#The Pineapple Incident

[codesquire]

"I'm something stupid, do me." - Ted Mosby

[girl4music]

TED: “It’s Robin. That’s Robin in there.”

MARSHALL: “Did you guys…”

*Ted gives him a look that says it’s obvious. Barney holds his hand up for a hi give and everyone looks at him*

BARNEY: “Oh, come on. You’ve gotta give me this one. Those five shots got your farther with Robin than your brain ever did. See what happens when you don’t think? You do! More importantly, you do Robin. Come on!”

*Holds his hand up again. And Ted hi fives him*

LILY:

*Also holds her hand up for a high five*

“All right, right over here.”

Lily… really?! Disappointed in you. Surely you’d be smart enough to realise why this is totally wrong. Whether it’s Robin or not, it’s still totally wrong.

Remind me to never get drunk around idiots like Barney. In fact just make sure I don’t have sex while drunk at all. I cannot be held responsible for my subsequent stupidity and whatever damage it causes.

Okay, so here’s the thing right. I know that you can make an informed decision while inebriated. But that doesn’t mean that you’ll remember it when you’re not. It also doesn’t mean that whoever you’ve decided to sleep with will also be clear of mind enough to remember that it was you that they slept with. While it’s a grey area when it comes to consent… it’s still something you should really think about before the drinking makes you too mentally incapacitated to. If you’re truly down for it and your partner is down for it… okay, I suppose it’s fine. I mean neither of you will remember any of it but it’s fine. But if you’re not… and if they’re not… you need to have clarity on that first.

I don’t know. It’s just something very important to me. I’m all for casual sex and one-night stands. That’s fine. But make sure ALL PARTIES know what the other wants and the implications before going through with it when you’ll be too drunk to even state what that is.

As for me - I couldn’t do it. I’d want to remember the experience otherwise it would be pointless to me. Sex is a sacred thing no matter who it’s with. It’s an experience that you should be mentally present for in my view because if not - why do it at all? You know?

[ask-megamind-blue-defender]

Happy Two Year Anniversary of the Infamous Pineapple Incident! I gave my beautiful Roxanne a gold pendant to commemorate the occasion... At three in the morning, of course! That's right, my Love! You still haven't lived it down! MUAHAHAHA!

Also, I have recently been introduced to an incredible frozen concoction called Dole Whip. (Why did no one tell me about this deliciousness before?!) Minion is going to make it for dessert tonight.

For those of my fantastic fans who don't know about the Pineapple Incident, you can read the first post HERE.

[sharkhead43]

I like to think that darlin is obsessed with anything blue raspberry flavored and Vincent is a slut for cherry so they saw each other at 3am in a 7 eleven getting slushies. and just kinda made a silent pact. They now have a weekly late night slushie run in one of Vincent’s cars.

[knizmokat]

ted tickle scene >>>>>

[fivenightsatcorans]

CATASTROPHIC SCARY ALERT (splashed sauce all over my desk and computer)

[pillowspace]

hello. i am. perhaps 👉👈 interested in that au art with the verry sleepy looking sif. would you. maybe be open to sharing what its about?

Sleepy Sif <3 sure, I sorta just made it up on the spot after I had already finished sketching, but it kinda stuck with me. Here's extra dialogue that I was going to draw, but I got tired:

Basically, it's an AU where Siffrin never left the island north of Vauguard. The people there are like ghosts, going through routines while never processing much of anything, while the country itself is like a hazy dreamscape you can't quite focus on without it all falling apart. Loop serves as an anchor, keeping Siffrin the most coherent out of anyone on the island, though Siffrin is still forgetful and, as you said, sleepy.

I know that Siffrin's king, but I can't decide what they were previously. If he lived a normal life and Loop just went "you're the closest to a person out of anyone here, why shouldn't we live in luxury?" Or if he was already a prince before the island stopped existing. Either sounds interesting. Regardless, it's not like Siffrin would remember though.

Isabeau ends up on the island due to some incident with a boat and a storm I suppose, no one can really choose to go there on purpose. Maybe the others also came along, Isabeau just hasn't found them on the island yet.

Since the island is being held to reality with flimsy tape and Siffrin's been entirely alone outside of Loop's company and villages of unseeing eyes, Siffrin unconsciously sways the island into being inescapable, dreading when they'll leave while still trying to be supportive. Since Siffrin seems to have such a fierce but melancholy bond to their home, no one's really gathered the will to ask if he wants to go with them yet.

That's the general idea! I also like to imagine different colours come and go on the island, but red's always there. Sometimes the grass is grey, sometimes the grass is green. Etc.

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: y/n pregnency!!

Grid Kids: Bun in the Oven

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: moments with the grid kids during your pregnancy

Series Masterlist

Kicking Up a Storm

“Did the little one just ...” Charles’ eyes widen as he pulls back his hand abruptly from where it had been resting on your stomach.

Lando, lounging on the other side of the room with a video game controller in hand, smirks, “Did what? Tried to escape? Can’t blame it, considering the rest of its siblings."

You swat playfully at Lando as Max and George, engrossed in assembling a nursery chair, look up in anticipation. “Come on, let us feel!” Max pleads, abandoning the chair pieces on the floor.

As everyone gathers around, taking turns to gently place their hands on your baby bump, you feel a flutter, a gentle kick responding to their touch. The room fills with gasps of wonder and joy.

“Feels like a future driver if you ask me,” George grins, looking at Sebastian, who chuckles, already imagining another Vettel on the tracks.

Lance, feeling a tad left out, decides to jump in. “Can it hear us? Hello in there, it’s your brother Lance! Remember to pick me as the fun brother, okay?”

Mick, who has been reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on, chimes in, “You do realize the baby can’t differentiate voices yet, right?”

Lance waves him off, “Details, details.”

Cravings Are No Joke

“Pickles and chocolate? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, holding up the two seemingly mismatched items as he stands in the middle of a grocery store aisle.

Lance, pushing the cart, shrugs. “Don’t question the cravings, just go with it.”

Charles, scrolling through the list on his phone, adds, “Oh and don’t forget the spicy ramen, blueberry pie, and ... pineapple pizza?”

George groans, “Pineapple pizza? Come on! Anything but that. I’m not even Italian and I’m still offended.”

Lando, with an impish grin, quips, “Remember when she wanted the mango gelato at 3 am? That was a fun drive.”

Mick chuckles, “Or the time we went to five different bakeries just to find that particular lemon cake she couldn’t live without.”

Lance pauses, looking thoughtful, “And wasn’t there a phase where she only wanted foods that were purple?”

George nods, “Yep, aubergines, purple potatoes, grapes ... I still can’t look at a plum without laughing.”

As the grid kids continue shopping, picking out items based on the rather diverse list you gave them, they share more anecdotes of the past months. The store’s other patrons watch in amusement as the young men navigate the aisles, often debating the merits of various brands or flavors, all to ensure they get it just right for you.

Later, back home, your grid kids proudly present their haul. You and Sebastian look on with affection as they lay out the eclectic mix of food.

“Did you guys get everything?” You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

Max feigns offense at being questioned, “Of course, we’re professionals.”

Sebastian leans in to whisper in your ear, “I’m just glad they didn’t try cooking this time. Remember the schnitzel incident?”

You giggle, recalling the disastrous attempt. “Of course I do. I was cleaning flour off the cabinets and ceiling for weeks. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

It’s a …

The preparations for your gender reveal are in full swing at the local park and your grid kids are at the heart of it. They’ve split into two factions: Team Girl, led by Charles and Lance, and Team Boy, spearheaded by Max and Lando.

Charles and Lance have laid out a series of pink challenges, including a three-legged race where participants wear pink tutus. “It’s going to be a girl, no doubt about it!” Lance proclaims confidently.

Max and Lando, on the other hand, have a blue-themed obstacle course, complete with a mini kart race. Lando, wearing a blue bandana, shouts over the ruckus, “I have no idea what you’re talking about because it’s definitely a boy.”

George has taken on the role of referee. Dressed in a striped shirt, whistle in hand, he’s ensuring that the competition remains friendly. “Remember, it’s all in good fun!” he reminds everyone, though his “Team Girl” badge suggests where his loyalties lie.

Mick, though undecided, has tie-dye patches of both blue and pink on his shirt. “I just want a healthy sibling for all of us,” he says with a gentle smile, standing back and enjoying the antics.

Sebastian, watching the chaos unfold, leans over and whispers in your ear, “Did we really think letting them plan this was a good idea?”

You laugh, “It’s a bit crazy but look at them. They’re having the time of their lives!”

The moment everyone’s been waiting for finally arrives. At the center of the park, a large, sealed box waits. As you and Sebastian approach, the grid kids form a circle around it, their playful banter coming to a halt.

With a shared look of excitement, you both pull on the ribbon. The box flaps open, releasing a cloud of ... green smoke?

The park erupts in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

Max looks baffled, “Green?”

Charles chuckles, “Guess neither team wins today!”

Lando, trying to waft away the smoke, jokes, “Alien? Oh my god, you’re having an alien!”

Mick wraps an arm around you, “Like I said, as long as it’s healthy.”

You smile, nestling into Sebastian’s side, “We thought we’d keep everyone guessing for a little longer.”

False Alarm

“Sebastian! The baby! I think it’s happening!” You exclaim, feeling a sudden tightening in your abdomen.

Sebastian, who was in the middle of mediating a lively debate with Max and Charles over who will be the baby’s favorite brother, nearly trips over the rug in his rush to get to you. “Okay, okay, okay. Deep breaths, in and out.”

Lance, eyes wide as saucers, frantically begins googling “how to deliver a baby” on his phone while George starts making a list of things needed for the hospital. “Towels! We need towels, right?”

Lando is somewhere on another planet, muttering to himself, “This isn’t happening. I am not ready to see a baby being born. Nope, nope, nope.”

Mick tries to restore some order. “Calm down everyone. Y/N, are you sure it’s really labor?"

Before you can respond, Charles bursts through the door, holding a bucket of ice. “I read somewhere you might need ice. Here!”

You laugh through the discomfort, appreciating the chaos ensuing because of your grid kids’ concern. "Actually guys, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. False alarm.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps the room. Sebastian, still slightly pale, pulls you into a hug, “You sure know how to keep things exciting.”

Lance looks up from his phone, “What’s Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s like a rehearsal for the real thing,” George explains, folding up his hastily made list.

Max, trying to regain his cool, smirks, “Well, if that was a rehearsal, the main event is going to be epic.”

You chuckle, patting your belly, “Guess the little one just wanted to see how quickly you all could jump into action.”

Putting the “Student” in “Student Drivers”

As you and Sebastian sit on the couch, going over your prenatal class schedule, a curious George peeks over. “What’s that? Are those the birthing classes?”

You nod, “Yep! We’re starting next week. It’ll help us prepare for the big day.”

Suddenly, Charles pops up beside George, eyes widening in interest. “Can we come?”

“That sounds cool! I’ve always wondered what those classes are like.” Lando chimes in from where he’s keeping an ear out in the kitchen.

Sebastian looks a bit overwhelmed, “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

Lance joins the group, scrolling through a magazine article about celebrity dads attending birthing classes. “Look at this! It’s a thing now. We could all go and support you both.”

Max adds, “Besides, we’re family. We’ve been there through everything else. Why not this?”

“Do they even allow so many people to join?” Mick ponders.

You can’t help but laugh at the eager faces in front of you. “I never thought I’d have to bring an entourage to a birthing class.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “Okay, how about this? We’ll ask the instructor if it’s okay. If they allow it, you guys can join on one condition.”

Lando bounces on his toes, “What’s that?”

“No teasing or making jokes during the class. We’re there to learn and be supportive.”

Charles nudges Max, “That’s mainly directed at you.”

Max fakes innocence. “Me? I would never!”

You shake your head, “Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and see if our little ... or rather large group can attend.”

Your grid kids cheer, excited about the new adventure. As they scatter, already planning and discussing among themselves, Sebastian leans over to whisper in your ear, “This baby is already turning our world upside down and they’re not even here yet.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “With this family, every moment is an adventure.”

***

The birthing center’s usual tranquil ambiance is slightly offset by the excited chatter of the grid kids as you all enter. The instructor, a calm and composed woman named Clara, raises an eyebrow at the large group but doesn’t comment. After all, it’s not every day that half of the Formula 1 grid walks into her class.

The session starts with everyone introducing themselves. Most couples share sweet stories of their relationship journey. When it's your turn, Sebastian starts, “I’m Sebastian, this is my wife, Y/N,” he pauses, motioning to the group, “and these are ... our sons.”

The room erupts in chuckles. One of the expectant mothers quips, “That’s a lot of kids! You two have been busy!”

Clara moves on with the class, demonstrating breathing techniques. Everyone’s earnest attempt to follow along results in a mix of deep breathing, snorts, and a few stifled laughs. At one point, Max, struggling to get the rhythm right, looks over at Lando and mutters, “I feel like I’m preparing to go underwater.”

When it comes time for practicing labor positions, the grid kids enthusiastically volunteer. George and Charles end up demonstrating a position, with George playing the supporting partner and Charles the laboring mom-to-be. The sight of Charles leaning into George, pretending to be in labor, has the room laughing, especially when Charles exaggerates with dramatic moans.

Lance and Mick take a turn next and when Lance offers words of encouragement to “pregnant” Mick, saying, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” you almost fall off your chair laughing.

Towards the end of the class, Clara demonstrates the use of a birthing ball. Lando decides to take a leap onto one only to bounce off, crashing into Max and sending both of them tumbling to the ground. The room is in stitches.

Despite their hilarious antics, your grid kids genuinely try to grasp the concepts, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in the exercises.

As the class wraps up, Clara approaches you with a smile. “I must say, this has been the most ... lively class I’ve ever taught.”

You grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

She chuckles, “But it’s clear they all care deeply for you and want to support you both in any way they can.”

Sebastian nods, wrapping an arm around you, “We’re very lucky to have them.”

For Real This Time

Lando and Charles are in the middle of a heated argument over the best way to make a sandwich (complete with props and charts) when you suddenly feel a warm sensation. Looking down, your eyes widen. “Uh, guys?”

“What is it?” Sebastian jumps up right away.

You swallow, “I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then … mayhem.

Max yells, “To the car! Now!” while Lance scrambles to grab the pre-packed hospital bag.

George accidentally knocks over a vase in his attempt to find your phone. “Sorry! We can clean that up later, right?”

Mick tries to maintain calm, “Everyone, deep breaths, remember the class?”

Lando, eyes wide, mutters, “This is nothing like the class.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, the reception area becomes a scene of organized chaos. As Sebastian wheels you in, the grid kids follow in a flustered procession.

A nurse at the reception desk blinks in surprise. “Is there a convention in town?”

Mick, panting slightly, replies, “No, just family.”

Lando adds, “The biggest family you’ve ever seen.”

Another nurse, recognizing some of the faces, chuckles, “Formula 1 drivers in the maternity ward? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Inside, as the medical team preps you, the grid kids stand outside, pacing and nervously waiting. They take turns peeking through the small window, offering waves and thumbs-up.

Sebastian holds your hand and doesn’t complain once as you grab back hard enough to break every bone in it, “You know, I’ve faced pressure on the track but this ... this is on another level.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand, “Just remember, I’m doing the hard part.”

Soon enough, after what feels like both a minute and a lifetime, the beautiful cry of your newborn fills the room. Your grid kids, hearing the sound, cheer loudly, causing several nurses to hush them.

Charles, tears in his eyes, says, “We’re big brothers now. Like, for real.”

“Wait,” Lando interjects, “aren’t you already a big brother?”

“Shush mate, let me have this moment.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles, “Welcome to the family, little one. We’re a bit crazy but we already love you so much.”

[odo-apologist]

Every ENT character is the most character ever. Archer is a bitch he plays a fundamental role in the creation of the Federation he brings his dog on away missions which once causes a diplomatic incident he likes water polo he commits war crimes he saw a gazelle giving birth and implements it into his rousing speeches he had a wet dream about his first officer that included his dog's funeral he had to carry the soul of the creator of the main tenets of Vulcan philosophy in his head he gives a lecture on Tycho Brahe while getting his ass beaten during an interrogation scene. T'Pol is strict in her Vulcan beliefs she doesn't believe in time travel even as she's presented with irrefutable evidence and remains somewhat skeptical after experiencing it firsthand she is the funniest person on Enterprise she is more emotional than average Vulcans to the point that she had to have memories erased for causing her too much distress she could canonically pick up any of her crewmates and carry them bridal style she has Vulcan HIV she has it cured by the woman that later watches Spock and Kirk roll around in the sand in Amok Time she is technically canonically trans she is a recovering drug addict. Trip is a perfect gentleman he undergoes incredible emotional losses his favorite movies are Frankenstein Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein he gets pregnant five episodes in he dies in the worst episode of the entire series (and the entire franchise) only to have that death retconned in the following tie-in novels he ran around the ship in his underwear he leaves the ship for a couple weeks only to come back after one person had been kidnapped another thrown in jail and the engines are on the verge of destruction and reacts like :/. Malcolm is gay he has 50 ex-girlfriends he has only had one friend in his life his own sister barely knows anything about him he dies alone he likes pineapple even though he's allergic to it he gets spacesick he worked as an agent for a top secret organization he's afraid of drowning he whined about getting a cold he had a spike driven through his leg and didn't complain at all he has a psychosexual obsession with a man he thinks is after his job and grows to respect once they had a homoerotic fight scene before witnessing him die. Hoshi is a linguistic prodigy she's the greatest contributor to the universal translator she has a panic attack on one of her first missions she ran a gambling ring she has a black belt in aikido and broke her superior's arm she has never been to the principal's office in her life she is afraid to use the transporter she became an empress in an alternate universe she is the only one who gets laid on Risa making her the first human to do so she reacted to the threat of getting worms injected into her brain to make her reveal secret information by spitting in her interrogator's face. Travis is the sweetest man ever he loves rock climbing he gets injured whenever he tries to use those skills he's a fan of ghost stories he grew up on a small freighter he gets neglected by the narrative his counterpart helps Hoshi become empress he works out when he's horny he dies in a alternate future where Earth is destroyed he's a movie buff who would probably love the Criterion Collection he likes to chill in a part of the ship with zero gravity which he calls "the sweet spot." Phlox grins like the Cheshire Cat he breaks doctor patient confidentiality to help figure out Malcolm's favorite food he goes crazy when the rest of the crew have to sleep through part of space because of how social his species is he has three wives who in turn have three husbands he responds to the news of one of his wives propositioning a crew member by being like "cool! have fun :]" he once nearly vivisects Travis because he's being affected by radiation and gets obsessed with knowing why the guy has a simple headache he has a menagerie in the middle of his sickbay. And they're all my best friends.

[justanotherrpmeme]

Meet Cute starters

"Well, that's one way to make an entrance." "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to spill coffee all over your shirt!" "Hey, watch where you're going!" "Is this yours? I think you dropped it." "Oh, I thought you were someone else. My bad!" "Excuse me, do you have the time?" "Are you always this clumsy, or did I just get lucky?" "You're not going to believe what just happened to me!" "I'm lost. Can you point me in the right direction?" "Did you just see that? I can't stop laughing!" "Great, just what I needed today." "You're the one who ordered the pizza with pineapple, right?" "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is taken." "I was hoping to avoid this elevator small talk, but here we are." "I think you dropped this. It fell out of your bag." "Wow, your dog really likes my sandwich, doesn't he?"

[COLLISION] - The sender accidentally bumps into the receiver, causing both of them to drop their belongings. [HELPING] - The sender helps the receiver pick up the scattered papers after a collision. [CLUMSY] - The sender accidentally spills coffee on the receiver, prompting an apology. [BOOK] - The sender and receiver reach for the same book, sparking a conversation. [DIRECTION] - The sender asks the receiver for directions, initiating a conversation. [SHARED] - The sender and receiver witness a funny incident together. [SEAT] - The sender asks to sit with the receiver due to limited seating.

[dovesdreaming]

The Ketchup Conundrum

Summary: Deadpool and you have been together for a few months, and everything's been perfect-well, as perfect as it can be when you're dating someone like Deadpool. But today, the two of you face your first real fight... over the silliest thing imaginable.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The sun was shining through the windows of your shared apartment, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room. You and Wade, aka Deadpool, had just finished a peaceful breakfast, and everything seemed perfect. The two of you were a new couple, but it already felt like you'd known each other forever. You were basking in that honeymoon-phase bliss, where even his weird quirks, like wearing his mask at the most random times, were endearing. But then it happened. The incident that would go down in history as The Ketchup Conundrum.

You were making sandwiches for lunch when you noticed the ketchup bottle was nearly empty. You grabbed it and did the natural thing, gave it a firm squeeze to get the last of the ketchup out. Wade was sitting at the kitchen island, flipping through a magazine with one hand, the other clutching a half-eaten chimichanga. As soon as he heard the telltale squelch of the ketchup bottle, he looked up, eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “Did you just... squeeze the bottle from the middle?" he asked, voice dripping with disbelief. You froze, ketchup bottle in hand. "Yeah, why?".

His magazine hit the counter with a dramatic thud. "Because! You’re supposed to squeeze from the bottom! Everyone knows that! Now it’s all uneven and weird!". You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the fact that your first real fight was apparently going to be about ketchup. "Wade, it’s not a big deal. I can just push the rest down, see?" You started to smooth the ketchup down with your fingers, trying to fix the situation. But Wade was already worked up, standing now with his arms crossed over his chest. "No, no, no. It’s not just about the ketchup, it’s about principles! You start squeezing from the middle, and next thing you know, you’re putting pineapple on pizza! Or-“He gasped dramatically, "folding the toilet paper the wrong way!". You stared at him, a mix of confusion and irritation bubbling up. "Wade, it’s just ketchup! It’s not like I-“. He interrupted with a raised hand, "I thought I knew you. I thought we had something special. But now… I don’t know what to think!".

The argument escalated quickly. You both started throwing petty jabs, the playful tone gone as the ridiculousness of the situation was lost in the heat of the moment. “I can’t believe you’re this upset over ketchup!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “And I can’t believe you’re so nonchalant about it!” he shot back, his voice muffled as he grabbed his mask and yanked it back over his head in a huff, as if that would shield him from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

It wasn’t long before you both stormed off to different rooms, the door to the bedroom slamming behind you as Wade retreated to the living room, muttering something about “ketchup heretics”. You sat on the bed, fuming. Of all the things to fight about, this was by far the dumbest. You grabbed a pillow and hugged it to your chest, glaring at the wall as if it was the one to blame. But as the minutes ticked by, the anger began to fade, replaced by a gnawing feeling in your stomach. You missed him already. The apartment felt too quiet without his constant chatter, without the sound of him flicking through channels on the TV. And that’s when it hit you. “I need to tell him I’m sorry” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Meanwhile, Wade was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but not really watching it. He had flipped to a random infomercial, and the overly enthusiastic salesman was shouting about some kind of miracle cleaner. Wade didn’t hear a word of it. His mind was stuck on you, on the stupid fight, on how empty the apartment felt without you in the same room. “I need to tell them I’m sorry” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for himself to hear.

Both of you, in separate rooms, stood up at the same time. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe you should wait, give him a bit more time to cool off. But then you shook your head, steeling yourself. No, this was too silly to drag out. You needed to fix this, now. You opened the door just as Wade was walking toward it. You both froze, standing awkwardly in the hallway, staring at each other. “Uh…” Wade scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Hi”. “Hi” you replied, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous.

“I was just…” He gestured vaguely behind him, “coming to say sorry”. “Me too,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of something so small”.

He shrugged, looking down at his feet. “I overreacted. It’s just… I don’t know. I get all weird about dumb stuff sometimes. But it doesn’t matter, because you matter. More than ketchup. Way more”. You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Really?”. “Really” he said, finally looking up at you. He reached out, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, babe. Let’s never fight again, okay? I hate it”. You hugged him back tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Leather, chimichangas, and something distinctly Wade. “Agreed. No more fights. Especially not about ketchup”.

You both stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the relief of reconciliation washing over you both. Then Wade pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mischievous grin. “So… wanna make up for lost time and be super cuddly for the rest of the day?” You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your chest. “Only if you promise not to judge my ketchup squeezing technique ever again”.

Wade held up his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. Now, how about we cuddle on the couch and watch terrible rom-coms?”. You smiled, feeling nothing but love for the ridiculous man in front of you. “That sounds perfect”. And so, the two of you spent the rest of the day glued to each other, making up for the lost time, the earlier fight forgotten as you basked in the comfort of each other's presence. Because in the end, it didn’t matter if you squeezed the ketchup bottle from the middle or the bottom. What mattered was that you had each other, and nothing, not even ketchup, was going to change that.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[cutielights]

AHHHHHHHH! I LOVE UR WORK!!!!!!!!c

If u see this, can you do Rottmnt boys x sister reader? And when I say she’s random, I mean RANDOM

Y/n: Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee i Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee

Donnie: WHAT!?!

Y/n: ……can I have APPY juice?

Donnie: No

Thank u

TYSM LOVLEY <3333 I CRUMPLE OVER AND DIE WHEN PEOPLE SEND IN ASKS LIKE THIS

I’m just putting this as g/n so it can be read as anything and more people are comfortable reading it bc for a while I avoided F! Readers like the plague haha gender dysphoria go brrr

Tw: mild language

Nobody panic. It’s not lol-so-random-xD core.

Rise boys + Random sibling reader (platonic! tcest dni)

Leo

Encourages it

You probably learned it from him let’s be honest

“Let’s poor soup on dads head.”

“Miso or Tomato?”

Giving Raph heart attacks with the shit you guys say

“You’re gonna do w h a t ?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“And afterwards we’re getting door-handles for April.”

“Does she need new door handles?”

“She will.”

Raph

He grew up with this

He is still panicking over the soup incident

He has you, Leo and Mikey sharing a braincell

Wishes you all had one brain cell each

Sometimes you say something that really just throws him off though

Waking him up in the middle of the night just to tell him something

“Crocs are like the Tumblr of footwear.”

“It’s literally five am, please go to sleep.”

“Like here?”

“No. In your room.”

Donnie

Spending your free time annoying him

You guys are siblings that’s basically a free pass

In your eyes at least

“Do you think you could make like a cheap jungle, bigger than like Russia?”

“A, a cheap jungle?”

“Yeah that’s what I said.”

*cue a long rant on why making a functioning jungle wouldn’t be cheap in any way due to inflation and costs and buying the land and the seeds and creating a functioning ecosystem god forbid you want to put animals in there*

“Yeah but like, could you though?”

“Did you even LISTEN?”

He then kicked you out of his room

Mikey

Matching each other’s energy

“I kinda feel like a soggy plate of broken pottery.”

“Mood.”

“With cheese on it.”

“Just like a pizza.”

“Pineapple pizza? Nah, the next step is grape pizza.”

“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?”

Embodiment of dumb and dumber

Both of you probably have adhd let’s be completely honest here

Getting distracted at least ten times during five minutes

[tswhiisftteedr]

ANYTHING Lute x Reader, i just need to see more of this perfect gal whose had like 3 minutes total of screentime

Girls ☆ One Shot

☆ Lute x Human Soul!Fem!Reader:

After having met you on your first day in heaven, your life and lute’s would change for the better as you had found your other half despite your original predicaments.

Words: 4228

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Honestly Nothing Kinky, It’s just plain girl on girl smut. Homophobia. Lute might be ooc. NOT PROOFREAD.

Notes: Okay right off the bat, some bullshit logic about angels being able to tell if someone is queer, also lute is gay but has some major internalized homophobia so for a good chunk of this she’s rude to the reader just because they’re gay.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Frankly, the scenario felt weird, especially given the fact that both of you were, well, 'you.'

From a logical standpoint, it didn't add up, not in the slightest. However, in the grand scheme of things, ‘does love really need to make sense?’

The response to that question was unquestionably, no, when observing your relationship with Lute.

It all began when your seemingly stable life abruptly crumbled. While crossing the street, mind you, at a red light, fate took a dark turn as a truck with faulty brakes struck you, ending your life on the spot.

There was no reincarnation into another world after this encounter with truck-kun; you were flat out dead.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself standing before the gates of Heaven, where Saint Peter meticulously inspected his book, akin to the VIP list of an exclusive nightclub – or so it seemed.

However, instead of the typical club scene with artificial lights, drugs, unpleasant odours, drunk individuals, and a sense of desperation, you were enveloped in a heavenly realm. Fluffy clouds, savoury food, sweet fragrances, joyful company, and an overwhelming sense of acceptance surrounded you.

This was truly paradise, and you were relieved that your life wasn't too problematic. After being shown your potential residence—a beautiful house with a spacious garden—and touring 'Heaven city' with a friendly Angel couple, you enjoyed exploring your surroundings.

However, the perfection took a turn when you accidentally encountered the first unfriendly 'individual' in Heaven.

"Watch it," the woman with white hair warned you, and after scanning you from head to toe (much like her golden-winged companion), she remarked, "I guess they really let anybody in these days, even people like you."

With those words, she walked away accompanied by the non-human-looking 'man,' which seemed to be the norm in this place. However, you couldn't shake off the unease caused by her reference to 'people like you.'

Soon, you discovered the meaning behind her comment. Apparently, angels here could distinguish between cis-straight and queer individuals.

The reason of ‘why?’ remained unknown to you, but what became clear was that, in her opinion, you didn't deserve Heaven—not based on your actions but solely due to your sexuality, ‘and that pissed you off.’

You had planned to confront her the next time your paths crossed, and that moment arrived three months later, long after you had moved on from the incident;

Now, you were patiently waiting in line to sample drinks at the recently opened smoothie bar. The atmosphere was serene and heavenly, as expected.

Just as it was about to be your turn to order, you were rudely jolted by the announcement, "Move it, bitches, Adam’s in the houuuse."

You found yourself pushed aside, forced to witness the obnoxious Angel now placing his order.

Midway through his order “Pineapple smoothie with extra pineapple, tapioca, grass jelly, make it an extra-large with extra sugar, then she’ll have-“ it suddenly dawned on you that he was the guy with the white-haired companion from last time. Before you could fully process it, you turned around to find the white-haired woman right beside you.

Upon noticing you, she shot a disgusted glare and 'tsk' your way. Frustrated, you thought, 'That rude bitch- Not only did she cut in line, but she also gave you a look like you were a turd on the incredibly clean streets of heaven!'

This time, you were determined to speak your mind to her;

"Whats your problem?" you question her with frustration evident in your tone.

"Excuse me?" she retorts, disdain dripping from her voice.

"I'm asking, what's your issue with me? Our first encounter, you flat out implied I didn't belong in heaven. Seriously, for what, for being gay? Firstly, that's bullshit because my worth as a person shouldn't be based on my sexuality. Secondly, it's just plain homophobic. Isn't heaven supposed to be all about accepting thy neighbour? So instead of treating me like I'm beneath you, how about an apology for our last interaction, Miss off-brand Kanade?" You lay it all out, determined not to let her disrespect slide this time. She was to blame before, but allowing it again would be on you, ‘and that wasn't going to happen.’

"Oooooh, cat fight!" remarked the golden-winged Angel, treating your dispute as some form of entertainment. Also 'cat fight', was he fucking serious?! That term left you thinking, 'misogynistic asshole!' in response to his words.

"Do you even know who you're speaking to?" the woman questioned, exuding a sense of superiority.

"Yeah, tear that bitch a new on, Lute!" the golden-winged Angel chimed in.

"I don't 'lute,' and if you were truly that significant, I would’ve. But it sure as hell doesn't seem to be the case!" you retorted with a touch of spite, placing extra emphasis on her name.

The shop as a hole gasped at the mention of the ‘H word’.

"I’ll have you on that I hold the title of Lieutenant of— in the Heavenly Army. And as one of God's warriors, I deserve respect from someone of your, let's say, slightly above dreadful mortal soul status," she declares, almost slipping up and inadvertently revealing the existence of exterminators.

"Sure thing, 'heaven warrior.' Firstly, when did we ever need an angel like you? It's been peaceful here. Secondly, I couldn't help but notice that slip-up. I don't know your real occupation, probably still military judging by your mannerisms, but certainly not some simple member of this 'heaven’s army,'" you respond, now sure that she's concealing her true job from most of Heaven's population.

"You insolent, miserable, lower life form! Consider yourself fortunate that your meager good deeds in your pathetic human life landed you here. Otherwise, I would have had the pleasure to—" she began, but was abruptly interrupted by her 'companion' or perhaps 'boss.' "Chill out, danger tits," he calmly stated in a tone vastly different from his earlier goofiness. The shift in his demeanor was genuinely unsettling.

And her attitude swiftly transformed; she composed herself and turned to face him. "I apologize, Adam, sir. I allowed my emotions to take over and stepped out of line," she said, directing her apology not to you but to her boss.

With that, the two individuals departed, leaving you to independently apologize to your fellow angels for the disturbance.

Was that the final occasion you heard or saw them? No, because not even a month later, here you were;

Another fun aspect of heaven was its schools, designed for souls who aspired to study on Earth but lacked the opportunity or had their lives cut too short to complete their educations.

Another facet of this scenario allowed the souls of teachers or individuals aspiring to aid in unfulfilled dreams to volunteer for assisting with the children's education.

That's why you found yourself present today, supporting Miss Asiimwe with her fourth-grade anglophone class during a spelling bee. Just as the classroom door swung open, an unmistakably loud and obnoxious voice rang out, "What up turds, big bro Adam's in the house!"

Your day took a turn from a wholesome one contributing to kids' education to a shitty one, because if that ‘pompous jerk Adam was here, she sure would also be—‘ "Oh, it's you again," Lute remarks to you, her voice less harsh than the last encounter but still carrying a hint of bitterness.

Truly, ‘It was a waste for her to be so beautiful with that kind of attitude’. Despite her rude remarks about your sexual orientation, you may or may not find her attractive—perhaps not the wisest choice, and you were aware of such. But hey, after all, dominatrix existed, and they get paid handsomely to insult people. So, ‘is it really that unconventional to be into her?’

Yes, it very much so was. However, before having the chance to delve into those thoughts, Lute abruptly snapped her fingers right in front of your face to divert your attention.

"What are you doing here?! And a quit staring at me like that!" she demanded, replacing her fingers with her face, now uncomfortably close, and you could feel her breath on your face.

"Um, well— I'm assisting this classroom's teacher, something I've been doing since week one in heaven, so you're not kicking me out," you replied with a defensive tone, slightly taken aback by her question but drawing from your previous interactions.

"I never claimed I would, chill out, mortal soul. You shouldn't project the stress of your inadequacy as an inferior being into this classroom's atmosphere. Stress spreads easily, and you wouldn't want it affecting the children," she declares with authority, though her tone and gaze had some gentleness in it.

Truth be told, she might have found herself drawn to you. It was a difficult pill to swallow, given her blatant homophobia and the fact she found the thought of ‘her’ being attracted to a woman absolutely absurd.

Upon initially glimpsing your figure and sensing a certain fire within her, her instinctive response was to be rude to you.

"You mentioned you've been assisting here since your first week. How frequently do you come by?" she inquires, attempting to initiate casual conversations with you. By now, she had acknowledged that you weren't to blame for her attraction. While you might be the source, her draw toward women wasn't dependent on whether she found you hot or not.

"Well, I try to stop by at least twice a week. I believe having familiar faces during learning helps children feel safer and more supported," you admitted, surprised that she's engaging in small talk.

"I completely agree. Having a trusted adult present during learning builds a strong foundation for children's education, especially for the younger ones," she adds, gazing ahead at the classroom where the children have transitioned from spelling to playing with Adam.

"Leave it to the man-child to get along with kids," you joke to yourself, watching how effortlessly Adam bonds with the children. They're engrossed in a game involving knights and kings, with Adam, of course, playing the role of the king.

To your surprise, Lute chuckles at your remark before quickly composing herself. "Well, he is the father of humanity," she states, a faint smile appearing at the corner of her lips.

"I guess I can't argue with facts," you reply, your own face lighting up with a smile at the sight of the joyful children.

After that day, your meetings with Lute became a regular occurrence. Whether it was the joyful atmosphere of children immersed in learning or something else, she grew quite friendly with you over the course of two months. Your interactions even extended beyond the school, evolving into outings to cafes and amusement parks.

Today was one of Lute's off-duty days. You weren't exactly sure why heaven required an army, but you refrained from probing too much, especially during your hangouts, which were focused on enjoying each other's company rather than discussing work.

Currently, you were at CheeLand, the largest amusement park in all of heaven, offering rides for both the faint-hearted and adrenaline junkies alike.

You leaned towards the gentler side when it came to this type of amusement, while Lute embraced the thrill. That's why you found yourself anxiously gripping your seat’s restrains as the cart ascended the rails, anticipating the impending drop.

Your white-haired friend had successfully egged you on, convincing you to join her on the ride. Despite calming yourself in line, once the ride began, all your anxiety rushed back;

Lute, growing excited as the carts continued to climb up, remarked, "This is going to be so fucking fun! Can't believe you were such a baby about it in line." Her teasing tone shifted as she noticed your terrified expression.

Softening, she grabbed your hand and reassured you, "Listen, you'll be alright. The rides are completely safe and secure. Plus, I'm here with you." Her last sentence was emphasized by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn and look at her. "And worst case scenario, you're already dead, so there's nothing to be truly afraid of," she joked, easing the tension slightly.

But then came her next words, reigniting panic. "Okay, get ready, we're almost there." Glancing forward, you realized, "Oh, shit." She was right, and in an instant, the drop arrived. Both of you screamed at the top of your lungs throughout the entire ride…

You emerged from the ride, your head still a bit foggy and your voice hoarse from screaming, with Lute holding your hand.

As you both walk towards a nearby bench for a moment of composure, she remarks, "See, wasn't so bad."

"The fuck it wasn't!" you retort. Just as she's about to tease you for your reaction, you abruptly pull her into a tight hug in a serge of emotions. "But thanks for being with me. I doubt I could have even mustered the courage to join the ride lineup if you weren't here. I'm really grateful you're with me," you whisper softly.

She was startled by the contact, causing her to freeze momentarily. Although her initial instinct was to pull away due to nervousness, she recognized this as a vulnerable moment for you. Awkwardly, she hugged you back and gradually melted into the embrace.

After 5 minutes, the reality of the position hit her, and nerves kicked in. "You're welcome, now get off me, you weirdo," she insists, pulling away from the hug. However, all you can do is smile at her. Despite her attempt to maintain a front, she can't help but crack a smile too. 'She actually enjoyed how close you just were,' but that was something she kept to herself.

At some point in time, you had even overheard her referring to you as her friend to her boss, Adam, who questioned her sudden shift from his side to yours. Her face turned beet red as she defended you—a sight you wouldn't have expected from her at all.

However, that flushed look she harbored became increasingly frequent over time. You had become accustomed to her mannerisms and the way she expressed emotions, often lashing out due to difficulty in self-expression.

You had grown familiar with what brought a smile to her face, what upset her, and especially what left her flustered. By then, you had realized she liked you based on her behaviours, yet it seemed she hadn't recognized the romantic nature of her feelings.

Aware of her confusion, especially considering her upbringing and training, you knew the absence of romance in her education left her clueless about such emotions. Despite this, you chose to let her navigate these feelings on her own. It wasn't your place to impose that you were better aware of her own emotions than she was.

Yet, you played a role in guiding her toward this realization by incorporating more physical gestures, of course, always within her comfort boundaries: holding her hand more often, offering more frequent hugs, ensuring there was some form of touch between you two.

A common occurrence was when you walked together, either with your arm around her or your pinkies linked.

Her flushed face became so habitual that seeing her without it seemed unusual; the red tint became her typical expression when spending time with you.

Take, for instance, that day when you visited the newly opened restaurant on 'Holy Avenue.';

Opting for a Caesar salad, Lute aimed to play it safe in case the other offered dish didn't appeal to her taste. However, as she munched on her food, her gaze kept wandering to your dish, which seemed quite appetizing.

She attempted to deny her desire for a bite, but after spending so much time together, you had become adept at reading her emotions.

Acknowledging her unspoken request, you picked up a small portion with your fork, gesturing for her to join in. Initially embarrassed, she hesitated to refuse, but a single pleading look and she relented.

Her face flushed from the intimate gesture, the question of ‘why was she getting so worked up over your friendly act’ lingered in her mind as she finally took the bite-size food portion. The fact that she found you visually pleasing wasn't the answer she sought. Her feelings were deeper than mere physical attraction.

This realization was further confirmed as she spent the entire night unable to sleep, her mind consumed by thoughts of your hangout and the fact that you had fed her.

Tossing and turning, she found herself questioning the nature of your relationship: were you friends? Yes, that was obvious. Were you a couple? No, definitely not. Did she want you to be more than friends, an item perhaps? "Uuh, fuck," she groaned into her pillow as the realization hit her that she had developed feelings for you.

By now, it seemed like everyone and their mothers were aware of Lute's feelings, evident in her actions toward you. Not only had she begun reciprocating your physical advances, but she also initiated some herself.

Whether it was greeting you with a warm hug after a week apart, including you in her imposed outings with Adam, or playfully wrapping an arm around your waist during these occasions, her actions spoke volumes.

She'd whisper sweet jabs about her boss into your ear, leading to fits of laughter. Adam, in response, would roll his eyes at your intimate gestures, teasing Lute for being too obvious about her affection.

Despite her embarrassment and denials of any romantic feelings, you knew better than to take those at face value.

Yet besides the deep connection you shared, she struggled to express her feelings toward you. Accepting that she liked you had already been a significant challenge. Therefore, the idea of asking you out was currently off the table.

She needed to communicate her sentiments without uttering a word, and that's where today came into play—Valentine's Day.

Lute had dedicated the entire previous day and night to baking the perfect sweet, chocolaty treat for you. Not being accustomed to baking, she faced numerous trials and errors before getting it just right. Now, the moment had arrived for her to present these treats to you.

Having texted you to meet her at 'Wings Caffe' around 10, she patiently occupied a table since 9:30 a.m. following your confirmation text.

Initially, her plan was to simply hand you the chocolate, letting you make assumptions and agreeing when you eventually concluded that she liked you. However, things didn't go as planned, and nerves took over;

"Aww, that's so sweet, Lute. Thank you, really. I didn't get anything today, since y’a know, single as a Pringle," you remarked, pointing to yourself. "These chocolates mean a lot. By the way, they look fantastic. Where did you get them? I'd love to buy more for a snack," you inquired, holding the heart-shaped box.

"Made them," she mumbled, visibly embarrassed by your compliments.

"Really? Wow, I didn't know you baked. Maybe I'll come over to your place more often and have you whip something up for me," you begin. The implication of spending more time together tugs at Lute's chest, but your last sentence hits her hard. "I'm so grateful to have a friend who's skilled at baking and willing to make me things," you say as you start munching on the treats.

'Friends'—that's right, nothing more. It appears she couldn't rely on the heart-shaped box or the chocolate with words of affirmation in pink sprinkles to convey her feelings. If she desired more than friendship, she would have to be honest about her feelings this time.

However, true to her defensive nature, instead of clarifying the true reason behind giving chocolate on the day of love, she merely went along with your characterization of it as a friendly gesture.

"Yeah, I guess you're lucky to have a friend like me, someone so good at everything," she boasted, her voice proud, yet her expression betraying a hint of sadness.

Noticing the inconsistency, you set the box down on the table to free your hands and gently took hers. Meeting her gaze directly, you squeezed her hands for reassurance. "I wanted to let you work things out at your own pace, but we're not making any progress," you began, and she looked at you wide-eyed.

"I like you, Lute, and I know you like me too," you stated frankly. Before she could employ her defense mechanism, you added, "I'm not saying we have to start dating right away. I understand if you're not ready for that. But please keep in mind, as long as you don't outright reject me, I'll keep trying to pursue a relationship with you."

Upon hearing those words, Lute sensed the release of all the built-up stress and fear of rejection.

A newfound confidence surged within her, making her bold enough to grab your face and plant a bold kiss in plain sight for everyone at the café to witness. "Fuck yes, I'll be your girlfriend," she declared as she pulled away.

With a simple "Now, let's get out of here," the two of you stood up from your seats, leaving the café behind as her apartment became your new destination.

Upon reaching her place, things escalated rapidly—like, really rapidly. Mere seconds after stepping through the door, she was all over you.

Passionate kisses, hands exploring every inch of your body, fingers grabbing at whatever they could find. Nails scratching and digging, teeth occasionally biting at your skin when her mouth left yours.

Given the speed with which she undressed you, it seemed like she had envisioned this scenario for quite some time.

Before you knew it, you were lying on her bed, completely devoid of clothing, and that's when she began to work her magic;

Squirming within her grasp, she held your thighs down while eating you out. Breathless, you questioned, "I thought you were a homophobe before we met. How are you so good at this??" The overwhelming sensation of her tongue left you in awe.

You can practically feel her grin against your lips as she responds, "Yep, I was. But after developing a crush on you, I did my homework. Figured it be useful at one point or another. Though, ‘didn't think I'd be that good on my first actual trial.”

"Please don’t stop" you croak out between pants.

“Don’t worry, I won’t." she promised, increasing her rhythm and pressure.

As she continued to please you, you couldn't help but wonder what changed in her. This was way different from her usual flustered self. ‘Was it the time spent together? Or maybe the touch? The combination of both?’

Regardless, you decided to focus solely on the present moment, losing yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Lute showed no signs of slowing down, proving her dedication to satisfying you.

Eventually, you reached climax, shouting her name as you finally released, your wings fluttered and your essence coated her tongue. Her response? She swallowed it down greedily, moaning around your pussy. When you finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily, she climbed up beside you, her breasts pressing against your chest.

"That was... intense," you managed to utter between breaths.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

As you settled down together, Lute traced gentle circles on your stomach before trailing her fingers along your inner thighs. Her thumb brushed against your sensitive folds again, teasingly circling your tight entrance. "Do you want more?" she asked softly, her voice husky with desire.

You nodded weakly, unable to speak coherently yet.

Without further delay, Lute positioned herself between your spread legs again, positioning her own pussy just inches away from where she had been earlier. Lowering herself slowly, she began to rub your clits together, creating a new wave of pleasure that reverberated throughout both of them.

With each thrust of her hips, she increased the pace until you were moving in sync, your moans growing louder as you neared another orgasmic peak.

Your bodies intertwined, united in shared ecstasy, leaving neither wanting nor regretting your decision to explore the concept of a sexual relationship together.

Lute's hands grabbed onto your hips, holding you steady as she picked up speed, driving them both closer to climax. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving shallow crescent marks in the soft flesh; evidence of your shared intensity.

You could feel the familiar buildup starting again, your entire body tensing up in anticipation. With one final powerful thrust, Lute groaned loudly, her orgasm crashing over both of you like waves crashing onto shore. In response, you let out a high-pitched cry, joining her in blissful release.

Breathing heavily, you stayed in the same position for several moments longer than necessary, savouring the afterglow of your passionate union.

Eventually, you separated, both panting heavily. Lute rolled off of you, lying next to you on the bed, her chest heaving rapidly.

"That was... incredible," she panted out, reaching over to grab a nearby water bottle and handing it to you.

"Yeah, it was... Although I have to admit, having sex on the first day of making it official is pretty needy," you playfully tease her.

"Oh, shut up," she retorts before planting a kiss on your lips once you've swallowed your sip of water.

This relationship was going to be wilder than what you had anticipated…

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Tag list for Lute: @sunflower-lilly @charlott30045 (I still used your request because it was one that fit with what I had already received)

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[str8rat]

ISAT / FEAR AND HUNGER AU

WARNING BLOOD/GORE (BLURRED)

WARNING!! This post contains topics such as really bad relations with food, gore, eating disroders, cannibalism, death by stomach rupturing due to eating too much after starving oneself, extreme (deadly) allergic reactions leading to death, etc

This post is mainly dedicated to explaining Siffrin's eating habits during the loops, below you may find three unrelated situations

~ ~ ~

SIFFRIN'S COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD I;

The party finds themselves running out of food during their journey across the country. Days away from the nearest town, and with no animals or plants to forage due to the harsh winter, tensions rise. Odile, with her usual dry humor, smugly suggests that one of them could sacrifice a limb to keep the rest alive. The joke falls flat, given Isabeau’s already missing arm, causing her to quickly backtrack and apologize. However, the grim reality remains—such desperate measures aren't beyond the realm of possibility if their situation worsens.

Fortunately, they manage to reach the next town, exhausted and starving, but intact—no limbs lost to cannibalism! Food scarcity becomes even more pressing once they reach Dormont and enter the House, with Siffrin beginning his time loop journey.

At some point, Siffrin quietly stops eating altogether, insisting his portion go to his companions to prevent them from making desperate choices. Especially since his body seems to reset each loop, aside from the scars from each death. But his hunger, paired with his deteriorating mental state, begins to wear on him.

Dark, cannibalistic urges begin to gnaw at his mind, warping his thoughts, with intrusive thoughts haunting him every time he thinks about his own hunger. Due to him burning more calories than the rest of the party, the Wish Craft eating off on him, he also gets hungry much more quickly, and yet still tries to refrain from eating and "wasting resources."

During one of the loops, those thoughts overcome him. He tackles a party member to the ground, sinking his teeth into their arm in a horrific frenzy. But before the reality of what he’s done fully sinks in, time bends—resetting to just before the incident. It leaves Siffrin shaken, aware of how low he's fallen, how disgusting he is, borderline unforgivable, unable to meet any of his party member's eyes, haunted by the thoughts that still linger.

SIFFRIN'S COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD II;

Yet, not everything resets perfectly. Over time, Siffrin’s body begins to show signs of lasting damage from the loops, even aside from the obvious scars he recieves from each of his deaths. His stomach, weakened and shrunken from eating little to nothing, can no longer handle the amount of food his worried sick companions insist he eats during one loop.

His stomach, unable to bear the strain, ruptures, leading to a slow, agonizing death right in the middle of what was supposed to be their safe Snack Break Room.

After the loop resets again, Siffrin refuses to eat more than the bare minimum, terrified of re-living the same, agonizing experience again.

SIFFRIN'S COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD III;

Siffrin's discovery of his allergy to pineapple happens in the worst possible way—through a deadly, firsthand experience. Despite Loop's warning, he either forgets or dismisses it in a moment of carelessness, a mistake that comes with a devastating price.

The moment the acidic sweetness of the pineapple touches his tongue, an invisible force seems to clamp down on his throat. He feels the sudden constriction, his body instinctively trying to expel the fruit, but it’s too late. Siffrin’s throat begins to close rapidly. Panic takes hold as he gags, desperately attempting to spit out the fruit.

His body jerks, muscles tense, but nothing happens. He can’t breathe. His chest heaves in a futile effort to pull in air, but all that follows is a hollow, suffocating silence. His vision blurs as he just barely makes out his party trying to somehow help him, but it's hopeless.

While Bonnie is frozen in horror, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears, as they watch their friend slowly suffocate because of the pineapple THEY gave him, Isabeau tries to hold Siffrin up the best he can, Mirabelle pushing Healing Craft after Healing Craft into his body in desperate hopes of it working. It does not. Odile, always the snarky and knowledgable, is frozen now, shaky hands hovering over the younger's body, her mind racing as she tries to recall any spell, any remedy, but all she can do is watch as Siffrin’s face turns a sickly shade of blue.

But then, as if in some cruel twist of fate, the loop resets. Siffrin is alive again, gasping for breath as he finds himself back in time—just moments before he made the fatal mistake. His hand hovers shakily over the plate of pineapple, the memory of suffocating fresh and vivid in his mind.

As his party questions if he's okay, if something happens, he is quick to put on a dismissing smile, face pale as he brushes it off. He reaches for the madeleines this time, trying to ignore his stomach churning in protest, as he forces himself to swallow the pastry.

mmmm yummy yummy yummy

[cmdrfupa]

Better Now

Nanami x Reader

Considering your husband's predictable habits, any deviation from the norm would raise some eyebrows.

So, being caught off guard is understandable as you spot Nanami standing in the hallway waiting to take his staff yearbook photo. Instead of his typical tan and blue outfit, he dawned a sharp black suit, which made an impression. 

"Christ." 

He wore his green-tinted glasses for the first time in a while, the black patch usually covering his eye now being held between his forefingers. The idle way he toyed with the string gave you your answer before even speaking up.

"You look very handsome, Nanami." the sound of your heels approaching brought him out of his head.

"Thank you, Mrs. Nanami." Flat. Flatter than usual. He wrapped the strings up, placing the patch in the inside pocket of his suit. "Did you get your first years settled? I heard talk of outfit offenders."

"It was the lack of clothes." you stood directly in front of Kento, considering straightening his tie. "2 boys tried taking their pictures shirtless, and one young lady snuck a Kaneki eye patch mask on last minute."

"Did you scold her?"

"Was just a mask. And it was Zenin, anyway. Her wanting to cover her face was understandable." 

Nanami huffed a laugh out, watching your hands work to fix his tie.

"Thank you."

You kissed his lips before stepping back, and your hand settled over his cheeks. It took a while, but Kento no longer flinched as you touched him.

His visible burn scars were about 90% healed. Thanks to compressive masks made via 3D printing, Kento could hide the facial wound while healing for the first eight months. 

The scars had matured with fine indentions and webbed patterns across his face. While they weren't incredibly fibrous or thick, they were noticeable. And he wasn't a vain man, but Kento was thankful they weren't a complete 'monstrosity' as this was the first time he'd be showing his entire face to the outside world since the incident; there was no concealing himself.

The light contact of your palm brought his stress levels down as always.

"I know you smelt the alcohol. It was a few sips before I got here."

"I know."

"It was with Ieiri."

"I know."

He took his glasses off, slipping them into his breast pocket.

"She called you."

Fiddling in your purse, you fished out the dark metal case. 

"Just to let me know you were on campus already and that you wanted your prosthetic."

The warmth of his fingers danced across your wrist as he took the case from your hand. "Thank you, love of my life."

"Anytime." His lips joined yours again like magnets as he brought you closer. "Are you gonna be okay if I go?"

A few reasons came to mind why he'd never be okay when you weren't next to him. But if Kento wanted to get his money's worth therapy-wise and get entirely into solo exposure therapy, he could get through this with a few camera clicks and a meeting without you. 

"Go ahead. I'll grab dinner on the way home once I finish here."

With a soft smile, you squeezed his arm before kissing his cheek. "See you at home."

    The evening wore on, and you hadn't heard from Kento. 

It's not entirely unusual, you thought. But it's almost 10 p.m., and surely his meeting wasn't that long. "I'll just call Shoko."

Six rings, no answer.

Gojo. Same thing.

"I'd hate to bother Itadori, but maybe he knows." As you dialed, a call from Ino popped up.

"Hello? Takuma?"

  "Sorry to call so late in the evening, Mrs. Nanami. But Gojo told me to give you a call."

That sick feeling waded through your thoughts. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

"Sorry. I should've started that better. Nanami is okay, and everything is okay."

"Has Nanami been drinking?"

"No, I promise. We left our meeting, and he just wanted to drive, so Gojo and I followed him until we lost him." The sound of Gojo talking about pineapple-flavored sorbet leaked into the speaker from the background.

  " Gojo guessed, and now we're at the Shibuya station. At the mart across from it."

Holding the phone, Ino mumbled something to someone nearby before talking to the receiver again. "Nanami says he'll be home soon and that he is sorry for worrying you and being forced to talk to me like I'm his handler."

"You just saved me from a heart attack, so no need for an apology in any way. Thank you.”

"Have a good night, Mrs. Nanami."

"Be Safe, Ino. Good night."

  When you and Kento went couch shopping, you were adamant about plush, oversized cushions. "Think about movie nights. Napping on our days off. OH! Or parallel play!" You tried upselling the cloud couch, as the cheery salesman said, was an absolute steal.

Always practical and only buying out of necessity, Kento agreed to the cloud couch as long as it made you happy and you kept the cushions plush.

Most late nights, like this one, were spent on said couch. Kentos' first five weeks out of the hospital were spent camping in the living room. Listening to his half-baked ideas while he fought sleep to avoid the impending traumatic night terrors of the worst day of his life.

  "Honey?" He wriggled his feet out of his shoes and entered the living room. The soft glow from reruns of Jeopardy cast a gentle light across the walls as you slept soundly.

"Darling. I'm home." smooth knuckles ran the length of your arm.

Sleep in your eyes as you bat your lashes, trying to focus. "Ken, what time is it." fatigue coated your voice.

"It's late; I'm sorry." With your eyes still not entirely focused, you could make out Kento taking his button-down off and lying next to you on the chaise section of the sofa. He rested his head near your chest, holding you like a kite on a windy spring afternoon.

Wrapping your arms around him as best you could, you rubbed his back. Silent except for Alex Trebek giving Pamela her 'Potpourri, it could be anything!' question for 600. Nothing was said, but everything was understood in the quietude.

  "I saw Yu that night. During the accident."

Your hold tensed, bringing Kento closer until it was impossible.

"It was like a figment of him. He was fading from me.." shakiness saturated his usual warm tone.

"Ken."

"Like he was there warding off death. I wasn't supposed to die, and Haibara ensured it."

A sniffle brought your face closer to his, remaining mute during the spewing emotions.

"So much time has passed that I am forgetting his face, and I have to live, slowly forgetting his youth. I can't. I- I don't want that."

Wiping the tears as they rushed Kento's cheeks, you kissed his forehead.

"Haibara is eternal. And we will keep his spirit and love alive in all that we do."

The emotions were discernible, and Kento leaned into them wholly. Moments passed before he huffed and took a deep breath attempting to shake whatever emotions hung back.

"Finding a way to celebrate him would be good. Maybe light candles, and I'll dig out those high school photos."

"An altar? We can do that. We can grab some flowers and candles tomorrow to properly memorialize him."

The TV's fluorescent lighting flicked off with the timer, allowing the silver sheen from the moon to blanket your joined bodies.

"Thank you. For life. For your love."

"You have me and my love forever, Ken."

  Kento rested his head on your chest, contentment flooding his mind, closing his eyes as your warmth brought him to slumber's door.

Love you and thank you for reading 💕

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Gator Tillman x Reader

Summary: Your husband has a problem with alcohol, which creates problems with the law. His latest stunt just might put him behind bars for a long, long time. Luckily for you, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman has offered you a way to save your husband from such a fate. But serving justice Gator’s way may be a tight fit…

This shouldn’t be happening. You hated Gator Tillman, and he was, at the very least, indifferent about you.

“Got yourself in a tough spot, don’t ya?” he grinned down at you, his breath dusting your nose. It smelled like that disgusting vape he was always puffing on, some kind of mango/pineapple combination. The smell reminded you of Fruit Stripe, except instead of smelling like a single stick of gum, it smelled as if Gator had crammed the whole pack in his mouth at once. Too sweet, so sweet it was nauseating. And yet…

“Aren’t ya gonna answer me, pretty girl?” Gator pressed, leaning in till the tip of his nose brushed yours. “I mean, you can still say no if y’want. I’ll be a gentleman about it...” The corner of his mouth rose in a grin. “…Promise.”

You believed him. Gator didn’t scare you; he pissed you off. All the times he’d arrested your husband, the way Gator had talked shit about him to his face…it made you sick. Your husband may have been the most infamous drunk in Stark county, but he was a human being, too, a fact Gator cruelly ignored.

This time, your spouse was facing more than a couple of nights in county jail. The Tillmans had warned your husband that their generosity was running thin. After countless failed attempts at maintaining sobriety, your husband hadn’t been able to stay out of trouble. This latest incident, which had happened last night, was his worst infraction yet: he’d beaten one of his drinking ‘buddies,’ so severely, he’d put him in the hospital.

“It’s really none of my business anyway,” Gator continued. “Whatever happens to your old man, I mean. That’s in your hands-.” Gator took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs in little circles over your skin. Your cheeks warmed instantly, a heat pooling deep inside you. You hated yourself for wondering what the same action with his fingers would feel like rubbing circles over other parts of your body. Gator clicked his tongue to get your attention; your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Now listen,” Gator added, his eyes and tone now darker with impatience. “I ain’t got all day. I can clean up your old man’s mess if you want-.” Gator smiled lecherously. “-But you’re gonna have to make a little mess of your own, first…”

You bit your lip, wondering how exactly this was going to go down. Because you knew it was going to happen-you were going to do this-but how would Gator expect you to pay your husband’s debt? In what way?

Gator answered your question by reaching in the back of his truck and pulling out a tattered blanket, which he tossed onto the ground. “No sense in gettin’ your knees dirty, sweetheart,” Gator murmured, taking another drag of his vape. “Told ya I’m a gentleman.” He tipped his vape toward the ground, indicating where he wanted you-“Go on now; you know what to do,”-and you went down on your knees.

Gator removed his utility belt and let it fall to the ground beside the blanket. He unbuttoned his cargo pants and pulled the zipper down, cock pulsing when his hand grazed it, stopping just short of revealing it. He watched the look of confusion color your face when he didn’t go further. “Use your mouth to get it out,” Gator said flatly.

You complied, scooting closer on your knees so your face was level with Gator’s crotch. He didn’t smell sweaty and disgusting ‘down there,’ like you’d assumed he would. The lingering scent of sandalwood body spray mixed with Gator’s natural scent blended into something heady and masculine. You pressed your nose against the soft cotton of his blue boxer briefs and inhaled, deeply.

Gator grunted contentedly, his big hand closing over the top of your head, fingers threading your hair. “Y’like it down there or somethin?” he murmured above you. The metallic click of Gator’s vape pen sounded as he clicked it on, followed by the raspy pull of him taking a long drag. His fingers tightened in your hair, another grunt leaving his throat as he rubbed his crotch against your lips, prompting you to instinctively part them.

Gator was big. You massaged the outline of his cock through his underwear, his thickness spreading your lips wide apart. His tip was pointing upward, confined by the waistband of his underwear, making his full, heavy balls even more prominent. You’d have been lying to yourself if you’d said his cock didn’t intimidate you a little.

Enjoying himself and your submission at his feet, Gator lazily rubbed his crotch against your face. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry…he didn’t have to be. Gator had brought you out to the middle of nowhere, and ‘nowhere,’ was easy to come by in a place like Stark County.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, exhaling another cloud into the country air. “Your other set of lips this good?” His language was crude and tacky, and for god knows what reason, you were loving it. Gator pocketed his vape, then pulled off his jacket and shrugged it aside. You were dripping all over your panties, saturating them with desire.

Slipping your teeth over the waistband of Gator’s boxers, you tugged them downward. Once free, Gator’s massive cock landed heavy against the top of your head and bounced back, a sticky string of precum clinging to your hair. You let his underwear slide down around his ankles. Gator shuffled out of them, his cock bobbing just out of your lips’ reach as he moved. The precum still connected his tip to your hair, breaking only when you lifted your head to close your lips around him.

You gingerly suckled at Gator’s tip, preparing yourself mentally for the task of taking him down your throat. You curved your tongue under the first couple of inches, stroking the veins that bloomed at the ridge where his tip met his shaft. Gator clutched your hair more deliberately, his eyes now closed, lips parted softly. He pressed his hips forward slowly, urging you deeper onto his cock. Your throat constricted as his tip met your gag reflex. Saliva bubbled from your lips around Gator’s cock as your throat rejected him, but you forced yourself still. Gator had established a slow rhythm at this point, thrusting gently in and out of your throat with one hand still locked in your hair, and the other on his hip.

You were able to take him about five inches deeper before choking, the threat of vomit forcing you to push off of Gator’s cock. Rather than be pissed off, as you imagined he’d be, Gator knelt to the ground, meeting you at your level. His eyes were trained on the space where your t-shirt tucked into your leggings, like he was contemplating the quickest way to get you out of them.

“Get on your back,” Gator told you, his hands reaching for your thighs, his eyes fixed between them. “Wanna see if it tastes as good as it smells.”

He yanked your leggings down so forcefully they ripped at the sides, but you couldn’t have cared less. He’d tugged your underwear down at the same time, revealing your wet, glistening pussy like a treat to be devoured. Gator hooked his arms under your legs, locking your body in place, and buried his nose between your lips. You gripped the fabric of his shirt like a vice, your body wracked with the electricity of his tongue licking in and out of you aggressively. Gator groaned hungrily into your cunt, moaning soft words against the moist heat his tongue couldn’t swallow enough of to satisfy his craving for it.

After eating you to orgasm twice, Gator suddenly rose to stand over you, breath coming in bursts, unsteady on his feet. His typically slicked-back hair was completely disheveled, wet with sweat and fallen against the sides of his cum-soaked face. Gator reached forward and took you by the hair, lifting your face to meet his crotch. “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he panted, his voice a pretty mix of authority and desperation. “You’re gonna take it all and thank me for it after, understand?”

You nodded, your eyes heavy-lidded in the dumb, blissful afterglow of climax, Gator’s hand gripping your hair so tightly he could have nodded your head for you. Groaning through his release, Gator emptied himself over your tongue, semen spilling down your chin and collecting in the fabric of your shirt. You worried immediately about the stains it might leave behind. How would you explain them to your husband? Regardless of the consequences, you decided that having to wash the deputy sheriff’s cum from your clothes was a small price to pay, in exchange for your husband’s freedom...

@justmeinadaze