#if anything is wrong with this please be nice!

[ashlovesfood]

Rearrange My Guts!

Tags: Dinner, cooking, reassurance, gentle, eye contact, we gonna keep playing eye contact or you gonna holla at ya boy? arousal, sticky slick, kissing, marking, hickies, Bruce and Clark are HORNY freaks, rough fucking, oral sex, face fucking, multiple orgasms, cum, Bruce is rough and Clark is gentle, switching positions, eyes rolling back, EVERYONE is FREAKYYY!

Visuallll (Doesn't match story but its okay!) (″･ิ_･ิ)っ

Clark Kent, one of the top reporters in the world, sharing you with Bruce Wayne- excuse me? It started off with you at work, texting your husband on break while you ate a quick snack. He was talking about one of his friends, a highly known writer that was currently visiting Gotham for an interview.

That’s when you decided to be friendly, and suggested dinner with him to help and try to get along. Maybe that’s where things started to take a slight turn… Bruce was hesitant at first, not being the hugest fan of sharing a dinner with his friend, but he agreed at last. Clark wouldn’t make a bold move right?.. As you got off work to start on dinner, the idea of making delicious roast potatoes and steak came to mind.

You started off with chopping the potatoes into cubes, seasoning the chunks with salt, pepper, and garlic, then drizzled the pan with olive oil. The kitchen oven warmed up nicely as you opened the door, a warm heat wave hitting you quickly. Potatoes were done and needed to cook, now came the steaks.

This process was somewhat challenging, your brain overthinking about what Clark would like and what not so you asked Bruce.

“Yes baby what’s wrong?” Bruce was in his office, cleaning his desk off and powering down everything in the building to go home while he listened to your voice. “Hi B. Sorry, just- listen what does Clark like for steak? I’m just- need to get it right for dinner or I’ll mess up and everything’s going to be ruined and,” “Sweets. Calm down and take a breath, just please wait. I can reassure you that Clark likes anything on his steak and he doesn’t have any allergies, he’ll eat anything handed to him. Medium rare is perfect for the steaks. Pretty big guy if I do say so myself honey, just trust me- he will like anything you make so do not overthink it okay?” “I- okay. Thank you, handsome. Really need that right now.”

You took a breath, letting the calm moment resurface so you could continue with tonight and not stress out. The call ended with Bruce saying that he and Clark would be coming at the same time, his voice giving you reassurance one more time before hanging up. The small heartbeat in your chest faded into a calm beat, the feeling of being helped by Bruce made you calm down instantly.

As you prepped the steaks with salt and pepper, the skillet was warming up waiting for you to place the meat in. It smelt fresh of food around the manor, the warmth bringing a welcoming feeling. “Oh the potatoes!” You grabbed the cute oven mitt from the hanger, sliding the door open to grab the pan of fresh roasted potatoes. The smell was heavenly, you smiled at your cooking and placed the pan on the counter to let it cool down. Sizzling brought you back to the skillet, the steak was seared on one side and you flipped it revealing the beautiful brown color. You added butter, thyme, and garlic into the pan letting the sauce infuse into the steak for a delicious flavor.

The door clicked open, and you heard voices. “Bun, are you here?” Bruce placed his coat on the chair and told Clark to follow him. “I’m in the kitchen!” The aroma of fresh steak wafted around in the air as Bruce and Clark walked in, your back turned to them as you watched the steak. “Good evening, Mrs.Wayne.” The heat turned off as the steak was perfectly cooked in the skillet, the butter basting the meat to make it extra juicy.

“Please, no need to be so formal with me. Call me by my name.” You gave him a polite smile, looking at his eyes through his black rimmed glasses. “B, can you cut the steak and I’ll set the table? Would you both like to drink wine?” Your eyes flipped to both of them as they answered, being fine with wine.

The cabinet above the fridge was holding the wine, your fingertips barely grazing the handle. Clark stepped behind you, reaching the cabinet door and pulling out the bottle of Bordeaux, his front pressing down on your back. Bruce eyed Clark but didn’t say anything as he placed the meat on the plates, a slight smirk wiped on his face. You shuddered at the feeling, the layers of fabric separating skin to skin contact. “I’m sorry- didn’t mean to get so close..” He placed the Bordeaux onto the counter, adjusting his glasses while he stepped back. You awkwardly chuckled, pretending like it never happened and that your panties were not kind of damp.  

“Dinners ready, both of you.” Bruce’s voice cut through the air, a shiver running down your spine going straight to your pussy. “Oh thank you Bruce..” You coughed to clear your throat as you walked towards the table, sliding the chair out to sit. All of you sat down to eat, having a light conversation about work, the background playing your soft dinner playlist.

“The food is delicious. I, you’re a really good cook Mrs.Wayne.” Clark complimented your skills, a slight blush washing over your features. The wine was definitely starting to catch up.. Bruce eyed you silently, then looked at Clark. They made a look that signaled something, their eyes diverting back to you. You felt your thighs clench together, why was the air so warm and sticky now?.. It smells like Clark’s cologne and Bruce’s scent, and arousal shoots through your body.

The dinner was abandoned as all of you fumbled around in the hallway, Bruce had his boner rubbing against your ass cheek while Clark was nipping at your neck. You moaned in ecstasy, the sound making them even harder. Clothes were strewn across the stairs, reaching up the floor of your bedroom. Clark took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand as he watched you on the bed. Bruce was taking his time, making out with you while he rubbed your nipples, the cold air making them harden.

“Mnghh! N-Need you both..” You panted under the kiss, Clark and Bruce chuckled as they watched you tremble with pleasure. Bruce took your mouth, slapping his cherry red tip on your cheek, the small dribble of pre on your face. “Oh bunny.. ‘M gonna fuck you so damn good..” Bruce shoved his cock into your mouth, hitting your gag reflex making you roll your eyes back. Clark was in between your thighs, lapping at the slick that coated your skin. “Taste soo good f’me ma..” Clark’s mouth was sucking and licking up all your juice, his long tongue prodding your hole making your arch.

The pleasure was too much, too fast, too filling. Your first orgasm felt like a train wreck, you convulsed as Bruce and Clark kissed and marked your body, bite marks and hickies littered your skin. “M cummmingg..!” Bruce released his load into your throat, the hot ropes of fresh cum making his tip sensitive. Clark was rutting against the sheets, his pretty pink tip leaving a wet spot on the bed.

“Oh fuck- Bruce, switch w’ me..” Clark could feel all 10 inches throbbing with need, his pink tip leaking with precum, as Bruce was shooting blanks into your mouth his cherry red color he slipped out of you. You were panting, your eyes heavily lidded from the pleasure. “Ngh- no more, pleasepleasepleasee!” Your body was flipped instantly, Bruce was lining his tip up to your pussy while Clark was about to abuse your mouth. They looked at eachother, and used your holes at the same time.

“Hngh!” It made you feel so full, both holes being used like a fleshlight to their own will. The heavy sounds of grunts and groans filled the room, it smelt like musky cologne and the sweet smell of your delicious pussy. “Milking me so good bunny- Fuckfuckfuckfuck..!” Bruce sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight walls faster than before sending electric shocks through your body. Your eyes were rolled up into the back of your head, and you moaned around Clark’s base while he fucked your face.

It was overwhelming, the feeling of having your holes filled with giant cocks, and Bruce was allowing it! “Ma- use your tongue f’me..” Clark was using your throat to his will, the tip twitching as he felt the edge of his orgasm about to burst. You licked the veins that ran up and down, another orgasm or two making your body shiver. The slick was lubricating Bruce’s dick, his thrusts sloppy and rough, he’s about to cum. “Gonna cum in this sweet pussy..” Bruce groaned, his hot load filling your womb to the brim, it was soooo damn hot.. Clark followed shortly after, his abs clenching as another load was released into your body, the taste of his cum was lingering on your tongue. You whined when they took out their dicks, shaking from the aftermath of your body. “Mm.. I’ll use your dicks next time..!”

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A/N Releasing intro post by tmrr ★~(◠ω◕✿)

[emizsc]

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

notes: established relationship, lowercase implied, fluff & crack, reader is just a silly girl, megumi is whipped for his girlfriend, suggestive for like 3 seconds (just kissing), papa!gojo implied

“hi pookilicious,” you hum, batting your eyelashes at the raven haired boy. “never call me that again.” “you don’t think it’s cute? i like it.” megumi feels a headache incoming as he pulls you into his dorm room. “thought you were sleepy; isn’t that why you wanted a nap date?” you press a kiss to his cheek before jumping like a flying squirrel onto his bed, “it was just an excuse for you to let me in here.” he huffs at you, “i would have let you in, even if you didn’t ask.” “i know pookilicous, now c’mon, i wanna cuddle.”

“do you think this one’s cute snookums?” you hold up a white frilly top that was actually really cute… but megumi physically writhed at the petname. “i think it’d look good on you.” you cringed once looking at the price tag, “it’s 38 dollars.” megumi shrugged mindlessly, “i have gojo’s card. i swear he likes you more than me, so he won’t question anything.” “oh i thought that was obvious… but thank you snookums!!!” you held the shirt by placing its hanger on your index finger. you blinked once and it was gone. “say that again and you’re gonna pay with your nonexistent money.”

“pleaseee lovebug i need you to tutor me on this. i actually think my brain has been deep friend.” megumi felt a blood vessel pop in his head. despite that, he was taking out the respective textbooks and what not. you coo at him in a teasing tone, “aww my lovebug is so sweet to me.” “i’m actually gonna chuck a textbook at your head y/n.”

a small whimper left your lips— god you tasted so good. megumi dragged his hands along your sides, all the while sliding his tongue into your mouth just to pull away, teasing you. you looked at him with half lidded eyes, reconnecting your lips in a feverish manner. your hands raked through his navy hair, and you felt the grip of his hands on your waist grow even tighter. he pulled away with a smirk, noticing the shortness in your breath. he flipped the two of you over so that you comfortably laid on the bed while he was on his forearms, hovering above you. “so eager pretty girl.” you bring your hands down to his biceps, squeezing lightly. “just want you so bad, sugar-booger.” megumi sat up and his face dropped in an instant. he pressed his lips together tightly, raking a hand through his hair. “you’re actually gonna kill me one day.”

“you look nice… sweetcheeks.” you cocked your head back despite already looking at megumi through the mirror the two of you stood infront of. “what the eff did you just call me.” you say with furrowed brows, staring up at the poor boy. “i just wanted to play along with you! if i do it, it’s suddenly so wrong?” you bite back the laugh that’s threatening to fall from your lips any second now. he sighs (out of relief) realizing that you weren’t actually disgusted by him. “but i wasn’t playing about the other part. you look really pretty,” he mutters softly. you flash him a toothy grin, placing a hand on his cheek before giving him a quick peck on the lips. “and you’re so handsome— my amazing, wonderful, sexy, boyfriend!” he mirrored your smile, going in for a longer kiss, “i’d take that over bug-a-bear or whatever you said a couple days ago.”

you snorted at his words, “okay now let’s go! we haven’t gone on a dinner date in weeks!!” he took your hand, intertwining it with his before squeezing three times, “okay, my sweet, beautiful, headache of a girlfriend.”

notes: can i have a megumi in my life, please and thank you.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hello, tis i, the one who sends jade requests. requesting jade with a reader who joins the mountain lover’s club bc they just like hearing him yap about mushrooms. if you ask them why they joined, they say they just like nature, but it’s so obvious when jade starts talking that it’s all they’re listening to

reader joins the mountain lovers club ✧･ﾟ

Hello, Jade anon! Sorry for the long delay; my health is terrible at the moment. I have been eager to write this, however. Jade's clubwear card is my personal favorite in the entire game, and this last EN banner for it...

Well, let us just say that I, uhm, may have spent a bit to get it to save my mental health. It's just so cute! He is currently level 83 or smth sdfshdk 😍 💕

I hope you like this request. Please let me know if I need to redo anything to your liking! ^^ ✨

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Summary: Jade's Mountain Lovers Club gets a new member after the VDC, Ramshackle's Prefect. During a hike, Jade asks why they joined and learns something new about them.

TW/CW: None

Notes: the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, pre-relationship, explicitly book 5 timeline, ignores books 6-7 for fic timeline

Guest Stars: Floyd Leech (mentioned), Azul Ashengrotto (mentioned)

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"Why did you join my club in the first place, [Name]...?"

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Jade Leech

Jade is used to being called weird by Floyd and Azul.

He has always been quirky and interested in odd subjects.

He is the nerdier one between himself and Floyd.

He did not expect to get someone else into his club.

Jade had accepted being a 1-man club on the NRC campus.

He thought it was even more peculiar than the Ramshackle Prefect joined, but he never said anything about it. That would be rude.

He wouldn't deny that talking to someone about his interests was nice. And they seemed so happy listening to him. Were they?

If it was a joke, he would handle that later. Floyd might laugh.

Floyd had told him that no one would ever join his club, after all.

He didn't think Azul would put anyone up to it.

Azul was annoyed by the mushroom obsession Jade had :(

But sitting in silence for too long doesn't do much to help.

A few weeks later, Jade gears up to ask why they joined.

There totally is NOT a bet between the OctaTrio about the possible outcomes of this. Not at all. And the betting pool is not around 50 madol either. But that is a decent sum of money to some.

How exactly does one ask a question like this?

At the very least, it seemed like it would be rude to just turn to them and question them, weeks later, about why they had joined his club. It was not as though they had done anything wrong, either. They were always dressed in outdoors wear, they helped him forage, and they listened to his instructions. They were... a good club member.

In that vein, seeing as they were a model Mountain Lover and Azul hadn't instructed any more acts against Ramshackle, there was no reason for Jade to do anything. He was but a right-hand man to the Housewarden of Octavinelle and a foraging hobbyist on the side.

There wasn't much he could have done in the beginning. Even if it was an attempt at a "joke," so far, nothing like that had happened. So, was he really able to make the claim that this was a prank?

This was far beyond anything Floyd or Azul was willing to do, given they hated his mushrooms and foraging lectures. And [Name] seemed to genuinely enjoy them at times, a refreshing thing.

As he walked down the path they had hiked many times, he pointed out a few new additions to their walk, things that had not yet grown the last time they had ventured out onto the mountain path.

[Name] kept pace with him, looking where he pointed.

"That one's new, right?" they asked him.

He nodded with a sharp-toothed smile.

"Yes, [Name]-san, you would be right about that!" he told them.

As they stopped to examine the specimen, Jade found that [Name] was crouching down closer to him than needed, staring at him expectantly, waiting... This was new.

They were always eager, but this seemed to be... a change.

"Yes, did you need something, Prefect?" he asked a moment later, heterochromatic eyes finding theirs.

They just smiled and laughed gently.

"I was waiting for you to go on one of your Jade lectures."

At that, he blinked. What?

"Oya? My 'Jade lectures'?" he questioned, surprised they seemed so joyous about the matter. "You wanted me to explain this? I do believe we spoke about it last time, didn't we?"

Most people only wanted to know what was necessary about his hobby and only once. Once was more than enough. Azul often said that to him. Whereas Floyd said simply thinking about a mushroom was a cause for a fight in their shared room.

"I don't mind if it's the same as before! Maybe I'll learn something new I didn't realize before," [Name] continued, "So?"

Jade wasn't sure what he wanted to say, hesitating for a moment in a way unlike him before he sighed, a smile coming to his face as he laughed lightly, a pretty melodic sound. The usual intimidating air he had about him was nowhere to be found.

"[Name]," he got their attention, "Why did you join my club?"

He didn't comply with their request, offering a question to their own.

"Why did I..." they thought for a moment, "I guess I joined because I like... hearing you talk about something you like, Jade-senpai."

He didn't expect such an answer. Part of Jade was holding onto the idea that it was a joke or a prank. He thought they would confess that they didn't really want to be in the mountains with him.

"You're here just to hear me talk?" he questioned, "My, that's a rather bold statement to make. Though I am pleased to have captivated your attention with my own passion project."

They smiled at him.

"Joining this club allowed me to see a different side of you."

He supposed they were right about that. There was much more he could say about things, about feelings, but it wasn't needed. So, why bother? Things would unfold as they did. And he suspected if he did too much, he might rock the boat that was the delicate balance of NRC inter-dorm politics.

"Shall I explain this specimen, then?" he offered.

Their smile grew ten times brighter.

"Yes! Please! Tell me!"

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[luvztodd]

Hello . Hope you're doing amazing. I wanted to ask if you could please do a ladybug and black cat miraculous holder reader for mark grayson . The invincible universe needs a ladybug with the damages happening there.

a/n: hi, thank you so much for requesting! i’ve never watched the show nor do i know anything about it but i did do some research and watch a couple edits lol, but if anything is inaccurate forgive me. this does not follow the timeline of the show, i hope you like it! ᰔᩚ

LITTLE LADYBUG

mark grayson x LADYBUG! reader

in which he makes a superhero friend and a girl friend

♫ Cariño - The Marías

The first time he met you was when he attempted to stop a robbery soon after he first got his powers. He was in his dorky homemade costume struggling to get the bad guys. And you had swooped in out of seemingly nowhere in a….ladybug costume?

Nevertheless before he had a chance to talk to you, his dad swooped in and carried him off, leaving you to handle the damages.

The second time he saw you, unbeknownst to him, was not as heroes but as classmates. After being late to class because he was too busy talking to William about the latest Seance Dog issue, he found himself standing outside his AP Calculus class waiting for one of his lazy classmates to come and open the door.

Then came a pretty girl who’s name he didn’t know and who’s face he didn’t recognize. You had stopped infront of the same door as him, small, awkward smiles were exchanged until someone finally opened the door and let you both in.

Mark found his eyes drifting off to the corner you sat in every so often. He didn’t even know you existed until today, so why was he so drawn to you? And why did you feel so familiar? Mark chalked it off as the weird sensations his body was getting after developing his powers and went through the rest of the day as normal.

While stopping another attempted robbery, during his first few days officially as Invincible, he ran into the cute little ladybug girl again. This time was different though. This time he had stopped the bad guys and there was no imminent threat to stop him from approaching.

He floated down to where you were standing and he started to speak softly, careful not to spook you. “Uh…hello?” He cursed himself for sounding so unsure and awkward. He was Invincible right now, not Mark.

“Huh?” You turned around surprised to see somebody now standing behind you , “Oh hey, the new hero right, Invisible? No that’s not it.” You hummed, a gloved hand tapping your chin in thought.

“Invincible.” Mark quickly corrected. “And you are…?” He tilted his head in curiosity.

“Ladybug.” You replied, hands on your hips, chest puffing out just the slightest with pride.

“Huh.” Mark deadpanned, “So…you’re dressed like a ladybug…and your name is…Ladybug? Isn’t that like….too spot on? Uh- No pun intended.” He awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong with my name? Or my costume? At least i’m straightforward, i wouldn’t even know what to call you if you hadn’t told me. I would’ve just called you…yellow..and blue guy.” You huffed defensive of your hero alias.

“Okay, okay, my bad. It’s cute- I mean- Not cute. Well, not saying you’re not cute i’m just saying-“

Your seriousness faded away and you broke out in laughter, bringing a hand up to your mouth to cover your smile. “You’re really…weird.”

Mark laughed too, he couldn’t quite deny the statement. And you didn’t even say it with any malice which kind of made him feel good. The way you said it was sweet, not cruel in the way his middle school bullies used to, but nice.

“You’re weird yourself.” Mark teased, looking you up and down. His goggle covered eyes roamed over your costume. You sure did look like a ladybug. A red spandex suit with black spots covered your body, a domino mask with the same pattern adorned your face and a utility belt with a yo-yo of all things. “Little Ladybug.” He added with a boyish smile.

“Touché.” You shrugged, laughing along with him but you felt your cheeks heat up at his sweet nickname.

It was strange how quickly you two become comfortable around each other. With a few more jokes and a couple more teases, you two decided to patrol the city together, figuring that you two might as well work together. Two heads was better than one. As the day wore on and the bright blue sky faded away and the stars peaked in, you two were already friends.

Mark went home that night very happy. He had just made his very first superhero friend. And it was a girl no less. A pretty girl with awesome powers. As he finished up his shower and threw on a pair of sweats he couldn’t help but think about you. He wondered who you were under the mask, were you as pretty as your eyes were? As soft and sweet as your voice? As kind and graceful as your hero persona?

He bet you were.

The week after meeting you was full of changes. His dad was injured badly, the Guardians of the Globe were gone, and Mark felt like his world was just crumbling bit by bit. The only thing that stayed the same in his life was of course his mom, but now you. You were now a constant presence in his life, always showing up when he was struggling to fight the small-fries, it was nice, having a friend like you. Someone that had his back even when he felt like the odds were stacked against him.

He’d argue and say that the two of you were best friends but you had said that’s too much, too soon. He disagreed but it’s fine. Either way, of the course of a few months, you two had grown extremely close. The only problem was, neither of you knew who the other really was. And as much as Mark just wanted to rip his mask off and tell you, he knew he couldn’t.

You two weren’t friends at school nor did you know each other, until you became friends with a nice, nerdy boy in your English class who was kind enough to help you with your homework. After spending some time with William, he introduced you to his friend, Mark.

Mark Grayson.

The boy you’ve been quietly pining after since 7th grade. The first meeting was just a little awkward, considering how nervous you were but after some after-school hangouts and a few lunches spent together, you and Mark became friends also.

Of course, while you were Ladybug and Mark was Invincible, you two discussed school frequently. Mentioning how tiring it was juggling academics and the life of being a superhero was just common small talk between you two. Until, Invincible had mentioned making a new friend who shared the same name as you. It gave you pause but you didn’t think much about it. And then the next day, when Mark was ranting to you and William about how awesome the superhero Ladybug was, it made you stop and think, again. But of course, you just brushed it off to being paranoid.

As days went by and being Invincible was getting a little easier everyday Mark thought that maybe being a superhero wasn’t as hard as his dad had claimed it was. He thought he was getting the handle of things.

Until his first big battle arrived.

The Guardians were gone and there was no one nearby to stop this alien invasion, so he was left to his own devices. He was too confident, he had flown into the fight too sure of himself. He wasn’t ready for all the blood, the cries and the screams. He choked, he froze up and passed out, falling deep into a big dirt ditch clutching an injured little old lady in his arms.

While unconscious, he had no idea that the Teen Team had swooped in to help, this included you. When the Flaxans had begun to shrivel up and die, the cowards that they were, they all began to retreat. Afterwards you used your trusty yo-yo to help get injured people who were unable to move to safety. As you searched for people, you stumbled upon Invincible.

“Oh no…” You had whispered to yourself as you slid down the wall of the dirt crater, you checked the older woman’s pulse first, wincing when you realized she was long gone, you then checked Invincible’s pulse sighing in relief when it was steady.

Eve and Robot helped get the two out of the ditch, while you took caring for Invincible into your own hands. He had mentioned off-handedly where he lived. You can only remember his address because you also remember vividly scolding him for giving out personal information to someone he doesn’t really know. So you used your Lucky Charm to make yourself a pair of wings and fly him home, personally.

Once you had found his house, which took you a ridiculously long time, you laid him on the bed in his room and carefully began to check him for injuries. As you checked him, you found yourself wanting to peak under his mask. Curiosity getting the best of you, you were unable to help yourself, so you hesitantly lifted a finger to his mask, pinching the fabric and carefully lifting it up. You almost gasped when you realized it was your dorky classmate, Mark Grayson.

You slowly put the fabric back down and backed away, your job was finished here anyways and if you stayed you didn’t know that you’d be able to keep quiet from the shock. You climbed out of the window you came through and hoped that your friend, who you now knew was your cute classmate Mark, would be okay.

A day later, when Mark returned to school he was grumpy, embarassed and annoyed. After everything he had just went through, his mom still sent him to school only a day after the accident. He groaned as he lazily trudged to his math class. He wanted to be anywhere but here right now, he felt awful, he looked awful and all he wanted to do was see his little ladybug and rant to her.

He knocked roughly on the door of his Calculus class, not even bothering to look up when he hears soft footsteps approach. He was too tired and ashamed to be seen right now. He was hoping to completely ignore your presence until you broke the silence.

“I like your Ladybug keychain.” You hummed sweetly, making sure to change your voice just the slightest bit so he wouldn’t recognize it.

“Huh?” Mark glanced at the right zipper on his backpack, where a plush keychain of his friend hung, “Oh thanks. I like your Invincible keychain, cool.” He unenthusiastically replied as the door creaked open. He slipped through it, a bandaged hand holding it open for you.

As you thanked him, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his keychain. You’d tell him who you were when the time came to it, but for now, you didn’t mind just being his little ladybug.

[universefcb]

hii! Do you mind doing some that reader pretends to break up with Pedri, just to see his reaction, and then they get all fluffy, thank you!

↬❥ Love test

Pedri Gonzalez x Reader!fem

Synopsis: You decide to play a prank on him by telling him you want to break up, just to see his reaction.

a/n: I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY KAKAKAKAKAK

REQUESTED

warnings: no

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The sun was beginning to set in Barcelona, painting the sky with orange and pink hues. Pedri’s apartment was silent, except for the soft sound of the television in the background. He was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through his cell phone, until his girlfriend, you, walked into the room with a strange expression.

“Honey, we need to talk.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

He looked up from his phone immediately, frowning. “What is it, my love?”

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. You had just planned to test him, see his reaction, but now that you were here, it seemed too cruel. Still, you decided to go ahead.

“I've been thinking a lot and... I don't think it's working out between us anymore.” His voice was firm, but inside, his heart was beating fast.

Pedri’s cell phone fell to the floor with a thud. His dark eyes widened, and for a moment he said nothing. He just blinked, as if trying to understand what you had just said.

“What do you mean?” Her voice was shaky. “We’re okay, aren’t we? Did I do something wrong?”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to smile. He looked so desperate. You hadn’t meant to bring him to the brink of tears, but… maybe a little bit would be fun.

“I don’t know, Pedri. I think we’re just not on the same page anymore.” You looked away, feigning sadness.

He ran his hands through his hair, getting up from the couch with a heavy sigh. His eyes were shining, as if he was holding back tears. “Please don’t do this to me. I can’t live without you. If there’s something wrong, tell me, I can change it!”

Now, you felt a pang in your heart. Maybe you had been too hard on him. He looked genuinely broken, and that wasn't fair.

You approached slowly, holding his hands, which were shaking slightly. “Pedri…”

He looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “You still love me, right? Please tell me you love me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I’ll give you everything, anything you want, but you won’t let me.”

That was the last straw. You burst into a sweet laugh, hugging him tightly.

“Oh, my love! I was joking! I would never break up with you, I just wanted to see your reaction!”

He froze in her arms. Then he pulled away a little to look into her eyes.

“Wait... WHAT?!”

You laughed even harder, holding his face between your hands. “I wanted to see how much you love me. And you passed the test, my dramatic.”

Pedri let out a sigh of relief, but then pouted, crossing his arms. “That was cruel. You almost killed me with so much suffering!”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “But now I can make up for it…”

He pretended to think, before smirking. “Hm... I want lots of kisses. And a cuddle while I watch my game.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “It’s okay, my sweetheart.”

He smiled in satisfaction before pulling her into a passionate kiss.

In the end, you didn't need a test to know how much he loved you. But it was nice to see that Pedri was willing to fight for you at any cost. And now, you would spoil him to make up for it.

After all, he deserved it.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @joaosnovia @moonvr ( If you want to be added, let me know!)

[coquitokisses]

Apple pie life | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader, dad!Dean Winchester x mom!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Reader and Dean finally move out of the bunker to start living their lives as parents.

A/n: no, they’re still not together lmao I just love the idea of them getting along super well and just co-parenting, but I do plan on making them official 🤭 and sorry for taking so long to upload this part, I was writing other things lol

You and Dean both were standing there in front of your new house just looking at it. Already missing the bunker, but kinda excited to finally have a “normal” life. Or at least you were. You knew Dean was gonna have a hard time getting used to it.

“Well at least Sam did a good job finding a house.” He mentioned “It’s not bad.”

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head “Should we, uh.. get the things out of the car?”

“We should.” He nodded

“Yeah.”

“Let’s just.. let’s have a look at it first, hm?” He said looking at you

“Yes, please.”

If you were being honest, you both were kinda nervous. It was the first time (or at least yours) that you were gonna be leaving the hunting life for good and were finally gonna start a normal one. One that included raising a little girl. So the hunting life just had to be over. For both of you.

“It’s nice.” You say walking around the living room

“It is.” Dean walked out of the kitchen and then he stared at you for a few seconds in silence

“What is it?” You ask walking towards him

“I don’t know.” He sighed “It’s just.. well I don’t know, it’s just weird, that’s all.”

“I know, I feel the same way.” You said “But it’s for her.” You looked down at baby Oakley who was sleeping peacefully in his arms

He looked down too “Yeah, I know.”

“So we just gotta try our best to get used to it.”

“I know I can get used to it, it’s just that.. bad things are still out there.” He says with a small shrug

“And we’re gonna be here to protect her in case anything happens.” You add trying to reassure him “You forget we’ve been hunting our whole lives.”

He let out a soft chuckle “No, I know.”

“We know how to protect ourselves and now we have the responsibility to protect her.” You say leaving a small kiss on your daughter’s head “And she will learn to protect herself when she gets older.”

“Oh definitely.” He nodded

“Now, you wanna go upstairs to see the rooms?”

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I can sleep here to help you.” Dean suggested

It’s already nighttime and you both could finally shower and head to bed after spending the whole day organizing everything.

“You don’t have to.” You said to him

“It’s my responsibility too, you know?” He sat next to you on the bed

You smile “I know, but you can use the sleep, you drove for hours.”

“Honey, I’m fine, I don’t mind taking care of the baby.”

“I know you don’t.”

“So let me.”

“Okay, fine.” You roll your eyes with a small smile “Stay.”

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, you idiot.” You said “You can sleep on the bed with me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, but I swear if you make a wrong move, I’ll push you off the bed.”

He chuckled “Oh, I know.”

You went to sleep minutes later and then at 3 am you heard your daughter crying, but just as you were about to get up from the bed, you saw Dean walking around the room with her in his arms, trying to soothe her.

“You’re gonna wake up mommy, thing.” He muttered walking towards the window

You couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight in front of you. You never thought he would look so cute with a baby.

“What else do you want? I already burped you and changed your diaper.” He said rocking her in his arms

“Why don’t you bring her here so I can help you?” You say turning on the lamp on your side

Dean turned around to look at you “I didn’t wanna wake you up.” He said walking towards the bed

“I know, but you can whenever you need help.” You replied “We’re a team, you know?”

He lets out a tired sigh “I know, honey.” He sat down on the bed

“Come here, baby.” You picked up your daughter and Dean finally laid down on the bed “Shh, it’s okay, mamas.” You kissed her head

“Is she cold?” Dean asked

“I don’t think so.” You reply after touching her feet and feeling that they weren’t cold, but she wouldn’t stop crying

“Oh my god, I think I’m the one who’s gonna cry now.” Dean covered himself from head to toe with the blanket

You laughed. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like hearing her cry so much, I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” He moved the blanket to look at you “And it drives me crazy not knowing what to do.”

“Hey, you’re doing great, okay?” You say as you start rocking the baby softly

Her cries soon start to cease and she starts to close her eyes falling asleep.

“If she was so tired, why didn’t she just closed her eyes and fall asleep, hm?” Dean said

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly because you didn’t want to wake her up “Because, babies are like that.”

“Here, I’ll put her in the bassinet.”

“Please be careful, we don’t wanna have her crying all night.” You say as you pass the baby to him

“I know, I know.”

He got up and very carefully put Oakley down in her bassinet before getting back in the bed with you.

“I could sleep for three days straight.” He said closing his eyes once he threw the blanket over your bodies

“Tell me about it.” You say yawning “You’re doing good, you know?”

He opened his eyes to look at you “You’re doing good too.” He says and you smile “We deserve some vacations already.”

“Ugh, yes, please.” You say pulling the blanket more to your side

“Hey.” Dean pulled it back to his

“I’m cold!” You grabbed the blanket in your hands trying to pull it back to you but Dean was holding it tight “Dean!”

“I’m cold too!”

“But you have the whole damn thing to yourself, don’t be so selfish.” You yanked the blanket to your side

“Dude, you’re the one who’s getting it off me.” He said “I’m gonna freeze.”

“But you’re pulling it way more to your side.”

“Then get closer, the fuck?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shook your head

“Well then freeze to death, not my problem.” He pulled the blanket once again

“Dean!” You groaned, he just ignored you

You definitely were not getting up to grab another blanket, one, because the whole house is dark and two, because you’re really, really tired. After a few minutes, you let out a sigh and decide to just get closer to Dean, who welcomes you with open arms allowing you to snuggle in his chest.

“I hate you.” You muttered against his neck

“Sure you do.” He smirks resting his chin on your head

And soon you start to drift into a deep and very much needed sleep.

series masterlist • main masterlist

A/n: I think I’m gonna upload one more part and then a few drabbles so stay tuned for that lol (also, taglist is open so comment if you wanna be part of it!) 🫶🏼

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

Taglist: @mychemicalfalloutpilotsstuff @multiversefanfics @ladykitana90 @mostlymarvelgirl

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens Fanfic Recs - March 2025 - part #2 🥳🩷

Follow along for short summaries and recs on the books i read🩷 The numbers are for funsies - i want to count my reads throughout 2025.

I only read finished stories and one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapterfics

47] Hidden canvases (E) by @catartkd and @vampiremama

Human AU. Crowley's career went down like a lead balloon after having committed to the wrong business partners. Now he has lost everything and though in his late 40ies, has nothing else to do but to spend the summer with his aunt Tracy in Tadfield. When meeting the art teacher Aziraphale he finally has found someone to fight with... Enemies to lovers!

😂😂😂 I absolutely adored this one, it's sweet, it's funny and a good read!

48] Code of Chivalry (E) by @tawnyontumblr

Human AU, though not really - part of the Fairy Tale Bang. A tourney is meant to decide, who will be allowed to marry princess Muriel. Knight Aziraphale is the favoured candidate, but then Sir Anthony Crowley de Hell is not to be underestimated. It seems to be about love, but there is politics involved, too. And love. And a bit of smut. 😉🌶️

49] The Edging Cut (E) by @whatareyou42

Human Au, Aziraphale is captain of a hockey-team and he is one player short. Crowley is a pro figure skater, who has lost his previous partner for pair skating. Can Crowley join the team for one season, learn everything he needs and fit in with the others? Both are skeptical but willing to try. That is, until they realise who the respective other truly is ... 🤔

I absolutely love this fic, it's 400 pages of pining, frustration, hot scenes and fast games. You will be surprised by how many ways the author found for them to miscommunicate. 🤣🩷 Definitely on my reread-list!

50] Moonstruck (M) by @foolishlovers

Human Au, in which Crowley is a grumpy Prof and single dad to Adam. Every first saturday of the month he visits the same cafe to unwind and have a look at the stars through the windows. Until one night there is a new waiter, who seems determined to talk with Crowley ... 😉

Oneshots

[51] Find me there (amongst your ruins) (E) by @hollybennett123

A demon edged along by an angel - pure and nice porn. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

[52] Antics and First Editions (NR) by @edit_by_riley

Set after S2, Crowley tries everything he can to get the attention of a certain archangel. He is sporting scales, has a new hair look, he even does some demonic deeds ... But there is no reaction. This calls for more drastic tactics...

"There he is, the Sushi Supreme" 😂😂😂

[53] there is no other way to say it (E) by @ineffabildaddy

Set in the beginning, this little story tells us how the angel got to know the word "mine". Beautiful! 🩷

[54] Altogether governed by Humours (E) by @zehwulf

Human Au. Being together for about a year, Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy going to a certain kind of club ... Aziraphale volunteers to answer questions for newbies and is mid-talk with Muriel, when Crowley starts ... distracting him. Because Crowley is on a mission for a certain goal. 🌶️🌶️🌶️ Very hot, mind the tags!

[55] In search of the wind (E) by @ripeteeth

After Adam ends the Armageddon't, Aziraphale is not given his body back. He tries his best to find his way back to Crowley.

As always with this author - bittersweet and beautiful ❤️

Hope you enjoy the list, pls share the love with kudos, comments and shares!

Fanfiction is my happyplace 💕

[theocddiaries]

[There's an urgent knock at Rouge's apartment. Shadow opens the door.] Tails: You need to ask my brother out. Shadow: Kid, what do you even do at therapy? Colour books? You were literally dancing with joy yesterday because he rejected me. Tails: Look, don’t get me wrong, I still find it hilarious. But the thing is, he didn't. I want you to go ask him properly this time. Emphasize the words, make it clear. I can even make you a sticker chart if you want. Shadow: And why would I do that? Tails: Someone’s courting him, and he’s an asshole. If I put you both on a scale, you’re equally petty with me. This guy is just plain awful. And mean. Shadow: Don’t worry, your brother will never date him. You’re his priority. He’s always saying he’d rather die than see you catch a cold… Tails: Yeah, but when Sonic is around, that guy is nice to me. The second he looks away, he turns nasty. He never lets me get away with anything. Shadow: Poor you. Tails: No, not like you. He's just… mean. Shadow: Again, tell your brother. Tails: I can’t. Sonic seems to like him, and honestly, he is nice to him and seems to make him happy. Shadow: Kid, if he doesn’t at least tolerate you, then he doesn’t love him right. If they decide to date your brother, they need to understand that you’ll always be part of the package. Tails: …Damn you. Okay, if I tell you something that might change your perception of what happened between you two, would you consider it? Shadow: Surprise me… Tails: Sonic thought you liked him. So, he waited for you to make the move, because he didn't want to pressure you if he was wrong. And he thought he was because you never said anything. Not in a way that didn't go over his head, anyway. So he decided to move on and be more open to the idea of being with someone else if it ever happened. But if you tell him you feel the same, he’ll drop everyone else and choose you. Shadow: What? Tails: Yeah. I should’ve told you. I’m the devil. Whatever. You can take revenge on me once you’re together by grossing me out every day. But please, just tell him. He's over the heels for you. Which, I kind of understand now after that line you just dropped. Moron with the worst timing ever… Shadow: …Kid, you have no idea how to ask for a favour, do you? Rouge [from inside]: If anything, he’s doing you a favour! Shadow: Rouge, keep watching TV. Omega: YOUR LIFE IS MORE ENTERTAINING. Shadow: And stop spoiling Omega! Rouge: Hey, he was already like that when I found him! Omega: TRUE. IT'S PART OF MY CHARM.

Previous

[bartletslesbians]

I'm rewatching West Wing and Amy Gardner was just introduced.

I am trying very hard to like her but it's really not working. Please give me propaganda, she seems like a cool character in theory.

Ohhhh hell yes! I absolutely love this question (and I'm so flattered you asked me? You know I love talking about any of the women on this show but especially the disliked ones lmao)

Okay. Now I wanna say that I completely understand why she rubs people the wrong way. One thing I'd like to start with is that, in order for the show's portrayal of feminist issues to work, she has to be Like That, and that's really shameful to see? In the same episode where she's introduced, CJ is arguing about Qumari women's rights, and in order to not to have to dig too deep into the actual things she's saying, she is written to be so stupidly over the top and emotional and unprofessional for most of the episode, that even if you start out agreeing with her, she loses you because of the way she's acting. Similarly, the temp calling out Sam's comment in Night Five, written to sound as dramatic as can be, so her actual point doesn't need to be taken seriously.

Amy Gardner is the embodiment of that type of writing. Her whole character seems to embody the "angry feminist" who might have a good point or two, but you just can't take her too seriously because "she's always irate about something".

That framing means that if you just never vibe with her? Can't blame you. It's a major (and I don't think accidental) flaw in how she's written. It also means that my main suggestion is to try and look past that, in a way? See it for a writerly Thing, and not the character's own fault? I'm not sure how much sense that makes put into words.

But okay. Things I love about Amy Gardner!

One of the things I really adore about her, honestly, IS that she ruffles a lot of feathers with the way she acts and the things she argues. She knows what she believes, and she's not a part of the administration, she's working for several feminist lobbying organisations and such. This means it's not her responsibility to be nice to republicans or balance any budgets or make sure centris democrats don't get too offended; her responsibility is to make the white house listen to feminist concerns (and point out the myriad of ways in which they fail to). And she is not afraid, in any way, to be seen as too much, too unlikeable, too demanding, too ANYTHING, in her pursuit of real feminist policies. Which, even today, women are punished for being too loud, too mean, too aggressive, too anything, so quickly; I love that she does not give a damn. I love that unapologetic energy around her.

And I like that she does a lot of different things in that vein! We see her pursue that agenda working for Abbey, we see her run the Women's Leadership Coalition, we hear that she was a director at EMILY'S list, we see her work with that temporary democratic presidential candidate (and explicitly tell Josh that she pokes the President BECAUSE she loves him and believes in him, she just doesn't want to see him drift to the center too much), we see Santos call Amy for debate prep because he knows she's helped dozens of Congresswomen with their debates and campaigns. She has her loud opinions, but she's also spent a career putting her money and time and experience right where her mouth is. And I love that drive.

Another piece of propoganda is to ignore her relationship with Josh if you have to. I think they're a fun temporary thing, personally, there's chemistry and matching levels of insanity. But, especially from a josh/donna perspective, and the fact that it very obviously would not work longterm, I get that that's hard to enjoy! Amy's character suffers from being almost entirely written around being Josh's love interest (similar to how Andy suffers from not existing in the story outside of Toby's plots). Like, one of Amy's most loveable moments by far, in my opinion, is when she's having drinks with Abbey, CJ, and Donna, and Josh is not really talked about. Or when she's coaching Santos, and they don't have to talk about Josh. Bless Josh Lyman, but it helps to think about Amy as a person outside of him, immensely. (Imagine an Amy Gardner but she's single and a good friend of CJ or Abbey or Donna? Or still with Josh, but given more moments developing her character outside of him?)

And then, personally, I just love the chaos. Just like how I enjoy seeing Toby at his desk burning papers he's writing on, and the ridiculous lengths Charlie goes to pranking CJ, I love when these characters are a little over the top. Amy has more of those moments than anyone else, and some ARE bothersome, that's fair! (Which, imo, does come back to "she has to be a little insane, lest we take her policies too seriously", but alas). The dead fish? Overdoing it. But personally the phone in the stew? Like yeah, RUDE, but also it's immediately followed by her cutting her OWN phone cord, and it's followed by Josh getting her fired, so I love it as an example of how over the top both of them are willing to go to do their job. (Which is why they like each other, and why it'll never work). I think part of really enjoying her character is taking those moments for the dramatics they are and enjoying that. Where I think part of it, not to get back to Josh but, Josh clearly does not seem to mind outside of being frustrated over the issue itself. The phone and the job aren't the end for them, we still have a season and a half of their chaos to go, so I don't want to take it as more of an offense than Josh himself does? They're two impulsive and competitive people playing the game, and that's fun to watch as long as they're both vibing with it.

Some small moments I love with her: the fact that she plays nintendo, her practicing balloon animals for her nephew, giving Santos the advice of always keeping extra pantyhose in your bag, being SO direct about "are you dating your assistant?" and "are you in love with Josh?", resigning as COS of the First Lady because she knows when she's not in the right place and she's not one to pretend, the whole ice cream eating thing is cute as fuck, the way she's playing with Abbey's dress when they're drinking, the way she eats the shrimp during Process Stories, the fact that she runs a huge betting pool on election night. She is SUCH a chaotic character in this sense. I love watching her.

But in general, I think it really comes down to that she's confident and sexy and so loud about her opinions, designed to rub you the wrong way while having so much to say and putting in so much work for real important causes. She's a little out of her mind, she's ready to fight at a moment's notice, she's not trying to get anybody to like her. She exists so incredibly unapologetically, and I think that is my personal favourite thing about her. There is no attempt at making herself more palatable, and that will naturally lead to big chunks of the characters and the fandom disliking her, but I genuinely think it's fun and refreshing to see. She doesn’t give a damn, while caring a Lot about the issues that actually matter. It's admirable.

[foundress0fnothing]

For @beesays. I’m sorry this update took so long 💕

So, so, so many thanks to @violetasteracademic for helping work out the plot issues that have been stymieing me for months and for betaing this chapter (aka making me slow down and actually do some worldbuilding). ILY ♥️

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

October, 12 years ago

“You flatter me, darling.”

Rhys studied Feyre’s work as he leaned against the wooden frame that held their easels—a habit she hadn’t managed to discourage no matter how many times she had shoved it out from under him. He always righted himself with a frustratingly feline grace and a smirk before settling down to pester her for the day.

Feyre held up her pink oil pastel stick threateningly, and as she watched Rhys take a healthy step back out of fear that she might smear it on his black sweater (information she gleefully filed away for the next time leaned on their stand), the bell rang to signal the end of the school day.

She sighed and dropped the stick back into her supply case, then grabbed a cloth to wipe her hands off. “Stop peeking.” Even so, she tilted her head to look at the portrait of Rhys she’d been working on. It bore the swirls of color punctuated by harsh black lines that were slowly solidifying into a style unique to her, but it was still a good likeness of him. There was something in the set of the jaw, in the spark of the eyes, that was quintessentially Rhys—his joking mockery, his quiet pride. She was pleased with him—with it. 

Feyre turned to gather the rest of her things, but Rhys had already bundled them into her bag and hoisted it up on his shoulder. She scowled up at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, darling?”

“I can carry my own bag.” She stood up and held out her hand expectantly.

Rhys ignored it and turned to walk out the door, calling out over his shoulder,“But why would you?”

“Asshole,” Feyre grumbled to herself before quickening her pace to try and catch up with him. He was halfway down the hall by the time she managed to reach him. She yanked on her bag, and Rhys let her pull it off of him with an exaggerated sigh. 

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

“Yes, because stealing my bag is the definition of ‘nice.’”

“It looked heavy.”

“Rhysand—”

“Darling, not my full name…”

“Such a drama queen.”

“You like it.”

Feyre only hummed, but the grin Rhys flashed her told her that he knew he was right.

As they reached the front doors and started walking toward the parking lot along with all the other students streaming toward cars and buses, Rhys grabbed her hand and started steering her toward where his car was parked. “Do you have to go home right away?”

Feyre thought of what was waiting for her at home—a sullen father, an empty fridge, fighting with her sisters over a hot shower. She had already worked a shift at the cafe that morning, waking up at 3:30 to squeeze in a few hours before the school day started, and Alis, the owner, was adamant that Feyre only worked one shift a day. So whatever Rhys was planning, it had to be better than what her evening would otherwise hold. “No—why?”

“I have someone I want you to meet. I think you’ll like each other.”

“Who? One of your soccer bros?” Feyre looked up at him as he slowed, realizing that they had arrived at his car. It was far nicer than she thought a high schooler needed—some flashy Mercedes-Benz —and she tried not to let herself balk at the casual display of wealth.

If he noticed her discomfort, Rhys didn’t comment on it. “Not quite. Although I’m happy to introduce you to Cassian if you’re looking for the typical asshole athlete experience.”

“Isn’t that what I’m getting from being here with you?” Feyre teased.

Some emotion flashed across his face, but it was gone before she had a chance to guess at what it might have been. For all that they had grown close in art class—being forced to study each others’ faces for weeks had a way of bringing people together, she supposed—so much about Rhys was still a mystery. 

“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see, darling.” He had come around to the passenger side of the car as if to open the door for her, and waited with an expectant expression.

Feyre studied him. She liked what she saw in him, despite the super star athlete persona he projected to everyone else. And she wondered if she’d like him even more if he let her in enough to unravel the parts of him that were still mysterious. She hoped so, anyway.

So she arched an eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to get the door for me like a gentleman?”

“I’m not a gentleman, Feyre,” he purred as he pulled the door open and waited for her to slide in. “I’m only here to get a better view of the prettiest girl in school as she slides into my car.” Rhys looked her up and down and winked before closing the door behind her.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off through the window. “Prick.” 

“I heard that,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“I meant it.”

“I hope so.”

They bickered back and forth on the short drive from the school to the town center until Rhys pulled up in front of the ice cream shop.

Feyre frowned at him. “Ice cream? In October? Shouldn’t they be closed for the season by now?”

Rhys scoffed as he climbed out of the car. “Ice cream is the correct choice for any weather.”

“Rhys, that is absolutely not true.”

“And,” he said, as he held open the door for her, “I wasn’t going to bring you to Alis’. As lovely as it is, I didn’t want to ask you to spend more time today at your job.”

Before she could ask Rhys how he knew where she worked, a voice belonging to someone she had never met before called out her name. “Feyre Archeron. I’ve been begging for him to introduce us for weeks.”

“Yes, thank you, Mor.” Rhys looked slightly mortified. “Feyre, may I introduce you to the perpetual pain in my ass, my cousin, Morrigan Datiles?”

“Hi, Mor?” Mor repeated Feyre’s greeting, an incredulous tone coloring her voice. “It’s been a decade since I last saw you and all you have to say is ‘Hi, Mor’?”

“Yes?” Feyre grimaced, looking up to meet Mor’s eyes in the mirror. 

“I had heard…” Mor trailed off, her eyes flicking away from Feyre’s for a moment. But then she took a breath, and started in again. “I had heard that things with Tamlin didn’t end up working out.”

“Nope.” Feyre popped the p at the end of the word and broke Mor’s gaze, grabbing the mascara tube that lay on the bathroom counter and returning her focus to her reflection in the mirror. She hoped that Mor would pick up on her less-than-subtle hint that the events of the last year were not something she was interested in discussing right here, right now. Or ever, she thought privately.

But it didn’t matter whether Feyre was interested in discussing things or not; Mor had never been one to leave things alone.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to leave home. That was your one big dream. You were going to move out to New York and open your gallery and—”

“Well, dreams change,” Feyre interrupted, not wanting to hear a litany of her decade of failure. And one that wouldn’t even include the worst of it all—the pieces of herself that she had given up, one by one, until she was nothing more than Tamlin’s fiancée who could offer an interesting art history tidbit here or there so he could impress his coworkers with his bohemian artist of a partner. 

And it wasn’t just herself she had lost, she thought, glancing up at Mor. The other woman was studying her with an expression of something close enough to pity that Feyre felt herself bristle and turn back to Mor. “My dream right now is to not look like shit, serve this party so Nesta doesn’t fire me, and then go home to sleep it off.”

“O-kay.” Mor raised her hands defensively as she drew out the word, the pitying look changing to something sharper, which didn’t feel much better to Feyre. With a devastatingly effortless hair flip, Mor turned to face the mirror, touching up her lipstick and washing her hands. 

Feyre let out a silent huff of air. For all that she had hoped to avoid interacting with her old friends today, she didn’t want this to be the way her first time seeing Mor in a decade went. They had been friends—good, close friends—once, and even though they weren’t anymore, it didn’t feel right to Feyre not to honor that closeness they used to have.

“I’m sorry. For snapping.” She bit her lip and tried to find the right words. “It’s been … shit. Obviously. And now I’m back, and Nesta let me join Valkyrie Events, and—” Feyre could feel herself rambling but couldn’t seem to stop now that she had finally started explaining herself to Mor, “—and I don’t normally have to serve the events but Dierdre is out, and so they need me, and it’s not how I wanted everyone to see me, but—”

“Everyone, huh?” Mor interrupted, a skeptical look on her face. Her expression was still more severe than usual, but something familiar, almost playful, flashed in her eyes. 

“Yes, everyone, Mor.”

“You had to know that people were going to see you now that you’re back in town. Velaris isn’t that big.”

“I’m aware.” Feyre scoffed, as if she hadn’t complained endlessly about that exact thing when they were back in high school. “I just didn’t want them to see me like this.” She gestured at the black Valkyrie Events server uniform she was wearing and then crossed her arms.

“You wanted a big, fuck-you-all, revenge-dress moment?” Mor wrinkled her nose.

“Maybe,” Feyre sniffed, ignoring the slight prickling of tears she felt in the corners of her eyes. She could sense Mor’s disapproval, but she didn’t care. Was it so wrong to want the first time that people recognized her as Feyre Archeron to be when she could look cool and unaffected and devastatingly hot, and not when she was sweaty and overtired and offering them some dry appetizer?

“Feyre,” Mor’s voice had turned gentle, having picked up on her defensiveness, “no one here is laughing at you. You don’t need a revenge dress moment. Not for any of us, anyway. We’re—” Mor cut herself off, but Feyre could feel the word “friends” hand in the air for a second. 

“Mor…” Feyre started, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness somehow, but Mor held up a hand.

She looked Feyre over for a few beats before nodding, clearly having decided something.

“I’ll help you.”

“What?” Whatever Feyre had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. 

“I’ll help you. I’ll get you through this party without having to deal with everyone,” and the emphasis she placed on the word made it clear that she knew exactly who Feyre meant. “As best I can, anyway. A reunion can be on your own terms—although, some things might be different. People have changed. Moved on.”

Mor paused, and then smiled, the first real smile Feyre had seen from her. “But not me, bitch.” The sudden change in tone caught Feyre off guard, and she snorted. “This is our reunion and I have not moved on, and so after we make it through this party, we’re going out and you’re paying for all the drinks I want.”

“As long as you don’t want more than two drinks, I think I can swing that.” Feyre smiled tentatively. 

“It’s a date,” Mor said. “Now please let me give you some lipstick. This clean girl look is tragically too high-school-Feyre to stop everyone from recognizing you.”

After a nod to signal her permission, Mor started brushing the color over Feyre’s lips, and for a beat, it felt like they were still back in high school—Feyre skipping sophomore lit and Mor using her free period to gossip and hang out without any of the boys around. 

But there were subtle differences too. Mor had clearly grown into herself—she had always been beautiful, but there was a subtle confidence that Feyre didn’t remember her friend having at eighteen. And there was so much about her that Feyre didn’t know anymore. They were friendly again, sure, and Feyre thought—hoped, really—that there was the potential for them to be close again too. But all of that would take time.

Time that Feyre resolved to make. Whatever else happened tonight, she and Mor wouldn’t be strangers any longer.

“God, you look hot.” Mor looked over her handiwork with pride, having dusted a few other products across Feyre’s hair and face while Feyre was lost in her thoughts. Feyre looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t stop from sucking in a quiet breath. She did look hot—Mor’s makeup skills remained flawless—but the face staring back at Feyre reminded her too much of the woman she’d been with Tamlin, someone made-up, polished, quietly perfect, and entirely forgettable. She would take looking like her messy high school self any day over the pretty wallflower she had become to fit into Tamlin’s life.

But that wasn’t the point of tonight. Tonight was about not looking like herself. What better way to do that than looking like the person she had pretended to be for a decade?

“Okay, last thing.” Mor stepped out of her heels—black and staggeringly high with red bottoms—and nudged them over to Feyre. “Size 8, right?” 

“Mor, I’m not wearing your heels,” Feyre balked. “I’ll be fine in my vans. You can’t be barefoot.”

Mor just looked at her as if she was insane. “I have a backup pair in my car. Who do you think I am?”

Feyre rolled her eyes and stepped into the shoes, hating the pressure and strain she immediately felt in her calves and back. “I’m a waitress tonight, Mor. I don’t think heels are practical,” she all but whined.

“Tough. They’re penance for leaving me with just the boys. I had to make new friends, Feyre. It was so much work.” She paused, and her expression turned more serious. “You should meet them, Fey. After all of this tonight. I think you’d like them.”

“I…” Feyre didn’t know how to respond. Mor wasn’t wrong, she probably would like them. But making friends, putting down more roots—it was a sign that she’d be stuck in Velaris, just like she always worried. And while she didn’t mind it as much as she once might have, the thought of making a life here was a little galling.

As if reading her mind, Mor added, gently, “You need to start building a life again.”

“I know. I will. I am.” Feyre sighed. “I just need to get through this party first.”

A few hours later, Feyre stood by the door to the rooftop with a tray balanced in her hand. 

She had begged Nesta to let her sit out the first few hours of the party while the sun was sinking in the background, arguing (not incorrectly) that she should practice loading and holding trays first because she had never waitressed before.

Nesta had agreed, referencing some bowl Feyre had dropped and broken when they were kids and then subsequently ignoring the middle finger Feyre had thrown her way. She only looked Feyre up and down before wrinkling her nose and walking back toward the office. “Don’t trip over your stripper heels and ruin my party.”

“It’s not your party,” Feyre had called out after her.

“It’s my company.” The door snicked shut after that, effectively giving Nesta the last word.

Feyre had stuck her tongue out at the door, never feeling more like a younger sibling than she did in that moment, and made her way, feet aching already, to the kitchens.

But now that night had fallen, Feyre knew she couldn’t put off the inevitable much longer. Tray of mini sliders in hand, she stepped out on the rooftop and surveyed the space. 

And smiled.

Because the party was perfect. Everything she had envisioned, all the hard work she had put into making that vision come alive—it was all there in the glowing lights, the joyful guests, the miraculously still upright flower arch. It wasn’t quite the same as the paintings she used to create, but it was the first thing she had made in a long time that felt alive—that made her feel alive. 

Feyre hoped it was everything Azriel and his fiance—Eris, she had overheard while hiding out in the kitchens—could have wanted.

She spotted them talking with an older woman near the bar. Azriel looked much the same as he had a decade ago—dressed all in black, still breathtakingly beautiful and darkly brooding—although Feyre could tell, even from a distance, that he had a lightness in his fiance’s presence that wasn’t there before. Eris was tall and lithe and dressed immaculately in a dark green sweater that set off the red of his hair. His arm was around Azriel’s waist, the gesture familiar and easy.

They looked at home in the splendor of the rooftop party—at home, and happy, and in love. Feyre breathed a sigh of relief, of contentment for her once-friend. 

Which was then disturbed by a pointed throat clearing from Nesta, who had someone snuck up on her. “I realize that you haven’t been a server before, but I had hoped that the concept of a passed appetizer would have been evident enough even for you, Fey.”

“Yes, thank you, Nes. World’s best boss.” 

Feyre didn’t give her a chance to respond, because she knew that Nesta would only agree with her statement, instead steeling herself to begin moving through the crowd.

After the awkward agony of approaching the first few clusters of people and mumbling “Mini slider?” at them while avoiding eye contact, she felt herself relax. No one looked at her, really—they just took the food and continued with their conversations. The most anyone offered her was a perfunctory “thanks,” and Feyre wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A few times, out of the corner of her eye, she sensed Mor’s presence as she flitted amongst the guests (and presumably steered them away from Feyre), but no one else at the party gave her more than a passing glance to see what food she was carrying. She was perversely grateful for all the practice she had gotten over the last few years at fading into the background; it was almost second nature at this point to duck her head, to skirt around the edges of the room, to be completely forgettable.

When she only had a few things left on her tray, Feyre limped over to the bar and leaned against its surface, desperately trying to relieve some of the pain in her feet. Mor’s ability to weaponize guilt was unmatched. 

As if she had been summoned, Mor appeared by her side with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, apparently pleased at Feyre’s suffering.

“Here,” she said, holding out her half-full cosmo. “Sneak a sip. You look like you need it.”

She wrinkled her nose and gently shoved the proffered drink back in Mor’s direction. “I’m working.”

“No one will know.” Mor whined, her brown eyes wide and pleading, and Feyre snorted at the memory of her friend turning that exact look on teachers in high school who dared mark her late for classes that she was in fact late to.

Still, she shook her head. “Nesta will know.”

“She’s not that scary.”

Feyre only arched an eyebrow at that absolutely false statement, and Mor shrugged, uncowed, before taking a sip and saying, “Just make up an excuse. Tell her I bullied you into it.”

“Oh, so just the truth then?”

Mor giggled and then pulled Feyre into a hug with one arm, the hand with the cosmo holding it just out of jostling range despite Feyre’s surprised stumble into the embrace. “I missed this, Feyre. I missed you.”

She sighed, trying to ignore the stab of guilt Mor’s sincerity conjured up, “I missed you too, Mor.”

“Good.” She tossed her hair for emphasis, and Feyre couldn’t help grinning at her ridiculous friend. “I’ve got to go distract people before they realize who I’m talking to. But don’t forget—you still owe me drinks.” And taking the last two sliders, Mor stepped away, back into the crowd of guests. 

Realizing that Mor had just granted her a reprieve from the rooftop by clearing her tray, Feyre too began weaving through the party, keeping her head down and trying to make herself small (well, as small as she could be while wearing Mor’s heels) as she returned to the kitchens.

She had just reached the doorway where Nesta still stood when a round of applause began, and she startled and whirled around to face the party. As she looked at all the guests staring back at her, Feyre realized belatedly that she had been so focused on her escape that she hadn’t noticed the hush falling over the crowd, or that Eris had begun speaking and thanking all the guests, or that he had reached out a hand to indicate Nesta’s position by the door so everyone could thank Valkyrie Events.  

Feyre could feel the eyes that slid between her and Nesta, and she inhaled sharply as she imagined the flare of recognition that must be happening.

The youngest Archeron girl…

Hadn’t she left?

Good of her family to—

—Tamlin Greenthorne?

And so, without sparing the guests a second glance, Feyre turned and fled into the relative safety of the restaurant.

Maybe she could hide out in the kitchens for the rest of the party. Nesta would get over it. Probably. Or maybe no one actually recognized her. Right? It had been a decade, and who really cared anyway? Everyone had moved on. Everyone. Mor and Azriel and Cassian and—

“Feyre, stop!”

She knew that voice. The rich baritone made her stomach clench—hope, nervousness, hurt, all at once. It was too much.

Without turning around, she kicked off Mor’s stupid heels, bent down, picked them up, and then kept walking. She heard his footsteps growing closer, and, almost unconsciously, threw one of the shoes behind her, feeling a perverse giddiness at the sound of the thwack and the “What the fuck, Feyre? At my face?” that let her know she hadn’t missed her target.

She kept moving, hoping that a shoe to the face had been enough of a deterrent, but no—he wouldn’t take a hint, wouldn’t leave well enough alone, wouldn’t let her pretend that she had managed to go undetected. Asshole. Feyre raised the other shoe to throw it too—out of petulance and irritation more than a belief that it actually stop him—Rhys—from catching her, when a large, firm hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

“I wouldn’t do that, Feyre darling.”

[08-47]

mirage chilling wit the kagome veggie juice pack

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

for real though when my Rook Aldwir found out Emmrich was dating Strife it's like. STRIFE??? The head of my faction who doesn't even say hello to me when I come home to Arlathan? Who didn't bother to show up when those two dragons were beating the shit out of me even though Viago who I've only met twice came AND brought poison to help??? Strife who told me to get out for saving some people and then only begrudgingly was like "fine. i guess." when i showed up again after 6 months and having almost died????? like get it girl he's hot for sure but how did you crack that. how did you make him like you. please teach me.

[wav48k]

would anyone be interested in my gay fucking spreadsheet... it has a very large amount of sourced mcr pics arranged by date (work in progress, not very professional. but its fun) and also a section with like a hundred old interviews. did you know one time frank got interviewed by some random fucking tumblr user and they talked about donnie darko? now you will. theres finally enough stuff in there that i think its worth handing out for people who want to see :)

[ur-fav-alien]

Jail Cell

Eben Oleson x Fem!Reader

You had been dating Eben for awhile, and during one of Barrow's annual blackouts he brings you along for a night of fun. In the empty sheriff's department an idea crosses your mind, something to do with an empty jail cell...

Tags :) SMUT , Oral!fem receiving , very minor roleplay (i.e. calling Eben 'officer' and one case of being called 'inmate') , handcuffs (he's a sheriff, you didn't think I was gonna do anything with that? c'mon) , mentions of bruising and some pet names! , I think that's if but if I missed anything please tell me xoxo

Eben crashed against the light switches of the sheriff’s department. A move blinded by your lips and tongue, making sure you got every taste of him as you pushed through the doors.

It was Barrow’s annual black out, your second, but your first together. It was exciting; you had only recently moved to Barrow to take care of your father, and Eben had always known the blackouts as a simple factor of life. 

Eben had been aware of what it was like to relish in the quiet of a blackout with someone, but now he was with you; someone who hadn’t always known the dark skies of Barrow. It was something he had been looking forward to. Sadly, a month of cuddling and gazing under the northern stars turned into constant care of your families and jobs, leaving very little time for you to indulge in one another. Pent-up emotions and heavy eye fucking throughout the days resulted in snowballs being thrown at your window in the middle of the night, as if you both were teenagers. 

The adrenaline rush certainly felt like your teenage years as you snuck out of the house to meet Eben in his SUV. 

The lights snapping on throughout the department shocked both of you out of your lustful trances. It gave you a moment to look at your heavy breathing partner. Eben doing the same as his eyes surveyed over you. The cold had pinched his nose and cheeks red. The lack of oxygen from making out and the biting wind were a viscous pair. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Eben breathed out, squeezing your sides lightly. 

You smiled and pushed him back playfully, which only made him grab onto you tighter; pulling your warm bodies together to continue what you had been doing. Right before your lips connected, from your peripheral you saw a very empty jail cell in the back of the room. 

An idea sparked in your brain, something you had been wanting to do since falling in love with the town sheriff. 

You pulled away with a smile on your face. “Wait, wait, wait—” You skipped to the empty cell, “I wanna do something!” 

Eben stared at you in wonder, peeling off his coat to follow you absentmindedly. “What’s that?” He asked playfully. 

The coat fell from around your shoulders, grabbing it at the last second to throw it to the side. You walked backwards into the cell, grabbing onto the door and closing it as you progressed further into the cold room. The metal door closed with a small echo, which was dampened as you turned around to press your back against them. You turned your head to look at Eben, who was chuckling softly behind you, the sound of him sending butterflies to your stomach. 

“Really?” He asked as you turned around with a fervor in your eyes. 

You smiled through the bars, face pressed close to the cold metal. “Really.” 

He chucked again, running a gloved hand through his hair. “You do something to me, lady.” He walked forward, leaning in to kiss you through the bars. 

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to really kiss hardened criminals.” You hummed delightfully. 

Eben raised a brow. “You’re a hardened criminal?” 

You backed away from the bars, swaying your hips and shoulders suggestively. “The worst of the worst, baby.” 

He rolled his shoulders back while holding back a very obvious smile. Eben gave a half-hearted shrug before tightening up his face. 

He ripped open the jail cell, taking a step inside. His face was hard and stern, making your skin tingle with excitement. “Inmate…” even his voice felt cold, like he had never been more angry. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You couldn’t contain your happiness. Roleplaying had never been something you’d even think of asking him, and now that it was actually happening, the pure excitement of it was overflowing out of you. You seductively slid towards him. “What do you want me to do?” You raised your hand to brush against him, only for Eben to aggressively grab your wrist. 

He spun you around forcefully with an angry glare, which ignited a deep fire throughout your nervous system. A plethora of knots began forming in your stomach. 

“You have some serious behavioral issues.” He growled. 

“Ya gonna do something about it?” Your finger hooked around a belt loop, tugging ever so slightly. Part of you just wanted to get this over with — would it be too much to say ‘cut!’ and drag him down to the floor? 

He grabbed the back of your head and pushed you against the bars. You would’ve cooed at the protective action if you weren’t in the middle of something. 

His hand ran down your body, the roughness of his glove and the gentle touch made you shiver. He grabbed your other hand and brought both of them above your head. 

All your fantasies coming alive at this moment were too much to process. A giggle bubbled up to the surface, but shut down as soon as his leg pushed the back of your knees, causing you to crumble to the ground. 

You looked up at him with enormous eyes, watching him intently as he was too busy focusing on ripping his glove off with his teeth to grab a pair of cuffs around his waist. The act had made your tongue heavy, your eyes floating back to their level as his crotch stood right in front of you. A thousand nights of nuzzling against his thighs after intimate nights made the knots in your stomach tighter, lighting them ablaze. 

Cold metal snapped against your wrist. You looked up again to find your gloves ripped off and metal cuffs replacing them. The chain weaved through the bars — you were stuck. 

You made eye contact with him, brows furrowed together to convey that he was angry, but you knew he was everything but. 

“Do the glove thing again!” You whispered. It felt as if you two were actors in the middle of a play, improvising as you went on. 

He raised his brows before bringing his hand up to rip his other glove with his teeth, tossing it aside. 

Your giggle echoed through the department, and a smile ripped across his face. You leaned back against the bars, legs folding out beneath you to rest on your butt. 

Eben followed you down to the ground, situating himself between your spread legs. “Am I doing okay?” He whispered, once again enforcing the idea that they were putting on some type of play. The idea made your smile all that more infectious. 

“You’re doing great.” You leaned in absentmindedly, needing to kiss him like nothing else. Your lips felt empty without him there. “I’m so turned on.” You whispered before his lips took yours. 

Your body was on fire as he leaned further into you, arms surrounding your head to keep himself from falling into you. 

“You’re really bad at being a corrupt officer.” You playfully whispered against his mouth. 

When he pulled away, you thought you’d go into cardiac arrest. His heavy breathing and lidded eyes were too much, but kissed red lips were just the cherry on top. A heartbeat pounded between your legs, begging for something. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, his voice dripping with lust. 

In a flash, he grabbed your legs and brought them to his shoulders. Your scream of excitement acted as no deterrent as his lips gave small kisses to your inner thighs, pressing through your pants as if nothing was going to stop him. 

You giggled and squirmed as his lips dared press against the one area they needed to be.

“Eben- Eben, please.” You begged. 

He looked at you from between your legs, a sight which would echo in your head for the rest of time. “Please, what?” 

“You’re such an asshole.” 

He kept eye contact as he slowly and gently pressed a kiss to your center. You could barely even feel it, but the act itself made you lose your mind. You leaned your head back as you hissed out curses. 

“Will you just fuck me already?” You whimpered, and the kissing stopped altogether. The embarrassment fluttered to your face. Pure heat was radiating off of you. 

Eben seemed to like that answer because he rested your legs on his shoulders to toy with the buttons and zippers of your pants. The fact you couldn’t help speed this process up was making your head spin, and he knew that. You had never found Eben to be an evil man, but the one time you ask him to be an evil police officer, he’s the most corrupt man in the world. In the back of your mind, you began wondering if he had always wanted to be evil like this. Draw out your torture, make you squirm and beg for something — the thought of that made you lightheaded. 

He moved your legs to one shoulder to slowly take your pants off, each inch of skin gaining a small kiss. He ripped your shoes off to leave your only comfort of warmth being your knee-high socks. You must’ve been a sight to behold because as soon as he spread your legs again, his eyes dilated in a fury of lust. 

“You look like you’re gonna eat me.” You breathed out with a small smirk. He resembled that of a hungry predator, you his simple prey. 

Eben tilted his head ever so slightly, a brow raising which told you everything you needed to know. You watched in horror as his mouth opened, rolling out his tongue. He leaned forward and licked a painfully slow strip across the center of your underwear, giving you a taste of what was to come. 

You squirmed as his grip tightened on your legs, keeping you as still as he needed you. He only released one of his hands to pull your underwear to the side, to get to where you finally wanted him. 

The feel of his tongue against your cunt made you hazy. His hot breath battled the cold empty building, causing shivers all over your body. 

He squeezed your thigh, a bruise that would come to form in a couple hours, something you were waiting to see flourish. He kept your underwear to the side, fingers grazing your clit ever so slightly as his tongue worked its way inside. 

You squealed and moaned like your life depended on it, but he wouldn’t let up. He only stopped tormenting you to pepper small kisses on your inner thighs while he shushed you. 

“If you think I can stay quiet during this, you’re an idiot, Eben.” You were out of breath, panting like a dog as his kisses warned closer and closer. 

“Good inmates don’t talk back, sweetie.” 

You whined, leaning your head back in frustration. 

“Good inmates don’t whine either.” 

You settled for a pout, which opened its way into a gasp as he kissed your clit gently. 

“Try not to move too much.” He purred into you. “Don’t want you falling off.” 

You couldn’t help but nod at his request, he had successfully turned into you puddy. You kept your hands busy by grabbing onto the bars, squeezing your eyes shut as pure ecstasy rolled over you. 

His thumb rubbed soft circles into your clit as his tongue lapped at your center, curling in and out. The roughness of his thumb and the soft plushness of his tongue twisted your nervous system into knots. He dug his face further into you as the fire in your abdomen grew unbearable. 

You tried to tell him you were cumming, but words escaped your heavy tongue. Your body ignited, legs to shaking beside his head. 

Eben continued on, digging his tongue deeper into you as he rode out the electricity which shocked your body. In a parting gift, he gave a small kiss to your cunt once more before pulling away, looking at you from your pelvis. 

The panting echoed throughout the building — you’d be surprised if the entire town hadn’t woken up. 

“Wanna go again—” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

He chuckled, unhooking your legs from his shoulders. Using your legs, he pulled himself closer to wrap your legs around his waist, protecting your scantily clad ass from the cold concrete. He leaned in to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself, which left you giggling. 

Your noses were touching, hot breath intertwining. “Thank you for correcting my behavior, officer.” 

He growled dangerously, his smile toothy and dangerous. He snapped his head and was kissing and sucking your neck wildly — a horny vampire. 

You screeched his name, giggling wildly.

[beebeewoop]

AN IMPORTANT PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FOR ANY NEWCOMERS TO THE EDDSWORLD FANDOM

It has come to the attention of I and many others that there has been some disrespect going on between Tumblr users who like to draw ship art of the Eddsworld characters and those who do not like to see certain ships. I will not name names or point fingers, but this needs to be addressed. Making art of these ships is absolutely okay to do as long as it is not problematic! We want Tumblr to be a safe place for those who use it as their outlet for art.

To any newcomers entering the Eddsworld fandom: most of us Eddhead veterans are in our late teens or early twenties so most of us are adults. WE'VE BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER AND WE KNOW THE DRILL:

The fictional characters are not the real people, so yes, it is okay to ship the fictional characters. We know the difference between the fictional characters and the real people.

DO NOT bash those who ship certain characters together. DO NOT comment on a post of ship art you don't like just to tell the artist you don't like it. They spent a lot of time making that and it is very disrespectful to the artist. They have every right to take offense to your comment. Even if you were to say "Nice art but I don't ship it" is still considered disrespectful.

If you see something you don't like either scroll past it, filter out the tags, or block the person. It's really that simple! You do not have to interact with the art or the artist.

Also, T.H.I.N.K. before you speak, please! What has been said many times before needs to be said again.

T.H.I.N.K. is an acronym that stands for:

Is it True?

Is it Helpful?

Is it Inspiring?

Is it Necessary?

Is it Kind?

If what you want to say is none of these, then please reconsider saying it.

Thank you.

And thank you @crystalwhisp for helping me write this.

[harukapologist]

rambling about Haruka

As an ND person I just hate how Haruka's character is either completely infantilized or reduced to a selfish, evil murderer, when, to me, he is so much more than that.

Especially the latter; I hate when any MILGRAM character is called evil because what's the point of MILGRAM, then? They're all morally grey! That's how they test us. But Haruka in particular because I feel like it comes from a place of ableism, intentional or not.

I'm not sure if I should put TWs, but well I talk about ableism, murder (obviously lol), childhood trauma and well... it's Haruka

Haruka's outburst in the VD and his implication of killing animals (I know it's basically canon but erm... i can explain why I think it's an implication later) (i just finished writing the post and actually i explained why at the bottom of the post but its not a full explanation so lol) are the reasons I see people calling him either evil or childlike, and while I do think that Haruka is stuck in a childlike state in some aspects, this is emotional dysregulation of an ND and/or traumatized person, to me.

The uglier sides of being ND/traumatized, the ones that get heavily stigmatized and seen as intentional or evil; I think this was a display of one of them. And I really wish to see more people focusing on Haruka's disability in the ways it can affect his communication and day-to-day life skills more than "oh, poor baby, he has a disability that makes him feel unwanted" without actually understanding the details of the disability and, well, the reason why it is a disability.

Like, the emotional dysregulation that comes with being autistic, which is my headcanon for him. The hyperempathy and literal thinking that might make him harder to communicate with, and get people frustrated with him more often.

That and being severely neglected; I think neglect is one of the lesser discussed forms of childhood trauma and the fact that Haruka was shown to be neglected as well as abuse really means a lot to me, because I think some people don't quite understand just how much neglect and isolation fucks you up.

All those factors combined are a recipe for an unstable, impulsive, clingy shell of a human, and him getting called evil for that really saddens me. It's important to remember that these MVs are extracted from the prisoners' own memories and thoughts. It comes from their perception of their surroundings, their murders, and their own selves. The manic look that Haruka has on his face for a lot of AKAA, for example. The makeshift shirt he's wearing, as if he's desperately trying to sew himself together into a normal person, the exhausted, frustrated look when he picks up the necklace, it's important to remember that this is how he sees himself. A monster who has lost control of himself. The line "I'll keep killing to be your good boy" was a shock, but the way he meekly apologized to Es at the end of his VD, I really think that shows that he feels guilty, that he wants to convince himself more than anyone that he was a good person, that he was really trying to be one despite how his unlucky life frustrated him to his breaking point.

As for his infantilization, it has already been addressed by many thoughtful members of the fandom and I'm grateful to see that, but I also want to say it myself since god knows I hate being patronized.

It feels very ableist saying he's just "someone stuck in a childlike mindset/age regressor" Yes, and how does age regression as a coping mechanism develop? Usually through prior trauma that makes you "stuck" at said age, and that can present differently. It can be longing and yearning for a simpler time, for an actual happy childhood, or having flashbacks to a traumatic event that happened at a certain age; it is not uncommon for trauma survivors to be "frozen" at the age their trauma took place.

I think both of these are the case for Haruka. Frozen at that moment, but trying to reduce himself to nothing but a little, unaware child to avoid reliving it again, relishing in the innocence and purity of his good younger times (emphasis on purity--Haruka's murder was by strangulation, yet there's a shot in AKAA where he's covered in blood. I know it's after he killed the animals, but he's in the stitched-together outfit here; I think there's more to this MV than just killing the animals. Since this outfit is... not very likely to be worn in reality, did the animal killing happen at all? Even if it did, I think this shot remains an indicator that he sees himself as impure; guilty. I have a LOT to say about the inconsistencies in Haruka's MVs, but I'll save that for later... Anyway, back on topic) It is NOT "having the mental capacity of a child, so being unable to date etc." Haruka has still lived 17 years, maybe even more, since he isn't too interested in remembering his age. How do you treat actual neurodivergent people if this is how you see him?

When I rewatch the MVs, relisten to the VDs, reread the interrogations and timelines, I see no evil, just an incredibly broken, misunderstood person.