#and literally everything changes except his name

[normal-internet-user]

STUPID CUPID

Summary: Jason is a little awkward when it comes to his feelings.

Requested: No.

Warnings: none

Fem reader!

Sometimes Jason felt cursed. He had to be after he came back. Some things were obvious, the aches and pains, the anger.

He just felt wrong.

Except when he was with you.

With you, he felt seen.

Everytime he saw you he melted. You smile, your hair, the way you held yourself... It made him weak. You made him feel so sure.

It started simply, you were just his neighbor. Some women he lived next to. Then, you started bringing him portions of whatever you cooked for dinner, claiming you'd made to much.

He always accepted, even if it wasn't something he was very fond of. You made good food, and it was this or instant ramen noodles.

After a while, he started helping you out, taking care of your pets while you were at work, fixing things the landlord took to long to get to.

He told himself it didn't matter. You'd never see him as more, but god, did he want you too.

Jason wanted to be yours, he wanted you to love him like he loved you. He scoffed at himself, the idea laughable.

You would never. You didn't think of him that way. He didn't deserve it. You.

But Jason's a man, and men are clueless. He doesn't seem to get it, and you're getting frustrated.

How many lasagna's does a guy need to get before he realizes! It's ridiculous.

You're being obvious! At least you think you are.

It's getting late, and you just finished making dinner, and you're making a portion for Jason. Neatly packed away in some of your tupperware, you make your way over to his apartment.

You knock on the door, and wait for his answer, which comes shortly.

He smiles, it's small, but it's there, and you return it.

"Chicken parmesan tonight." You say, handing over the food, "I know how much you like italian."

"Thanks." Jason says with a nod, gesturing you inside, "You're a saint, you know that? I'm starting to think you're making extra just for me."

"What? No, I just have bad portion control." You reply with a shrug, waving away the though, even though it's definitly true. You are.

Jason chuckles, watching you make yourself comfortable in his apartment, "If you say so." He mumbles.

"Besides," You remark from your comfy place on his couch, "Think of it as payment for taking care of my pets. A little homemade thank you."

Jason sits next to you, doing his best to look natural and relaxed and not give way to his urge to stare at you, "Well, either way, I appreciate it. I appreciate you." He says softly, clearing his throat.

You shoot him a smile, subtly scooting a little closer, "It's really not a problem. I like the excuse to visit."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Jason says, glancing over at you with a small surge of confidence, "Just to see little old me?"

"Maybe." You reply with a shrug, surpressing the shudder that the nickname created.

"Are you free this weekend?" He blurts out suddenly, and he silently curses the way his heart beats out of his chest, the way his cheeks heat up and the dizziness in his head.

He waits a beat. One. Two. And now he's scrambling, god, he just ruined everything. He needs to move. Die his hair, change his name-

"Yes." You reply softly, interrupting his running thoughts, "Why, you wanna go out?"

"Maybe." He says, breathless, and smitten, his eyes glued to you as relief flodd his entire body, "Are you.. up for that?"

You nod, "Mhm." Standing up, you press a quick kiss to his cheek, "Pick me up on Friday, 3pm. We can go get dinner somewhere."

"Great." Jason gulps, a goofy grin playing at his lips, "3. Yeah. Got it. Dinner's good."

"I'll see you then." You say, with a soft laugh.

"Yeah.... see you then."

He watches you leave his apartment, and he feels like he's dreaming. You said yes. You, beautiful, gorgeous, sweet and caring- said yes. To him.

Maybe he wasn't so hopeless.

This isn't as good as the first draft 😪 tumbr didnt fucking save it, so i had to literally start over- i am so mad rn- 🤦‍♀️

[noctiva]

okay but how would the guys react to the reader breaking up with them?

aha! the flip side!

Toby: Goes through four stages of grief in the span of like, ten minutes. everything except for acceptance. he won’t ever truly accept it. it could be literal years later and he’d still be dreaming of you, still touching himself to the thought of you.

the day it actually happens, he’ll try to play it off at first. hit you with a ‘th-that’s not fuckin’ funny’ with a soft snort and a roll of his eyes. like you being serious wasn’t even an option. but of course, you’ll insist - and that’s when the dam breaks.

first comes the anger. his eyes sharpening into a glare as his jaw sets. accusatory in every word he spits at you. throwing every single thing that he’s every done for you back in your face. glossing over everything he’s ever done wrong. hoping that maybe you’ll fight back - maybe you two can just get into another fight like you always do, and end up tangled up together in his sheets by the time night falls.

but that doesn’t happen. you just take it. just listen silently as you pack your things - already detached. and that’s when it really sets in. the anger will simmer, and then he’s apologizing profusely. offering up things he can’t even give you, all in the hopes of changing your mind. and when that doesn’t work? he just breaks. a mess of ugly sobs and hands trying to pull you to him. pleading. begging. borderline grovelling at your feet.

you’ll leave him a mess of tears. he probably won’t move from his spot on the floor for hours. days maybe.

- “W-What do you want? What can I d-do to make you stay? Just name it - I’ll g-give it to you.”

-

Jack: Just so incredibly cold. Like the moment you utter the words, every ounce of affection he held for you fizzled into smoke. You can practically see it when the switch in his brain flips, how his entire body tenses up, how his lips set into a firm line. He won’t say anything for a good long while. He’ll just stand before you, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to take it back.

‘Jack? Did you hear what I said?’ To which he’ll just reply with a snippy; ‘I heard you.’ And barely elaborate further.

He won’t let you in. Won’t let you pry into his mind in an attempt to figure out how he feels about all of it. He’ll keep it all locked far deep down, under a shroud of bitter nonchalance. If you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he didn’t care - but the slight tremble in his fingers proves that otherwise.

He won’t fight you. He knows better than that. Though he loved you to the ends of the earth, he knew he wouldn’t be able to continue on with you after this. Knowing that you don’t wholeheartedly want to be with him.

He’ll leave silently. Give you short, simple answers to every question you ask. Leave you second guessing if this was even the right decision at all.

- “What? Did you want me to scream? Beg? Cry? I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

-

Brian: Horribly toxic. Blackmail supreme over here. You sit him down, tell him you want to break up with him, and the first thing he’s saying is, ‘are you sure you want to do that? with all the shit I have on you?’

And you know he’s right. He has drawers full of tapes depicting you in the most compromising positions known to man. Taken with the promise that they’d only be for his eyes. But, that was on the basis that you’d stick around. He’ll be patronizing, cruel, dangling this threat over your head with a raised eyebrow - daring you to have the guts to still go through with it.

Promising you that no one else will ever want to be with you after him. A little too calm, a little too composed. Like he’s so sure deep down that you’ll cave under the weight of what he’s saying and just roll over.

But if you don’t? If you hold your ground? You can just barely see him crack. A little twitch in his jaw, his gaze hardening over. The way his eyes flick away from you like he just can’t the sight of you any longer. He’ll freeze over until you gain the courage to pack up and leave. All that confidence lost, swapped for a silent resignation.

Won’t say a single thing to you on your way out the door.

(And he probably won’t actually make true on his threats, he was just really banking on that working).

- “Fine. Leave. See where it gets you.”

-

Tim: Just resigned acceptance. He saw it coming from the start, never really expecting you two to be in it for the long haul. He hoped that maybe you’d go against the odds, but he was smarter than to bank on that. Your life didn’t mix with his. He took a risk letting you in. He had set himself up, and he knew it.

It’s his shoulders slumping. His expression dropping. The slight quiver when he lets out a deep sigh and lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment like he’s trying to shut it all out. He doesn’t ask why, because he knows why. It’s everything about him. And he’d rather spare himself the burden of hearing that fact come from your lips.

He’ll be silent for a good long while. Reach into his coat pocket with trembling fingers, pull out his pack of smokes, light one and take a few drags before he speaks a word. And when he does, it’s just all apologies.

Apologies for dragging you into this in the first place. Apologies for wasting your time. For getting your hopes up. For making you believe that you could be the cure for everything that plagues him.

He won’t look at you the entire time, because he just knows he’ll break - and he doesn’t want to burden you with that too.

- “‘Bout time you smartened up. Always knew you deserved someone better.”

-

Cody: Really doesn’t know how to handle it - and maybe that was the issue all along. His good with the physical aspect of humans. The blood, the flesh, the chemical reactions. What he’s not good at, is the mind. The emotions. The inner workings of relationships, and person to person connection. He really tried with you, broke out of his shell in an attempt to let you have that closeness you craved.

It feels like an insult to have it thrown back in his face. He’s not upset, he’s offended, a silently brewing anger simmering in his veins with every word you speak. It just feels like he wasted so much time. Put in so much effort into something that ultimately proved fruitless. Like a failed experiment, but this time it affects him deeply. Like you were taking one of his limbs with you when you left him.

Asks you so many questions it makes your head spin. Why are you leaving him? What specific thing did he do? What could he have done better? Do you really truly believe there’s nothing that can fix this? Why are you giving up? Why don’t you want to try?

He’ll let you leave. He won’t beg and plead, but he will borderline interrogate you before he stalks back to his lab and shuts himself in there for the next week and a half.

- “All that time wasted. Such a needless distraction.”

-

Habit: Laughs in your fucking face. Cruel and mocking. Near doubles over with it. The type of laughter that absolutely stuns you, with the way he wheezes and cackles, wipes a tear from his eye and shakes his head like you’ve just performed a comedy special for him.

To him, you have. Because that’s fucking rich. You leaving him? As if you had that choice. It’s comical to him how you’d even entertain that thought, that you thought it might just be as easy as showing him the door and expecting him to walk through it. It’s not happening. Not by a long shot.

In fact, when you call him cruel, he’ll show you just exactly how cruel you can be. You hate him now? Let’s see how much you hate him when he chains you to the bed and leaves you there. Chuckling under his breath about how stupid you are. How you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, and appreciated the fact that he was being easy on you this whole time.

So, no. You will not be breaking up with him. This relationship ends on his terms, and his terms only.

- “That’s cute. You think you get to make that choice?”

[ganondoodle]

(oc wip)

i have grown very attached to the design of older OCs, but especially with Shargon i always ran into trouble bc it never matched his demon form, this is a first attempt at getting both more in line while leaning more into a bird/dragon idea ...?

i think ill put the red more and lower on his hips-legs so its a bit more uniform but i dont hate this one? id miss his fluffy pink(ish) hair he used to have but i never got it to work well with this demon form (current idea of that small in the bg)

hes lost and regained his feathers over the years of his design changes and maybe now they might be truly back xD

[sysig]

Do not separate them /threatening (Patreon)

[vitaspera]

unhinged calix / viorel yapping commences..

[mikethebrave]

ngl. i thought it was silly when the "don't forget that snow is a bad guy!! don't forget that he's a villain!! don't forget that he's awful and selfish and obsessive and possessive and untrustworthy and [insert fifty other traits of his here]!!" posts started going around just before the tbosas movie dropped because i, a naive little baby clown, was like "lol.. who could possibly forget that? surely we all enjoy his villainy, don't we? that's why we read and liked the book after all. 🤨" and then. well. :)))))))))) 🤡🤡🤡🤡‼️‼️‼️ it turns out that was very much NOT the case and the fandom did 100% need those warnings and more. especially now, in these trying times for toxic tragedy enjoyers. 👍

[apatheticsunday]

Batfam Eldritch Horror

AKA "inspired by that one post about Danny being a flerken and living with the Batfam" idea! Except he looks pants-shitting, "oh dear god, what is that" terrifying.

I just love slightly feral animal-like Danny in a... shape. It's not immediately identifiable as a cat or dog, maybe he has a few too many legs that kind of look like a tail at one point? And when he skitters up walls like a particularly small dog-sized tarantula, it's terrifying enough to make seasoned criminals squeal.

Let's imagine Danny had some sort of accident with a portal and was Wizard-of-Oz'd into Gotham, a literal hellmouth of a city with so many curses that it'd make John Constantine start to sweat. And this city also has... weird Ecto. (In my brain, there's a connection between the Lazarus Pit and ectoplasm, like pit waters are the sewers of ectoplasm or something.) It's enough for Danny to still exist but he can't seem to stay human-shaped. It's better than being a Blob Ghost, but not by much. His fur-scales-feathers-skin-something look dark as the midnight sky.

And who should stumble on this weird-looking Thing aside from Damian, secret animal-whisperer and passionate Pokemon collector? Damian, who known what a scared feral animal looks like and who can coax it into his arms? It doesn't matter that Danny has maybe five or six limbs. He can make himself slightly smaller at will (not in a Magical-Girl-Transformation way, mind you. When he changes shape, there's the distinct snap of bones breaking and wet, fleshy sounds of his organs, muscles, ligaments, tendons, everything shifting).

Damian has literally been trained by the League of Assassins under the Demon Head. He's likely seen more people's insides than an ER surgeon; he's killed more than enough people in incredibly grotesque and violent ways to be totally unphased by Danny changing shapes. Maybe he'll actually be sort of touched, a bit pleased, that his new Thing pet would change itself so violently so Damian could hold it.

What would Damian name it? He's outwardly violent and aggressive towards others, but pretty passionate and heartfelt once he cares for someone. Alfred the Cat comes to mind. So maybe Damian takes one look at this supposedly scary Thing and thinks, "It looks like Father."

As in, Dark as Night? A shadow inspiring fear amongst criminals? Spoken about in whispers, sometimes laughed off as a joke but still cautiously reverent, just in case?

Danny's new name is Batman.

Of course, this causes some confusion when Damian comes home to Wayne Manor and says, "Batman and I will retire to my room." In front of Bruce, who naturally and kind-of-correctly assumes his son picked up another animal while on patrol. Bruce had a hard time explaining this to a very concerned Dick, who was holding up a wooden stake and a bible (Dick totally wasn't going to kill Bruce if he turned out to be a vampire but it's always good to be prepared!), after Damian apparently made a wayward comment that "Batman refuses to eat anything besides raw meat."

And Danny is having a great time!! Sure, Damian treats him like a pet, but he gets affectionate pats on the head, incredibly expensive steak, and a soft place to sleep. He awkwardly dragged several blankets from the living room to Damian's room to make a bed in the kid's closet. (Alfred watched from behind the couch as this six-legged hairy-ish catlike Thing determinedly waddled with three blankets in its mouth, occasionally tripping on its own legs. He went back to dusting the crown moulding silently. So, that's why Master Damian requested uncooked sirloin steak twelve times in last few days. Hm.)

So, the Batfam accept there is another Batman in the family. Except they haven't actually seen Danny (aside from Alfred and Damian).

Until Dick needs to talk to Damian and goes into the boy's room. But it's empty?? He could've sworn he heard somebody talking or something in here, but maybe not? He turns to leave and then hears it again: a soft kind of thump coming from Damian's armoire. A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as his Older Brother Instincts kick in. Jason used to hide in closets and try to scare Dick when he was little; Damian, despite being a child soldier and trained assassin, was still a little kid at heart, right? The kid's clearly hiding from Dick to scare him or something.

(Damian was in the Batcave, studiously typing "Google, what non-Earth animals reside in Gotham, please?" into the Batcomputer. I like to think that Damian uses the internet like a 85-year old man who thinks a Google employee personally replies to each question.)

So, Dick creeps forward and abruptly slams open the armoire doors!! Only to let out an unholy shriek of terror as Danny, who was taking a nap, frantically skitters out of the closet looking like a Frankenstein cat-dog with bat wings. He crawls under Damian's bed as Dick scrambles into the hallway.

The cat-dog-Thing is out of the bag now. Damian looks utterly deadpan as he explains that Batman is his pet and not to concern themselves with it; Bruce, Tim, Jason, and a white-faced Dick disagreed. They need to see it to make sure the Thing won't harm anybody, especially considering it's fucking living with them!! How do they know it won't try to eat them in their sleep??

"Batman does not eat raw human meat, Todd. Why are you concerned now? It has resided with us for two months now."

"Two months?" Dick nearly faints (again).

"Yes, Batman is very well-behaved, Master Dick." Alfred, who's been feeding Danny for the last two months and has seen all the little quirks the Thing has, offers a consoling half-smile.

Ultimately, the Batfam decide to keep Batman in exchange for scary dog privileges. They'll have to think of another name for Danny considering having two Batmans in Gotham would be pretty confusing (especially if one of them decided they did, in fact, like raw human flesh).

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt4

See you soon

hey guys warning this chapter literally has none of the batfam here its highlighting reader being insterted into itsv-atsv

It has been a year since you had gotten bitten.

You were now 14

Since then you've lost a couple of people.

Your Gwen Stacy, who was instead named [REDACTED], was killed while you were trying to stop the green goblin.

You lost an officer you were close to. He died while protecting a kid.

You lost someone you considered an uncle.

You were tired.

Since then you've been training yourself, secretly fighting crime to not be seen by your family, and getting stronger in general.

Every day was sortve the same. Wake up, get ready, go to school, come home, eat, fight crime, sleep, repeat.

It all changed one day.

You had just gotten back from patrol.

You stopped 3 muggings and saved a cat from a tree.

It was a slow day, thankfully.

You were doing your homework peacefully.

You were almost done with your algebra homework when suddenly a portal popped up right next to you.

You couldn't process anything as the portal sucked you up and took you in.

The next thing you knew, you were stuck in an alternate universe with other versions of you.

And you had to get home soon ASAP no rocky if you didn't wanna die.

And that be all fine and dandy.

Except you didn't wanna get attached to anyone.

You didn't want them to exclude you and you to follow them around like a lost puppy like you did with your family.

And guess what?

You did get attached.

Peni, a small kid who was in a tiny robot fighting, was like a little sister to you.

Peter B. Parker, ham, and Noir were all like uncles to you.

Gwen and Miles were your cool older siblings.

You loved them.

And you hated that.

Because you knew deep down, you wouldn't get to see each other again.

You all were destined to be apart, due to your separate universes.

You got attached.

You were attached to noir and how his coat smelled like cigarettes and milkshakes.

You were attached to Ham and how he always cracked jokes when things got tense and awkward.

You were attached to peter b and how he talked about his past experiences.

You got attached to Peni and how she would use stickers everywhere.

You got attached to Miles and how stupidly awkward he was with Gwen.

You got attached to Gwen and how she gave you the advice you always needed and never got.

Fuck.

You didn't wanna go back to the manor.

This is the happiest you've been in a while.

This is home.

This is what family is supposed to feel like.

You can go on patrol here without worrying that your family might see you.

You are constantly smiling and laughing with the people here.

You're always catching yourself wishing you could stay here forever.

Other than the annoyingly painful glitching, you're so happy and excited.

You never wanna leave.

You were so proud of Miles and how he got everyone home.

You cried as soon as you landed back in your room.

You sobbed into your pillow. You're gonna miss them.

No one even noticed you were gone for a week.

No one noticed how bruised up you were.

No one noticed how sad you looked.

It's been 5 months since then.

You got invited to join the Spider Society.

Miguel saw you on patrol trying to fight an anomaly and failing miserably due to you never fully getting actual training.

You were trying! It's just that you didn't want your family to see you so its sort of hard to control a whole glitching green goblin...

Miguel took you into the spider society.

You saw Peter B in Miguel's office and immediately tackled him into a hug and shed a tear or two.

You learned that due to being a mix of two multiverses (Marvel and DC) your canon events were a tiny bit messed up.

Miguel explained everything, but everything was going through one ear and out the other.

You wondered if the others were here too.

You wondered if they missed you like you missed them.

Miguel could see how spaced out you were.

"What's wrong, Mija?"

"Are the others here? Like Gwen, Miles, ham, noir, and Peni? I know Peter's here, I saw him just now, but what about the others?"

He went on to explain how they hadn't been invited yet.

Later on, you begged him to at least invite Peni.

He couldn't resist your puppy dog eyes, so he said yes.

Since being introduced into society, you've slowly started getting used to just doing everything here.

You would go into Miguel's office for hours and hours just to be around him.

He was like the father you always wanted!

He would listen to you complain about your family, and he would always lend a shoulder to cry on.

On multiple occasions, he had to carry you back to your bed in your universe because you'd fall asleep in his office on the floor.

You both have gotten close.

Miguel was your emergency contact, always there when you needed him. Despite his intimidating appearance to others, he was never scary to you.

At one point you saw Gwen again, finally!

You were so happy! one step closer to getting everyone together again!

Slowly, you saw everyone again.

..Everyone except Miles.

You didn't understand, why not Miles?

You asked Miguel and he went on a tangent that did not make sense and just made you more confused.

You did get to meet Pavitr and Hobie.

Pavitr was basically your twin! You guys had similar personalities and had twin telepathy.

You and Pavitr were always playing cupid for miles and gwen.

You both were around the same age and everything!

Hobie is SO COOL!

His peircings, his guitar, his clothes, his slang!

You were in awe!

He taught you how to play your guitar! You were finally getting a hang of it!

He was like the older brother you never had!

You wanted to be like him so bad!

Youd follow him around like a duck a lot, but unlike your brothers back home, he'd never yell at you to stop or ignore you, he'd enjoy having you around!

When he and Gwen jokingly said they wanted to start a band, you really wanted to!

A couple of months later, you saw Miles again!

It wasn't in the best circumstances.

You had just gotten back from school. You were in your room scrolling on your phone, when suddenly your spidey senses tingled.

You saw Gwen hop out of a portal in the middle of your room.

"Hey! I kinda sort of need your help."

"what's going on?" you asked, tilting your head in curiosity, putting your phone face down on the bed.

Gwen went on to explain everything you missed.

From Gwen seeing miles to Miles tagging along onto Mamhatten in Pavitr's universe, and then to Miguel's body slamming him into a train and calling everyone to chase him.

Jeez, you don't go to the society for one day and everything goes to shit.

You thought about it for a second, no one would notice you not being here for a couple of days, right?

"..Alright, I've saved the multiverse once, I can do it again."

You sat up on your bed and grabbed your suit.

You grabbed Gwen's arm as she took you to a whole other universe.

After a lot of fighting, you all managed to save Miles's dad.

Seeing their family be happy together made you tear up in happiness.

They deserved to be happy.

After a lot of apologies from all parties, everything was still pretty awkward.

You've probably apologized to Miles over a million times despite him insisting it wasn't your fault.

Sure, you didn't help the others chase him, but you still didn't tell him about society.

Hell, you should've been there to defend him.

You should've yelled at Miguel from the beginning over him not letting Miles in his stupidly exclusive clubhouse.

Instead, you were scared Miguel was gonna bring you back to the manor and disown you, even if you knew he would never do that to you.

You should've stood by miles from the start.

It's never too late to make up for everything

oml this was kinda boring but i needed filler lol

honestly i might write a oneshot of all the spiderkids together

taglist (please tell me if i forgot to tag you!):

@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla

[faramirsonofgondor]

AU where Boromir survives but literally nothing changes because they all think he’s dead and he’s still recovering and by the time he’s actually okay again everything important is already over. Like lowkey imagine how fucking funny it would be if during the one scene where Frodo wakes up after destroying the ring and everyone is coming in, Boromir just walks in nervously and Frodo, who is trying to distract from the fact that he very clearly does not know Legolas’ name, pretends to pass out. Everyone is just like “oh dear!���, Sam goes into overprotective mode (“I told you it was a bad idea Mr. Gandalf!”) Aragorn is trying to reassure Boromir that it’s not his fault and that everything will be fine, Merry and Pippin are trying to comfort each other, Gimli and Legolas are just standing awkwardly in the corner because they know nothing about hobbit biology and what normal reactions are for this sort of thing. Gandalf is the only one who knows Frodo is faking it but he says nothing because Gandalf loves drama and being a bitch. Eventually they’re all ushered out to give Frodo more rest, except for Gandalf, who insists on staying to watch over him. After everyone is gone Gandalf tells him he can open eyes, and the first question out of Frodo’s mouth is very much not about Boromir’s miraculous return, or the state of the world, or about what happens to him now, but rather “Gandalf, what the fuck is the elf’s name?”

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

[grimesproperty]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒

You and Eren are such close best friends, almost "platonic." You open up to Eren about your desire to gain more experience now that you both are in college. Being the sweet best friend he is, he listens to you. And being the sweet best friend you are.

You ask him if he can teach you a few things, even teaching you how he is gonna take your virginity.

EREN YEAGER X READER

cw: nsfw

—

You and Eren Yeager were... complicated.

Best friends, sure. Friends since your freshman year of college, when you spilled coffee all over his sketchpad in the library and he called you "an actual menace" and then bought you a refill because you looked like you were going to cry.

Four years later, nothing had really changed.

Except maybe everything.

Because now you were 21. And Eren wasn’t just your best friend anymore.

He was beautiful. Tall, broad-shouldered, messy brown hair tied into a lazy bun. Piercings glinting in his ear. Green eyes so sharp it felt like they could see through your clothes.

You told yourself you didn’t think about him like that. You lied.

And tonight?

Tonight you were making it worse.

You were sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing one of his hoodies and absolutely no pants. It wasn't weird. You’d always been like this around him. Comfortable.

But lately, comfortable didn’t feel like the right word.

Eren was sprawled out next to you, scrolling through his phone. His legs were bare except for a pair of loose gray sweats that hung way too low on his hips.

You tried not to look.

Failed.

"So," he said suddenly, setting his phone down, "you gonna tell me why you’ve been acting weird all week?"

You pulled your knees up to your chest. "I’m not acting weird."

"You literally flinched when I hugged you yesterday."

"I—I was startled."

He laughed under his breath, low and rough. "Right."

You hated how your stomach twisted at the sound of it.

There was a pause. One of those heavy, loaded silences that only happened when you were both thinking too much.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said finally, voice soft.

You swallowed hard.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at you. Like you were fragile. Like you mattered. Maybe it was the way you were tired of pretending. Maybe it was the fact that your body ached for something you couldn’t name when you were around him lately.

Whatever it was, it broke something open inside you.

"I’m... still a virgin," you blurted out.

The words hung in the air between you, sharp and heavy.

Eren blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, slowly, he sat up, facing you fully.

"Okay," he said carefully. "That's not a bad thing."

You stared down at your hands. "I just... everyone else has already—" You shook your head. "And I feel like... like I’m stuck. Like I'm behind or something."

He was quiet for a second.

Then he said, "You're not behind."

You risked a glance up at him.

His expression was unreadable. Jaw tight. Eyes dark.

You pressed on, heart pounding. "It’s not even about love or anything. I just... I want to know. I’m tired of being scared of it. Of... all of it."

Another pause.

His voice dropped lower. Rougher.

"You want someone to teach you."

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, cheeks burning.

You couldn't look at him. Couldn't breathe.

"I trust you," you whispered.

The silence between you snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

Eren shifted closer, so close you could feel the heat of his bare chest through the thin hoodie you wore.

"You trust me," he repeated, voice almost a growl.

You nodded again, trembling.

He lifted a hand slowly—so fucking slowly—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured.

"Maybe I do," you said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounded.

His fingers brushed down your jaw. Barely a touch. Enough to make your whole body tense.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, voice wrecked.

"You don't have to," you said quickly, pulling back, heart hammering. "I just—I just needed to say it. I’m sorry. Forget it. I shouldn’t have—"

He caught your wrist gently, stopping you.

"Don't be sorry," he said hoarsely. "Just... give me a second. Okay?"

You sat there, frozen, pulse in your throat, while he closed his eyes for a long moment. Like he was fighting himself.

When he opened them again, his green eyes were darker than you’d ever seen.

"Come here," he said roughly.

You inched closer without thinking.

And when he kissed you—soft at first, testing, tasting—you realized it was already too late.

You weren’t just curious.

You wanted him.

Wanted him to touch you, to ruin you, to teach you everything.

And when his tongue slid into your mouth and he groaned low in his chest, you realized something else, too:

Eren wanted it just as badly.

Maybe more.

Maybe he always had.

The air between you and Eren was different now.

Charged. Dangerous.

You could barely breathe as you sat there on his bed, knees knocking together under the oversized hoodie—his hoodie—your bare legs brushing the soft sheets.

Eren hadn't let go of your wrist. His thumb was rubbing lazy, slow circles against your skin. Like he was trying to ground you. Or maybe himself.

"You want me to teach you," he said again, voice wrecked.

You nodded, unable to speak.

"Not just kissing, either," he added, leaning closer, lips brushing your ear. "You want more."

You whimpered before you could stop yourself.

It made him chuckle darkly—low and warm and filthy.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Okay. But we do this slow. You tell me if you want to stop at any point."

You nodded frantically.

"And you don't ever," he said, voice roughening, "ever have to do something you don’t want to. Got it?"

"Got it," you whispered.

His gaze darkened further, the green almost swallowed by black.

"You have no fucking idea what you're asking for," he said, voice a gravelly whisper. "But I'll teach you."

His hand slid up your thigh slowly—way too slowly—until he reached the hem of the hoodie.

You gasped when his fingers brushed your bare skin.

"First lesson," he murmured, smirking faintly. "How a kiss is supposed to feel."

Your breath hitched. Your thighs squeezed together instinctively. You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down at the motion, nostrils flaring.

Eren leaned in, mouth hovering just a whisper from yours.

"You let the other person come to you," he said, voice almost hypnotic. "You don't chase it. You wait."

You swallowed hard. Nodded.

His lips brushed yours lightly—so light you barely felt it.

You whimpered again, desperate for more.

Eren smiled against your mouth.

"Good," he whispered. "You wait. You make them work for it."

He kissed you again, firmer this time. Still teasing.

His hand slid higher up your thigh, under the hoodie, fingers tracing slow, maddening patterns on your skin.

You tilted your chin up instinctively, chasing his mouth.

He pulled back just a fraction.

"Patience, baby," he rasped. "You gotta make them earn it."

You whimpered again, and he chuckled—low and dark and utterly wrecked.

Then finally—finally—he kissed you properly.

Deep. Slow. Consuming.

You felt the heat of him everywhere. The hard line of his chest pressing into you. The rough scrape of his palm sliding along your thigh, curling possessively around it.

You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping, dizzy, desperate.

Your lips were swollen. Your skin burning.

Eren’s chest heaved as he looked down at you, eyes wild, hair falling loose from his bun.

"You feel that?" he growled, voice thick. "That’s how it’s supposed to feel."

You nodded dumbly, dazed.

He grinned crookedly, licking his bottom lip.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You almost collapsed on the spot.

You could barely think. Could barely breathe. Your pulse thundered in your ears, every nerve ending alive under his touch.

Eren pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb still dragging slowly, burning circles against the inside of your thigh.

"Lesson two," he rasped, voice dark and low. "Touching."

You blinked up at him, dazed.

He grabbed your hand—gently, but firmly—and brought it up to his chest.

"Start here," he muttered.

Your fingers curled instinctively around the front of his hoodie.

"No," Eren said, voice rough with something you couldn't name. He tugged his hoodie over his head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.

You gasped.

He was bare underneath—tattoos scattered across golden skin, muscle carved like it had been sculpted just for you.

Your mouth dried instantly.

Eren smirked lazily, watching your stunned expression.

"Touch me," he repeated, softer this time.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out—hesitating for a second, terrified to screw it up.

He caught your wrist again, gentler now, and pressed your hand flat against his chest.

You could feel everything.

The steady thud of his heart. The solid, burning heat of him. The way his breathing hitched the second you touched him.

"Good," he whispered.

You dragged your hand lower—over the plane of his chest, the ridges of his abs. Your fingertips brushed the trail of hair leading down beneath his sweatpants.

Eren hissed through his teeth, muscles tensing under your touch.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You smiled shyly, feeling a flicker of power surge through you.

You brushed your fingers across the tattoo on his ribs—a snake coiled around a dagger—and he groaned low in his throat.

"Lesson three," he gritted out. "Teasing."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

He grinned—dark and hungry and wrecked.

"You gotta make it hurt a little," he said, voice thick. "Make them desperate. Like this—"

He dragged his hands up under the hoodie—your hoodie—splaying his palms against your bare waist, pulling you into his lap.

You squeaked, thighs straddling his.

You could feel him, hard and straining beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

You froze, heart slamming against your ribs.

Eren smirked lazily up at you.

"You feel that?" he murmured. "That's what you do to me."

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders.

He rocked his hips up just slightly—enough to grind against you.

You gasped.

"Eren—"

"Lesson four," he interrupted, voice almost shaking. "Grinding."

You whimpered again, feeling your core throb, slick pooling between your legs embarrassingly fast.

Eren grabbed your hips, guiding you into a slow, torturous grind against him.

"Just like that," he rasped. "Fuck, you're a natural."

You bit your lip hard, trying not to moan.

His eyes darkened even further.

"Don't hide it, baby," he growled. "I wanna hear you."

You whimpered brokenly as you rocked against him, the friction unbearable, electric.

Eren's hands tightened on your hips, the muscles in his arms straining.

His control was slipping—you could see it, feel it.

"You wanna know something?" he muttered, voice strained. "None of this is fucking platonic anymore."

You whimpered his name—and that broke him.

He surged up, kissing you fiercely—messy and desperate—tongue claiming yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You moaned into his mouth, grinding harder, chasing the high.

"Eren, please," you gasped.

He pulled back just enough to growl:

"You want me to show you more?"

You nodded frantically, chest heaving.

His hands slid up your thighs, under the hoodie, grazing dangerously close to where you needed him most.

He smirked against your mouth.

"First," he whispered, "you gotta say it."

You whined in frustration.

"Say what?" you panted.

Eren's eyes gleamed wickedly.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

You squirmed, cheeks burning, brain short-circuiting.

"I want..." you started, voice trembling.

Eren waited, smug and wrecked all at once.

You swallowed hard.

"I want you to touch me," you whispered.

He grinned—dark and slow and victorious.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Then his fingers slid higher—higher—until they brushed the soaked fabric of your panties.

You gasped, hips bucking instinctively.

Eren groaned low in his chest, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he muttered against your neck. "All for me."

You whimpered, clutching his hair.

And then—

He slipped a single finger under the fabric. Dragging it slowly and lightly along your folds. Barely touching, just teasing.

You nearly sobbed.

"Lesson five," he rasped. "Patience."

His finger traced your soaked folds so lightly, you could’ve screamed. You were trembling—hips bucking pathetically against his hand—whining in the back of your throat.

"Eren," you gasped, desperate. "Please—"

He hummed low against your throat, lazy and cruel and amused.

"Patience," he whispered again, his voice dark, wrecked, and starving. "Good things take time, baby."

You sobbed a little—not even caring anymore how pathetic you sounded.

Eren’s free hand tightened on your hip, holding you down firmly against him, grinding your clothed core against his throbbing length.

You could feel the heat of him through both your thin layers. Could feel how badly he wanted it too.

And still—he dragged his finger in slow, cruel circles over your clit. Feather-light. Not nearly enough. Barely anything at all.

"You’re driving me crazy," you whimpered, nails digging into his bare shoulders.

He laughed quietly—sadistic—then kissed your jaw, your throat, the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"You think you're suffering?" he rasped. "You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me right now."

You whimpered again, grinding harder.

Eren grunted low in his chest, gripping you tighter.

"Fuck, baby," he growled. "You're so fucking wet... bet I could slip inside you right now and you’d take me so sweet."

You gasped, head dropping against his shoulder, body shuddering with need.

"You want that?" he muttered, hot against your skin. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," you choked out without thinking, hips jerking. "Yes, Eren, please—"

He groaned like he was in pain.

"Not yet," he gritted. "Not until you're ready."

You whimpered brokenly.

"I am," you cried. "I swear—"

He cut you off by slipping a single finger inside you—just barely. Just the tip—teasing, mocking.

You gasped sharply, clenching around nothing.

"You're tight as fuck," he growled. "Gonna have to stretch you out real slow, baby."

You moaned helplessly, thighs trembling around his hips.

Eren pulled his finger back, dragging it slow over your swollen clit again, making you cry out.

"Lesson six," he panted. "Control."

You whimpered, body arching against him.

"If you can stay patient," he murmured, "I'll make you feel so fucking good you won't remember your own name."

You sobbed in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.

He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and tender.

"You trust me, right?" he whispered.

You nodded frantically, voice breaking.

"Good," he murmured. "Then let me take care of you."

He kissed you again—deeper this time—his tongue licking into your mouth lazily, almost sweetly, as his fingers resumed their torturous, feather-light teasing between your thighs.

You grinded against him desperately, seeking friction, chasing the high he was cruelly keeping just out of reach.

"Please," you sobbed against his mouth.

He chuckled darkly, breathless.

"You're so fucking cute when you beg," he growled. "Makes me wanna wreck you."

You whimpered, thighs quivering.

And then—

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore—

He slid one long finger inside you, all the way this time.

You cried out, clenching tight around him.

"Fuck," Eren groaned, forehead dropping to yours. "You're squeezing me so good, baby."

He pumped his finger slow and deep, dragging over every sensitive spot inside you.

You were a writhing, sobbing mess in his lap.

"One finger," he rasped. "You’re already losing your mind."

He added a second finger without warning, stretching you wider.

You gasped, clinging to him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, kissing your temple. "Breathe."

You did—barely.

He moved his fingers in slow, delicious thrusts, curling them inside you just right.

You cried out, thighs trembling violently.

"Good girl," he praised, voice thick with lust. "Taking me so good."

You felt the coil tightening in your belly—hot and fast and out of control.

"Eren," you gasped. "I—I’m gonna—"

He pulled his fingers out suddenly.

You screamed in frustration, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Eren grinned—dark and wicked—and licked his fingers clean, eyes locked on yours.

"Taste so fucking good," he muttered, voice hoarse.

You whimpered brokenly.

"Why—" you gasped, voice wrecked. "Why'd you stop?"

He grinned lazily, pulling you closer until your soaked panties rubbed against his throbbing cock again.

"Lesson seven," he rasped against your mouth.

You clutched his shoulders, desperate.

"Denial," he whispered.

Your panties were ruined.

Your thighs were trembling.

Your mind was gone.

And Eren was still teasing you — cruel, patient, starving — holding you pinned in his lap, soaked core grinding against the hard line of his cock through his sweats.

"Look at you," he muttered against your ear, voice low and vicious. "Fucking dripping for me."

You sobbed out a noise that wasn’t even a word anymore.

He cupped the back of your neck roughly, forcing you to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.

"You want me to stop?" he rasped.

Your mouth opened — no sound came out.

You shook your head frantically.

"Say it," he growled.

"Don't stop," you whimpered.

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with pure lust.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, baby," he muttered.

"I don't care," you cried, grinding desperately against him. "Please, Eren — please, I need you —"

He kissed you — brutal, hot, hungry — biting your bottom lip until you gasped.

"You think I’m just gonna fuck you sweet and gentle because it’s your first time?" he muttered against your mouth. "You’re wrong, baby."

He nipped down your throat — teeth scraping — hand sliding under your panties to finally touch you skin to skin.

You screamed — the feel of his fingers against your bare, swollen clit devastating.

"I’m gonna ruin you," he whispered.

You sobbed.

"Please," you begged again.

And then — —he lifted you slightly off his lap, pushed your panties aside roughly, gripped his cock in one hand—

—and rubbed the head through your soaked folds.

You gasped—full body jerk.

"You feel that?" he muttered. "That’s what’s about to stretch you open."

You could barely breathe, forehead pressed against his shoulder, nails raking down his back.

He groaned low at the feeling — you, clinging to him, desperate and ruined and ready to fall apart.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, voice rough. "You’re shaking."

You whimpered — a pleading, broken sound.

"You’re so fucking small," he gritted, positioning himself. "Gotta go slow. Gotta take my time."

You nodded frantically.

And then—

He pushed in.

Just the tip.

You screamed, whole body locking up around him.

Eren swore viciously, clutching your hips in a bruising grip.

"Fucking tight," he gasped.

You sobbed, forehead pressed against him.

"Relax, baby," he whispered hoarsely, kissing your temple. "You're doing so good."

You tried — you tried — relaxing as best you could.

And slowly—so painfully slow—he sank deeper.

You whimpered, tears leaking from your eyes.

Eren kissed them away, murmuring soft, filthy praises in your ear.

"Taking me so good," he muttered. "So fucking good for me."

You clenched around him, overwhelmed, trembling in his lap.

And when he finally bottomed out — fully seated inside you — you were gasping, shaking, completely wrecked.

Eren groaned into your skin.

"You feel that?" he rasped. "That’s mine now."

You sobbed.

"Yours," you gasped without thinking.

His hips twitched at that — a guttural, broken sound tearing from his throat.

"Fuck," he growled. "Say it again."

"Yours," you choked out, clinging to him. "I’m yours."

He kissed you — hard, brutal, messy.

And then he started moving.

Slow at first — so fucking slow — letting you feel every inch of him dragging against your tight, sensitive walls.

You were crying, overwhelmed with the feeling of him inside you — thick, deep, perfect.

Eren cursed under his breath, hands digging into your hips.

"God, baby," he panted. "You’re milking my cock so good."

You sobbed, burying your face in his neck.

He rocked you in his lap — slow, deep thrusts — groaning low every time you clenched around him.

"You were made for this," he muttered. "Made for me."

You nodded frantically, words beyond you now.

And then he snapped his hips harder — —once.You screamed.

"That’s it," he growled, thrusting harder. "That’s my good fucking girl."

You were gone — Mindless — Ruined — Completely his.

You tightened around him, thighs trembling violently.

"Eren—!" you sobbed. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

"Come for me, baby," he growled, fucking you through it. "Come all over my cock."

You screamed, body seizing — clenching around him so tight he cursed viciously, hips stuttering.

You were gushing around him — soaking him — vision going white.

And Eren— Eren thrust a few more brutal, desperate times—

And came inside you — hard, deep, endless — groaning your name like a prayer.

You collapsed against him, trembling.

He wrapped his arms tight around you, pressing kisses to your damp forehead, breathing you in like he’d never get enough.

"You’re mine now," he whispered.

You sobbed brokenly against his skin.

"Yours," you gasped again. "Always yours."

He smiled against your hair.

"Good girl."

The room smelled like sex and sweat and something dangerous.

You were still shaking in his lap — sore, full, overwhelmed — clinging to him like if you let go you’d fall apart completely.

Eren was breathing hard against your temple, one big hand rubbing slow, grounding circles over your back.

You felt… Destroyed. Safe. Utterly his.

"Shhh," he whispered, voice rough and low. "Got you. I got you."

You whimpered into his chest.

Your thighs were slick with both of you — your panties ruined, his sweats soaked — and you could still feel him pulsing faintly inside you.

"I didn’t hurt you, did I?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to search your face.

His green eyes — usually so cocky, mischievous, infuriating — were wrecked now, wide and frantic and tender.

You shook your head quickly.

"No," you rasped. "Good," he whispered, voice breaking a little. "Good girl.”

He kissed you again — softer this time — just his lips brushing yours, slow and sweet and unbearable.

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders.

He kissed you again, and again — desperate, messy little kisses like he couldn’t stop.

And then, without a word, he scooped you up into his arms — carrying you bridal style toward the bathroom.

You clung to him, dazed.

He kicked the door shut, set you gently down on the edge of the bathtub, and started running the shower — hot and steamy.

You sat there trembling, watching him.

He was still in just his sweats — clinging wetly to his hips — the outline of his cock still hard against the fabric.

His skin was flushed, bitten raw from where you’d scratched him.

And he looked wrecked.

Eren caught you staring and gave you a crooked, fucked-out little smile.

"Like what you see?" he teased, voice hoarse.

You blushed furiously.

He laughed — low and affectionate — and tugged his sweats down, not shy at all.

You sucked in a breath.

Even softening, he was huge — thick, flushed, wet with both of you.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively.

Eren saw — and his smile sharpened into something dark.

But he didn’t say anything. Just stepped into the shower and held a hand out to you.

"C'mere, baby."

You let him pull you up, strip you the rest of the way out of your ruined panties, and guide you into the spray.

The hot water hit your skin — and you whimpered, sore all over, every nerve ending lit up.

Eren pulled you tight against him under the water, cradling your head against his chest.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he murmured into your wet hair.

You whimpered.

He soaped you up slowly — running big hands gently over your arms, your back, the curve of your ass.

Everywhere he touched, you felt like you were burning.

When he got to between your legs, he hesitated — gentle, patient, watching your face.

"Okay?" he murmured.

You nodded quickly.

He touched you so slow — careful around your swollen, sensitive clit — cleaning you up with soft, reverent touches.

You gasped into his chest, trembling.

"You’re so sensitive," he murmured, almost in awe. "Fuck, baby."

You clung to him, panting.

Eren pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw — murmuring nothing words, just your name and mine, mine, mine like he couldn’t help it.

When you were finally rinsed off, he shut the water off and wrapped you both in a big towel, carrying you back to the bed like you weighed nothing.

He tucked you under the covers, crawling in beside you — pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

You felt everything — his warmth, his heartbeat, his length pressed lazily against your thigh.

He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in.

"You’re mine now," he murmured against your skin.

You shivered.

"I’ve always been yours," you whispered.

Eren groaned low, kissing you like it hurt.

And when you shifted against him, grinding ever so slightly — —he growled.

"You wanna go again, baby?" he muttered against your mouth. "You wanna learn some more lessons?"

You whimpered — helpless, wrecked, desperate for him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Eren — teach me."

He grinned — slow and wicked.

"Oh, I’m gonna teach you, baby."

And he kissed you again — —dragging you down, deeper and deeper, into him — —where there was no such thing as friendship anymore. Only this. Only us.

—

part two here

[zolass]

Sharing A Bed

Bottom Male Reader (?) x Top Male Oc

It's been a hot minute since I posted like an actual lil piece I've been so focused on reading Manhwas and drawing because I simply enjoy it and I burned out with writing.

This is more of a thanks for sticking around and a welcome to the new followers <3 I also see the requests but I don't want to really ruin a good request by half assed writing from my part. I see y'all so don't feel discouraged by my silence I appreciate you guys!

Also for this one, it's just some fluff and it's not meant to be long, but I would definitely revisit Cecil again in the future just like some of ppl's fav's (from comments and req's) and fyi I never went to college or plan to- so idfk how it works and I only use the knowledge I have from literally reading. And idk if there's some trauma to the bed behavior that this is build upon, if so I'm sorry it wasn't intentional. The lil quirk suddenly popped up in my head so yea.

There's probably typos that I'm too lazy to fix

(I thought abt adding Tags but I'm so clueless ngl) but I can tag one person and one person only: @carnalcrows

tw: none (?)

1k words

Sharing a bed wasn’t really something you had on your ‘bucket-list’ even if it was almost an everyday situation for a lot of people. Except for you, even as a child when a nightmare plagued you – your parents only allowed to sit next to your bed.

You loved your parents and they loved you and still do. So they always respected your wishes when it came to small things like this. Nobody knew exactly why the uncomfortable squirm and visage you would pull whenever the topic ‘sharing a bed’ came up.

Sleep overs with friends. You slept alone even if it was on the ground with your blanket and pillow.

A school trip, bunkbeds but if there was even the slightest hint of having to share the small space with another classmate? You rather slept on an airmattress and gave them the bed.

Everyone questioned at first, even you did – whispers and odd looks, but after some time people accepted that about you. Saying it was a little quirk of yours. It wasn’t like you hated any physical contact, no you were alright with hugs, handshakes and these sorts of things you normally encounter during your life and friendgroups.

Then college came around, your life opened up another path as you wanted to finish a major before you would travel around – just as compromised with your parents.

First college and then the fun.

Living your campus live in a dorm was – interesting for you but you managed until your last year when there was suddenly a change. You got a new dorm and roommate, that was the first time you saw him. Lazing on his bed, on the left side of the dorm, phone in hand and only sweats in the damned heat of summer.

Your eyes met, while giving each other a simple greeting and then both of you went to do your own stuff. Of course you found out what his name was, after you introduced yourself to each other, after you finished your side of the dorm.

Cecil Vicente.

That day was the beginning of where you found a new friend, a talker and listener but also comfort. Despite the different interests in a lot of things, as time passed Cecil hovered around you more and more, except even your roommate wasn’t allowed to sit on your bed.

Summer passed and autumn quickly followed.

Winter hit, with a drop in temperature and a sudden fall of snow over night, turning everything into a powdery white dream. Cecil and you spent still a lot of time together even after so many months and it did spark happiness inside of you that Cecil still spared so much time to care for your friendship, despite the other male being rather popular around campus.

The weekend came around quickly, with you laying in bed as the sun dipped behind the horizon, “Hey Y/n,” your eyes focused on the brunette standing by the entrance door. “Are you sure you don’t want to join?” tapping your pen on the wooden desk, you first didn’t find your voice, shaking your head before adding a polite “no thanks,” and a smile.

Cecil threw you a smile back, “If you need something, just call me and I’ll come as fast as I can,” were his last words before he stepped out of the door, towards a gathering or rather college party. This was another thing you weren’t hyped about.

Slowly hours passed by and you found yourself in your bed, comfortable in simple pajama pants. The sky has turned dark while snow fell, your eyes were focused on the rather large window between the two beds, which showed the light of the city and the snow falling.

Blanket pulled up to rest just below your collarbone, with your feet tucked between the last bit of the blanket, while the drowsiness slowly kicked in. Just as you were to fall asleep, the door to your dorm opened and someone stumbled in.

Of course you knew who that someone was, but you decided to make a comment as Cecil quickly picked up that he was rather loud for this time and continued his doings more quietly. Shoes were placed by the entrance followed by the jacket and soon the rustling of clothes was heard in the rather silent dorm.

Your eyes closed again and you snuggled yourself into the warmth of your blanket, which then was suddenly ripped from your hands and lifted. Eyes flying open, you stared into the person hovering over you.

Through the light that came in through the window, you could make out the slight furrow of Cecil’s brows. Before you could ask what was wrong, said male suddenly dropped onto your bed – his larger body covering half of yours, with his face sinking into your nape and an arm thrown over your waist.

It happened rather fast – without notice or warning.

Your mouth fell open, and closed like a fish as you tried to find your voice, “Wha-” your voice was higher pitched, but Cecil cut you off, “Just this once – please,” he pleaded softly against your ear, his hot breath caressing your ear.

But in the end your shoulders slumped, while your free hand nervously wrapped around Cecil’s forearm that laid over you. It was the first time you shared a bed and your heart was pounding erratically in your chest. Despite this you didn’t feel uncomfortable which surprised you.

Listening in to the evened breathing of Cecil, you were rather unsure of moving so you laid rather stiff in your own bed, before you closed your eyes and fell asleep soon after, with warm and heavy feeling of Cecil by your side.

Without knowing that the same man noticed your body relax as you fell asleep in his embrace. Making a small smile form on his lips, while his own heart started to beat faster with your warm breath brushing against his own skin.

“Please let this night never end.”

[ohhiimweird]

Dating them, except they're a monkey

Characters: Sun Wukong, Macaque, MK (brooo where's the yellow text) Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Nothing, just fluff! ...

Sun Wukong

surprisingly he's a little awkward at the beginning of the relationship

i'm gonna assume you're the first mortal he's ever dated. so, he doesn't know what to do since you're much more vulnerable than he is

very cuddly, like suuuupper touch starved. he'll cling to you like you'd disappear if he lets go. it gets to the point where you start to smell like him

speaking of that, he is BEGGING you to wear his cape. if you've fallen asleep, guess what's going on you, the cape

later on into the relationship, he opens up more about the utter amount of guilt in him about literally everything he's done

if you give him enough encouragement, he might try to close the gap in his and macaque's relationship and maybe they'll be friends again. who knows?

wukong cherishes you more than anything in this entire world, and he's gonna make sure the world knows that (you're included in that)

he's also uber protective because you're a mortal and can die very easily. the only way to fix that is if he makes you immortal with one of those peaches

Macaque

this is a SLOW BURN, but worth is in the end

he'll have some big trouble trying to let you in near the beginning of the relationship. in a way he's still trying to fight his feelings for you, despite you accepting him for who he is

although he's trying to get better, his thoughts still tell him he's not worthy of someone like you, it's not an uncommon thought when the whole world has pushed you aside or used you

when he sees that you're not like the others (ha) he'll warm up to the idea of being loved and loving you

he's not as touchy-feely as wukong, but he'll rest his head in your lap while you scratch behind his ears

he'll quietly purr but if you bring it up, he won't admit it

if you can't sleep, he'll tell you a little story using his shadow lantern (it's about your relationship with the names changed lol)

in a way, he's even more protective than wukong since you're the one that lit up his world. no one is gonna take that away from him

MK

it's weird but he's the least awkward when getting into a relationship with you...actually it depends on when that happens

if we're talking about early in the show, then he's more nervous because wow he just pulled you and you're hot

it we're talking about post-trauma, then he's nervous because he's got the world on his shoulders and doesn't know how to let you in

You're also dealing with monkey boy shenanigans. bro is tripping into you constantly because of either walking with or without a tail

MK is also getting you little trinkets of your favorite things or a cool rock he found. he's like a cross between a penguin and a crow

if he has a rough day he'll just cling to you like velcro and let out this big content huff while you watch monkey cop or something

Pigsy loves you, Tang ADORES you. he is making wedding plans for y'all and you aren't even engaged yet

Whenever you come home, MK runs up to you like a dog and drowns you in hugs and kisses, even if you're holding groceries. you lost a lot of eggs because of that (rip soldier)

[erodasfishtacos]

Is It Casual? || FWB!H ||

prompt: it's casual, right? but god, it really doesn't feel that way

word count: 6k

warnings: subspace, lack of aftercare, angst, lack of communication

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

There are other parts of this up and will be updated this month

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (2-5kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 375 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

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first TWENTY to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month!

+

The bar was clearing out, trivia night had come to a conclusion, and everything was winding down.

The big chalkboard in the corner still displayed the final scores, a lopsided tally where “Team Niall” had tragically lost by two points.

It was Tuesday night and everyone had work the next day which meant that there was a rush through the door and left them as the last ones to filter out because they always tended to lollygag even though most of them had early mornings.

The group of friends were all saying their goodbyes.

YN stood with Georgia near the AC vent, arm linked through hers for warmth because the cold blast from above made her huddle in closer.

Hailee and Jessa were a few feet away, still laughing about the last round of questions, and how the boys were such sore losers at every turn.

Someone always tended to leave Trivia night with their feelings hurt.

Niall, Harry, and Mitch were all arguing about the question that had them lose the game.

“Why the fuck would you say Delaware?” Harry scolds as he runs his hand through his hair, a scowl that was saved for Niall and Niall alone, “It's not even a fucking city. It's a state.”

“I got confused! Delaware is the smallest state!” Niall defends putting his hands up, pinks cheek from the beer he's had.

“No, it's really fucking not. It's Rhode Island!” Harry shouts back at him with exasperation, hands thrown up in annoyance, “Come on!”

“You're off the team,” Mitch adds in, monotone and bored as he tugged his keys out from his jean pocket - slowly but obviously trying to see himself out of the argument.

“That's bullshit! We're literally named Team Niall,” He argues with wide disbelieving eyes.

“It's not hard to change the name,” Harry adds in, agreeing with Mitch, and an annoyed roll of his eyes because even though the two have been friends since diapers - they fought more than middle school girls and made up just as quickly.

“Okay, well we work tomorrow morning and have seen enough of this cat fight,” Hailee announces as she wraps her hand around Mitch’s wrist, guiding her boyfriend towards the door.

Jessa trailed behind, waving goodnight to everyone with an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Niall is mumbling about unfair treatment as they all start heading towards the door.

“You did good,” Harry manages to slip next to YN, bumping her hip and then glancing over at Georgia, “You too. I didn't know about Montana's state flower.”

“Better do some studying before next Tuesday,” Georgia quips as she throws her arm around YN, who just laughs softly.

“You did a good job too, Harry,” YN compliments as she leads Georgia towards where they parked next to each other.

“Thanks,” He replies with a slight smile, he pauses as he realizes his car is next to Niall’s on the other side of the lot, “I'll see you guys next Tuesday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” YN said, both she and Georgia giving a small wave as he headed off.

“You two should totally date,” Georgia says as soon as Harry is out of earshot, glancing back quickly to double check, “You'd be so cute together.”

YN shakes her head with an annoyed scowl towards her friend, “We both just got out of long-term relationships. I don't think that would be a good idea.”

Georgia made a dismissive sound, clicking her tongue, “Harry’s been broken up with Lauren for, what, four months? You and Ben ended things at least three ago.”

YN bit the inside of her cheek, the familiar tightness crawling up her chest, “You literally just think we should date because we’re both single.”

“And you guys would look hot together,” Georgia doesn't disagree with her accusation, “I mean…look at him. He's insanely fit. He carried four drinks with one hand!”

YN had noticed. 

She wasn’t blind. 

She remembered the way his hand had dwarfed the copper mug as he slid the Moscow Mule in front of her before passing out three other beer bottles.

And the size of his hands… yeah, she noticed that too.

“No, I'm not looking for a relationship and I doubt he is either,” YN reiterates as they get to their cars, “He's nice but I'm not ready to commit again.”

Georgia scoffed, pressing the button on her key fob - her car chirped and blinked to life, “Who said anything about commitment? I said a date, not a full ass wedding.”

“Goodnight, George,” YN sighed, her tone exasperated but affectionate, she unlocked her own car with a quiet beep,“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Georgia groaned, slumping dramatically with a frown coating her features, “I’ve got that god-awful presentation. You better pretend to care.”

“Always do,” YN said with a laugh as she slipped into the driver’s seat, glad the conversation had moved on. 

Her head was already too full, her thoughts spiraling the moment Harry came up.

Ben.

Just the name made her temples throb, an implosion that she was trying to avoid because it made her head hurt at least once a day, sometimes more if she thought about him for too long.

It's been three months and it's been amazing to be out of a relationship with an immature man child who got insecure when she went to trivia night so he always tagged along, needed to be included when he hated trivia and rarely ever answered correctly.

So yeah, it had been a relief. 

Being single was better than babysitting a grown man’s ego.

Georgia blew her a kiss before backing out of the parking spot with a little screech of tires. 

YN gave her the middle finger with a smirk before starting her own engine.

It seems like every week now she was bringing it up, trying to play matchmaker for two people who were healing from heartbreaks.

YN only knows a little about the break-up.

Lauren rarely came to trivia. 

When she did, she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

YN knew that Harry had ended it, even though it was hard—he’d said once, in a rare vulnerable moment, that he wanted someone he could build a life with. 

Lauren didn’t want that.

She hadn’t gone easily either. 

She’d shown up at trivia twice post-breakup, trying to win him back. 

Each time, the group acted like they weren’t watching as Harry gently pulled her aside, voice low and kind, guiding her to the other side of the bar before walking her out to her car.

Ben had shown up a few times too, clumsy and bitter, trying to stake some kind of claim.

That hadn’t ended as well as with Lauren.

It didn’t end quietly because Niall and Mitch had to guide him out of the bar while Harry stood between them to make sure that Ben didn’t approach her again - acting as her makeshift bodyguard.

So now Georgia was rooting for two broken people to get together—not necessarily out of romance, but maybe just because the group missed their spark.

Missed the way YN used to laugh, the way Harry used to be sharper, quicker.

+ few minutes later +

“Hips up, come on. You’ve been teasing all night,” Harry grunts, voice low and rough the moment the backseat door thuds closed behind them.

There’s no hesitation—he’s already on her.

His hands at the waist of her skirt, fumbling big hands trying to find the zipper as he bullies her further into the space until her back hits the opposite door.

YN has to remind herself that she's just romanticizing this whole situation because it's her first time having a sexual relationship with someone she's not dating.

She convinces herself the excitement is what makes their chemistry so magnetic and nothing else but she knows she never felt like this with Ben or any other partner.

“Wasn't teasing,” YN manages to get out but she was already breathless, eager in a way she's never been with sex, her thighs dampening was a new sensation.

“No?” His tone is almost mocking, but laced with something darker—something feral, his fingers finally land on the zipper at her side, tugging it slowly down with infuriating precision, “Then your cunt isn’t needy? Am I reading the signs wrong?”

Her breath hitches.

God, she should be annoyed. 

She should be offended.

 But the filth coming from his mouth only fuels the heat already pooling low in her belly. 

The way he says it—so confident, so cocky lights her up in a way she didn’t know words could.

“What signs?” YN pushes back because their back and forth only build up her arousal even further, searching for more dirty words out of his mouth.

Harry leans in, his mouth a breath away from her ear. 

His words send a full-body shiver down her spine.

“The way you watched my mouth all night,” Harry murmurs, voice thick and gravelly. 

His fingers press insistently into the soft, plush flesh just above the waistband of her tight skirt, “Saw you clench your thighs when I took off my coat.”

“You’re full of yourself,” YN manages, but the protest comes out barely above a whisper. 

Her fingers curl into the fabric of his jacketat his shoulder, grounding herself in him because it still doesn't feel real—being able to touch him like this, have him this close. 

There’s something that happens when she’s with Harry—this overwhelming impatience, a hunger that feels heavier, more intense than lust.

Like if she doesn’t get his hands on her, in her, she might actually combust. 

“So you didn't want this? Haven't been looking forward to Trivia night for this?” Harry has this cocky smile on his face, his fingers haven't move at all from her waist and it was making her tick.

“Didn’t cross my mind once,” YN bites out, teeth clenched, her toes curling inside her boots, heels digging into the expensive leather of the car seat. 

Her body is aching to be touched—every inch of her buzzing with restless need but she’s trying to keep control of the dynamic. 

Barely.

Harry narrows his eyes slightly, amusement and heat flickering behind them as he begins to pull back.

 The shift is subtle, but she feels the loss instantly—his weight, his warmth. 

And that just won’t do.

Before he can move another inch, her other hand snaps up to grab at his jacket, fisting the fabric roughly and yanking him back toward her. 

Their lips collide in a kiss so heated it steals the breath from her lungs.

His hand flies up to cup the side of her face, fingers splayed against her cheek and jaw, holding her in place like he’s claiming her. 

The way he kisses her—hungry and messy and unrelenting, it feels like he’s trying to devour her, like he earned her mouth, like he owns it.

“Admit it,” Harry’s mouth is still against hers, barely separating to speak before he's dipping his tongue back into her mouth like he can't help himself.

“No,” YN chases after his tongue as he pulls back, trying to follow his lips because they were addictive and she wanted more.

Harry doesn’t let her take.

He sits back just enough, his body still caging her in, but now his eyes are on fire. 

That same molten look she’s only ever seen when he’s like this—turned on and completely focused.

“Why are you being difficult, honey?” Harry hums as he moves to cup her knees where they're bent around him, ghosting down her right, and dancing along the hem of her skirt, “I know what you want. Don't need to be ashamed of it.”

YN feels a swoop on her stomach, the way he spoke never managed to not get her even more turned on for him, and the whole dynamic of feeling this aroused and playful was new.

“Then give it to me,” YN huffs out as she hitches her hips impatiently,  blinking down at him - she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

He reaches up and captures one of her wrists, the same one curled tight into his jacket. 

Gently but deliberately, he pries it free and guides it downward. 

With his other hand, he hikes her skirt up, bunching the fabric at her hips until she’s fully exposed, her thighs spread, her breath trembling in her throat.

Then he moves her hand between her legs.

It takes her breath away—literally. 

Her gasp cuts sharply through the close air of the backseat, a startled, needy sound as her own fingertips brush the soaked heat of her thong.

Harry doesn’t look away from her, not for a second. 

She can’t help the shudder that racks through her when her fingers press more firmly to her clit.

It’s not the same as when it’s his hands on her, his mouth. 

But it still eases the throbbing, even if just a little.

“Feel nice, sweet girl?”  Harry nearly croons, it sounds fonder than it should for what they're doing, what they are, and aren't to each other, “You're filthy, touching yourself like this in front of me.”

There’s something unbearably hot about the way he guides her, how he’s using her fingers to pleasure herself the way he wants.

She opens her mouth to throw the insult back at him, to call him filthy, but all that escapes is a whimper as he withdraws her hand suddenly.

He holds it between them, his grip gentle but commanding. 

Her slick glistens on her fingertips under the dim lights filtering through the foggy windows.

“Not wet for me?” Harry asks, cocking a brow with mock innocence.

“No,” she replies with a bratty edge, her chin lifting in defiance. 

She’s proud of the attitude—but it doesn’t last long.

Because without missing a beat, Harry brings her hand up to her face, rubbing her soaked fingertips across her lips until her own arousal glosses them.

He doesn’t stop there.

Harry leans in and presses his mouth to hers again, tongue sweeping over the same place he’d just marked with her slick. 

It’s possessive, greedy.

He licks into her mouth like he’s starving, and the kiss nearly sends her reeling.

“Please, I was wet for you all night,” YN finally gives in, “Was thinking about this.”

There’s no point in pretending anymore. 

She knows how patient he can be.

Harry doesn’t rush. 

He waits, teases, stretches her thin until she’s begging—and she always breaks first.

“About what? Getting your needy cunt touched?” Harry laughs meanly , albeit pleased that she relented because then he can really start being a menace, “Do you think about it all week? Do you think about me all week?”

She should say no. 

She should lie. 

Because she does think about him, not just the sex. 

His laugh, his stupid jokes, the way he looks when he’s concentrating on a trivia question.

But she doesn’t tell him that. 

She can’t.

“I want to come,” YN says instead because it seems safer than telling him the truth, she bucks her hips upwards towards his center but doesn't make contact.

“And I want you to behave,” Harry grunts with annoyance in his tone, hands coming to press her hips back down with a harshness that she hadn't had from previous partners.

She loved it.

She lets out a soft moan at the contact, even as frustration builds. 

She wishes they weren’t crammed into the backseat of his car. 

Wishes she could be stretched out on his bed, bare and unhurried, with his full weight pressing her into the mattress.

“I’ll be good,” YN says, her voice gone kitten-soft and breathy. 

It surprises even her, the way it sounds—submissive and sweet. 

Not like her at all.

“Show me what I want to see then. Be a good girl,” Harry sits back, his eyes tracing over her body, and resting down on the thick of her thigh - squeezing.

YN briefly wonders if this is how Harry had been with Lauren - dominant but attentive, and that's a twist of jealousy in her stomach that she'd rather not consider right now.

The skirt is already bunched at her waist, fabric wrinkled and forgotten. 

Her hand trembles slightly as she dips back down to her center, hooking the gusset of her thong around her fingers and tugging it aside.

It was nerve-wracking to expose the most private part of herself to the man she was crushing on so deeply, had been for so long, and even though he's seen her like this before - it still hadn't become any less intimidating.

“Fuck,” Harry curses when she does so, his hand coming down to almost curiously roll her swollen, hard bud until his thumb, “So puffy f’me. Never seen a prettier pussy.”

And it's probably just a line, he has said those words to the girls that came before her but it still boosted her ego quite a bit.

Emboldened, YN arches her hips into his touch, a pretty moan slipping out as her head tilts back, exposing the soft, pale column of her throat.

“Desperate for my touch, huh?” Harry rasps, ghosting down to tease around her entrance, not dipping in but gathering the wetness there.

“If you don't make me come soon, i'll go back in that bar and get Will,” YN threans with her own smile because she knew he wouldn't like that, “He would get me off.”

Will was one of the DJ’s who ran trivia and he had taken quite a liking to YN, had made it known, and had asked her out a few times.

Harry didn't outwardly admit jealousy but would make snarky comments about how pathetic Will was, how annoying he was, and how he just needed to do his job.

His expression hardens instantly, brows furrowing, top lip curling. 

“You think Will could get you off?” He snaps, glancing up from where his fingers still hover just shy of her cunt, “That fucker doesn’t even know where the clit is. You’d be getting licked out until next year.”

“It’d still be quicker than how long it takes you to get me off,” YN shoots back, chin tilted.

Her pulse is thundering in her ears—because she’s poking the bear, and she knows it.

Harry’s easy to rile when it comes to showing off.

He never backs down when his pride is challenged.

His jaw ticks once, eyes narrowing. 

Then, in a flash, he's had enough.

“Stop fuckin’ running your mouth,” Harry hisses finally hitting his breaking point, it was impressive because he rarely got to that point this quickly.

Before she can fire off another comeback, Harry grips her hips and yanks her down the seat, until she’s lying flat, skirt bunched at her waist, legs parted. 

The leather squeaks under her, echoing in the silence of the car.

His hands grips her ass, firm and rough, pulling her pelvis up until she arches toward him—and then he’s there, his mouth crashing onto her with no warning.

YN cries out as his lips close around her clit, tugging it into his mouth with punishing accuracy. 

Her body jolts, trying to flinch back from the intense pressure, but his grip tightens—keeping her locked in place and leaving her no room to wriggle away.

Harry’s nose nudges against her mound, his lips and tongue relentless, like a man feral.

He barely comes up for air, working her over with deep, rhythmic licks and suction that feel like they’re pulling the pleasure straight from the source.

YN reaches down to grab at him, fingers tangled in his curls as she pushes into his mouth before trying to shy away.

He moves one hand from her ass, thumbing over her seam before he's nudging two fingers in until he can pet at the front of her inner walls, scissoring them to make her feel the light, welcome stretch.

“Ye-yeah,” YN can only gasp as the stimulation grows more quickly than she's used to, his fingers and mouth are so knowledgeable , know exactly what their doing, “Oh, I'm clo-close, H.”

His eyes flick up to her, barely visible from this angle, but the glint in them is unmistakable—dark, electric.

His mouth never lets up, tongue lapping at her, lips sealing around her clit again in a rhythm that has her thighs trembling.

His fingers pump into her at a steady, sure pace, and he knows she’s right at the edge.

And then he stops.

Just like that.

He lets her drop back to the leather seat, slick and desperate, the cool air hitting her exposed skin. 

She blinks in disbelief, mouth open in shock, hips twitching in search of the sensation that vanished too fast, and watches as he rubs his face against the calf that was hooked over his shoulder.

Harry’s the filthy one, really, because he runs his tongue over where he'd just wiped off her arousal without any shame.

“No, no,” YN complains desperately, she had been so fucking close, tryin to hold it at that delicious almost there bliss for as long as possible and it was starting to fizzle, “No, I didn't come- Harry, I didn't-”

Harry comes to cup her jaw, effectively shutting her up with a thumb pressed roughly against her lip.

“If only our friends knew what a mouthy, greedy lil’ thing you are,” Harry admonishes as he tugs down her bottom lip, his nose nearly brushing hers, “I know you didn’t come, silly girl. I didn’t want you to.”

“But why?” YN snaps at him, the sensitivity was continuing to fizzle out like a sparkler come to the end of it’s life, and it left this unsettled, uncomfortable ache that she was never used to feeling because if a partner was getting her that close - she didn’t have the luxury to edge or she wouldn’t get it back then she just wouldn’t come that time when they had sex.

Harry doesn’t answer with words at first.

His hand drops sharply to her inner thigh, a slap of dominance that makes her yelp—not from pain exactly, but the sting of surprise, of being handled like that.

“Because I said so,” Harry retorts lowly, teeth clenched as his brow draw further together, “I don’t think you’ve earned it. Not sweet ‘nough for me yet.”

“I’m sweet, I’m sweet,” YN knows she sounds like a begging puppy but he was the only person who brought of this desperation in her, this unhinged beahvior where she had no shame because she wanted him so much more than she wanted to keep her dignity. 

Harry’s face softens—just a little. 

His gaze travels over her flushed face, her trembling body, her wide, needy eyes. 

Something fond flickers in his expression, just for a beat, and it makes her chest ache.

“Are you?” He murmurs, voice gone almost gentle in contrast. “How are you gonna show me?”

YN nudges forward to steal a kiss, relieved when he allows it but only for a moment before he’s biting down on her lip as punishment.

Her hand comes down to his center, gripping at him through the tight denim of his jeans, and it made her confidence skyrocket when she felt how rock hard he was for her, twitching underneath her palm at the unexpected touch.

“I’ll suck you,” YN tells him, it’s nowhere near the filth that he spills out but it still felt so foreign rolling off of her tongue, “Please, I want you in my mouth.”

“You’re already getting sweeter,” Harry croons as he bats her hand away, moving to unbutton his jeans, and shove them as well as his briefs down his thighs - he was intimidating, the size - the length and girth of him was enough to stretch the corner of her lips and make them ache, she remembers how it felt last week when she had swallowed him down and made her eyes water.

They’d only been doing this for a few weeks, with a break in between during the holidays when there was no trivia, and she still wasn’t use to handle someone as well endowed as him, her eyes had gone wide the first time she’d seen how pretty he was and he had given her this sleazy, proud smile at the time.

Harry wraps a hand around the base of his cock, thumb brushing the slick head. 

Her breath hitches. 

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ask. 

That she’d wait for him to initiate.

But they hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, sure they’d only hooked up in his car a total of three times now but it hadn’t come up, he hadn’t mentioned even one word of it yet, and she realizes just how much she has been craving him, having him fill her up in a way she’d never felt before.

“C’mon, darling. You’re been so good for me now,” Harry hums as he thumbs over the ruddy, wet tip, it was welcoming, tempting.

“No, I -” YN cuts off because she wants to stop herself, she told herself she wouldn’t, “Want you to fuck me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, his composed facial expression fades momentarily with the surprise of her words, and his hand stops on his length, “Fuck you?”

“Yes,” YN tries to sound sure of herself but it’s faltering, because she’s not.

“And you’ve earned that?” Harry prompts, his cool demeanor right back in place, the shock disappearing just as fast as it had happened, “Or are you being selfish and trying to get out of sucking cock now that you’ve gotten your own?”

YN’s brow furrow, “I didn’t come though.”

Harry snickers, boyishly because he’s getting off of this, “I forgot, your mouthiness has me distracted.”

And looking back, YN thinks this is what people talk about when they use the term subspace.

She’s never felt like this—never felt safe enough to let go.

Because she’d never experienced it before this point but something in her just breaks, she feels floaty and unashamed - there’s no insecurity, no worries about how desperate she’s acting because all she can thinking about is Harry.

It’s an arousal that clouds anything logical and it feels like she’s in the clouds, drifting and weightless, and that’s she’s fully relying on him to take control.

Tears prickle in the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from sheer overwhelm.

“Want it,” she whispers, voice cracking, “Please. I’ll s—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Harry hushes softly, his tone is more like his normal cadence and not that deep, horny rasp that he gets, “Honey, are you alright?”

YN swallows, her fingers dug into his arms, “Just want t’come.”

Harry laughs quietly, it’s one of the nicest sounds that she’s ever heard, and right now it seems like the most beautiful music to her ears.

“Okay, pretty,” Harry simpers, his demeanor shifts into something more careful, more cautious as he helps pull her up, “Not many ways to do it comfortably in here.”

Invite me back, please.

Is her needy thought, she wants to be spread out on his bed.

But his next words shut down that hope.

“Will you ride me?”

It’s not really a question. 

He’s already guiding her, and she follows without fussing. 

She doesn’t have time to mourn—he’s sitting back, pulling her into his lap, and her thighs bracket his hips as she lowers down, the thick, flushed head of him brushing against her folds.

The sight of it is obscene.

She wishes she could take a picture, frame it, live inside this moment where he’s so hard and she’s so desperate, spread open and slick with need.

YN’s impatient, she’s never felt so needy in her life, and she couldn’t believe they were actually about to have sex because even when she was with Ben - she fantasized about this more than she’d ever willingly admit to anyone, especially him.

YN goes to grip at him, to guide him but he bumps her out of the way to do it himself, his other hand comes up to cup her cheek, “Tell me what you want.”

“You, want you,” YN babbles, willing to say just about anything if that means that he’ll stop drawing this out.

Harry shakes his head, his expression suddenly serious, and voice more firm, “No, YN. What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me, I want you to fuck me - oh,” YN cuts out with a high-pitched moan because he’s painting himself down towards to press into her folds, thumping against her clit once before he’s tucking himself inside, and once his tip has breached his hands move to her hips to start moving her to sit down on him.

And it stretches, more intense than it’s ever felt with her partners in the past but it wasn’t painful, it was just a new sensation of accommodating, and he was bringing her down slowly, pushing her skirt higher up so he could grip her bare hips.

“Jesus,” Harry grunts out, it’s louder than he’s been since they had piled into his car, startling in the otherwise quiet space apart from their heavy breathing.

YN’s eyes widen, glancing up at him, and she’s knows she must just be moony-eyed, looking at him like he was the best thing in the world, her hair was falling into her eyes, startening to dampen as it got hotter, more humid in the confined area.

Harry lets out a low chuckle, his hand come to pet the hair back and behind her eye, voice hushed and sweet as maple syrup, “I’m sorry, sorry honey, didn’t mean to startle you. You just feel so good.”

“Yeah?” YN blinks at him, it was hard to keep anything straight but he was filling her up so fucking well that she didn’t feel like she was about to rip at the seams anymore.

Harry laughs again, happy and private as he bumps his forehead against hers, “Yeah.”

YN doesn’t do much of the work, her limbs are jello and the way Harry utilizes his grip on her hips has him doing the heavy lifting, hitting her spot dead on every single time, and his rhytmn isn’t fast but it’s steady, consistent, and hard.

There’s tears trickling down her cheeks as her orgasm starts to build again, faster than expected, and she actually feels a swoop of disappointment because it she doesn’t want it to be over when it feels like it really just began.

Her clit brushes up against his pubic bone, smearing her slick there as it gives her the perfect friction, and her fingertips are digging into the skin of his clothed shoulder because he was still fully dressed and that didn’t feel quite right but it was too late now.

“Can feel you squeezin’ on me,” Harry hums as he brings her down and sits her there, stops her hips from moving as he plants his feet and starts to thrust up into her, “Are you close, sweetheart? Do you need help?”

YN shakes her head, sniffling slightly as she rolls her hips into his thrusts, “Don’t wan’na.”

Harry doesn’t stop all together but he slows his rhythm, “Don’t want to what, honey? Talk to me.”

“Don’t want to come, don’t want it to be over,” YN admits as she blinks through the film at him and the look he has on his face, well it’s one that she’s never seen before but her brain isn’t in the place to be able to decipher that right now.

“I’ll give you another,” Harry promises, his hands slipping down to grip her bum and pull her even fruther into his lap until their chests are pressing together, tilting his head up to bite at the underside of her jaw, “I’ve earned a squeeze though, haven’t I? Get me wet, darling.”

And YN wishes those words didn’t get to her as easily as they did but it works, her hilts jittling to a stop as she grinds harshly into him, head falling backwards, and he starts sucking a mark right at the center of her throat that she can’t even start to be mad about.

“You’re so pretty, never seen anything prettier on my cock,” Harry groans as he picks up his thrusts, she was sensitive, it didn’t feel as pleasant but she still wanted it, wanted to feel how much he wanted her, and he was throbbing, “Fuck, where do you -”

“In me,” YN’s hand cups the nape of his neck, it felt like there was no other thoughts in her mind.

“Fuckin’ christ,” Harry responds as he squeezes her backside hard enough that she feels pinpricks of pain, knowing it was going to leave marks, and being happy about that, a memento from the best sex of her life, “How’d I get so lucky to get you on me?”

YN doesn’t have time to respond, wasn’t going to anyways when she feels him start to pulse, twitch as he starts to come, his hips slowing to a sluggish pace as he starts to come down from it, panting as sweat beads on his forehead - it was hot, sticky in the car now after all the physical activity.

Harry moves quicker than she can keep up with, plopping her back onto the seat and pinning her against the door as he wedges himself between her thighs.

It’s filthy, it’s something she’s never had anyone do but he swipes at her entrance, tasting himself before he’s wrapping his lips around her bud, and starting that tortuous pulsing that he’d done prior, only this time it doesn’t take more than a minute because she’s already hypersensitive from the first orgasm and he doesn’t tease.

No, instead he rides her through it, chasing after her like a starving man when she rears her hips away, and whines after she’s rode it out, “Too much.”

She was still floating, still teary as Harry wipes her up with a clean gym towel he had in his duffel, hands her an unopened bottle water before helping hero ut of the backseat, and walking her towards her car with a hand on her lower back.

He gives her a hug that seems far to platonic for what they just did, things suddenly awkward like they have been after every single time they’ve done this, and then he’s opening her car door and waving ‘bye’ before he’s heading back to his own.

YN doesn’t know why she starts crying as soon as she pulls out of the lot, why she has to park on a side road because her brain isn’t cooperating, and the pit of emptiness in her chest that wasn’t there prior was now gnawing away at her.

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 6)

Bruce was enjoying a quiet day in the manor with the kids when the nature documentary they'd been watching (courtesy of Damian) got interrupted.

"We interrupt this broadcast to tell you some breaking news, and I do mean breaking," the newscaster announced. "Bruce Wayne's child, Y/N Wayne, was kidnapped by crime lord and night club owner Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin."

"What?!" Dick spluttered. Tim choked on his evening coffee.

"Not only is he claiming that he has had Y/N Wayne in his custody for over fourteen days via kidnapping, he is now refusing to give them back and claims that Y/N will now be his adopted child."

"That can't be right! You don't kidnap someone and claim that they're a part of your family after an inconsequential amount of time has passed! Squatter's rights do not apply to people!" Tim yelled.

"He . . . kidnapped Y/N?" Steph asked the air.

"We now show the video that has made global headlines." The newscaster disappeared as Cobblepot's cackling form took over.

"Hello, Mr Wayne," he cackled. "Noticed any changes in your household? Perhaps a missing child?" The Wayne household could only watch as the Joker, the literal Joker, held your hand as he escorted you into the view of the camera. Your outfit was a smaller, form-fitting version of Cobblepot's three-piece suit, and someone had slicked your hair back and given you an umbrella. You had everything except for the monocle. Not your style.

"They're really come into their own since the . . . surprise adoption," Joker grinned. "They've already become a Cobblepot copy, how cute! Not sure how Riddler's going to take losing the bet."

"What bet?" you asked.

"Riddler and I had a bet that your family would ignore everything regarding a ransom for two weeks straight." Penguin's smile was large and full of sharp teeth. "And I was right. They gave me the go-ahead to keep you with their silence. You're all mine now, Y/N."

"Is this brainwashing? This has to be brainwashing, right?" Dick was talking to himself at a mile a minute just so he wouldn't go completely crazy right then and there.

"I have to give a little credit to you, Wayne, with very little doing on your part, you managed to create a wonderful, sweet, and intelligent child." The video quality was clear, so they could see the smile that stretched across your face when he complimented you. "Originally, all I'd wanted was a small payout (small for you) of three million dollars, but when I learned of your utter carelessness and your child's incredible skills, I decided that an heir would be worth more than what your putrid money could buy me. I'm just telling you this so you can turn their bedroom into a guest bedroom."

"My bedroom was always a guest bedroom," they heard you say. "Nobody ever got around to decorating it, and I was just waiting until I could leave legally."

"Well, you can decorate this bedroom anyway you like," Penguin promised.

"Really, Dad? Thank you, you're the best!" Y/N hugged Penguin tightly. Bile rose in their throats.

Y/N called Penguin Dad.

"You really are sweet," Penguin said. "Now, since your birth father's already rather clueless, I guess we can take you to the courthouse and have you legally named as my child. How does Y/N Cobblepot sound?"

"It sounds amazing!" you cheered. And then the video ended.

"Well, I guess that's that. Bruce Wayne's least-seen child will now be Oswald Cobblepot's pride and joy. We'll update you as soon as we learn more about this hidden Wayne and their new life."

The nature documentary resumed, but nobody was paying attention. "Y/N was . . . taken? And we didn't know?" Tim's voice cracked. He was supposed to know. He was your big brother and trained by Batman, not to mention the information guy. He should have known about this.

"How long will it take before we get to the Iceberg Lounge? We need to get them, save them!" Jason grabbed his stuff. "I'm going."

"No, Jason. This should be a cohesive family effort. Clearly, Y/N is being heavily guarded and Cobblepot will not give them up easily." Bruce motioned for his son to sit down. "We should plan this properly if we want them back."

"How do we even lose track of them?" Stephanie asked. "We really had them get away from us? For two weeks straight?"

"Well, we never see them around here. They hole themselves up in their room," Barbara pointed out. "Wait, where is their room?"

A silence gagged them as they tried to think about where in the manor your room was. Nobody could think of a place where it could be.

"How did we not notice that there were so many ransom demands being sent?" Barbara asked.

"There were letters, but I disposed of them," Damian shamefully admitted. "I thought it was a hoax. How was I supposed to believe that Y/N was genuinely kidnapped? Who would even want them?"

"Penguin does, you little brat, and they're being brainwashed into being his little puppet right now!" Jason screamed.

Damian unsheathed his katana. "It was an honest mistake!"

"If you'd told someone about this, all of it could have been prevented!" Jason screamed. "Y/N was holding hands with the Joker!"

Barbara put herself in the middle of the boys. "Stop fighting! The more we fight, the longer we are kept away from Y/N."

"Barbara's right. We need a plan, lots of them. Plans to get Y/N away from those monsters, and back with their real family." Bruce took charge, as the angry and heartbroken father of a kidnapped child.

"And something to get them to love us and trust us again," Damian said. "We cannot cut corners here. We have to go all out. Y/N needs to be home with their real family." He paused, not wanting them to see him cry. Damian Wayne did not cry. "Even if they don't know what that truly looks like."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 <- You are here

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @heather-hutchcroft, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @jaybunsblog, @iwannaflyaway

[temiizpalace]

☆┊DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND..

SUMMARY: little things he does that remind you you’re going to marry him someday.

CHARACTERS: all dorms (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is not mentioned to be yuu

MAKING YOU MEALS

he makes sure you eat RIGHT. no more skipping meals throughout the day on his watch. every lunch he’ll make you a cute little bento box so you don’t have to wait in line. and when i say cute, i mean cute. it doesn’t matter what gender you are your rice balls will have cat ears. dinner? come over to his dorm and he’ll make something for you. don’t feel like it? he’s going to your place and cooking there. breakfast? he makes something quick yet delicious for you. he’s like your own private chef, and you can only imagine what it’d be like to see a ring on his finger someday.

trey, ruggie, azul, jamil, lilia (good luck), silver

CLEANING YOUR ROOM (and everything else)

it doesn’t matter if your room is messy, tidy, or anything in between, every month he’ll make sure it is SPOTLESS. is there dust on your shelves? nuh uh. are there random stains on your floor that you thought were impossible to get out? he’s rushing to your rescue and somehow got the stain out. did you not want to go through your homework? everything is suddenly organized in its respective subject, going from A-Z. you’ve never seen your room so tidy before, it was like an epiphany. please just marry him on the spot, he’s begging.

riddle, deuce, jade, jamil, vil, sebek

LEAVING LITTLE POST-IT NOTES ON YOUR BELONGINGS

without fail, you’ll find a cute little sticky-note on your almost all of your belongings. sure, it gets annoying once in awhile, but reading the sweet message on it changes your mind almost instantly. “you’re going to do great today! stay strong. :)” “don’t forget to drink water! love you 🫶” “can we go out soon? my treat. text me when u see this!” it’s almost frightening to see how much yellow papers you keep inside your desk every time you opening it, but can anyone really blame you? you’re going to keep these til the day you die, and that grand total might be at the very least over 100,000.

ace, deuce, cater, jack, floyd, kalim, epel, rook

RANDOM GIFTS

expect to see a neatly wrapped gift on your doorstep almost every week. seriously. it’s like a delivery service except the company is literally your boyfriend. “dear, did you get me this?” you ask as you enter the room. he looks up from his phone as he looks at the expensive name brand sweatshirt in your hands. “yeah.” he answered so nonchalantly!! like sir!!! this sweater was 1000000 thaumarks!! what!! while you do appreciate the gesture, you feel bad he’s spending so much money on you. he doesn’t care though!! he’ll spoil you rotten til your very last breath.

leona, azul, floyd, kalim, vil, idia, malleus

PREPPING YOU SNACKS

depending on who this is, he may not be some gordon ramsay level chef, but he’s definitely more than happy to cut you a some apple slices while you study. sometimes he’ll come into your room with a backpack full of your favorite snacks just left at the side of your desk so you can reach down and grab the one you want to eat that day. sometimes all you need is an energy boost and he’s more than happy to make some coffee or tea for you if you’re busy. he’ll press a kiss or two on your forehead before placing the plate of beautifully cut fruit down and continuing on with his day and going back to his thoughts. now, what will the theme of your wedding be?

ace, deuce, trey, jade, jack, jamil, epel, malleus

A/N: notice how jamil and deuce are in almost every category. (sorry this one was kinda rushed 😭😭)

date published: 7/30/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!