#bRANDY CAN YOU MAYBE NOT???

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

hey chat do we fuck with these crack ships

Juandissimo/Binky

Anti-Cosmo/Sanderson

Anti-Wanda/Brandy-Lynn (Cosmo’s ex from that movie I’ve never seen)

Big Daddy/Papa Cosma

HP/Cupid

Cookie/Blonda

[ecgleeye]

"sorry i just---" never met another person with wings like me, is what she wanted to say before she took back her hand, feeling foolish for doing such a thing. though she kept hers hidden from everyone's sight, having grown to realize if she let them shine like the others it could spell death for her.

"they're beautiful."

❝ Hey— hands off ! Anyone ever teach you to look but don't touch ? ❞

Appendages bristle under the reader's touch , retracting from their hand back to their place along her spine . The disapproving glare from the brunette , and a guttural warble indicates her discomfort .

[felixravinstills]

Was sad that I had never posted a drawing of Artemisia on here, but then I realized that there was literally only one way to fix that...

[crossbackpoke-check]

re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on

https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share

(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.

(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)

anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂

- @bondedpairs

ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!

[kalivodas]

JOHN PRICE I'm so in love. I saw a post with the headcanon how he gets a boner in situations that aren't sexual but sweet. Like whenever they talk about marriage or moving in together or something like that. I just thought that such a cute thought.

awww i blush me + that old man 4ever 💋

YOU AND JOHN Price were standing in the middle of some bustling department store. Walls lined with home decor, faint promises to the future that swelled around you.

John was pressed right to your backside, eyes roaming the bath section curiously, and your mouth parted as you realized a part of him swelled, too.

“John,” you cough out. “Are you hard looking at towels?”

He blinks down at you, head shaking in an accusatory way. “No. Why’d you ask that?”

“I can feel it.”

A taut grin splits his face before he can stop it. “Maybe a bit.”

You go to step away from him, chide him a bit, but his palms find your hips, and he tightens a vice at the fat there. “Don’t move,” he grits. “Please.”

“Fine,” you huff, a snort of insolence passing your lips as you bent down, grabbed a set of black towels, and rocked on your feet to push back into his hips. It sounded like he barked, and he smooths it away with a cough.

“Give you an inch and you take a mile, don’t you, lovie?”

You smile, a juvenile sort of thing painting your face as you toss him the stack of cloth to cover himself while the two of you strolled the aisles.

“Why’d you get hard anyway?” you question. Your gaze zeros in on the candle section before you dart off in that direction.

John’s shoulders shrug as you bring a butterscotch and brandy three wick to his nose. It crinkles. “Too much butter. And I’m not sure.” His tongue should’ve burned in dishonesty.

“You’re a horrible liar, John.” You try a Tahitian coconut next. He hums, so you tuck it between your arms, and glance down each of the end caps of the aisles. The coast was beautifully clear.

Your hand glides down to the underneath of his buckle before you smile. “Jesus, honey, you been popping viagra every time I turn around?”

He chuckles at you, hips pushing into your palm. “No, I just enjoy this. These things—“ he clears his throat. “I want to marry you.”

The palm that teased him changes its course, pinches his cheek instead. “You should. We’d make beautiful, fat babies.”

You hear him sputter on air behind you.

a / n the aftermath

[msgexymunson]

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it! 

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.” 

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it. 

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap. 

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.” 

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them. 

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!” 

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad. 

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench. 

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend. 

“You're wrong you know.” 

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation. 

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.” 

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal. 

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out. 

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?” 

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted. 

“You can't- you just- fuck!” 

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head. 

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?” 

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-” 

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap. 

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.” 

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little. 

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.” 

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you. 

Fuck, you need another smoke. 

“You want me to roll?” 

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.” 

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you. 

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.” 

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes. 

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.” 

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more. 

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear. 

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he… 

Oh. 

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff. 

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn. 

“Milady.” 

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?” 

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants. 

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?” 

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap. 

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.” 

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly. 

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck. 

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both. 

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?” 

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling. 

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.” 

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship. 

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling. 

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.” 

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it. 

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?” 

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind. 

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything. 

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?” 

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?” 

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing. 

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?” 

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.” 

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base. 

“You're a virgin too then.” 

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!” 

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist. 

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers. 

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?” 

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch. 

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?” 

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.” 

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?” 

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!” 

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees. 

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.” 

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense. 

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth. 

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?” 

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering. 

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.” 

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want. 

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.” 

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you. 

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating. 

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!” 

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl. 

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.” 

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek. 

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ” 

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside. 

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you. 

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most. 

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub. 

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure. 

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically. 

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before. 

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?” 

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful. 

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.” 

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin. 

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.” 

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties. 

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater. 

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem. 

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?” 

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body. 

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!” 

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.” 

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.” 

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him. 

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled. 

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat. 

“Fuck, you're so warm.” 

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear. 

“You can feel that, through your jeans?” 

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies. 

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.” 

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded. 

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them. 

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.” 

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm.” 

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away. 

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra. 

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes. 

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally- 

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!” 

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away. 

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.  

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head. 

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast. 

“Can I take this off, please?” 

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath. 

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles. 

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!” 

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps. 

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.” 

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after. 

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them. 

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire. 

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.” 

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound. 

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception. 

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure.” 

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.” 

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.” 

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is. 

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously. 

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word. 

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?” 

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle. 

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze. 

“Look at you. Beautiful.” 

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds. 

“Fuck me, you're soaked.” 

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit. 

“Eddie, right there, right there!” 

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair. 

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!” 

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great. 

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. 

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?” 

“Like this?” 

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch. 

“Fuuuck.” 

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?” 

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it. 

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over. 

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!” 

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy. 

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you. 

“You alright there? What'd you say?” 

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink. 

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.” 

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment. 

“Eddie, come here you dope.” 

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core. 

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.” 

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.” 

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care. 

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead. 

“I did not say that!” 

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.” 

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs. 

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!” 

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back. 

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…” 

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip. 

“We can… go all the way?” 

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught. 

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.” 

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[lodgersims]

As a Sims 2 player one of the most eerie things about playing the original game isn't necessarily the creepy/more liminal aesthetic or the repetitively endless gameplay, but the fact that almost all the pre-made Sims from the original game are inexorably doomed by the narrative.

There's something odd about Pleasantview specifically, where the majority of the returning Sim families live (save for Tara Kat, who seems... relatively fine). Like, the concept of the game is that twenty-five years have passed, and all of the returning characters are pre-baked into character arcs that communicate an unavoidable truth: You, the player, failed.

Bella Goth will disappear. Her brother (though in the original Sims we aren't aware that Michael Bachelor is her brother) will die, possibly murdered. Mortimer will be lost and alone. Cassandra will be stuck in an unloving engagement. The Newbie's daughter will be impoverished, a single mother whose husband died young, with two boys and another on the way. Daniel Pleasant will grow up to be a cheater. Jennifer Pleasant will never be an athlete like she wanted (her brother will). And though poor Johnny Burb never mentions Tucker anymore, you know that old dog died years ago. The Roomies, the Mashugas, the Hicks, the Charmings - all leave town... or worse, die out.

I think about Jeff Pleasant's bio in the first game: "Jeff and his family are new to the neighborhood. Can you help Jeff provide for his family and fulfill his lifelong goal of being the first man to walk on Mars?" And how it contrasts to Daniel's in the second: "Since his father Jeff died without achieving his dream of going to Mars, Daniel has felt an overwhelming guilt."

And sure, you can save the families of Pleasantview. You can choose for Mary-Sue to not go to work that day, or maybe Daniel never pursues Kaylynn Langerak again. You can give Cassandra a happy marriage, tame Don Lothario's womanizer ways. You can financially save Brandi Broke. You can get John Burb another dog. You can get Jennifer the career she always wanted. You can defy the scripted in-game prompts and say "No. I don't want to play like this." You can break the cycle, every time you play.

And yet, at the end of the day, no matter what you do... uninstalling the game and reinstalling it, maybe just deleting that Neighborhood folder, they are reset back to exactly where they were again. They're doomed to repeat it forever.

The game makes it clear that there are some things you aren't meant to change. A genie lamp or a Resurrect-O-Nomitron can bring back sims like Michael Bachelor, but you will pay for it in your neighborhood deteriorating to corruption. And no matter what you do, no force in the universe can bring Bella Goth back. The one in Strangetown isn't even really her, after all. And maybe she isn't. They say they deleted her in development, replaced her with a clone. Maybe that's what Bella Goth in Strangetown is. A clone. Maybe we were wrong, after all. Maybe she was never abducted by aliens. Maybe Don Lothario killed her. Maybe Dina Caliente killed her. Maybe Mortimer did. But you can't bring her back, no matter what you do. Recreate the original Bella, pixel by pixel, extract her data, make your zombie Bella. Build your own monster. Create a sim. But she will never recognize her family. Never see them as her own.

And she was never meant to.

[yanderedrabbles]

pls!!! more yan gangster!! im begging!!!!!!😖

Yandere Ganster - Rainy Days

It's a miserable day to do collections. It's raining cats and dogs and the gutters are spilling onto the sidewalk. Everyone with sense is tucked away inside, except for him.

The butcher is his last stop and then he can finally head back to you. Maybe you'll ask him to sit with you infront of the fireplace or maybe he can bring you some hot coffee and...

It's criminal instinct that makes him duck when the bat comes swinging at his face.

It throws up sparks as the missed swing scrapes against the brick wall. He's already tossing his umbrella and rolling up, fists ready.

Three thugs, sporting a mean assortment of brass knuckles and metal baseball bats.

"Look at that, the bitch's guard dog," one sneers.

"How 'bout you just hand over that fat stack of collection money and we call it a day? What d'you say, pretty boy?" the speaker drags his bat across the sidewalk and the harsh rasp of it is almost louder than the rain.

Three against one and the alley traps him right in the center of them. He grins. Maybe if he comes back with a nasty bruise you'll kiss it better?

Tired of waiting for a reply, the first guy swings. But he's still too slow and Yandere! Gangster ducks under it and punches at his gut. The man falters for a second that's all he needs to grab the bat and yank it out of the guy's hands.

"Well, well..." He twirls the bat and pulls back for a vicious strike that hits the guy right in his throat. He goes down with an ugly gasping sound, clawing at his neck. "I'd call that a home-run."

The other two are more wary of him now and they back away, circling.

Personally, he thought the whole home-run thing was a pretty witty thing to say, if a bit inappropriate. He wonders if you'd have cracked a smile at it.

The thugs try and rush him all at once. One manages to land a punch on his cheekbone but he snaps the bat backwards into the guy's nose and he stumbles away, cursing.

The other guy is ready for him, his own bat braced to guard his face. So Yandere! Gangster pretends to swing and then steps under his guard, his switchblade already in his hand. The cut he leaves behind is deep and nasty.

Three down. Too easy.

His grin is fading now and there's a strange look to him that makes the thugs shiver. "Bitch, was it?"

When he's done, the rainwater runs with ribbons of thick blood that swirl in pinkish eddies down the gutter.

He's totally soaked and his umbrella is ruined too. Well... At least the blood won't stain.

He rubs his cheek as he walks home. Maybe you'll notice it and tell him what a great fighter he is?

.......

You lean your head on your hand and look at him. His shirt is almost transparent and clinging to the muscles of his chest. An angry red bruise is forming on his cheek.

The only sound is the soft plink-plink of water dripping from his clothes onto the marble floors.

"Sorry ma'am." He looks down, sheepish. "Ran into some trouble."

"Taken care of?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." You stand, bringing your brandy with you. "Come here."

You stand infront of the fireplace and point at your feet. He sits down carefully, aware of the small puddles left in his wake.

The fire warms him almost instantly. Cold, wet clothes are the most miserable thing in the world, he thinks. He's never going to take -

He jumps, his hands instinctively grabbing the towel you drape around his shoulders.

It's warm and he pulls it tighter around himself.

"Look at you..." you drawl, "You poor, soaked thing."

You gently work another towel through his hair. Your nails occasionally scrape his scalp and send shivers racing down his spine.

It takes a while before you're finally satisfied but when you stop, he can't help feeling an awful sense of disappointment.

You put a single finger under his chin and tilt his head up. His eyes are dazed and half-lidded. His skin is still cool to the touch and you click your tongue in irritation.

"You should know to take better care of yourself."

"Sorry ma'am."

You rest your brandy glass against his lips. There's a lipstick stain on the rim and he can taste the faint tang of cherries. He grins a little. Doesn't this practically count as a kiss?

The brandy touches his tongue and spreads a comforting fire down his throat. Is this what you taste like? Sharp and woody and under it all, just a little sweet?

You lean forward and slip your hand down his chest. He's sure you can feel the way his heart is pounding - do you realise what your touch does to him? Your lips are just a hair's breadth from his. For a second, he actually thinks you might kiss him.

Instead, you grab the envelope of collection money from his inner jacket pocket and pull it out.

He almost reaches out to stop you. Your touch is so warm, so perfect. Why are you taking it away after giving him such a small taste?

Thankfully, his brain kicks in and reminds him exactly how dangerous you are.

You tap the envelope against his cheek.

"You did good today, cucciolo."

Dimly, he realises that you called him puppy. And when you dismiss him with a casual wave, he jumps to obey just like a loyal dog should.

[eraenaa]

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Inspired by the song "I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)" by Taylor Swift

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Summary: Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

Warnings: Substance Use, Possessiveness, Jealousy, ¿Kinda Toxic Relationship?, Mention of Violence, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, Choking, Boobjob, Filmed Sexual Relations, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 2,372

A/N: Sorry for being MIA finals week was rough and I was kinda burnout hence the almost month long hiatus but Taylor's new album revived me, so maybe expect more works inspired by TTPD songs!

You sat quietly as Rafe rested his warm hand on your thigh. You waited for him to finish his drink as he laughed around with his boys at the bar. Their voice echoed through the establishment, garnering curious glances from the other patrons present. You feel him squeeze your thigh tighter, his little signal that he wanted some affection, maybe a kiss or a touch from you. He turned to you, pupils enlarged from the little pill he took, “Are you bored?” He asked, and you quickly shook your head, placing your hand on the back of his head, and ran your nails gently against his skull. “No, baby,” You murmured and moved to kiss his lips, tasting the brandy on his tongue. Rafe parted from your kiss, looking intently into your eyes to see off you lied; he seemed satisfied enough and returned to his conversations with his friends. 

You hear the offensive joke that Rafe said a bit too loudly and held your breath. Placing your hand on his shoulder, hoping it would snap some sense into him, it usually did. You feel pitying and feared glances pointed towards you. The bartender to your left shook their head and muttered, “God help her,” when they realized you were with Rafe. A man who was notorious for his rage and ill temper. He was often perceived as rash and maybe even psychotic. Perhaps their judgment of him was true… but that is what attracted you to him anyway. You could not help but be intrigued by him and his imposing and reckless demeanor. You were certain you could tame him. You said to yourself, “I can fix him; no, really, I can.” 

He drove the both of you home. A bit of a misjudgment on your part, seeing how intoxicated he was, but there was something thrilling about him taking the reigns while still addled with dopamine and alcohol. There was something seductive in the way his hand would trail upward and upward on your thigh as he raced down the streets of the Outer Banks. But there was something different this night. There was tension in him that did not come from the lust you and him were succumbing to. “What’s wrong?” You asked, taking hold of his arm, caressing it in a way that made gooseflesh rise on his flesh. You bit your lip as his hold on you was tighter; you were certain it would once again leave his mark. “Everyone in that bar was looking at you… they were looking at what’s mine.” He snarled and pressed flat on the gas, making you speed down the streets so carelessly, but you could not find care as that elicited a wave of want in you. “They were only looking…” You trailed, testing to see what reaction it would garner from Rafe. 

You watch him shake his head, his jaw clenching in annoyance. “They were looking at what’s mine. They were practically undressing you with their eyes— imagining stealing you from me,” He gritted as you were nearing home. You voiced your disagreement, but that only seemed to enrage him more. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, huh? You fucking enjoyed their attention.” Rafe accused, and your eyes darkened at his words. Just as the rage in him burned quickly, it died in a snap. You removed his hold on your thigh and stole away your touch on his arm. You did not wait for him to open the door of the passenger seat for you but instead got out of the confined space you were trapped in and left him. “Baby, wait, I—“ Rafe called, any irritation in his voice gone the moment he realized he had offended you. 

You were nearing your bedroom door, ready to lock him out for the night and repent for his offense, but he caged you in his arms, pulling you close to him. Burying his head at the side of your neck, he offered his apologies. “I’m sorry baby… I just don’t wanna lose you,” You hear his muffled boys. Smirking to yourself as you actually got an apology from him. From all the stories you heard of Rafe, ranging from his family to his friends and even his past flings, not one of them got an apology or anything that resembled half of it from him. But here he was, saying sorry over and over again, waiting for your reply. You kept silent for a while longer, and you felt him move over to the front of you, trying to kiss your lips, but you moved your head to the side. You bit your lip as you hear him puff, surprised by his following action. You watched Rafe sink down on his knees and hold you tightly against him, burying his face in your abdomen, his apologies spewing out from his mouth as if you were a god to whom he offered his prayers, pleading to be heard. You sighed and ran your hand through his hair, hearing him soothingly hum and burrow his head deeper into your abdomen.  

You were about to urge him to stand, but you were rendered frozen, and your breathing hitch when you feel his fingers take hold of your dress, hiking it higher. “Rafe,” you called as his lips trailed kisses on your exposed skin, his breath teasing your core that had already been aching for him. “I’m sorry,” He said once more, and you could only sigh as he placed a kiss between your thighs. You held tightly onto him as he lapped your folds, showing you just how sorry he was. “Rafe… Fuck, Rafe,” you called as he inserted a finger, but you were already on the verge of an orgasm by just the way his nose burrowed into your nubbin. “Do you forgive me, my baby?” Rafe asked, and you could only moan out your agreement and hear him hiss as you pulled on his hair and came down hard on his fingers and face. 

You hummed as you woke the next day with Rafe tracing hearts on your face; he had been watching you sleep. You gazed at him through the hazy sight of the fresh morning, “You look so pretty when you sleep,” Rafe said softly, and you smiled up at him. Gone in his system were the substances that were his ruin, but he could not deny. You quite liked him in this state, but you knew he would rather have his mood be altered by opioids and any other drugs that he believed would aid him. It won’t. And you just need to change that outlook of his or at least find another drug that would not be his ruin. 

“You’re mine,” Rafe gritted in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he realized every bastard at the party was staring at you. “I’m yours,” You repeated to calm the rage in him. He did not consume anything harsh or damnable per your request, but you were starting to rethink your decision because apparently Rafe, without his usual pick me up, was rather more paranoid and frantic. Every little interaction you have with the opposite sex pushes him closer over the edge. “Rafe,” you sighed as he stepped away, challenging a guy whose gaze had been flying to you the whole night. “The fuck you staring at, huh! Do you want a fucking fight, bro?! Stop staring at my gi—“ Rafe screamed, and you pulled at him with all of your might for him to face you and save the innocent man from being beaten up to a pulp. You turn to Rafe’s friends, urging them to help, them being the able-bodied ones to escort Rafe outside to calm down. 

You stood before him as he sat by the ledge of a planter box. His head was in his hands as he tried to calm his ragged breathing. You stood silently as he took out a box of cigarettes and hastily lit a stick. “Stop looking at me like that,” Rafe spat, and you furrowed your brows at his words. “Like what?” You asked, and Rafe shook his head and took a long drag of a cigarette. “Like you’re disappointed! I know that look all too well,” He scoffed, and you took in a deep breath, stepping closer to him. Squatting down to meet him at eye level, placing a kiss on his cheek, and your hand found home at the back of his head again, running your fingers through his hair, noting how he would lean into your touch. “I’m not disappointed,” you say in earnest, but Rafe scoffs at your words. “You are. Don’t lie to me.” He gritted and threw the bud of his cigaret onto the ground, the glowing embers slowly dying down like the rage in him. 

“I never lie to you,” You say softly, placing your hold on the side of his face. “I’m yours, Rafe,” you say softly. “You’re mine.” He answered back. “Exactly. Then why are you trying to fight those others who are completely insignificant to us?” You ask softly, brushing your thumb across his brow, watching as his eyes fluttered close and a sigh left his lips. “Because I know what they want. I know they want what’s mine.” He gritted, tensing in anger once more, his fists clenching and warning danger. “But they won’t get to have it, won’t they?” You asked and stared deeply into his ocean eyes as they opened once more. “No. Never.” He swore, and you smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. 

Kissing you was the greatest high Rafe felt. The high he now realized was the only one he’d want to chase. Nothing chemically and artificially induced could compare to your lips. “Let’s go back inside,” Rafe said after your kiss had sedated his rage. “On one condition,” You said and stood your ground as he tried to pull you back into the direction of the party. You pulled him to you, flushing your bodies, and returned your hand to caress his troubled head. “No more invoking fights? Stop glaring at those guys?” You asked and watched as he frowned at your words. “I… I can probably do no more fighting— but baby, come on, they keep staring at you and—“ You shook your head and interrupted him. 

“Be a good boy tonight, and later… I’ll do what you’ve been asking me to do since last month,” You hindered your grin as you watched Rafe’s jaw turn slack, his eyes now intoxicated and dilated with the thought of you. “What do you say?” You asked, batting your lashes at him, trailing your fingers against his forearm, your eyes already catching a glance of the dent in his trousers. “I’ll be a fucking angel if you want.” He almost growled. And you let him usher you back to a party with a smile beaming on your face. 

Rafe kept true to his word. There was practically a halo around his head for the rest of the night. Foregoing his pilled and powdered remedies, even tossed out the intoxicating liquid in his glass. You thought miracles never happened, but Rafe even let you join your friends on the dance floor without him. You saw as he reigned in the hellish thoughts in him as men around danced by your side. Instead, he stood still in his spot, his mind on the thought of heaven you’ll present him if he played nice. 

You, too, kept true to your words. You were on your knees, your hands pushing your tits together, and in between them was Rafe’s cock. A video camera by your side as Rafe had been begging you almost everyday for a home video together. Reasoning that ‘it would be a reminder of you when you are away.’ And the thought of you is the only thing that gets him on. “Fuck, baby— god, you’re so good. How are you this good?” Rafe groaned as you fucked him with your tits. It was the best reward for him, you rarely gave him head, and this was the first time you ever fucked anyone this way. Rafe fisted the sheets as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock again. He moaned out your name as you took him deeper into your mouth, the sound of you gagging on his cock spurring him on. But before he could come, before he could reach a different and higher level of high he always sought, you pulled away. 

“Baby… oh, baby, please, you can’t do this to me,” he almost begged, his eyes in a daze at the sight of you messy from sucking his cock. You crawled upwards and hung from his lips, him already expecting a kiss. “Fuck me in the shower,” Was all you said before you hastily dispread to the bathroom and turned the faucet on. It took a few moments for Rafe to process your words, but once he did. He quickly stood, took the camera, and positioned it to point toward you, who was already soaking wet. 

Rafe was quick to push you against the glass shower door, already excited to watch the video of you and your tits against the glass. “Yes… oh, god, like that,” You cried as Rafe mercilessly pounded behind you. He gathered your hair and gripped it back, eliciting a burning yet pleasurable sensation. “You’re always so prim and proper… but looked at you, you fuck like a whore,” Rafe gritted, and your eyes rolled back as he positioned his thrust to hit the spot that made your words incoherent. “You like that, huh, baby? You like it when I fuck you, dumb?” He asked, not expecting a reply but rather your moans. Rafe relinquished his hold on your hair and instead gripped your throat. Pounding harder into you as he felt you clench tighter around him, your body shaking and on the precipice of orgasm. “Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” Rafe gritted out as he, too, was close. “Yours. All yours, Rafe.” You cried as you came around him. Panting his name as he clung in the high that was you. 

I screamed when I first listened to the song that inspired this fic, bc Rafe was the most prominent thing that it conjured in my mind.

[writingsbytee]

GET BACK

TOXIC BABY DADDY TERRY x BLACK FEM READER

Photo: @partiallyfuctional7

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!*

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: Reader has feelings of insecurities; Terry is a big, sexy, toxic, idiot here. 

PAIRING: Terry x Ava (reader)

SUMMARY: Tension develops between you and your baby’s father when he discovers you might be moving on. Terry’s unhinged ass is going to do whatever he can to get her back.

TROPES:  Second chance romance; MDOM or dominant themes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I’m so excited to share this one with you guys! I’ve wanted to write toxic Terry for forever, but I was just nervous. I really liked writing this one. Maybe it’s the toxicity in me lol. Please tell me what you guys think, but be nice please. Babygirl is sensitive

“TJ get your cleats! Your father’s almost here!,” I shouted up the stairs. I hear the tell-tale thumps of his little feet as he rushes to put everything in his duffle bag. Wandering into the living room, I tighten up the area a bit. Straightening out couch cushions, the coffee table, you get the gist. Looking at the clock, I notice it’s almost two o’clock.

“TJ! Two minute warning!” I exclaim. Within seconds I hear the thunderous steps only a child can make. Then my little boy rounds the corner, a giant beam on his face. 

“Did it Mommy!”, he said proudly handing his soccer bag to me so I could double check everything. Rifling through the items I notice his epipen isn’t in there. Before I can ask my little man where it is, I hear the familiar chime from the ‘ring’ app on my phone. Grabbing it from the charger, I see my son’s father through the pixelated lens. I take a calming breath before walking to the door. 

“Hey baby girl, TJ ready?” Terry asked, smiling down at me. It’s truly unfair how fine this man is. Standing at his full height on our porch in a navy blue tee and olive cargo pants with asics. He could make a trash bag look good. I ignore the flutter in my belly at his smile and step aside to let him in. 

“He’s just about ready, but I can’t find his epipen. Can you come in while I run upstairs really quick?” I ask moving back so Terry can cross the threshold. He steps in like he owns the place (well technically he does).

“We gotta get going soon, I’m taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ after practice,”  Terry said, sweeping his eyes over the living room. 

I nodded, “Well I’ll find it and meet you guys there or at practice. Thanks for taking him,” I say, trying to be civil. 

“Just to let you know, Brandy’s going to be there,” Terry said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I feel my back molars grind, “That’s fine.” I can’t fucking stand Brandy. She’s Terry’s new situationship and we didn’t get off on the best foot. That sour taste has never really left my mouth when it comes to her. Why Terry’s bringing her around our son, I’ll never understand.

“I trust you’ll keep it civil,” Terry says, looking down his nose at me. I roll my eyes and head toward the stairs completely ignoring him. Who the fuck does he think he is telling me to behave? She better fucking behave, I’m liable to beat a bitch. When I reach the bottom of the stairs Terry grabs my hand, spinning me to face him.

“Ava, I’m serious, keep it cool,” Terry’s voice had a slight edge to it which I didn’t appreciate.

“Listen, as long as she plays nice I’ll play nice. Matter of fact I’ll pretend she’s not even there. That work for you Terry?” I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. I never wanted us to end up in this tumultuous cycle, but it wasn’t my decision. Terry broke up with me, said he didn’t want to be tied down. Vowing to be a good father he gets Terrence Junior (TJ) every other week. He’s the best dad and I won’t take that away from him, I just thought we’d be a family. I was holding out hope for a year hoping he'd change his mind and we’d get back together. 

Ultimately, I shattered my own heart, scrolling on facebook. I saw that he’d been tagged  in a photo hugged up on another woman. I stopped hoping after that. I stopped trying to get a man to see that I was enough, stopped trying to get him to stay when he so clearly was happy elsewhere. 

“Terry, the last thing I want to do is fight with you right now, yes I’ll be nice. Please just take TJ and leave, he'll be late for practice,” I say on the verge of tears. 

Terry’s eyes soften as he takes a step toward me, “Bunny…”, he starts. I hold my hand up stopping him and shake my head. I can hear our son make his way towards us obviously hearing his father’s voice as he barrels toward him. 

“Daddy! Daddy!,” TJ yells, launching himself into his arms.

“There my little striker! C’mere man,” Terry’s face blooms into a megawatt smile as he reaches for our son. He picks him up and blows a raspberry on TJ’s cheeks, causing him to burst into giggles. A small smile forms on my lips as a warm feeling spreads in my chest. Moments like these made me wish that we could be a little family again. But I can’t think like that anymore, Terry made his choice. He wants to be in the streets, that’s where he can stay. 

“You ready to go little man? I’ve got a surprise for you after practice,” Terry said, putting TJ down. Spotting the epipen on the kitchen island, I grab it, and pass it to Terry

“Well I’m going upstairs to shower and change, and I’ll meet you guys there,” I say, turning toward the stairs.

“TJ, go hug your mama before we leave,” Terry says looking at me.  TJ comes barreling towards me, goofy smile and arms outstretched. A warm smile blooms on my face as I hug my gentle little man.

“Hey, mama loves you, be good and listen to your dad ok?” I ask straightening his backpack. 

“I always listen mama,” TJ giggles, with a playful roll of his eyes. Terry grabs his son’s hand and with a half- assed ‘see ya later’ from Terry, they’re both out the door. I grab my airpods and head upstairs. Needing the comfort of a dominant mafia boss, my current audible obsession to ease some of the tension I feel creeping up my neck. Pressing play on my audiobook I begin getting ready. After the grueling arm workout of trying to tame my curls, I place it in a slick back bun with a few face framing curls to enhance my beauty (ref). Then I put on some light makeup and a simple outfit for this bipolar Georgia winter weather (ref). Grabbing my purse and keys, I head outside to my bronco, mentally preparing myself for the next few hours. 

When I pull up to the soccer field, I see that practice is in full swing. I immediately spot Terry standing off to the side with all the other parents. Why does he have to look so fucking good just standing on the sidelines. Brandy’s standing next to him ear pressed against her phone, what a shocker. Getting out, I pop my trunk to grab my lawn chair.

“Ava! Let me!,” I turn to see Lance, another one of the dad’s lightly jogging toward me. A small smile forms on my lips. Lance is fine don’t get me wrong, he just gets around the bookclub if you know what I’m saying. Hmm, maybe my bookshelf could use a good dusting off. I think it’s about time I had a little fun. I haven’t been with anyone since Terry, that needs to change. 

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Thank you Lance,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice. Lance grabs my lawn chair out of the trunk and we head toward the soccer field. 

“I assumed you weren’t coming, since Terry brought TJ,” Lance said.

“Oh, so you checking for me now?”, I say, smirking at him. 

A small blush forms on the apples of his cheeks, “I look forward to seeing you at practices, sue me.”

A small giggle burst from my lips, “I’m just picking Lance.” He grins at me as we finally make it to the sidelines where the other parents are. My eyes find Terry to see him mugging Lance down. Lance isn’t paying him any attention as he sets up my lawn chair for me. 

“A throne fit for a queen,” Lance says, gesturing toward the chair. 

“Thank you Lance,” I say with a small smile before taking a seat. Okay so far so good, I just hope I can get through the rest of this evening unscathed.

TERRY

Since when did Ava and Lance become cool? That motherfucker has been sniffing behind her for over a year now. I subtly inch closer to the two, trying to listen in on their conversation without being detected. I hear him ask her what she had planned later. A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach dropping anchor and forming an uncomfortable weight there. I recognize the feeling in an instant, jealousy. Fuck. 

“Oh, Terry and his girlfriend are taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ downtown. I’m probably just going to tagalong with them so I can get pictures of TJ,” Ava says. Girlfriend? She thought Brandy was my girlfriend? Fuck no, I’m just having fun with her. I just didn’t want TJ to see the two of them arguing since they obviously didn’t like each other.

“Do you mind if Max (Lance’s son) and I join you? And maybe after I treat you and TJ to dinner?,”Lance said, smirking at Ava. My fucking Ava, and she’s smiling back?! Fuck nah, I ain’t about to have that. I take a step to interrupt their conversation when a hand on my shoulder grabs my attention. 

“Sorry boo, but I have to go. Family emergency,” Brandy said, before laying a kiss on my cheek and then she left so fast I would’ve thought her ass evaporated. I locked back in on Ava and Lance seeming to be in just a friendly conversation but I couldn’t shake the fact that Ava was entertaining him. As long as I’ve known her she’s only ever wanted me. So, to see her chatting it up with another man is really rubbing me the wrong way. 

She jumps up out of her chair, jumping up and down cheering for TJ. I damn near go cross-eyed trying to keep an eye on TJ and the jiggle of her ass when she jumps. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ava, she gave me my son, and she’s a fantastic mother, friend, and support system. I don’t know why seeing her potentially move on is fucking with me so bad. I pull out my phone and text my younger sister Trinity, I need advice ASAP.

ME: Trin I need your help. Fast

TRIN: Damn, no hi lol. What’s up Terry?

ME: It’s Ava, she’s going on a date tonight I think.

TRIN: Ok…what’s the problem?

ME: I don’t want her to.

TRIN: Aren’t you actively fucking that brittney chick??????

ME: ..yeah

TRIN: Ok so let me get this straight. Ava has to sit back while you fuck through all of Savannah, but the minute she gets a little bit of attention, you can’t deal?

ME: Well, when you put it like that..

TRIN:  I love you bro, but you’re a fucking idiot.

AVA

“We’d love to have dinner with you and Max tonight” you say, smiling at Lance. He smirks down at me, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I’ve been trying to get you to look my way for months, what changed?” Lance asked, leaning in. ‘I’m trying to get over my baby’s father’ , you thought. But you can’t just say that out loud so instead you just smile and say, “I thought it was time I put you out of your misery.”

Lance laughs and says, “Well thank you for that pretty lady.”

A throat clears behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see Terry standing there.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”, he looks with anxious eyes darting back and forth between you and Lance. 

You glance back toward Lance, “I’ll be right back” you say, getting up from my chair. You follow Terry a few feet away to the edge of the field, but still able to keep an eye on TJ.

“What’s up?” you say, raising a brow.

“We need to talk, Bunny,” Terry said, wringing his hands. What’s going on? This nigga is never nervous. You raise both eyebrows this time, indicating that he can continue.

“What’s going on with you and Lance?” he asked, crossing his arms. Your eyes widen in disbelief, there’s no way his ass is questioning you about who you’re seeing.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you reply, crossing my arms. 

Terry scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s my business if his ass is going to be around my son.”

You could feel the attitude crawling up your spine gripping your throat in a vice grip. “So you can prance all the bitches you want around our son? But when his friend’s dad; someone he’s familiar with, is around more often all of sudden it’s an issue?” you roll your eyes, Terry is really starting to piss you off. Just when you decide it’s time to try and move on he comes back with this.

“Terry what is this really about? You know Lance, you should be happy for me” you say pleading with him. His eyes soften, and he shuts them giving his head a rough shake.

“Happy? You can do way better than Lance!” he whispers.

A sarcastic laugh leaves your lips, “Mind your business Terry. I stay out of your love life, you stay out of mine.” you turn to leave but Terry reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“C’mon Bunny, you know I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m trying to say is he better kiss the ground you walk on, anything less is an insult.” 

You roll my eyes yet again, a small smile on my lips, “You’ll get him right if he doesn’t?” you ask with a subtle pop of my hip.

A smirk grows on his lips, “Bunny, you know how I’m coming behind you,” Terry said, crossing his arms. 

You shake your head to slow the smile from forming, “It’s nothing serious between Lance and I. I just need a little fun right now.”

“You know, we used to have fun,” Terry said, taking a step toward you. You could see it in his eyes. The way he was looking at you, he’s going to bend you over the first surface he can get his hands on. 

You reach your hand out, slowing his advancement toward you. “No, Terry. Don’t do this here.”

His smirk widens, taking in your panicked yet aroused features. You still wanted him , that he could see. “Don’t you miss me Bunny? We were good together. I could always tell what you needed before you knew yourself and vice versa.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Where is all this coming from? Less than two hours ago, you were telling me I needed to be nice to Brandy and now you wanna reminisce? We’ll talk about this later, I’m not doing this right now.” 

You couldn’t believe Terry!  ‘We used to have fun’, he thinks he can just walk in here all gorgeous and muscled and you’ll just roll over? Well you will but you want to make him work for it at least. You spin, prepared to return to your seat when Terry grabs your wrist. 

“Don’t go out with him tonight, Bunny. Let me treat you and our son to dinner instead, and I can explain everything.”

“What if I don’t want to hear your explanations Terry? I’ve waited and waited for you to finally come to the realization that we should be together. Now that I have the potential to find something with someone new, you can’t handle it. How do you think I felt watching you parade girl after girl in front of my face? If you’re serious about me, you and TJ becoming a family again, you’re going to have to prove it to us. The back and forth shit isn’t going to work, and TJ deserves stability,” crossing my arms, I finish my rant and turn to head back to my chair. 

TERRY

Fuck, I need to get my family back 

Okay, so I wanted to make this a little short and to the point So I can set you guys up for the next part. Let me know if Terry is toxic enough for y’all or should I crank it up a little. I wasn’t expecting to turn this into a series but I think I just might *winks* As always let me know what you guys think, if we’re feeling this or not. Happy new year beautiful people! Sending you all love I hope this year is better than your last and you get everything you want!

Happy New Year! Until next time

TEE <3

TAGLIST

@blackgurlnhermoods @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @diaries-of-me @notapradagurl7 @helloncrocs-deactivated20241222 @miyuhpapayuh @simplyzeeka @gg-trini @playgurlxoxo

[luveline]

Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.” 

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer. 

“Why would I enjoy this?” 

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.” 

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.” 

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?” 

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance. 

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.” 

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes? Can I please?” 

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way. 

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying. 

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts. 

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that. 

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.” 

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!” 

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?” 

“I don’t.” 

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate. 

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose. 

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck. 

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.” 

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.” 

[voxslays]

MY RESOLUTION IS YOU

TLDR >>> What spending the new years with them would be like. Featuring Alastor, Vox, & Lucifer x Reader (separately).

Alastor

Very laid back. I’ve seen others headcannon that Alastor doesn’t really like drinking all too much but will occasionally (which I totally agree with), and he might have a brandy or two before deciding to call it quits for the night. Besides, someone sober has to make sure there is no chaos in Charlie’s hotel! Although he will definitely watch your drink though (even though nobody in the hotel would dare try something like that and especially not while Alastor is around-) He won’t take his eyes off it!

Is a little bit more cuddlier when drunk, and just starts randomly people watching. It’s safe to say he is definitely enjoying everyone embarrassing themselves while drunk. Very entertaining.

Alastor will definitely indulge in the hors d'oeuvres Charlie brought for the party—and might sneak a few of his own dishes into the mix…specifically his mother’s jambalaya.

If Alastor is feeling pleasantly that night and a little tipsy he might give you a little peck on the lips. Nothing that lasts for too long though, since he has ‘business to attend to’.

Lucifer

Is somewhere inbetween the life of the party and just a laid back dad. Don’t get me wrong, Lucifer can totally start chugging shots and partying, but not only does he have a reputation (that he needs to get back because people don’t even respect him anymore-) and Charlie is there.

On another note, he can be such a flirt. Luci just has that devilish charm, what can I say? He will not stop flirting with you. You felt the heat run to your cheeks ten minutes ago, and you don’t know how much more you can take! Good luck, Babe.

I feel like Luci either eats a ton or barely any at all (or goes back and forth between the two-) but Charlie was so kind and ordered hors d'oeuvres for everyone! He can’t disappoint her by not having atleast a small plate! (Which may turn into more…)

At midnight, he would awkwardly ask you for a small peck on the lips, which would then turn into a full on makeout session…which may lead to more in someone’s bedroom. But for now Lucifer is just enjoying the moment with the people he loves; You and Charlie.

Vox

Life of the party. Vox is extremely charming and charismatic—even more so when drunk—so of course people flock to the Vee’s annual New Year’s Eve party to even get the chance to speak a couple words to the overlord.

Also very flirty, but less awkward than Lucifer. The entire night he will have his arms somewhere on you. Whether it’s the small of your back, your shoulder, or just simply holding your hand, he needs to be touching you at all times.

I can totally see him drinking maybe a little more than he should. Vox knows his limits…but does he care? Sure, he knows he will feel like shit in the morning, but that’s his future-self’s problem. He is too caught up in the moment with you to care.

Probably has one or two full plates of hors d'oeuvres and appetizers. What? He’s hungry! And those mini hotdogs look so delicious. If his mouth could water through his screen, it would. Especially at the sight of you in that outfit-

At midnight, he will grab you by your hips and kiss you roughly with his screen. It turns into a full makeout session real fast. And there is no way the two of you don’t lose your clothes and end up in his bed by the end of the night.

[adioringhamzah]

argument with your boyfriend

hamzah's gf realizes how your argument affected him while watching mandy's latest vlog

a.n : sfw, y/n is hamzah's gf, argument, crying, idea from @freak4hamzah and @fragileporcelaine <33

you just finished your exhausting day at work and come home to what seems like an empty home.

"hamzah! hamzah?" you shout, making your way around your shared house.

your boyfriend doesn't reply wich makes you understand he's probably at martin's filming their weekly podcast episode.

as soon as you open your bedroom door, you get changed, putting on your comfiest pyjama, which is just brandy melville shorts with an oversized shirt you take from hamzah's wardrobe.

you lay down on your bed, and start mindlessly scrolling on tiktok, basically half asleep until you come across an extract from what seems like mandy's latest video you haven't watched yet.

it features a clip of your boyfriend but not in his usual goofy self. he's staring at his phone, looking annoyed. "ok, that's a little weird" you think to yourself.

you check the comments, which are all speculating about what he's doing on his phone that's making him so cold.

you're confused too, and decide to watch mandy's vlog, which hamzah actually suggested you don't,

"it's boring don't bother" he nonchalantly told you earlier that day.

but you click on the video anyway and start watching attentively.

while all of the other guests seem to have fun, your other half sits alone, looking off and barely making any effort to socialise with the rest.

even here, the comments are almost all mentioning hamzah's attitude, so different from the funny self he normally displays.

you skip most of the scenes so you can focus on your boyfriend's. in one scene, claire and mandy are happily baking cookies, while in the background, hamzah can be seen talking on the phone, looking mad.

he's walking in circles, and on his phone, you recognize a familiar face.

yours.

mandy's editor blurred it enough for her followers not to be suspicious but not enough that you can't recognise the photo of you holding red in your arms.

"oh shit" you exclaim loudly, as if you're sherlock holmes solving one of his cases. you remember what happened on that day, it had been a week ago already so you didn't think about it.

but on that day, you were particularly angry.

you had a date planned with him for a while, and it had been a long day at work. so when you came home, ecstatic for the thing you had been thinking about all day long, and saw absolutely no one, you felt a little annoyed.

"maybe he's late?" you thought to yourself, trying to convince yourself as if the date wasn't planned in like 10 minutes.

you then waited on the couch in your dark blue silky dress for way too long, checking your phone every few seconds.

but no notifications, except for the one from your restaurant's reservation which just made you angrier.

you called hamzah, ready to get into an argument, getting angrier for every second he wasn't answering. as soon as he picked up, you basically screamed, asking him where he is. he replied a little too nonchalantly for your liking and told you about mandy's.

this did not help you get any calmer, and you gradually got more annoyed, feeling like he wasn't even listening to you.

after a while, he told you to check the insta group you shared with mandy, chase, claire, martin, and hamzah. there you read a text about the meet-up, which you had liked. you were left extremely embarrassed, realising that you did see the message a few days but just totally forgot.

you couldn't feel worse, and profusely apologised to him.

now, seeing the video, you couldn't help but feel like such a bad girlfriend. throughout the whole video, he looked off, mad at first and sad in the end, even hours after your call.

you started sobbing, feeling devastated that you ruined what was supposed to be such a joyful event. and the way he hadn't even complained? you just felt awful.

your crying got interrupted by the sound of the main door opening.

soon enough, your boyfriend made his way to the bedroom where you were crying. he rushed to hug you, not even questioning your motive.

after minutes of staying in his embrace, he looked down to see your phone paused on the video. he sighed, taking a sad look while you tried to ignore his stare.

you explain yourself to him, your face still wet from the tears.

while you apologize for ruining what was supposed to be a fun time with friends that he doesn't even see that often, he wipes your tears with the back of his hands, nodding to your sayings.

after all your apologising, he apologises too, admitting he should've sent you a text to remind you.

as soon as you both get the explanation you need, you decide to go get ice cream, getting all dressed up, you in your blue dress, and him in his suit.

ending is lowkey bad, but i really didn't know how to end it, hope u liked it anw, don't hesitate to give me feedbacks💗

[hey-hey-j]

Hey I been thinking about something is about that postcard that john has (the "wish you were here" card) what if that card was an invitation to Bruce and brandy wedding, because I realized that neither of brozone didn't get to see him get married and I can imagine Bruce just trying look for his brothers and grandma to see if they came, but neither of them came and it broke his heart (or maybe he didn't send them a letter because he didn't know where they live, except for john who said he was going to the neverglades and maybe he did send a invitation to the troll tree for branch and grandma to see it but didn't know the tree was empty)

oh ho ho ho may I direct you to this absolutely wonderful fic by bimothra? 😽😽

aaaaaaand on that note, here's a comic I cleaned up and colored weeks ago but never ended up posting 😽😽

[inkedinshadows]

Azriel headcanons

Since I'm working on too many fics and not finishing even one, here's a list of random headcanons I have about our favorite shadowsinger. Seriously, they're very random.

I have so many more, but I didn't want this to be too long lol. Let me know if I should write more of them.

If it weren't for his scars that make it impossible for him (it'd probably be really uncomfortable), Azriel would wear rings. And I mean a lot of them, on both hands. Very slutty of him if you ask me. This is how I imagine it to look like:

And necklaces as well. Like silver little chains and similar.

Azriel is 100% a cat person. I don't think I need to say more, we can all agree on this, right?

The shadowsinger can sing, we all know that. But my current obsession is him playing the piano. He probably learned while healing his hands when he was a child because it helped with coordination. He's really good at it, but he doesn't play in front of people. Only for you. (I wrote a fic about this: Play It For Me)

He has a very neat handwriting. Again, he had to practice a lot after his hands were burned to use them properly again. I picture something like this:

He's the kind of "monster" that eats pizza with a knife and fork instead of just cutting slices and using his hands (I'm Italian, I'm allowed to say this). He would also always stick to the same pizza, never changing the topping too much (relatable). He'd probably keep it simple, with mozzarella, black olives, and maybe anchovies if he feels extra.

Since we're talking food, if you are out on a date or just eating at a restaurant or whatever and you order something you end up not liking, he's swapping your dishes and giving you his. If you do like it but you also like his a lot, then he asks you if you want to share and eat half of each.

He's not a cocktail guy. Here as well, he likes to keep it simple: whiskey, brandy, wine if he's eating, and beer if he's hanging out with Cassian. If he does drink a cocktail, his go-to choices are Black Russian, gin and tonic, Old Fashioned, Manhattan, and Negroni (which might be an Italian cocktail, I'm not sure).

Oh, and he loves coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Mostly espresso, but also full mugs of it, especially in the morning.

Azriel loves turtleneck sweaters. Leather jackets are another favorite. When he's out, he mostly wears black or dark jeans, but at home? Sweatpants. Those infamous grey sweatpants we all love. Again, very slutty. He bought them without thinking too much about it, but once he saw your reaction to him wearing them, they became his favorite piece of clothing out of everything he had ever owned.

On the topic of clothing, we know he mostly wears black, but we also know he loves Winter Solstice. He could be easily convinced to wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters, especially if you bat your eyelashes at him. He can never say no when you give him doe eyes. He'll complain about it, but he secretly loves it, even more so if you're wearing a matching one. The first three are nice and simple and cute, the other two if you want to embarrass him a little (but he still wouldn't say no):

Same goes for Halloween. Couple costumes? He's down. Would he admit he likes it? Probably not. Would he refuse to do it until you're begging him to, just so he can see your cute pout? Absolutely. And of course, he lets you do his make-up.

He smokes. Not much, just 2/3 cigarettes throughout the day, but it can be more if he's stressed or nervous. (Just imagine the hand in the first picture with a cigarette, it's just the perfect position already. I don't smoke and I can't even stand the smell, but I would honestly let Azriel blow the smoke in my face fr)

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate

[thagomizersshow]

I love when sci-fi/fantasy writers throw in a random fact about a fictional species that actually has big repercussions for that species' biology.

Like, there is a species in Star Trek called Saurians who are adorable dinosauroid looking dudes. They've had very little revealed about them despite having been mentioned as early as the original series by way of "Saurian brandy" — a drink that is so strong it can put a Klingon on their ass in one swig.

Other than that, most of what we know about them comes from snippets involving a reoccuring character on Discovery named Linus, who is mostly a comic relief character. Now the reason I bring them up is that in one episode there's a scene where Linus is eating bamboo of all things, and I'm not sure the writers realized how telling this is about Saurian biology.

Bamboo is a damn hard food to eat, and us humans can only eat the shoots of a few species. Even then, raw consumption of shoots can lead to cyanide poisoning if you aren't careful. We still don't know how exactly a lot of animals that eat a lot of bamboo (bamboo lemurs, red pandas, bamboo rats, elephants, gorillas) are able to digest so much of it without getting cyanide poisoning. There is some sort of neutralization process in giant pandas involving the rhodanese enzyme that turns cyanide into the non-toxic thiocyanate that they just pee out, but the process is still poorly understood in other species.

Bamboo is also hard to digest for the same reason all grasses are; their plant wall cellulose is hard as hell to break down. Like, your choices are:

a) you do a poor job of digesting it and just spend all day eating (giant panda, red panda, bamboo lemur)

b) you grow really big and have a big gut (elephants, gorillas)

c) you only eat the parts of the plant that are easier to digest (bamboo rats)

On top of that, bamboo is loaded with silica phytoliths that are like microscopic bits of glass. These evolved to make their tissues even harder to chew and metabolize.

It's hard to make out in the scene, but it looks like Linus is eating raw bamboo leaves. Just picking them up with his fingers and munching on them like it's nothing. That means his teeth and/or jaws would need to be very powerful (maybe hypsodont? or maybe tooth batteries?) AND, because he's eating it raw, he'd have to be immune to the cyanide in some way.

One explanation could be in the Star Trek Adventures TTRPG, where Saurians are said to have an ability called "Enhanced Metabolism" where they recover from toxins faster than other species (my guess is this was meant to reference their brandy being so strong). BUT, that's not the same thing as the immunity real bamboo eating animals seem to have. My head canon is that Saurians have a diet similar to red pandas, where bamboo-like plants are their main diet on their homeworld, but they'll eat other stuff too when it's available, AND they've evolved some way to convert cyanide into a harmless chemical they excrete, like a giant panda.

All of these whacky biology shenanigans stem (hehe) from the casual writing decision to make a supporting alien character seem weird by eating a weird thing.