment, cursing under his breath. “F-Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I-I, nevermind, it’s not… I don’t know why-why I would-” His hands trembled, body shaking with anger and embarrassment. Way to fuckin’ go, Berzatto, you fuckin’ ruin it. That’s all you ever do, Carmen thought bitterly, wiping his hands off on the cloth. 

“Carm,” You said softly, your voice a beacon in the raging sea of his mind, pulling him out of his own harsh thoughts. 

Carmen turned, a fury flush of pure embarrassment that burnt all down his cheeks to his chest. Eyes soft and wary, hesitant like he was doomed, destined for the worse. 

You slide off the counter easily, grabbing the spare towel, bringing it to his eyebrows, wiping the dough off gently. The softness of your touch soothed Carmen, lulling his hammering heart- he didn’t see your own shaking hands, filled with your own adrenaline nerves. 

You stood in front of him, eyes on the other, careful and watching- unsure. “I-I love you, too.” Your breath hitched, squeezing the words out in a nervous tumble. Carmen didn’t move, body going rigid, heart stopping entirely. The ringing was back in his ears, clouding his brain so loudly he was sure he heard you wrong. 

“I’ve wanted to say it for a while, too, but didn’t…” You shook your head, heat in your own cheeks, eyes casting down to his dough covered hand. “I didn’t know if-if you felt that or if- I don’t know, I didn’t want to seem crazy or obsessive if it was too soon, and-and scare you.” 

“No,” Carmen croaked, tongue thick in his own mouth. “No, I-I mean- fuck,” Carmen shook his head, looking to the wall. He needed a second, words jumbled in his mouth, heart racing, so high off the adrenaline he felt like he could combust at any moment. 

“I-I was gonna say that too.” Carmen nodded, the quirk in your lips making his heart lurch. “That I love you. I was- yeah, I love you. I-I have for a while.” 

“Really?” You whispered, voice tiny and excited, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it was. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Carmen let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “I love you, and-and I just love you so much it makes my brain hurt sometimes.” 

“Me too.” You grin, a hand pressing to his cheek. “I love you.” The phrase you’d repressed for so long, deprived yourself of saying now spilled out of you like a mantra- like that was all you could say now. 

Carmen grinned, brain bubbly and light. He let you pull him into a kiss, head tilting down, lips molding over yours so they fit perfectly. 

Later over plates of Bologonese, you grinned across the table from Carmen. “If I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I definitely would now.” You moaned, pointing at the plate. “I really was missing out.” 

Carmen beamed under your praise, gooey and love drunk off your words- off you. He knew Viola Berzatto, wherever she was, was boasting with pride. 

And he knew his Nonna would have loved you too. 

[pupkashi]

seven is so satoru coded in the way that he will always do something to annoy you until you’re halfway out the door, keys in hand ready to never speak to him again (for like two hours) and suddenly he’s whining and pouting, buying you flowers and apologizing profusely

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow you’re being so-” you cut yourself with a frustrated groan, rolling your eyes at your immature boyfriend, grabbing the keys and walking towards the front door.

satoru is hot on your heels, “baby I’m sorry! c’mon!” there’s a whine to his voice, when he sees you aren’t stopping he’s huffing, grabbing your wrist and twirling you around so your chests bump together.

he’s towering over you, leaning down slightly to be closer to eye level with you, “you aren’t gonna leave me are ya? was just messin’ with you baby” his blue eyes are looking into yours.

you can see the hint of mischief poorly concealed in them, knowing in two days time he’ll be annoying you once more.

for a split second you want nothing more than to shove him away from you and leave, but then his soft lips are crashing into yours, the taste of his honey lip balm hitting your taste buds.

when you both pull away breathless you’re rolling your eyes, placing the keys back on their hook and heading towards the couch, looking back when satoru doesn’t follow you.

“what’re you waiting for? thought you wanted to watch this movie” you’re sitting on the couch and satoru practically throws himself on the couch, curling up to your side and peppering your face with kisses followed by ‘i love you so much’ and ‘I’d die without you.’

anytime the two of you argue he’s always running back to you with flowers, chocolates, love letters and a boombox begging for forgiveness. he’ll do ANYTHING he can possible think of in order to get ur attention, from running after you in a pouring thunderstorm, chasing you down with the flowers he just bought a minute ago, literally anything (even faking his own death, just to get you to talk to him).

you always find it in you to forgive him. after all, who else is gonna love you better than the most smitten man on earth?

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!) : @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[littlxpxtal]

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence WORD COUNT: 2.1K

Everywhere I go, I know that I don't wanna be

Part of something I won't ever need

Your socialized, romanticized life

November Cont.

“Rafe ‘m really not in the mood to play your games. I just had to break up a fight and my house is a fuckin’ mess.” I mumble before opening the downstairs door. I hear him following behind me down the stairs as I make my way to my room. I walk over to the patio doors, pulling the curtains closed.

“I didn’t say you could stay,” I say as I sit on my chair in front of my vanity starting to take my jewelry off. He makes himself at home on the edge of my bed picking up one of the stuffed animals nearest to him. 

“You need to lighten up,” he says, inspecting the stuffed cat with big blue eyes. 

I finish taking off my earrings and placing them onto the ceramic plate in front of me. I stand up and make my way over to him, ripping the stuffed animal out of his hands and tossing it to the other side of the bed.

He reaches out to grab my waist, pulling me in between his legs. I stumble forward, placing my hands on his chest, feeling his firm muscles under my hands. Warmth rushes through my legs and up my thighs at the sensation of his hands squeezing my sides and our close proximity. 

He plays with the crystal tassels on my dress, his hand creeping slowly underneath them.

“Rafe” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as his fingers graze the inside of my thigh.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his other hand moving to grab my ass. I bite my bottom lip unsure of what my next response should be. I know sleeping with Rafe would be so wrong, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t think he was the hottest guy in Kildare. 

I wouldn’t be the only girl to think so, and I wouldn’t be the only girl to fall for his tricks. 

“You’re just messin’ with me” I finally say through an exhale. My hands are still placed on his chest but I feel the urge to run them through his hair as he’s sitting before me. His bangs have fallen in front of his face and he looks up at me through his dark lashes. 

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and traces his fingers over my panty line, his other hand still firmly grasping my ass.

“I told you, you looked good didn’t I?” he asks. I try to read his face, to see if this is some kind of sick joke he’s trying to pull. I quickly glance behind me as if there’s someone with a camera hiding in my closet, ready to expose me.

“No one’s here,” he murmurs, pulling me closer so my stomach is pressed against his chest, My hands raise to his shoulders and I feel my breathing become heavy and rapid. 

“‘M so confused I thought you hated me?” I ask, trailing my fingers along his neck, still fighting the urge to touch his hair. He’s looking up at me intently, chin gently resting on my chest.

“I could never hate you,” he responds plainly. The silence between us lingers for a few seconds as I contemplate what my next move is.

“You act like it. You were just berating me like ten minutes ago” I decide to respond, curious as to what he could say next.

“Why don’t you let me show you how much I don’t hate you.” 

I decided I wasn’t going to let Rafe feel like he was in control of the situation. I swing my right leg around him, pushing him down onto my bed, my face hovering over his. His hands readjust on my hips pushing my crotch down against his, and I feel his hard bludge throbbing through his pants against the thin fabric of my dress.

“Holy shit,” I mumble, holding eye contact as his face remains unreadable. 

“Told you,” he whispers before reaching his face up to lock his lips with mine. His mouth is slightly parted and I glide my tongue over his. He groans in the kiss and bucks his hips against mine. My hand tangles into his hair, the other is pushing me up in support. His right hand releases from my hip and he reaches to pull my hair out of my face, clutching it into a fist behind my neck. 

Our lips move painfully slow against each other, and he pushes me by the neck deeper into the kiss.

My hands release from his hair and trail down to unbutton his shirt. When I get down to the last button he sits us up to pull it off his shoulders, flinging the shirt across the room. Our mouths still attached, he finds the zipper to my dress on the side and begins to unzip the fabric. 

“Every guy in Kildare was eye fucking you tonight.” he finally says, breaking our kiss.

“‘N I know all of them are having wet dreams tonight just hoping to get the chance to take this dress off of you.” I roll my eyes and pull myself off of him to let the rest of the dress slip down my body, leaving me in only white lace panties. 

“Lucky you,” I state, leaning over to unbutton his pants. He stands to let them fall to the ground, and grabs my body, pushing it down to the bed, and climbing on top of me. His hands are on the side of my head and he's hovering over my body, scanning me with his eyes up and down. He runs one hand down the side of my body and I feel myself tremble under his touch.

“Yea, lucky me,” he whispers before leaning down to attach his mouth to my right nipple.

“Fuck” I breathe out heavily, grasping his hair with both hands, letting a soft whimper fall from my lips in response to his mouth attacking my sensitive bud. 

My eyes roll to the back of my head as he attaches his mouth to my left nipple, using his free hand to fondle my right boob. His tongue laps over my nipple repeatedly and I squirm beneath him, reaching my hand down to feel his dick over his Polo boxers.

I gulp hard when I finally grasp his length, eyes squeezing shut just imagining what it would feel like inside. He had a thick girth, and I felt a slight curve towards the tip. My mouth began to water, and I heard myself panting beneath him. 

“Sure you don’t want me to stop?” he finally asks, his mouth skimming over my chest, up my neck and finally laying a wet kiss on my cheek. My eyes flutter open and I see him staring directly down at me. I shake my head and he tsks his tongue.

“Use your words,” he commands.

“No I don’t want you to stop.” I surprise myself at the authoritative tone. I see a flash of excitement in his eyes, the first emotion he's shown since he entered my room.

“Lets see whats under these pretty little panties.” he coos, pulling himself off of me, onto his knees at the edge of the bed. He pulls me down by my legs so they’re dangling over the edge. His hands creep up my legs and I try my best to hold still as he drags my underwear down my legs, flicking them to the side. He pushes open my legs with both hands, peppering kisses on the inside of my right thigh. His hair tickles me and I slightly fidget beneath him. His hands hold down my legs, forcing me to become still again.

He takes a hand to spread me open, the other still firmly gripped on my thigh.

“So fuckin’ pretty” he whispers, before dipping his tongue in between my folds. I let out a long sigh at the feeling of his tongue against such a sensitive part of my body. My back arches up from the bed and I reach down to place a hand in his hair. His tongue traces circles all around my pussy, licking up all of the juices from the stimulation he’s given me.

“Taste like heaven,” he mumbles against my skin, slowing his pace, dragging his tongue up and down, devouring me. Rafe flicks his tongue at my clit finally and I let out a deep moan, earning a chuckle from him. 

He runs a finger between my folds, teasing my entrance. His eyes finally flicker up to mine and I prop myself up on my elbows. He raises an eyebrow and I shake my head, yes, permitting him to do whatever he wants. He slides the finger in with ease and my head rolls back.

His mouth attaches to my clit and he forcefully sucks at it while pumping his index finger in and at at a constant pace. 

“Fuck Rafe” I gasp out. He slides a second finger inside, stretching me out. He curls the fingers up, hitting a spot that makes me embarrassingly whimper beneath him. His tongue flattens against my bud and he makes strokes up and down, fastening the pace of his fingers. 

He moans against my pussy, and I release a full-body tremble, his eyes flash up to me and I bite down on my bottom lip, holding in the moan I so desperately want to let out. 

“Let me hear you,” he says, breaking contact from my throbbing clit for a second, before dipping back in, keeping his eyes on me. I stare directly into his eyes and let out the most pathetic moan I’ve ever heard escape my lips. 

His eyes roll and for a second he loses pace with his fingers. After collecting himself again and getting back to work, I let whimpers fall from my mouth uncontrollably as I felt myself reaching my climax. 

My legs shake uncontrollably under his hold and I finally cry out

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” Panting heavily I pull desperately at his hair with one hand, the other clawing at his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin as I come undone on his face. He keeps the pace exactly where I need him as I ride out my high, moaning profanities out loud that in the morning I knew I would be embarrassed of him hearing. 

After a few moments of him cleaning me up with his tongue, his head pops up between my thighs, with a big smirk spread across his face.

“That was hot,” he says, using my thighs to help him push himself up. I lay there, deflated as a balloon, blissed out of my mind as he waltzed over to my bathroom to rinse off his hands and face. I watch him from the corner of my eye check himself out in the mirror and he finally strolls back over, leaning down to pick his pants up off the ground.

I stare at him, analyzing his next moves. He pulls his pants up over his boxers and scans the room for his shirt. I point in the direction of where he threw it, and finally sit up, pulling a throw blanket over my naked body.

“Are we not gonna…” I say, puzzled at him getting fully clothed again.

“Nah Top’s having an after and I said I would bring some of my stash” 

I try to not let disappointment fall on my face at the fact that he wasn’t actually going to fuck me. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll fuck somday.” he says smugly, buttoning up his shirt. I scoff and roll my eyes, walking over to my drawer with the blanket wrapped around me. I pull a large T-shirt out of the middle drawer and slide it over me.

“Says who?” I finally snap back, turning to look at him. He walks over, pressing me against my dresser. My body still shaking from the orgasm I just had. 

He stared deep into my eyes, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face.

“Something tells me you’ll be begging for it soon.” I roll my eyes again and push him away from me.

“Whatever” I finally say, sitting on my bed. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” I ask as he slips on his shoes.

“No, I’m not gonna tell anyone you just came all over my face.” he says, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” I say, throwing the same stuffed animal he was examining earlier at him. Unfortunately he catches it with ease and he chuckles, tossing it back onto the bed. 

“Happy Birthday Y/N. See ya in 3rd period!” he says chipperly, before exiting my patio doors.

I stare at the doors in disbelief. This was the most Rafe Cameron thing he’s ever done to me.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[ask-maxie-boy]

Goonion's Ghoul (Part 4)

Bruce does a little digging. This one's a little more serious, but dont worry, the shenanigains resume next chapter <3

Part 1 & 2 Part 3

The pool hall was fairly quiet tonight. It was a dim place who's customers were the only thing shadier than its corners. The smell of smoke lingered in the whole building, but the usual cloud that held over the room seemed to be gone.

The "No Smoking" sign on the door was new, and it seems like people were listening. Bruce fiddled with the stick match between his fingers - he wondered if it was going to be a problem.

"8 Ball, side pocket" Clack!

"Tch. Good game, whatever."

As the men and small crowd around them get their bet earnings, Bruce approached with a predatory grin. "Hey fellas, mind if I get in on a game?"

Most of the men seemed to be sizing him up, but one in particular (the one who won the last match) inhaled sharply. "Matches fuckin' Malone, I haven't seen you 'round here in a while! You sonofabitch, where ya been?"

'Matches Malone' pulls his titular match out from his teeth, and puts on an annoyed face. "Bah, deal went south, had to lay low for a while." Someone handed him a pool stick, prompting Bruce to nod and grab some pool chalk.

"I getcha. We can go a round, Matches. Loser buys a round at the bar for everyone."

"Jeez, I said I was just layin' low and thems are the stakes?" Matches' grin comes back, a gleam rolling along his aviator shades. "Guess I could use a free drink, so why not?"

The other guy rolls his eyes. "Well, aren't you confident. Promise that'll changes once the game starts."

The game gets set up quickly, and they let Malone break. He lines up his stick, but isn't too concerned about exactly how to hit this shot.

"Say," Bruce asks, "I heard there's a new way of gettin' some help around here. Any'a you know about it?" The cue ball slams into the triangle of other balls.

"Oh, you're askin' about the Goonion? You don't gotta beat around da bush. Even if you weren't in good company, there ain't no need to be hush about it." The 7 ball rolls into a corner pocket, a solid color sunk.

Its an easy shot to the 5, side pocket. "Wouldn't expect that from a big band 'a criminals," Bruce says, casually lining up the hit, "but I guess that's Gotham for ya. So, how do I get in contact?" *Clack!*

"There's a big place on 29th street, down by Proctor Ave." The 5 cleanly rolls into the next pocket. "They put up a big sign just yesterday, you cant miss it."

The next shot is a bit more tricky, trying to get the 3 without hitting the 10 in. "No shit? A big ol' sign that says 'Hey, a buncha lackeys here!' right out in the open?"

The other guy snorts. "I mean, the cops don't give a damn, and the criminals are already in on it. That just leaves the bats, but between you and me? I hear the robins are in on it."

Not only does Bruce miss the 3, he knocks the 10 in, closely followed by the cue itself. A scratch. "Well, now I know you're just fuckin' with me."

His opponent grabs the cue ball with a chuckle, and puts it just by the 12 for a clean corner pocket hit. "Like how you were with that last shot? Yeah, yeah, I'm messin' with you... kinda. There's a runnin' joke that the robins should be considered one of us."

Second stripe down, Bruce's eye twitches, hidden by his large sunglasses. "I don't see whats so funny about it, considering how many times we've had our ass handed to us on a black-n-blue platter by 'em."

Its a more difficult shot to hit the 9 in the side pocket, but the opponent aims anyway. "Yeah, Danny's got this big ol' thing about how Vigilantism's a crime and Batman's a crime lord. Ya kinda have to hear him say it, but damn if it isn't funny." He makes the shot, but the cue ball slides in the pocket with the 9, as Bruce bites back a grumble.

Its his chance to get back in the game, and clean it up. Bruce puts the ball on the table, and lines up a shot that should also get him in position for the next few. "Danny, eh? Whats his deal anyway? Everyone seems all buddy buddy with the guy, but I can't find out a thing about him. He some kinda "

The normal sound of a pool stick hitting the cue is clean, crisp, and short. A satisfying ricochet right to where it was aimed, sealing a calculated move into victory.

That is not the noise that echoes through the hall.

Instead, the stick bounces off of the cue strangely, shaking awkwardly as a much harsher CLACK! attacks everyone's ears, as the ball rolls slowly in the wrong direction, and hits nothing.

His opponent, and everyone with and without money on the game, look right at him. Some are giving dirty looks, some seem angry, others just discontent. A few look ready for a fight to break out, as the sudden tension ensnares him. He gets the feeling its not the bum shot they're upset about. "Uh... any chance I can try that hit again?" He asks sheepishly, analyzing exits, preparing for the brawl that might happen, and a cover story for how Matches got out of being attacked by this many people.

Bruce winces as his opponent places their hand on his shoulder, but doesn't strike back just yet. His opponent still seems tense, but not rearing back an attack. "Matches, you'se a good guy, so I'm gonna let you off easy on this one. But for 'da future, dont go askin' around about Danny. He doesn't like people poking into his business.”

The crowd seems to calm down a bit, but there's still a few bad looks being sent towards Bruce. He puts some hint of worry in his voice, dusting off his suit to sell the idea that that shook him up. “I.. I see. Caposh.”

His opponent goes back to the table, picking the cue off the table after Matches' bad hit. “...He's just a kid, Matches. Smart, kind,” he lines up his next shot on the 11, “I'd call him naive if he didn't prove he knew what he was doing.” A clean shot, into the side pocket.

“If you're goin' to the Goonion, you'll meet him and see.” Another easy shot, 13 into the corner. “He does good work. The Hood may have started the union, but Danny stoked the flames, kept us together when we wanted to fall apart.” A hard hit, the cue ball stopping dead as it strikes its target, knocked straight into the pocket. “He fought for us, went up against some of the most dangerous people in Gotham and told them to kneel.” Someone in the crowd murmurs, “Stronger together,” which has him roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, we all did it, sure. But someone needed to face 'em down, and not only did he bite the bullet,” 14 ball, corner pocket, “he spat it right back out at 'em.”

“He got us dental!” Someone cheers, and most of the crew cheers with him, clinking beer bottles together.

“Point is, he's a good guy who does a good job, and the least we can do is stick our noses out of his business.” 15 ball, opposite corner. “We don't need him getting hurt because we couldn't do that.”

Something flickers in Bruce's eyes at that last comment, noting the slightly somber tone. “...he didn't ask you to stay away, did he?”

“He didn't need to. I told ya, you'll get it when you meet him.” He points out his last shot, “8-ball, corner,” and hangs over the table to aim his cue. “People like him don't usually stick around Gotham, and not by their own choice. If someone finds out you're the one who made him leave, whether you meant it or not...”

The 8 ball rolls cleanly into the pocket, a promise fulfilled. “You'll be lucky if you're found with a bullet to the head.”

An open secret. One that puts him in harms way if the details get out. Details people are purposefully avoiding, out of gratitude. Makes things difficult for him.

“...Well, a deal's a deal. A round on me, everyone!”

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[quixotical-lymbo]

Hey there! I love your writing and especially with Mk, and so I'm just here to drop by and ask you if I could have some Mk angst, preferably with a female!reader, but if you want, go with a gn!reader. I don't really mind which format, do whatever's easiest for you!

What I have in mind is where reader realizes that Mk is literally- in figuratively way- destroying himself with work, hero duties, and romance. Not wanting that, reader is trying to break up with the chaos incarnate to lessen his load.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I understand if you don't want to do this, just wanted to drop by!

Pairing: MK x fem!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Being in a relationship with the world's hero isn't all sunshine and rainbows. There are many responsibilities that come with it. So, making a decision like this would help you two in the long run…right?  Warnings/Tags: Post s5 spoilers YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, angst, hurt/no comfort, and breakup. Word Count: 1300+ words 🍜 - I like the way you think anon...ur evil >:)/pos

"Can…can you repeat that for me? I don't think I heard you right." 

"I'm breaking up with you." 

"Ha..haha, hehe, you're funny! That was a good one, cutie! Really got me there," MK wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he glanced around the park you two were sitting in. "Now, what vendor are we gonna hit today? Y'know I think I wanna try that-" 

"MK." 

MK grimaced before turning his gaze onto you. You took in a deep breath before letting it out and with one hand stretched to rest on his arm.   

"Did I…did I do something wrong?" MK's voice trembled as he spoke, his own hand reaching up to land on top of yours. 

"Oh goodness, no-" You reassured as you took his hand in yours. "-nothing like that." 

 

"Then why?"

Exactly. Why were you ruining an almost picture perfect relationship for no apparent reason? And so out of the blue? I mean, your boyfriend just got back from his nth time saving-the-world expedition and that meant he had a lot more time to spend the peaceful days with you. So…why?

—🍜—-

You stirred the remaining noodles in your bowl, the lukewarm soup brought an unexplainable comfort to your cold palms. With a few glances toward the door, your unease grew as the seconds ticked by. 

"He's supposed tah be 'ere twenty minutes ago," Pigsy's voice grumbled from within the kitchen. "I got way too many orders for him to be messin' around wit my time-" 

"-I'M HERE, I'M HERE-...Oh! Pookie!?" MK's gaze landed on you as he staggered from the door he slammed open. You called out his name with the same amount of adoration as he walked up to your side and planted a wet kiss on your forehead. 

"I'll be right back after I finish up here," MK promised as his smile trembled from the strain of keeping it up. You merely raised a brow at the state of his messy hair, gloomy vibes, and overall…stressed look? 

"Oh, we don't have to do anything tonight if you're not up for it-" 

"-NO, ahem, no worries, my love, I'm A-okay! Just be ready for your feet to be swept when your prince charming comes back!" MK blew a few kisses and winked in your direction before collecting the orders from Pigsy and hightailing it out of the shop. You and Pigsy watched as MK almost tripped out of the door. 

"Is…he always like this…?" You glanced at your boyfriend's father. Pigsy sighed as he ran a hand down his face, his brow creased from a multitude of things causing him headaches; his son being a major contributor. 

"You don't know the half of it, kid." 

There were a few more instances where you felt like MK was speed-running for the entire duration you two were supposed to be spending time together. Whether it was on dates, hanging with Mei, or even just bumping into each other. Your interactions were sweet, short, and to the point. Sometimes, MK's love bombing was downright suffocating. One time you could barely get out of bed with how hard he hugged you during movie night. 

The following weeks were a whirlwind of craziness that you were, unfortunately, caught up in. Watching your boyfriend hop in a truck and run away from a confrontation between a celestial and…was that the monkey king? 

Whoever that was, you were already sprinting back home to avoid getting yourself in harm's way.

That was the last time you saw MK for a while until two weeks or so later. By the time MK and co had returned, you had already decided what you were going to do moving forward. The answer was clear as day in your mind and made the most sense. After all, MK didn't need anything else added onto his plate of responsibilities and he certainly didn't need you. 

Sadly, your heart was still (and still is) conflicted. 

—🍜—-

Your gaze wandered away from him and MK hated how he couldn't see your face. He disliked it as much as the anticipation eating away at him, making his hands sweat way more than he was comfortable with. You struggled to properly find the words and when that failed you, the only thing you could muster was a few choppy sentences that probably didn't make much sense. 

 

"I just think it's for the best," Your voice wavered as the irritating sting in your eyes meant the waterworks weren't far behind. MK didn't seem like he could hold his back for long as he cleared his throat and nodded along with what you said. 

"Right, right, uh-...then," MK stood up from the bench and offered his hand to you. "Can I at least walk you home? It's getting late and I…" don't want to say goodbye.

A smile broke out on your face as you sniffed, happily placing your hand in his and the two of you began trekking back to your home. The stillness that surrounded you both was…oddly cathartic, cozy, and made you feel lighter than air. That heavy weight that had been sitting on your chest was finally lifted. In its place there was a giant abyss left where your heart would be. You ignored this seeping feeling of dread, at least you managed to lighten your—MK's load. 

The sight of your neighborhood caused MK to squeeze your hand from time to time with each step taken, corner rounded, and familiar sights leading to the end of the both of you. 

MK wished in the back of his mind for you to say something, to let him know that this was all an elaborate prank, a joke that you would surely confess the punchline as soon as he led you to the door of your home. 

None of that happened.

Instead, MK was standing in front of your door with you standing before him. The dim light from the nearby lamp post illuminated your skin beautifully under the moonlight.

"Thank you for walking me back..I'll..um." 

"It's no worries, I.." 

The two young adults awkwardly glanced elsewhere as the uneasiness from earlier lingered. You shook your head and opened your arms, "Hug?" 

MK looked up from where he kicked at the floor and grinned, "Hug." 

One step and the two of you were wrapped in each other's confining, warm embrace.

"I'm gonna miss you," MK admitted through choked tears that escaped him. 

"I'll be here if you need me, but we need this…you need this," You rubbed a comforting hand on MK's back, frowning at the sight of his shoulders shuddering and the sound of his feeble sniffles. After a few more seconds, MK was the first to pull out of the hug. His face was damp with tears and what appeared to be snot, the corners of his eyes already looked puffy as he quickly wiped at his face. 

"..." You wanted nothing more than to comfort him further, but you had to draw a line somewhere if this was going to work. You turned to unlock your door and stepped inside, peeking out to wish the noodle boy one final goodnight. MK simply waved as the door closed, your face disappearing from sight but it was the only thing he could see in his mind. 

No one else was there to witness MK on autopilot. The dark-haired male shuffled out of your neighborhood and somehow ended up halfway up the stairs to his apartment. MK stepped inside his room, yet he couldn't even make it to his bed before he completely crashed on the carpet. Fat blobs of water spilt from his eyes, his frown opening to release the storm of emotions that have been festering the whole interaction. 

Only after his tears dried and the sun began peaking over the horizon did MK manage to fall asleep. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[heartbreakprincehbk]

could you write a kerry von erich dating head cannon? i love your stuff

thank you friend! ❤️

Kerry is literally the sweetest person alive. The biggest softest teddy bear with so many hidden qualities.

Kerry would know you from childhood and he probably would have fallen for you in 2nd grade and never let go.

All throughout school he would have been painfully shy around you if you had classes or interacted. He would admire you from afar, never quite able to get you out of his mind.

Once you and Kerry were in high school, he started to get a LOT of attention from girls, naturally. Like his brothers, he was a star athlete with great prospects. Still, he only ever really had eyes for you.

His brothers found out when they found his attempts at poetry in one of his notebooks addressed to you. As a joke, David took the poem and stuck it in your locker and signed Kerry’s name on it.

When Kerry found out, his heart stopped. He figured he would have to move out of the state rather than ever face you again.

You knew Kerry and his family and always thought they were kind, but you never would have guessed homecoming king Kerry was actually in love with you. So, the sweet poem felt more like a prank, no matter how much it made your heart skip a beat.

I love the sound of your voice/ And the way you smile too/ If I never saw your face again/My heart would go blue/ You make my knees go weak/ And my heartbeat race/ If there were a contest for your love/ I would fight for 1st place/ I dream of you and me/ I hope it’s meant to be

The next day at school, any time Kerry sees you, he practically runs the other way. Finally, you’re able to corner him after a class together.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you immediately, before you can say anything. “It was just a joke from my brothers, they thought it would be funny. They were just messin’ around.” “Oh. That’s too bad, it’s really good.” “Wait, really?”

You were his first love and he was yours. You were both each other’s first everything. Then high school graduation came along, and Kerry went off to Houston while you went your own way. Life went on, and you accepted the circumstances that took you on separate paths and told yourself if it was meant to be, it would happen.

Eventually, now into adulthood, you ended up back in your hometown to watch the old WCCW show. You knew Kevin and David were beginning to make quite a name for themselves, but you didn’t realize Kerry was also quickly following in their footsteps.

You hesitated to even approach him, watching girls throw themselves at him. It was just like high school and every girl wanting him, but 10x worse. Finally, you mustered up the nerve to stick around after the show, waiting out back with other people who tried to snag autographs.

Kerry and his brothers were leaving together, bags shouldered and ready to sign autographs. You waited near the back of the crowd, and when Kerry reached you, he didn’t even look up.

“What do you want me to sign?” He asked, pen outstretched and ready and head down. Your sweaty hand was clutching his old poem from years ago, retrieving it from where it had resided safely in your wallet for years.

“How about this?” You offered. His eyes read over the poem before they widened in shock and he looked up at you quickly. His bag dropped as he lifted you quickly into his arms.

The two of you picked up where you left off.

Kerry can get a little jealous, which you find ridiculous considering the shoes you’re in. If he sees a guy talking to you at one of his shows, he’s sure to take his ring jacket off more meaningfully and flex as often and casually as he can. In public with you, he’ll always be touching you somehow—an arm around the shoulder, holding your hand, pulling you on his lap.

He likes it when you spend time with him while he works out. He enjoys your company always, but he likes to impress you with his strength, and he thinks it’s fun to see all the things he can do with you, like push-ups while you sit on his back.

One of his hobbies is photography. You bought him his first camera in high school, and now, you got him an even fancier one. You’re his muse. He takes candid photos of you constantly and has you pose as well. “Oh, baby, you look so pretty today. Let me take your picture.”

You are Doris and Fritz’s favorite. They can see you’ve always made a positive impact on Kerry and like that you’ve been around the family for so long; you’re not an outsider. His brothers treat you like family too.

Kerry gets a lot of pride being seen with you and being with you. He talks about you constantly to anyone and everyone, to the point that the entire locker room knows you before even meeting you. Even Ric Flair knows who you are.

Kerry carries a picture of you in his wallet so you’re always with him when he travels. He’s always quick to take it out and show people. He has pictures of you and you two together everywhere, like the visor in his truck.

He often brings up the future to you, sometimes staying awake late just dreaming and planning out the life he wants the two of you to have.

“Kerry, you have a title match tomorrow, honey. We don’t have to worry about what color we should paint our future kitchen right now.” “You’re right, but I’m still leaning towards some kind of green.”

Kerry is great at randomly buying flowers for no reason and surprising you at the best times.

He plans to propose to you as soon as he can think of the most romantic way to do it. He carries your ring on him for months, nervously waiting and driving himself crazy trying to find the perfect moment.

Finally, one night he’s sitting at the kitchen table all alone, unable to sleep. He has the ring box on the table, and he’s inspecting the ring in his hand under the light when you walk in. He nearly fell out of his chair, not expecting to see you.

“…You weren’t supposed to see that.” He manages to get out before you let out a laugh and fly into his lap. “Yes!” You say as you hug his neck and he immediately puts the ring on your finger.

[cokoweee]

”Leo is that my sweater.”

“…Blue looks better on me anyways-“

cut to April wrestling the aforementioned sweater off of a turtle

Aint no messin with her when it comes to her getting hoodies. Girl is stronger than she looks. She will THROW Leo if she has to

Lovingly of course

[prismsofmystery]

"Best Apple Pie

a short story based off of this picture from @joydoesathing

SYNOPSIS: Abigail gets more than she bargained for when she visits McKendra's apartment in search of the neighbor's daughter..but to be fair, so does McKendra.

It was a normal sunny afternoon in the apartment as Abby made her way out of her room and ran down the hall to the Rudboys' residence. They were only a door or so down but Abby was weird like that. She stopped right before she came into contact with the door, contemplating on whether she should knock at this hour or if McKendra would even be home.

She finally just decided to knock, her fist pounding on the door lightly, then harshly. There was a moment before McKendra opened the door, standing against it with her cigar in hand. "Ah, Abigail. 'Aven't seen you in a while." Abby winced at the use of her full name. It was the name her parents would always use when she did something unsavory. She brushed this off, knowing McKendra has good intentions.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Rudboys. Is uh, Stephanie home…yet..?" She asked, looking nervous. McKendra was silent for a moment before snickering. "Why? Ya wanna take her out already?"

"Ms. Rudboys, we've been over this before you are NOT fucking funny." McKendra threw her head back, laughing hysterically. "'m jus' messin' with ya, Abigail. But unfortunately, no. She ain't comin' back till Friday."

Abby groaned. "Friiiiday?" McKendra put her hands on her hips. "Girl, it's only 24 hours. You'll be fine. Shit, I've been waitin' for her ass ta get home too." Abby sighed. Fair enough. She jumped when she felt McKendra throw an arm around her shoulder, the scent of cinnamon and cigarettes getting stronger. "Until then, you can hang out with 'er awesome mother instead!" McKendra offered, sounding enthusiastic. Abby smiled, shrugging. "Sure, why not."

"Atta girl!" McKendra said, ruffling a hand through Abby's locks, only for it to get stuck there. "Ugh, yer hair is a mess." She said, pulling her hand away. "Excuse me? My hair is absolutely outstanding." Abby huffed, crossing her arms. "Outstandin' ma ass. Now come here and let me brush it."

Abby tensed up, pulling away. She did NOT like getting her hair done. "Damn, I think I just got called to a case…sorry Ms. Rudboys but I uh-" She stopped with her excuse when she saw McKendra unveil her eyes from her eyebrows, her blue piercing gaze never sitting right with Abby. "Never mind, allow me to take a seat."

Abby sat there, slightly disassociated, as McKendra brushed through her stands of hair. "How'd you get yer hair this messy? And why's there so much of it..?" McKendra asked, watching as her hands got stuck in Abby's curls. "Damn, that's crazy." Abby said absentmindedly. McKendra backhanded her with the hairbrush.

After a LONG hair wash and some more brushing, Abby's hair was successfully put into a bun. "Well, what do ya think?" McKendra asked, handing Abby a mirror. "Damn, I kinda ate." Abby admitted as she looked at her hairstyle. "This hairstyle kinda making me hungry."

McKendra threw her hands up. "So ya just get hungry from everythin' huh?" Abby shrugged. "That's absolutely correct." "What else makes ya this hungry?"

"Well, your daughter for one-" Abby was once again tapped in the head with the brush. "Ow- What did I do?"

"'m gonna make some pie for ya, an' ya better eat all of it." McKendra said, grabbing her apron off of a chair and putting it on. "Challenge accepted." Abby said, looking devious.

"Alright, the pie's done." McKendra finally said after what felt like hours for Abby. "Now just let it cool o-" McKendra sat in astonishment as she watched Abby scarf down the pie as if she'd never eaten before. "Ya want some mo-"

"Absolutely."

McKendra watched as Abby prepared to clear her third plate, looking mildly concerned. "'Might want to slow down, Abigail. Ya might choke."

"I can't Ms. Rudboys this shit is bussin for real." Abby said, stuffing more of it into her mouth at an alarming speed. McKendra blinked before turning her head up to the heavens and muttering something that might've been Stephanie's name.

"What 'm I gonna do with ya, Abby?"

"Feed me."

She lightly hit Abby's head again with an empty pie plate. Abby winced. "Hey! Cut that out…!"

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

side note i love writing for McKendra she's like one of my favorite TNMN GB AU characters she's so funny i'm gonna write more for her soon lel//

also this is something that would canonically happen in NYNN (when i get back to writing it)

yes abby does have a bit of trauma from her parents teehee. no they weren't your stereotypical abusive parents but they're not good people either. I'll expand more on them if yall want me to :D//