#evelyn bubbles

[fleuraimer]

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

[mustasekittens]

wlw buddie for my friends and any sapphics out there

[bubblpuff-10]

I HAVE ACHIEVED THE RESORT!!!

FINALLYY!!!! 🏖️

[starlooove]

My fave thing about my vs is subtly changing them to look more and dress more like Johnny over time - give em a day where they go back to their og styles as like a push against it - and then have them settle in more

[bubbles-txt]

Reading The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle right now. I'm about 7 chapters in since I only started recently and I have quite a lot going on (projects, etc.) But it already seems interesting. Might make follow up posts with spoilers these next few days just to collect my thoughts and prevent myself from forgetting the storyline in a few months.

[poetdeco]

THE DAMPHIR PRINCE / alucard.

HEAR THE CANARY CRY / dinah laurel lance.

SHE'S LAWNIQUE / elle woods.

IMPOSSIBLE TARGET / ethan hunt.

SEVEN TIME BEAUTY / evelyn hugo.

THE DAMNED PRINCE OF GOTHAM / jason todd.

THE DEMON'S DAUGHTER / talia al ghul.

13 TIMES BETTER / sharon carter.

THE SLAVIC SHADOW / natalya romanova.

EMPEROR OF LATVERIA / victor von doom.

THE SPARKLING DIAMOND / satine roux.

THE BRAT PRINCE WOLFKILLER / lestat de lioncourt.

BUBBLY BABYGIRL TECH / penelope garcia.

MASCARADE BALL'S CINDERELLA / sophie beckett.

THE CITYWATCHER COMMANDER / harwin strong.

[ghoststudios]

Riverdale Yearbook part 13, ooo.

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12

I had a break and change of programs, and I think that helped me with this page.

On this page we have, Bingo Wilkins, Samantha Smith, Teddy Tambourine, Buddy Drumhead, Zelda Maxson, Dimples Delush, "Lucky Penny" Penny Peabody, Fangs Fogarty, Ambrose Pipps, Evelyn Evernever, Sue Stringly and "Bubbles" Bella Mcbounce.

and here's a bonus, I had partially done this page in sketchbook before I transferred to Krita. so the little archie gang had doodles months before.

Out of all of them, I say Bubbles has changed the most.

[mitchellnman]

UPTOWN GIRL / DOWNTOWN BOY.

Request from @slytherincursebreaker

Prompt: Reader all happy and bubbly college student received a text from her boyfriend which her friends were like excited who it was the mystery man like is he handsome or is he a student, the reader describes him tall, sweet, no he's not a student, he's working ( nothing illegal ) and he's handsome, so manly. Her friends are like excited. Then they pointed the bloke who the popular guy in college and has a crush on the Reader and they were excited, until Reader said what no not him oh there he is, she pointed which is Martin which her friends are like wtf, or is she blind or she lost a bet. When she hugged Martin and kissed him.

Word count: 727

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing, a slightly shitty friend, she/her pronouns, no beta reader we die like my brain cells scrolling through twitter

A/N: hi hello if you'd like a sequel I've got a few ideas for their date! Hope you enjoy, and have a good day!

—

You loved this time of year. The trees had began to shift from green, to yellow, to orange. The skies were always cloudy, the air was crisp and cool - which meant you could wear your boyfriends windbreakers and hoodies as often as you wanted. Which, was every day, and sometimes to bed if you were particularly lonely.

They smelled like him, and in moments when you thought no one was looking, you would duck your head, and tuck your nose into the collar. He was so supportive of you, and so achingly sweet, it was hard not to miss him every second if every day.

You were both busy now, that was the only downside to this time of year. You were in a good college, studying hard, and he was working. He hadn't told you yet, but you had overheard a phone call he had made to a friend, talking about how he was saving up to buy a slightly bigger place so that you two could live together after you graduated next year.

He was so thoughtful, you mused, as a dreamy smile splayed upon your lips, like a child thinking about their favorite candy bar.

"Hey, space cadet." One of your friends teased, waving her hand in front of your face. "Your phone just went off."

You blinked, your cheeks heating up. "Thanks, Sam." You pulled your phone out, your boyfriend's pet lizard as your screensaver. It was a text from him, and you grinned, brighter than the sun.

M: almost there love <3

"So?" Sam asked, leaning forward on the table the four of you were sitting at; a lovely outdoor cafe, on college grounds. It looked like something off of Pinterest, honestly. "Who is it?"

"My boyfriend, he's picking me up for a date tonight."

"Come on, you have to give us more than that!" Jackie protested to your right. Evelyn nodded in agreement to your left, and they all leaned in conspiratorially.

"Is he a student?" Sam asked.

"Is he tall?" Jackie asked.

"Is he handsome?" Evelyn asked.

You laughed, and covered your face with your hands in an effort to hide your fluster, your skin blisteringly hot under your fingertips. "He's not a student, um, he's fairly tall, and he's... beautiful. Yes, handsome, does all of the manly things you'd expect, opening doors, fixing things, reaching stuff on the high shelves, but - he's so sweet." You said, peeking out from between your fingers. “He's an utter dream.”

"Aww." Jackie said. "He sounds so nice. What does he do?”

“Well,” you said. “He works at a music store, and he has a few hobbies, and he does a recreational sport, for money.”

“Oh, interesting!” Jackie said, genuine invested in this. “I've got to meet him—”

A car pulled up alongside the curb, and a handsome man stepped out; tan, blonde, the star quarterback that was bringing a lot of attention to the college; Tommy.

Sam gasped as the man walked over to them. "Him?"

"The whole school knows he's got a crush on her." Evelyn said, raising an eyebrow. "It's so obvious."

It was, painfully so. He always tried to talk to you, chat you up - but it always came off more like a puppy begging for attention than anything else.

Tommy walked right by you with a wink and a wave, but you shook your head, and pointed. Martin had pulled in alongside him. His resting gloomy face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw you, and he jogged over. You stood up so fast that you nearly knocked your chair over.

"Did you lose a bet, or something?" Evelyn sneered as she pulled her phone out.

"Don't be such a cunt." Jackie said, flicking cookie crumbs at her.

You didn't care. Martin met you halfway, and picked you up by your waist. He spun you around once, and you kissed him, aching for the warmth of his lips against yours.

"Hullo." He whispered, his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. "You taste like cinnamon."

You smiled. "Apple cider donuts. I was going to get some to go." You whispered, happily ignoring the chatter from your friends behind you.

"Good idea. Are you ready to go?" He asked, his voice soft. He brushed his nose against yours, his wild black hair tickling your cheeks.

You nodded. "With you, always.”

[ner5y]

Songs that I think would fit freakshow but I'm not sure I'd have the time or patience to make animatics of:

Doll on a Music Box (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)

I actually have a super rough storyboard for this one, so y'know, there's a chance.

Pomni performing for the audience, 'nuff said. The male part could be Caine inserting himself into the performance, at the behest of a very uncomfortable Pomni.

Capture the Sandy Claws (Nightmare Before Christmas)

I imagine Bubble, Aingle and Leisel stalking the halls thinking of ways to kidnap Pomni for Caine while poor Gangle is dragged along for the ride

Easy to Breath (Opal)

Aingle decides to taunt Jax with Kaufmo's corpse. The "singing girls" would just be Aingle and Gangle as the backing vocals

Have You Seen My Sister Evelyn? (Evelyn Evelyn)

Gangle and Aingle perform for the audience. The male voice would be Aingle and the female voice would be Gangle.

The Ooogie Boogie Song (Nightmare Before Christmas)

Freakshow Caine meets Carnival Caine and laughs at his patheticness.

Don't Make me Laugh (The Pebble and the Penguin)

Don Bluth movies were so fucking weird, man

Caine threatens Pomni into saying she loves him back.

There are some others that sort of fit the vibe, but I don't have a concrete idea for.

[snailmail444]

Bachelor Head Cannons

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

Head cannons for all the bachelors masturbation habits under the cut! Send me asks if you want to see more head cannons from me 💞

Harvey-

💚 Harvey spends so much time antsy and anxious, poor guy.

💚 So when he’s getting himself off he needs a gentle touch. Literally and figuratively.

💚 He has a few favorite videos he likes of porn, which he goes back to when he’s getting off.

💚 Professional porn takes him out of it. He’s so worried about if everything is consensual and comfortable and compensated he’s not horny anymore. Even when he can get past that, he just isn’t into the fake porn premises.

💚 Do you really expect him to believe she’s stuck in that washing machine? Get real.

💚 Harvey can really get into it when it’s amateur, and the couple seems like they’re genuinely enjoying each other. Giggling, bumping the camera, whispered “I love you’s.”

💚 Uses a lot of quality lube. As a doctor, he’s going to take proper care of his body. Especially his dick. The last thing he wants is a friction burn on his junk.

💚 Goes nice and slow. He doesn’t want to rush himself when he’s working to relax, so it’s not a race for him.

💚 Eyes fluttering, cheeks flushed, hitching breath when he’s close.

💚 Can only get off when the people in the video have. Cums with a sigh, leaning back in complete satisfaction.

💚 Takes a long shower after and gets excellent rest. It really helps alleviate his stress, so he sleeps like a baby.

Elliott-

❤️ When I tell You this man makes it an EVENT!

❤️ He’s breaking out the candles. He’s got a bubble bath run. He’s got a glass of red wine.

❤️ Elliott is first and foremost a man of luxury. So when it comes to taking care of himself? He is taking CARE of himself.

❤️ We’re talking a long edging session that starts in the tub and ends in his bed. He’s so coy that he even teases himself. Gets him worked UP!

❤️ This is an erotic novel kinda guy if there ever was one. I mean come on. You KNOW he’s reading those flowing sex scenes with flowery language to get off to.

❤️ One hand holding his dick the other holding his book.

❤️ It doesn’t matter if he’s alone, he is talking. Elliott is a wellspring of words, so they’re flowing. Praise and curses and sweet names, all of it. He gets so wrapped up in the fantasy that it feels real to him, and that’s his way to engage with it.

❤️ He’s a romantic, but the stuff that really gets him off is hot and desperate and needy. The love interests of his novel devouring each other after a slow burn or a long break. The passion is where it’s at for him.

❤️ Secretly kinda loves it filthy. Chaste and loving is good and satisfying, but it doesn’t do a ton for him sexually. He wants his sex sloppy, spitty, and utterly human.

❤️ Probably gets off the least out of all the bachelors simply because it’s a whole process for him. He wants to enjoy it with unabashed hedonism.

❤️ Sometimes he’ll eat fruit while he’s doing it just to engage all his senses.

Alex-

🤎 Alex would absolutely be a morning jerker if Evelyn and George weren’t up at the crack of dawn.

🤎 Man wakes up rock hard and would love to do something about it, but since Evelyn knocks on his door for breakfast at a routine seven am, he has to will it away.

🤎 The tradeoff, though, makes it worth the wait. Both of his lovely grandparents are hard of hearing, go to bed early, and George has a loud CPAP machine.

🤎 So when I tell you Alex can be as loud as he wants at night. He can be as loud as he wants. Unless you’re physically shaking his grandparents, they’re sleeping through it.

🤎 Which is a good thing, because Alex is a mouthy guy. Moans, groans, curses, whines, whimpers, you name it. If he has a hand on his dick, he’s making noise.

🤎 It’s a little old fashioned, but Alex has sexy magazines stashed between his mattress and box spring. Video porn is overwhelming to him—he doesn’t know what to search, he just wants some eye candy—so this is the best option he can think of.

🤎 He’s not very fussy, honestly. Low maintenance kinda jerker. As long as he’s looking at somebody he finds attractive, he’s gonna get off.

🤎 And Alex is such a secret romantic, he’s thinking about sweet, tender sex with somebody he would love a whole lot. His hand takes the same rhythm he imagines he’d use fucking slow and deep.

🤎 This is the way that Alex ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. Man is whining as he strokes himself through his orgasm.

🤎 Has a few tissues he uses to clean up and then passes directly out. Rinse and repeat three times/week.

Shane-

💙 Okay it depends.

💙 If he’s still drinking he doesn’t jerk off that much because he’s got chronic whiskey dick.

💙 BUT. After that? Oh boy.

💙 Shane’s surprised by his own libido when he’s sober. It’s, like, all the time. He thinks maybe it’s because he didn’t get off for so long that he’s making up for lost time.

💙 He gets a surprising amount of privacy in the old ranch house, which he has never been more thankful for. It doesn’t hurt that Marnie snore pretty loud and Jas sleeps like the dead, so most of the night is free to him.

💙 However. Some nights it’s just not feasible. Cough, cough, thanks Lewis.

💙 Luckily, Shane’s got his secret spot. The dock never gets any foot traffic, literally ever. He absolutely will go out there to take care of himself if he needs to.

💙 Big lotion guy. He needs it especially because his hands are rough from all the work he does with them. The callouses feel good if he’s got enough lubricant, though.

💙 Can go either way on porn. Sometimes he likes to watch a good video of what he’s in the mood for, but he doesn’t need it.

💙 He gets off more on memories than anything else. Some of his best fucks are vivid enough in his mind he almost feels like he’s back there when he gets off on it.

💙 And if he has a crush on somebody? Man doesn’t need much. Getting off thinking about how they looked on their knees the other day, about how his cum would look on their face. In the moment he has no shame in thinking about the object of his affections. That’ll come later.

💙 Bites his wrist to keep himself quiet. Not because anybody can hear him, but because he gets embarrassed about the noises he makes and how into it he gets.

💙 Gets desperate for release towards the end. Bucking his hips up and fucking his fist until he cums over his tense stomach. His face is complete bliss, and typically he forgets to muffle that last moan anymore because he’s too caught up in his pleasure.

💙 Post nut clarity hits him a little too hard sometimes. He feels a lot of guilt and shame he’s still working through. Therapy’s helping, though.

Sam-

��� Poor Sammy never gets any proper alone time. It’s not the easiest for him to just get off whenever the urge comes on him.

🩷 Which is incredibly unfortunate, because the urge comes on him…often, to say the least.

🩷 Let’s be real. It’s probably once a day, sometimes twice. Man’s sex drive is insane. Truly just insatiable.

🩷 But the walls of his house are paper thin, he has no lock on his door, and his mom and Vincent are always busting in. He only gets a shred of privacy in his shower, and even that’s difficult because he shares with Vincent. Hard to get off when his tiny fists are constantly pounding on the door.

🩷 So Sam can’t just jack it at a moments notice. He has to wait until everybody is asleep, because blessedly Jodi and Vince go to bed early, and Kent is usually in bed by ten pm sharp. Thank God for that military sense of routine.

🩷 As soon as it’s lights out, Sam’s got an earbud in and a hand in his boxers. He’s so desperate and needy by the end of the day that he has to bite his shirt to keep from moaning with relief.

🩷 Man adores porn. LOVES. Porn. He needs a visual aid for his fantasies, and some good audio doesn’t hurt his feelings.

🩷 Sweet Sam has a possessive streak. He tries to find videos where one of the people looks like whoever he’s into at the time, and he imagines it’s him fucking them.

🩷 And if the video has a good cumshot? He’s gone. Fucking wasted. His hand will slide feverishly up and down his cock until he’s cumming right along with them, the whole time imagining it’s him marking up his crush and making them his.

🩷 By the grace of Yoba he hasn’t been caught yet, but he’s always rushing because he’s paranoid somebody will find him with a hand around his dick or cum all over his abdomen.

Sebastian-

🖤 Unlike Sam, he has almost complete privacy the majority of the time.

🖤 Robin spared no expense on soundproofing their house, so nobody can hear anything unless they’re pressed up against his door.

🖤 And since nobody bothers him, and he’s got a sturdy lock, it’s never a problem. He can get off really whenever he wants to.

🖤 When he was in high school, it was all the time. If he had a second alone, he was probably jerking off.

🖤 Now though, it’s tapered off. He only has to get off once a week, maybe a few times if he’s really worked up about something.

🖤 And with his computer setup? He has a full Cinematic experience. Full screen, over-ear headphones, reclined back in his gamer chair. His dick pulled out of his boxers and his shirt rucked up to his chest. Sebastian is taking complete advantage of every luxury he has available to him.

🖤 Let’s be real. He’s an Only Fans kinda guy. Sebastian has specific tastes, and he likes the convenience of having content he likes ready and available. Plus, he’s not about to risk any viruses on his computer.

🖤 It doesn’t hurt that it’s more ethical that way. Sex work is real work, and deserves proper compensation, which he’s more than happy to give.

🖤 As for the content? We circle back to his specific tastes. He likes soft BDSM. No intense stuff, but the dirty talk aspect especially does it for him. Spanking or light choking are about as hardcore as he likes.

🖤 But the thing that’s guaranteed to get him off? Oral. Every single time. He loves to go down on people—he’s borderline obsessed with it, actually. It’s something he can’t personally put his finger on (it’s called an oral fixation buddy), but he cums so hard thinking about leaving purpling hickies along thighs and using his tongue to get his partner off.

🖤 And since he prioritizes heavily on having a clean space, he has everything ready to clean himself up. Especially important since he cums a lot.

[angstyhikka]

When Philip found Caleb, Caleb was not happy to see him. He and Evelyn had already heard about Philip’s incredible adventures, about the chaos he managed to wreak on the Boiling Islands, and therefore they greeted him with kicks right from the doorway :)

Beaten and humiliated, Philip lost his shit so hard, got pissed so much at the world, that he decided that he has a brilliant plan how to make this world burn. He has to find Titans blood and release the Collector. He went to Lake Eclipse, which by that time had not yet dried up. Collie got really exited.

So, they found the blood. Buuuut they actually didn’t know how to get the boy out of the mirror. Collie jokingly suggested Phillip to drink the blood. And guess what? Philip took it and drank it. And then he stuck his hand in the mirror and pulled out Collie by the scruff of his neckXD

Here for few moments they were very happy and here Philip begins to vomit, shiver and tremble . They expected that Philip would simply vomit blood and everything would return to normal, but things did not get any better and at some point Philip came to the most wonderful decision - he needed more blood! He convinced Collie that he knew what he was doing (he didn’t knew what he was doing, he didn’t have a plan. He calculated something and decided that he can handle it😭)

And so, in several approaches, Philip continued to drink blood. For a while he felt better, but as time passed, he began to vomit again and again, his body began to bubble and lose shape, uncontrollably growing a mass of meat, curse and bones. This continued until Philip fell backwards into the lake. And he came out of there as a FUCKING KAIJU!

In Kaiju form and unconscious, Philip destroyed almost... all the Islands, plus or minus the vegetable garden. And there Caleb tried to stop him. Let's just say he didn't succeed (he died!!!!!!!!)

Gradually, Philip began to stabilize. Blown out of Kaiju form into a form close to human. He still has horns, ears, teeth and hooves. This is the form in which you and I know the Anarchist.

When Philip came to his senses, it turned out that the Titan’s blood had completely knocked out his memory and brains. Collie had to re-introduce Phillip to himself and to the Boiling Isles. True, now these were more likely the “Burnt” islands, after everything that had happened.

[msbigredmachine]

You Again - Flashback

A/N: A snippet of Evelyn and Joe in high school. I'm still completing Part 2 which hopefully should be up soon.

Warning: Themes of bullying

Word Count: 1.1k

READ PART 1 HERE

Escambia High School, October 2000

“Hey Evie!”

She is so startled she collides with her locker door, her books nearly flying out of her hands. It takes a couple of seconds to regain her bearings and realize who is standing in front of her, and it’s not anyone she’s expecting, certainly not the captain of the cheer team.

“Ayesha,” Evie straightens, awkwardly shoving her books back inside her locker and adjusting her skewed glasses. “Umm, did you…did you want something?” she asks, her arms crossed protectively over herself. They’re not friends - Ayesha has never hesitated to remind her of this - so she wonders why she is here, flashing a megawatt smile that one could mistake to be amiable. 

“So…don’t trip,” Ayesha begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I found your note in History class.”

For a second she’s confused, and then it hits her. Oh no. Oh god. She tries to play dumb, fighting the urge to look into her History textbook where she’d thought she’d tucked her little, ill-advised daydream away in one of its pages, safe from the prying eyes of the queen of the mean girls. “W-What? What note?” 

“The note you wrote, silly. I think you dropped it on the floor, you really need to be more careful, girl,” Ayesha giggles.

It’s a lie and they both know it. Evie wouldn’t be so stupid as to expose such damning evidence, let alone discard it haphazardly in class of all places. Her brain is working frantically, trying to figure out how on earth Ayesha got hold of it to begin with. Each student had to present their History paper in front of the entire class, and she suspects Ayesha swiped the note from her desk when it was her turn. It’s not hard to imagine the malicious glee in her eyes as she read the contents, not too different from the one she is trying and failing to hide right this moment:

Dear Joe, Would you like to go to the Fall Ball with me? YES   NO

“Okay,” Evie starts tentatively, treading lightly. “So can I have the note back? Please?”

Ayesha’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh! I gave it to Joe. I saw his name on it. The note was for him, right?”

Evie feels her heart sink to Titanic depths, her insides heavy from the weight of this shattering news. The magnitude of the trouble she's put herself in brings tears to her eyes but she quickly blinks them away before Ayesha adds it to her ammunition. “Oh…I, uh…it wasn’t for…You’re mistaken, the note was for another Joe-” she starts to backtrack.

“Oh girl, there’s only one Joe in this school who matters and we all know who he is,” Ayesha dismisses flippantly. “Why you so worried anyway? I come bearing good news. He asked me to give you this.” She extends her hand, a piece of paper that looked torn out of a legal pad tucked between her fingers. Eyeing her skeptically, Evie takes it, her anxiety rising as she unfolds it and reads the familiar scribble:

Dear Evie,

Meet me under the bleachers at lunch.

Joe.

Against her better judgment, her heart flutters at his invitation, excitement bubbling inside her just knowing he responded to her. But common sense swoops in, and she stammers, shaking her head, “Look, I don’t…this isn’t necessary at all…Please, let’s just forget that any of this happened-”

“Girl, are you seriously chickening out on Joe Anoa’i?” Ayesha counters. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you and you’re turning it down?”

Evie makes one last throw of the dice, desperate to get out of this predicament. "But why are you doing this? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"It's...complicated," Ayesha answers easily, placing a hand on Evie's shoulder. “Sweetie, any girl would kill to be in your shoes right now. Who knows, he might say yes. Are you really gonna throw that away because you’re scared?”

Terrified, actually. Not much good comes out of interacting with Joe Anoa’i when you’re not a member of his precious clique. But Ayesha is right. A private meeting with the most popular boy in school is too enticing to pass up, if only this once. So Evie forces herself to wait through the agonizing hour and a half before lunchtime, embroiled in thoughts of how their conversation will go. 

It turns out she should have trusted her gut, because the minute she steps onto the field, something feels off. 

Joe is not here. Outside is eerily quiet save for the muted bustling inside the cafeteria a few feet away. Chalking it up to him standing her up, Evie permits herself to exhale a huge sigh of relief and spins back towards the building, eager to forget all about the mess she almost made.

Then, it happens. Out of the shadows, they step out, seemingly from every corner of the stands. Jon. Josh. Ayesha and her lackeys, Kelli and Chichi. All of them emerging one by one until she is surrounded by his entire posse.

And last but not least, Joe appears like some kind of video game final boss. He steps between the twins, both of whom stare her down with the same demeanor as vultures circling over a carcass. He twirls her letter between his long fingers, his handsome face wearing a sugary sweet smile and a spiteful glint in his eye that strikes terror in Evie.

“So, Evie…I read your little message to me. It was…sweet. Real cute,” he says, coming closer to her, humored by the way she tenses as he towers over her. “I just have one question…” 

He gently trails the corner of the note along her cheek. The gesture would be considered as intimate if his eyes didn't harbor so much malevolence. “Did you really think my answer would be yes?”

The group bursts into laughter, the sounds cruel and taunting. Joe circles around her, regarding her with the same countenance as a piece of gum stuck underneath his Air Max sneakers. “What makes you think I’d ever wanna go to the dance with a nobody like you? Huh?” He throws an arm around Ayesha and kisses her cheek. "Babe, didn't you tell her you were going with me?"

Ayesha crosses her arms and shrugs with fake nonchalance, an even faker smile on her pretty face. "I wanted to...but it was much more fun fuckin' with her head."

She should have known better. Better than to write that shit in the first place. Known that Ayesha was setting her up from the start; known that standing her up or simply ignoring her was too merciful, too tame for Joe and his coven.

It’s beyond humiliating, and all Evie wants is for the ground to swallow her whole.

Ayesha steps up to her, angling her head low enough to catch Evie’s teary-eyed expression. “Awww, are you gonna cry? You gon’ cry bitch? You thirsty-ass pathetic loser?”

Ayesha's arms shoot out, shoving Evie so hard that she falls over, crying out as her knees collide painfully with the ground. Her glasses slip off her face and onto the cold dewy grass and dirt. Her tears splash onto the cracked lenses as they all step past her fallen frame, their cackles echoing in her ears long after they are gone.

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

Fun fact: A version of this incident happened to me in high school in real life. Only difference is I wasn't pushed. 😭😭😭

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly  @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05  @harmshake @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01  @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @trippinsorrows @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @heauxvibez @trippinsorrows @romansthrone

[jewreallythinkthat]

It's challah time again. I'm gonna post my recipe below if anyone wants it so they can join in (or just for future reference). Fun fact, I'm in the UK so I grew up using imperial and metric measurements. This one's in imperial as it's an old recipe (it's from Evelyn Rose, my Beloved)

1 1/2 lbs white bread flour (you HAVE to use bread flour, plain/all purpose will not work with this liquid ratio)

1 tbsp instant (or dry active yeast - see note)

2oz white sugar (or 2 tbsp honey at RH)

1/2oz salt (about 1 tbsp)

2 eggs

3 tbsp neutral oil

11 floz (about 300ml) water

If you're using instant yeast, mix everything in a stand mixer with a dough hook until a smooth dough form (about 5 mins).

For dry active yeast, take a tablespoon of sugar and add that along with the yeast to the water, stir to dissolve and leave for 10 minutes until bubbly to reactivate the yeast. Then mix everything together as above.

Cover and leave until doubled in size

I like to form it into a ball by hand before letting it rise.

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Five:

Evelyn and Genevieve stepped into the haven of nostalgia for them. The walls, adorned with vintage photographs and local memorabilia, were faded brick and wood. Laughter bubbled up from tables around them, mingling with the soft strum of a guitar somewhere in the background. The air was rich with the scent of garlic and oregano, and the warm glow of string lights above cast a soft inviting glow overhead as she slipped into the warmth of the dimly lit corner booth.

Genevieve's eyes, sharp and observant, had the kind of clarity that came from her experience on the force, yet they sparkled with the same intensity that had driven her to become a cop in the first place. Her skin had a sun-kissed glow, a testament to countless hours under the Californian sun, but it was offset by a certain weariness that spoke of sleepless nights and too much coffee.

"So, tell me everything, Evie," she coaxed, leaning in. "How's life treating you at the BAU?"

Evelyn's smile was a burst of sunshine, lighting up her features with an infectious joy. She fiddled absentmindedly with her spoon. "It's been intense, but amazing," she replied. "Though, I must admit, it's refreshing not to be around people who can deduce your life story based on your coffee order, let alone how you're feeling before you've even fully woken up."

Genevieve laughed, her eyebrow arching in playful accusation. "Tell me about it, you've been doing it to me since we were twelve," she said, her eyes narrowing with mock severity. "But anyway, tell me about these infamous coworkers. Anyone... interesting?"

Evelyn's enthusiasm bubbled over as she began to gush about her colleagues. "Oh, they're incredible! JJ--she's got this uncanny ability to connect with victims, and Penelope, our tech goddess, can unravel anyone's dirty secrets with a click of a button. Morgan--he's like the best protective older brother, Rossi--he's like a walking encyclopedia of criminal behavior. And Prentiss, she can read a room like no other, she's been through a lot, but it only makes her stronger."

She paused, taking a sip of her wine, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And then there's Hotch. He's our unit chief, you know? So poised, so... commanding. And Reid," she sighed dreamily, "he's just a genius. His mind works like no one else, and he's got this awkward charm that's just..."

Genevieve smirked, leaning in, accusation on her tongue. "Sounds like someone's got a bit of a crush."

Evelyn's eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "What? No, I mean--they're just my coworkers, well, and my boss."

"Uh-huh," Genvieve teased, winking. "Just coworkers. Got it."

The laughter was cut short by the shrill ring of Evelyn's phone. She fished it out of her purse, the screen flashing Hotch. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered, "Gideon here."

"Evelyn, wheels up in 20. Kidnapping case in Rapid City, South Dakota. Two children, siblings, taken from their backyard. Local PD found an abandoned car with possible evidence. I need you here, ASAP." Hotch's voice retained a steady composure, yet there was an undercurrent of urgency that subtly underscored each word, compelling immediate attention.

A shadow of disappointment passed over Evelyn's features as she offered Genvieve a wordless apology. "Understood, on my way, sir."

She stood up, throwing on her purse with practiced haste. "Sorry, Gen, duty calls. Raincheck?"

"Go. Those kids need you," Genevieve said, her tone laced with mixture of pride and concern.

With a smile that conveyed her thanks, Evelyn hastened to the exit. As she swung the door open, she couldn't resist yelling over her shoulder, "Just coworkers!"

--

Evelyn burst through the doors of the conference room. The sharp click of her heels punctuated her every step, commanding the room's attention. She glided past the long table, her dress--a cascade of midnight blue that clung to her like a second skin--captured the soft light, giving her an ethereal glow. Her hair cascaded down in a tumble of soft girls that gently brushed her shoulders, giving her an air of relaxed grace. As she moved a hint of vanilla trailed behind her, a delicate perfume that lingered in the air, turning heads as she passed.

"Hi, everyone, sorry I'm late," she chirped, her go bag landing with a decisive thud. "You would not believe the traffic, and then I--,"

"Whoa, mama, someone's bringing the heat tonight!" Garcia interrupted, her eyes twinkled with delight, a grin spreading across her face as she took in Evelyn's appearance.

Morgan's laughter was a low rumble, his posture relaxed into the chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Damn straight. What's the occasion, doll face?" he teased.

Evelyn flashed a playful grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, you know, just saving the world in high heels and haute couture," she joked. "But no, I was out with a friend, didn't have time to change. I'll do that on the plane."

Hotch's penetrating stare, typically reserved for dissecting the minds of unsubs, now settled on Evelyn with an unspoken intensity. His deep brown eyes, usually so adept at observation, seemed to capture every nuance--the graceful sway of her hips, the faint scent of her perfume. It was a gaze that missed no detail, yet the depth of his focus was unusual, a quiet deviation from his usual professional detachment.

Spencer, usually lost in thought, his mind a labyrinth of facts and theories. But now, his attention was undeniably on Evelyn. His eyes held an analytical sharpness to them, but this time they held a different kind of curiosity, one that lingered on the ample flesh of her chest.

Evelyn, caught in the crossfire of their stares, felt a blush ignite her freckled cheeks.

JJ's curiosity piqued, and she leaned forward, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Oh, a friend?" Her voice was light, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she was fishing for a story colorful than just a casual catch-up.

Hotch's brows lifted almost imperceptibly. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of something unfamiliar flickered across his features--a tightness around his eyes, a slight downturn of his mouth. It was a sensation he couldn't place, an odd twinge that gnawed at this composure. He quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality, but the momentary lapse did not go unnoticed.

Spencer, on the other hand, was less adept at masking his reaction. His eyes, usually so full of thought, now reflected a clear disturbance, as if the mere suggestion of Evelyn being on a date had disrupted the very logic he held dear. His gaze lingered on her just a beat too long.

Evelyn's laughter was light, a clear note that brushed away any hint of scandal. "No, an actual friend. She's in from LA," she clarified, her tone breezy and unconcerned, dispelling the playful suspicions with a wave of her hand.

The room settled back into routine as JJ's gaze landed on Hotch, who appeared adrift in thought. "Hotch?" she called out, her voice a gentle tether pulling him back to the present.

Hotch cleared his throat, a stark interruption to the silence, a clear sign he was wrenching himself from the distraction. "Sorry, right," he stammered, a falter in his usually unwavering voice. His eyes, which had been tracing the contours of Evelyn's form, snapped back to the case file with a newfound intensity. "Let's get started..."

--

Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom, hastily adjusting her blouse. In her rush, she didn't notice Spencer standing right outside the door. With a sudden thud, their bodies met in an awkward tangle. Evelyn's hands flew up in surprise, grazing Spencer's chest as she steadied herself.

"Oh! Sorry, Spence," she exclaimed with a bright smile.

Spencer, equally taken aback, managed a flustered smile. "You're fine," he assured her, his voice a notch higher than usual as he stepped into the bathroom, his gaze lingering just a moment longer on the disarray of her attire.

Evelyn, straightened up, smoothing her clothes once more before taking a deep breath and heading back to her step.

Evelyn took in the sight of her team, already gathered and poised for the briefing. With a subtle clearing of her throat, JJ commanded attention, her fingers deftly pressing the remote. A soft click echoed in the hushed room as the screen flickered to life.

"Alright, team, we have a situation in Rapid City. Two children, siblings aged 7 and 9, were taken from their backyard near Sheridan Lake Road. The unsub left a clown mask at the scene. Local PD found an abandoned car three blocks away with candy wrappers and a handwritten note saying, 'Let's play a game'. We need to establish a profile and find these kids before the unsub escalates."

Hotch's voice was firm, his orders clear as the team prepared for landing, Reid emerging from the bathroom as he spoke. "Reid, Gideon, once we're on the ground, I want you two to head to the last known location of the children. Look for anything the local PD might have missed. After that, go to the local police station and assist them with victimology."

Hotch's phone rings. He answers with a curt. "Hotchner," and listens intently. The team watches him, reading the shift in expression as he receives the update from the local PD.

He ends the call. "The local PD has a lead. A performer known for his clown acts at children's parties was just taken into custody. They found evidence linking him to the abduction site. So change of plans. Reid, Evelyn, you're with me. We're going to interrogate the suspect. The rest of you, coordinate with the local teams. We need to cover all his known locations and find those kids."

--

The BAU's SUV glides to a stop in front of a local police station, a low building that seems to buzz with the day's frenetic energy. Hotch, with his characteristic stride, escorts Evelyn and Reid through the maze of bustling officers and ringing phones to a briefing room. The room is a testament to the case at hand; walls plastered with maps, timelines, and the faces of the missing children staring back at them. Hotch distributes the case files--thick filled with witness statements and background checks.

"Here's everything we have on the suspect," Hotch begins, "Known as 'Pogo the Clown' at parties, real name Jeffery Willis. No prior record of violence, but plenty of complaints about his behavior around kids."

Evelyn flips through the pages, absorbing the details. Hotch pivots towards her, his gaze steady and assessing, "Evelyn, you're new, but you've got a fresh perspective. That's valuable. Reid will take the lead, but I want you to watch the suspect. Look for inconsistencies in his story, any sign of deception."

Reid nods, his eyes already scanning the suspect's history. "We'll start with a cognitive interview, try to unlock any repressed memories or details he's not consciously aware of. It's a technique we use to get past the lies."

Hotch explains further. "Willis, he's got an ego, sees himself as a performer, above others. He's likely to underestimate both of you."

"Reid, he'll see you as harmless, someone he can easily outmaneuver. And Evelyn, he might dismiss your authority due to his preconceptions. But he's wrong, and that gives us leverage. Use his biases against him. Make him feel superior; it'll make him talk. He'll want to boast, to prove he's the smartest in the room. That's when he'll slip up."

Reid moves with a purposeful stride, his silhouette cutting through the dimly lit corridor towards the interrogation room. The gears in his mind turn swiftly, already sifting through the myriad of psychological strategies that might give him an edge. Evelyn started to trail behind him, her footsteps a soft echo to his confident march.

Hotch emerges before her, a figure of quiet authority. He positions himself before Evelyn, an unspoken barrier, his expression etched with a gentle concern that belies his firm stance. "Evelyn," he begins, his voice a low thrum, "this isn't going to be an easy interrogation. Willis is a performer; he thrives on attention and control. I need to know you're ready for this."

"I've trained for this. I've got this, Hotch," she lifts her chin, her gaze ascending to meet his.

Hotch regards her intently, his scrutiny thorough as if he could peel back the layers of her resolve. Yet, he finds no fissure of doubt. He grants her a slow, affirming nod. "Alright," he concedes, his voice a low rumble. "Remember, he's going to try and get under your skin, to throw you off balance." His proximity is close, almost invasive, but she didn't feel that way. "Stay focused and use his arrogance to your advantage."

Evelyn's head tilts up a fraction more, her eyes never leaving his. She nods. "I will."

Hotch's approval comes not just in a nod but in the subtle relaxation of his posture, a silent concession of her capability. He steps aside. As she passes, the air seems to hum with the vanishing of his body heat.

The interrogation room is stark, illuminated only by the unforgiving glow of overhead lights that cast long, dramatic shadows across the room. Jeffrey Willis is a disconcerting figure at the metal table, his clown makeup running in haphazard streaks, giving him a grotesque appearance. His eyes dart about, betraying a nervous energy as his leg trembles rhythmically beneath the table.

Reid steps into the room with an air of composed assurance, his intellect a sharpened blade ready to dissect the situation. Evelyn follows, her silhouette rigid against the doorway, her expression meticulously neutral. They take their seats, Reid assuming the lead with a gaze that never wavers from Willis.

"Jeffery, I'm Special Agent Reid, and this is Special Agent Gideon," Reid begins, his voice steady, "We're with the FBI, the behavioral analysis unit. We're here to talk about the children."

Willis' response is a smirk, his eyes alight with a disturbing spark of amusement. "Ah, the children," he drawls, a perverse delight curling the edges of his words. "They do so enjoy their games, don't they? High stakes make it all the more thrilling." His gaze shifts to Evelyn, taunting. "Isn't that right, sweetie? Or do they not trust you to speak?"

Evelyn's silence is her armor, her stillness a counter to his provocation. Beside her, Reid's jaw sets, a subtle clench that speaks volumes of his restraint. "Let's keep the focus where it belongs, Jeffery," he directs firmly.

"You ever been to the carnival? I used to love it. The toys, the sound of the water," Willis mused, leaning back as if the metal chair could transport him.

His chuckle breaks the reverie. "My mother, she loved games too," he continues, the smirk returning as he locks eyes with Evelyn. "The best ones, until she disappeared when I was sixteen." His gaze is probing, challenging. "But you, with a face like yours, life must've been easy, huh? Everything handed to you on a silver platter."

Evelyn's reaction is subtle, a slight narrowing of the eyes that betrays a flicker of emotion. Yet, she holds her silence, allowing Reid to handle the waters of Willis' provocations.

Willis edges closer, the space between them charged with his malice. "Or perhaps," he hisses, the words laced with spite, "mommy get sick of the guys giving you more attention than her?"

It's a low blow, one that slices through the air and lands precisely where he intended. Evelyn's facade falters, a minute shift, but it's there. "My mother is irrelevant to this," she retorts, her tone sharper, icier than she means for it to be.

From his vantage point behind the one-way mirror, Hotch catches the fleeting lapse. With a swift stride, he's in the room, his presence commanding. "Agent Gideon, a word," he commands, his voice leaving now room for argument.

Evelyn rises, her gaze lingering on Willis with a silent challenge before she pivots, her heels clicking a sharp retreat. She steps out, the chill of the corridor seeping into her bones, but it's the weight of Willis's words and her own slip that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Hotch, I--" she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, but Hotch is already there, his presence a wall of contained frustration.

"Agent," he interjects, his tone clipped, the word a reprimand in itself. "What did I say about maintaining control?" His proximity is unsettling, the heat of his frustration palpable, yet it's the closeness that somehow steadies her, sends a shiver down her spine, causing her thighs to clench together.

"I'm aware, and I apologize. It won't happen again," Evelyn responds, her words tumbling out in haste, her apology laced with urgency as she seeks to convey the clue Willis unwittingly dropped. "But I--"

Hotch is relentless, his words slicing through her attempts. "We can't afford distractions. There are two children out there; focus is imperative--"

"But the carnival," Evelyn cut in, her voice firm despite the brief hesitation, aware she's overstepping driven by instinct. "I'm sorry, but he talked about a carnival his mother would take him to. Have there been any carnivals in town lately."

For a moment, Hotch's stern facade falters, his eyes softening, betraying a flicker of curiosity. "Check with Garcia," he concedes, his voice still firm but the edge blunted.

--

Garcia's sanctuary of screens cast a soft glow in the dim room, her fingers a blur as they dance across the keyboard. "Nothing," she breathes out, the word laced with a tinge of defeat. "No carnivals, fairs, or anything similar within a 50-mile radius."

Reid's voice filters through the phone, tinged with concern as he leans in close over Evelyn's shoulder, almost whispering. "Did he grow up here? Maybe there's a connection to his past."

A pause, then Garcia's voice, distant yet clear. "No, grew up in a small town in Ohio--Millersport, near Buckeye Lake."

Reid's mind races. "Carnivals? Anything of the sort there?" he presses, hopeful.

The clacking of keys halts, a momentary silence before Garcia's voice returns, tinged with resignation. "It's a dead end. No recent events, nothing."

Evelyn chimes in. "He mentioned the sound of water, didn't he? It was deliberate, specific. Maybe it's less about an actual carnival and more about a place that felt like one to him."

A collective pause blankets the team. Garcia resumed her search. "Got something," she announces, a triumphant lilt to her voice. "An old cotton mill, nestled rise beside--get this--a carnival supply shop. It's about ten minutes from you guys."

"And here's the icing on the cake," Garcia continues, "his mother, Reyna Willis, was employed there. I'm sending you guys the address now."

--

The BAU team arrives at the desolate cotton mill, its dilapidated structure casting an ominous shadow in the fading light. Evelyn's heart pounds against her ribs, fear etched on her face. They move cautiously, guns drawn, the silence punctuated only by the soft crunch.

"Stay sharp." Hotch's command is a low murmur.

Evelyn nods at Hotch's words, paired with Morgan, as they make their way through the creaking corridors. The air is thick with dust. Room by room, they clear the mill, the tension mounting with each passing second.

Then, a soft whimper breaks the silence. Evelyn's head snaps towards the sound, her training taking over. She signals Morgan and approaches the door. With a gentle push, it swings open, revealing a small, frightened girl, nestled in the shadows.

Evelyn holsters her weapon, her stance softening as she kneels to the child's level. "Hey, it's okay, you're safe now," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm as the child curls into her side, her sobs muffled against Evelyn's shoulder, "you've been so brave."

"In here!" Morgan's call, firm and clear, cuts through the hush.

Hotch and Reid rush in, relief flooding their faces as they take in the scene. Meanwhile the sound of a relieved shout echoes through the mill. "We've got him! The boy's here!" Prentiss calls out from another room.

--

As the team wraps up the case, Hotch finds himself inadvertently watching Evelyn. She's a picture of compassion, the child in her arms so natural. There's something about this scene that stirs a warmth within him, an unfamiliar flutter that he can't quite place but pushes to the back of his mind.

He's always known she'd be good at this job, but this is different. It's hard to teach that. The way her eyes soften, the gentle tilt of her head as she whispers reassurances. It's a side of her he hasn't seen yet, one that didn't fit into the neat compartments of his professional demeanor.

Hotch feels a pull, an inexplicable draw to the tenderness she exudes. It's disconcerting, this reaction--like a chord struck deep within him. He watches her, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a halo around her silhouette.

He clears his throat, stepping closer, the gravel beneath his feet a subtle announcement of his approach. "We're about to head out," he says, his voice steady and low, not wanting to disturb the girl, her eyes fluttering in sleep.

Evelyn looks up, her eyes reflecting the last rays of the day. "I'll stay with until her parents arrive, if that's okay," she responds, her voice a low whisper. "She just fell asleep; I don't want to wake her."

Hotch nods, understanding her decision without a word. "We'll see you back at the jet, then," he says.

Evelyn smiles. "I'll be there," she assures him, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the child in her arms.

--

The cabin lights flicker, a soft glow against the encroaching darkness outside. Evelyn rises from her seat, navigating the narrow aisle with a practiced ease. Evelyn is suddenly caught off guard by an unexpected jolt of turbulence. She lurches forward, her balance betraying her, and without warning she finds herself tumbling into Reid's lap. Her ass landed on his crotch as her lips fell open in surprise. He let out a soft groan, his hands instinctively reaching out to stabilize her. The rest of the team, deep in slumber, remained oblivious to the sudden closeness between the two.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Reid asked, his voice rising in pitch as his fingers dug into her hips.

Evelyn's breath hitches, her heart racing from the fall, the warmth of his hands, and the feeling of his crotch pressed firmly against her backside. She let out a giggle in an attempt to shake the feeling. "Gosh, sorry, Reid," she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

For a moment, they are both still, the silence enveloping them, their eyes locked in a gaze that speaks volumes more than the words could. Then, as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Evelyn carefully extricates herself from his lap, her movements hurried, eager to put some distance between them.

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

[privatehousesanatomy]

Can you please write being houses wife and coming home to him trying to do bath and bed time with your toddler and baby?

omg okay i actually have an oc that has two kids with house so all of my world-building is finally being put to good use!!

GREGORY HOUSE X FEM!READER

content includes : house being a girl dad asf

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Kids were never the plan for you or House. You were content living a child-free life, and House never pictured himself being a father due to his relationship with his own father. And then came Amelia two years ago, followed by her little sister, Evelyn, only three weeks ago.

While you were incredibly apprehensive to leave Evelyn alone, even for a few hours, you knew you could trust House to take care of the girls. The way he had taken to being a father so easily after Amelia was born had suprised you a lot, but you had no doubts that he was a good father, and he insisted that he had everything under control.

So, you agreed to grab dinner with Cuddy, who was eager to get you out of the house for an evening so you didn't completely lose yourself in being a mom. Since adopting Rachel, Lisa had realized the importance in not allowing her entire personality to be overcome with being a mother.

By 8pm, you arrived home, and the second you opened the door, you could hear the sounds of water splashing and giggling coming from down the hall.

"Amelia Violette, you've got my shirt all soaked," House groaned, followed by Amelia's little giggles. "I told you no splashing, anyway. Your sister is in the tub, too."

"Sorry dada," Amelia giggled, and she pushed her little duck around in the water. Evelyn was in her bath chair with a wash cloth over her stomach, just staring at House.

As you appeared in the bathroom doorway, you had a smile on your face. "Looks like you've got bath time all under control," you say.

"Mama! Look, bubbles!" Amelia cheered, pointing at the pile of bubbles in the tub.

"I see that," you smile, and House shifted uncomfortably on the floor. "Do you want me to help?" you ask, and he shook his head.

"No, I've got it. You go relax, and I'll have the little goblins come say goodnight when we're done," he said. You nodded your head and went into the master bedroom to get changed into your comfier clothes.

When the girls were out of the tub, you heard Amelia's little feet run down the hallway into her bedroom, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Those little girls were your entire world - the greatest surprise you could have ever asked for.

"Amelia, put your pajamas on," House sighed.

"I need help dada," she said, holding up her shirt. It had buttons on it, and her little fingers couldn't figure out how to button it up properly.

"Bring it here then," he said, laying Evelyn on the floor for a moment in her towel before he buttoned up Amelia's shirt. She'd insisted on wearing her Strawberry Shortcake pajamas that night, as she did every other night of the week.

House then got Evelyn dressed in a onesie with strawberries on it to somewhat match Amelia before taking her into the master bedroom so that you could feed her.

"Well hi there, baby girl," you smiled as you took your newborn into your arms, and Evie let out a soft coo. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

House had a tired smile on his face. "I'm almost done with Amelia," he said, and you nodded your head.

"Take your time. I'm getting my baby snuggles," you smiled, watching as House went back to tend to your toddler.

"Alright, pumpkin. Bring me your hairbrush," he said, sitting down in the rocking chair. Amelia grabbed her hairbrush and ran over, handing it to him. House picked her up and placed her on his lap before he combed through her hair.

So much for never wanting to be a father. He'd even learned how to braid her hair a few months earlier, so he styled her wet hair into a braid to keep it from getting all tangled in her sleep.

"Pretty!" Amelia grinned as she looked at herself in the mirror, and House smiled a little.

"Very pretty. Now, go pick out a book and we'll read it before we go and say goodnight to mama, alright?"

"Yay story!" Amelia said as she ran over to her bookshelf, grabbing one of her many princess books and bringing it over.

By the time stories (yes, Amelia had conned three more stories out of House) were read and Amelia was beginning to get sleepy, he brought her into the master bedroom to say goodnight to you.

"Hi, princess," you say as Amelia ran over to the bed, climbing up and into your lap. "Did you have fun with daddy tonight?"

"Yes!" Amelia grinned, clapping her little hands. You smiled and pressed a kiss to her head.

"Oh, you smell so good. I could eat you right up," you teased, making Amelia giggle.

"No eat me, mama," she said, hiding her face. House had picked up Evelyn at this point, lifting her up to kiss her head.

"What about Evie? Should we eat baby sissy?" he teased, and Amelia shook her head.

"No!" she giggled. It was at that moment that Evie spit up all over House, and you burst out laughing.

"Well, that's what she thinks about that idea," you teased. "Evelyn Charlotte, did you puke on daddy?"

House stood there with a look of disgust on his face, holding the infant a safe distance from his body.

"I think you might have to finish bedtime...I need to shower," he groaned, looking down at his spit up covered shirt.

[queenshelby]

THE FUTURE (PART THREE)

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place) x Original Female Character

Warning: Age Gap, Forced Procreation, Past Sexual Abuse, Angst

Three weeks after Caitlyn and Emmett returned to the Island and Caitlyn was afforded some time to settle back an, the Council summoned them for a meeting to discuss some arrangements for them and Caitlyn's fostered children.

Evelyn was on the Council as well, and she was sympathetic towards Caitlyn's precarious position as a young woman who, before coming to the island, had escaped from the clutches of those who had destroyed her life. She could not imagine what Caitlyn was going through now that, due to her age, she was asked to partake in the procreation program and, therefore, tried to help her as much as she could. 

Emmett also understood Caitlyn's plight, and he sympathized with her even though he was usually rather harsh and private.

He had known loss, pain, and sacrifice himself, and as he witnessed the vulnerable young woman navigate her own struggles, which somehow made him soften a bit. Despite his reservations, he agreed to move in with her and act as a guardian to her children. Essentially, he was to play the part of father and lover without actually being neither, but the Council did not know this, other than Evelyn who was privy to Emmett's plan.

"Emmett," one of the members of council began to speak. "It is our understanding that you have agreed to be paired with Caitlyn and, considering her youth, we expect this collaboration to yield results quickly, as per the new procreation program," the representative decreed, bringing forth a chuckle.

"You fucking people," he sighed, rubbing the crease between his brows. "Why someone would go through the trouble of reproducing when we can barely offer a decent life to those who already live here is beyond me but, yes, I agree to be paired with Caitlyn," he exclaimed, making his position clear. 

The air in the room grew heavy with tension, intensifying with every word he spoke and a ripple of unease crept through the Council's ranks, challenging their demands and causing uncertainty to bubble beneath the surface. Evelyn observed the exchange silently, proud of Emmett's defiance and confident in his abilities to navigate the challenges that lay ahead and, yet, she had to caution him.

"Emmett, we need your assurance that you will comply with the program," she emphasized, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, causing him to sigh again. 

Then, Emmet nodded nonetheless, understanding the implications of his earlier words. Being paired with Caitlyn meant that she was safe from other men who might abuse her just like the men on the mainland did before she was rescued. This was not something Emmett wanted for her and, as thus, he agreed to comply.

"We will do our best," he then reassured the council while you sat there, silently, nodding and wearing a forced smile. You tried to hide how you felt about this arrangement, but the subtle glint of distress in your eyes gave you away. Yet, you silently hoped that this would be enough to keep you safe from the prying, and at times malevolent, eyes of those that ruled over this strange island.

The meeting carried on for a while, as they discussed all the details of your new living arrangements and it was decided that Emmett had to move in with you and make available his cabin on the beach for new arrivals.

You were also told that you had three months to fall pregnant, failing which you would be paired with someone else. 

Emmett observed the distress etched on your face, knowing the immense anxiety this news provoked. But like the strong and resilient woman you were, you reframed the situation in a different light. Three months was enough time to devise an alternative plan. Three months meant you could continue working on your farm, growing food for the community. Three months was enough time to consolidate your relationship with Emmett, forging a friendship that could ultimately buffer the emotional storm that was about to unleash upon you.

And this is exactly how you chose to look at it, on the outside at least.

***

That same day, Emmett brought his belongings to your house

. You watched as he carried his bag, taking in the sturdiness of the worn leather, the way it hung from his shoulders, remnants of a once simpler time before everything changed, before the world as they knew it collapsed.

"I will take the floor," he signed, rolling out the swag in the living room which is where you too were sleeping. In the corner of the Livingroom there was a small bed which was yours and in the one small single bedroom next to it, the two boys were sleeping on mattresses on the floor. You had no kitchen and only an outdoor shower. Your house was simple as you had built it with your own hands, but Emmett did not seem to mind. 

It was a roof over their heads, after all. He nodded approvingly as he surveyed the small but cozy home. Despite the austere conditions, Emmett could not help but appreciate the tranquility of your surroundings.

"You did well here, Caitlyn," he complimented, as you watched him shed his worn-out jacket, revealing the muscular contours of his upper body beneath. The cuts and creases on his arms were fitting reminders of the life you both led on this island.

Though Emmett was a seasoned survivor, Caitlyn wondered if he was capable of fathoming the inner turmoil you harbored as you navigated your complicated existence on the Island.

Emmett's eyes fell on the crude drawings that adorned every vertical surface of your wooden walls. They were children's stories, representations of their lives that your two boys had curated. He smiled warmly at the simplicity of their stories, the pure joy and imagination they conveyed.

They reminded Emmett of his own children who had died on the first day of the invasion and his look softened almost instantly.

His thoughts were miles away, lingering on the memories of their soft laughter, beaming smiles, and his heart caught in his throat with a longing so deep, only the silence of their world could contain it.

But things were different on the Island. Life was fragile, but Emmett had learned to be resilient. It's all about adjusting to new situations, and this was one of them.

Reaching for his bearded chin, you made him look at you as, clearly, he was lost in his own thoughts right now.

"Thank you," you signed, grateful for his genuine show of support. "I truly appreciate it."

Emmett met your gaze, his piercing blue eyes radiating strength and resilience, as well as a shared understanding. "You are welcome, Caitlyn," he signed back sincerely. "But don't expect too much from me," he went on to add, his wry smile serving as a reminder that, despite his strong-willed appearance, Emmett still grappled with his own demons and unresolved issues.

"The boys are your responsibility, and I will stay out of your way wherever I can and I expect you to stay out of mine," he continued, his hands swiftly conveying his message, as Caitlyn studied him with equal parts curiosity and suspicion.

His blunt honesty startled her, and she found herself struggling to respond, until eventually, she nodded her assent. "Understood." She knew that he did this merely to protect her and this was enough for her to be grateful to him.

It was a sham they were running for the sake of the procreation program and she had no intention of falling pregnant. Living with Emmett saved her from being abused by other men and offered her a measure of protection which, at least for now, was all that mattered to her.

To be continued...

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