#i know its and unusual collection

[the-lokal-homo]

Today, I chose to say goodbye to my empty Pringles containers. I started collecting them in 2020, I think, and I stopped around 2023. I'm gonna count how many of which flavor I have

[marklikely]

idk if this is a silly question but why. do some doll collectors have multiple NIB of the exact same doll. like it seems selfish to me.... give me your extras pls.

[bijoubetrayal]

too many ppl who know nothing about Filipino folklore n culture r talking shit about my ate. she’s based off of the manananggal, which you can compare to the European vampire, if that helps you understand it better. although, i’m reluctant to mention that becuz some ppl, who choose to be ignorant, currently hold the view that she’s just an Asian-colored vampire mishmash monster. she is not. other than the fact that she manages to exist at all, here are some details i appreciate about her.

first, she has a face that looks like my family’s. that’s my lola’s nose. that’s my mom’s birthmark. shit, those are my uncle’s cheekbones. the headpiece features jasmine, our national flower. the translucent petals are cool.

second, you can display her in two pieces, split by the torso. its not just a “cheap gimmick” you ignorant pos. at nightfall, the manananggal severs itself in two, leaving behind a vulnerable lower half while its upper half hunts for nourishment - blood, raw hearts, livers, fetuses. the red fringe represents her dangling intestines, hanging loose as she flies after ripping her body apart. the string detail is on the skirt for consistency, but also, intestines are long as fuck? why wouldn’t they also hang from the bottom, assuming they also get split in half.

while we’re on the outfit, the top is an extremely traditional (Spanish colonial, ugh) style in both fabric and shape. i have attire that looks exactly like it, minus the monster high red foil pattern. the tiny, “woven” sleeve cuffs are a nice touch. the earrings and bracelets look to be woven palm too, but aren’t as effective in plastic. the bottom half skirt is quite a bit shorter than is traditional, and the heels higher. it’s a monster high doll.

most accurate would be barefoot, tbh. but you guys would riot, and again, its a doll. actually, the shoes reference a lot from Filipino culture. the heel is a coconut tree overlooking a kubo, a one-room stilt hut built with natural materials such as bamboo and palm, and specifically made to be remade as necessary. the sole is “wooden”, also an accessible material of which some shoes were made with. it is attached by braid to what looks to be a straw strap. also not unusual for a shoe.

her fan and wings feature embroidery, and if you look closely at the latter, you will see a thin and delicate flora design in between the spider web pattern. this is extremely reminiscent of calado, a type of traditional hand embroidery akin to lace that is difficult as fuck. a dying art, btw.

i didn’t wake up looking to ride this hard for a plastic woman lmao. but if you’re gonna come for her, it better be because of the fluorescent green in her colorway and not because you don’t know what you’re talking about. honestly, a lot of Filipinos are just happy to be considered and celebrated. “wins” like this mean everything. maybe it’s not good enough for your collection, but now you know more about my culture than you would’ve gone out of your way to. and that’s good enough for me.

[teh-nos]

my wip queue is full of rom-coms

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP Fanfic: Family bonding.

The Waynes, for all of their proclamation of being some of the best detectives in the world, missed the signs that one of their own was dating. Usually, that wouldn't have been so shocking, except that the person who dating made a point to tell the group he was dating.

He also somehow always stayed friends with his exes. Which was a superpower of its own, if they are honest, because not a single one of them was bitter about the relationship ending with Dick.

Another thing unusual about Dick having a lover was that he never brought them around or was seen in public with them. If anything, it felt like Dick was trying to keep the relationship a secret.

Which went against everything he cared about when dating someone.

That's why Bruce fully believed that the secret was being enforced by his partner. So it was up to the Waynes to find out who this mysterious lover was and evaluate if they were good enough for Dick.

So on a Friday night, when Dick was allegedly tutoring underprivileged kids but was actually meeting up with his lover, the Waynes piled into a shabby-looking minivan and followed.

It was cramped. It was dented, and it had tinted windows. Most importantly, the minivan belonged to John Constantine, who hadn't used it in over twenty years after learning to portal from one place to another.

Dick would never realize it was them.

"I think this is a terrible idea," Jason grunts from the back seat. He crosses his arms, refusing to pick up the binoculars Tim had passed around earlier. "Dick is a fully grown man. He knows how to properly talk to his partner about what he wants in a relationship."

"Shut up, virgin," Damian hisses from the passenger seat. He won the right to sit there after breaking Steph's skin with his teeth. Bruce had allowed them to brawl for a few minutes until Damian emerged victorious. He also let her use his phone to schedule a rabies shot, keeping eye contact with Damian in the rearview mirror. "Just because you never had a girlfriend-"

"-or a boyfriend. You fail to seducing both." Cass cut in from around her binoculars. She fist-bumped Tim as Jason threw her an offended look.

"Thank you, Cassandra. Ultimately, you have no experience and thus can not comment on what to do in relationships." Damian concluded.

"Neither do you!"

"Yes, but I am a child." Damian waves his hand in Jason's general direction. "It's expected of me to not have any romantic experience. You, on the other hand, are a loser."

"Unless you are Asexual or Aromantic," Bruce pipes in, leaning a little against the steering wheel, attempting to get a better view of the apartment building that Dick had walked into. He wasn't going up to any of the actual units; he remained in the lobby. "Then you are the are not a loser. But rather the closest thing to godhood."

"B, we know gods."

"That's why I said closest."

Thankfully, the lobby had huge windows. Dick was speaking to the receptionist, leaning on the counter with a little smile, and the man was grinning back.

However, Dick hasn't touched his hair even once. This was not the secret lover. This was a fool falling for Dick's charms, probably someone involved with a crime.

Ugh, so dull.

Jason crossed his arms stubbornly "I can get a date. I'm just busy."

"Doing what? Reading romance novels?" Steph laughs. Jason opens his mouth to yell at her, but the receptionist hands Dick a golden key that the eldest Wayne pockets. He strides out of the apartment complex, hands in his pocket and whistling joyfully.

The Wayns put away their binoculars, and Bruce carefully peels out of their parking spot. They keep a nice distance away from Dick as he scrolls around the stores, stopping every once in a while to admire a display before he sits on a bench, hand still inside the pocket with the key.

A person wearing a trench coat and thick sunglasses approaches the bench, sitting on the far end of it and not looking in Dick's direction. The van collectively gasps.

Despite the disguise, they can tell just who it is.

"Tatior," Jason hisses between clenched teeth as Duke slides a sealed brown package across the bench towards Dick. In return, the eldest places the key on the bench, back top, and strives away from the bench. Duke waits a few minutes before he stands, walking in the opposite direction of Dick, hand sliding out to grab the key nearly undetectable.

"Why does Duke need an apartment key? And one that was snuck to him," Tim asks, watching the two siblings walk away from each other as though they were strangers. "What's he up to?"

" We only have time for one family mystery today," Bruce answers, turning the wheel to the left and continuing to follow Dick. "I have dinner plans with Selina later."

Duke pulls out a red wig and slides off his coat. Underneath is a punk rock outfit, complete with spikes, the coat he throws into the trash and clicks his boots. Four-inch heels pop out from his shoes, and Duke struts out of sight.

Tim leans against the windows, face and palms against the glass, eyes wide. "Wait. Wait. I have so many questions. B, turn around!"

"Dinner plans, Tim!"

"But B!"

Damian points. "Look! Richard is twirling his hair! The harlot draws near."

Steph laughs, patting Tim's back, who is straining hard to open the door. Thankfully, Bruce was quick enough to press the child lock. "I love the way you talk, Dames. It's like a period piece villain escaped the TV."

"Thank you, Brown. I enjoy your existence as well." Damian smiles, pressing the binoculars against his face. "Oh."

Bruce's grip on the wheel tightens. He had chosen to stay really far behind Dick once the man had walked into a narrow street, making it harder to blend into the traffic. "What is Damian?"

"You will not like it, Father," Damian says lowly. Behind him, Steph and Tim also reach for their spying gear. Jason and Cass were grimacing from the back seat, one taking pictures and the other working on getting the listening device's antenna out the crack of the window to aim at Dick.

Bruce's knuckles turn white as he steeled his resolve. "Go on. I can take it. What do you see?"

"It's Danny Fenton." Tim, Steph, and Damian all say at the same time. "The person he is dating in secret is Danny Fenton."

Bruce felt his heart stop. "The man who makes bread in the shape of hero logos?"

"Yeah. Otherwise known as "The Happy Baker," Steph says gravely. "The only Gothamite who is unreasonably happy without drugs or Joker venom."

"I once saw him making up songs while setting out a display of animal-shaped bread. He rhymed Gotham with awesome." Tim practically spits. "I should have known. All those animals were circus-themed. The elephants were incredibly tasty."

"You bought some!?"

"Excuse me for being hungry B!"

Damian slaps Bruce's arm aggressively. "Father! Father! Richard is getting on one knee."

"WHAT?!"

Jason pressed one hand over his headphones and attempted to listen closer before his eyes widened. "Wait! It's not a real marriage. Dick's investigating a possible trafficking ring, who been using Gotham baking supplies as a cover. He wants Danny to help him infiltrate the front by pretending to be baking husbands!"

"He just asked him to get married," Jason reported, much to the horror of the general van. Cass' camera starts clicking aggressively, either to capture the moment or have something to hang over Dick's head and force him to call off his marriage.

It's hard to tell with her perfectly impassive expression.

"Oh, thank the gods." Bruce breathes, only to have Steph ruin the moment.

"They're frenching right now."

"Oh, come on!"

"This is fun," Cass says over Bruce, swearing under his breath. "We should spy on each other as a group more often."

"Can we find out what Duke is up to next? The heels will haunt me until I know everything." Tim pipes up.

Damian, Tim, and Steph do not lower their binoculars even though they are close enough that they become a nuisance rather than helpful. He hasn't seen them so engaged in a family outing in a long time. "Yeah, we can spy on Duke next."

There is a moment of silence as Bruce considers the request before he merges lanes. In doing so, they drive by the kissing couple, too caught up in each other to notice the people staring at them through spying gear.

"You're the best adoptive dad ever!" Tim cheers as the rest of the kids let out whoops. Fenton's ears twitch, breaking the kiss with Dick to look right at them over their eldest shoulder.

Bruce slams a foot on the pedal the second Cass starts yelling, "Go go go! He saw us!". They peel away, screaming while Dick throws them a finger, and Fenton laughs silently.

The happy little freak.

[evie-sturns]

21 - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you recieve a unusual call from chris, you realise he’s got blackout drunk on his 21st birthday. you’re forced to go pick him up and take care of him in his interesting state..

contains: fluff, mentions of alcohol, bestfriend!chris, mentions of throwing up (no detail whatsoever), a lot of chaos

————————————🔸————————————

11:36pm

i yawn as i shuffle around in bed, my warm covers wrapped around me as i scroll through instagram,

suddenly my phone starts to ring,

‘incoming call from ‘chrizzzzyy’

i pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear as chris instantly starts,

“you know you’re so beautiful, like soo gorgeous.” he mumbles into the phone, his words slurred.

there’s faint chatter in the background, along with heavy music.

“chris? you okay?” i ask, my eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

“i need you- like how a baby bird needs its mama” he groans, followed by a loud laugh.

i giggle, “chris what is wrong with you!”

the realisation hits.

chris turned 21 today, i couldn’t make it to his party due to work, but for fucks sake, this kid is drunk.

“oh my god- chris you got drunk? i thought you said you wouldn’t!” i say frantically,

“uh factually i am not drunk- i think you’ll find.” he fumbles over his words,

“can you come.” he follows up.

i scoff, “christopher- it is midnight, where are you?”

he pauses for a moment, before i hear him chatter to someone else,

“yo- where am i, my girl wants to know” he mumbles to a friend i assume,

he shortly gets back to me “i’m at home, but i want to be at your home.”

i nod with a small huff, “god, i’ll come get you now, just wait on the curb and don’t go on the road whatever you do.”

he almost giggles, “you sound like my mommy.”

i groan before hanging up,

i heave myself out of bed, knowing i’m about to have to collect my best friend in his state.

i grab my keys and fix my hair before walking downstairs, creaking open the door.

the cold night hair hits me hard, i shiver as i jog up to my car, swinging open the car door.

i instantly speed off down the street.

-

10 minutes later i arrive at his street, the pebbles crunch under my tires as i slowly drive to his house.

chris shoots up from his sat position on the side walk, giving me a huge grin.

i pull up beside him, reaching over and opening the door.

“hey baby.” he grins, flopping down in the passenger seat,

“chris.” i warn, reaching over and buckling him in.

“how much have you had to drink?” i ask, looking over at him.

he hesitates before shrugging, “shit- ‘prolly like 20 or something.”

i pause, “20 of what.”

he shrugs again, “couldn’t tell ya sweet cheeks.”

i throw my head back, with a small laugh.

“come- come sit on my lap” he grins, his eyes half shut, patting his lap.

“chris! i am not your girlfriend.” i remind him, his face drops

“you’re- you’re breaking up with me!?” he raises his voice

“we were never dating” i point out, his eyes water.

“are you seriously gonna cry?” i laugh,

he nods with a small pout, “my girl, my one and only is dumping me-“

i lean over the centre console and give him a hug,

i hold back laughs as i pull out my phone, putting it on 0.5x and holding it up.

“tell me what’s wrong chris.” i grin,

“you- you’re breaking up with me!” his words are slurred as he throws a mini tantrum.

“you’re my babe, my hot little babe.” he sighs,

“oh my god chris”. i laugh, putting my phone down and starting the car,

i roll down the windows for him as i attempt to explain that fact that i am NOT his girlfriend, and never had been.

he sits up on his knees and attempts to make a break for it out the window, he sticks his arms and head out the window.

i reach over and grab his shirt, pulling him back in before rolling up the window

“chris! no!”

he mumbles something vaguely before looking over at me,

“we hooking up tonight right?” he blurts out so causally.

“shit i bet you could give me the best-“ he starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth.

“chris.. anything you say tonight you will regret.” i warn him with a smile.

“but- but you’re so pretty!” he protests,

i pull into my driveway, hopping out the car before walking over to chris’s side.

i open the door and he jumps out, stumbling over onto the grass.

“oh no chris.” i sigh, grabbing his underarms and picking him up.

he wraps his legs around my lower back and burys his head into my shoulder.

i carry him up the driveway with small huffs,

i fiddle with my keys before unlocking the door, chris is practically a koala bear, clinging to me as i heave us upstairs.

i finally enter my room before dropping him on the bed.

i switch on the light and take a good look at him,

“like what you seee.” he grins with a stupid lip bite,

he looks white as a sheet, my eyes widen as i grab his hand.

i run him into the bathroom.

“i’m gonna throw up.” he mumbles,

“oh god oh god.” i whine, helping him into the shower.

i stand outside the shower as i frantically try to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of him.

i unbuckle his belt and tug it off, discarding it out the bathroom floor.

i unbutton his shorts for him, guiding them down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.

“look- you get your boxers off and just try not to throw up for another minute.”

he giggles as he tugs his boxers down, i slide the shower curtain across and take a deep breath as i sit on the toilet lid.

he reaches a hand out of the shower curtain, holding his boxers.

“just drop them i’m not touching that.” i groan,

he drops them in the pile of clothes before i hear a small-

“oh shit.”

i reach into the shower and turn it on cold, trying to drown out the sounds of chris..

i hear some deep breaths from behind the curtain,

“y/n!!!! i threw up!!!” he calls out,

“that’s okay! just get clean in the shower for me!” i tell him,

he sounds panicked, “hey, the alcohol is better out then in sweetie.” i tell him,

he laughs in response, “you’re righhhtt!”

i scoff, waiting for him to finish up,

my eyes widen as chris goes silent, “chris! you better not be peeing in my shower i swear to god-“ i start but he cuts me off with a loud giggle.

i throw my head into my hands,

“oopsie daisy’s.” he doesn’t stop laughing.

-

after 45 minutes of chris yapping my ear off, i finally got him changed and in my bed.

“and then guess what he said, he said that he was gonna fight me if i didn’t give him my drink, like just admit you’re a alcoholic!” he rambles on about his night.

“lay down for me.” i tell him as he sits on my matress.

he flops down on my mattress, his head hitting the pillow.

i lean over the bed and tug up the covers over him.

i move his hair off his forehead with my hand then place a kiss to his forehead.

he yawns loudly before whining,

“where are you going!”

i scoff, “i’m gonna sleep on the couch chris.”

he huffs, “but we sleep together all the time!”

i roll my eyes, “that’s when there’s no risk of you throwing up on me”

he kicks his legs, “i promise i won’t!”

i hesitate before giving in, jumping into bed beside him.

he smiles stupidly before wrapping his arms around me, tugging me into his side.

i usually wouldn’t let him cuddling me slide, but i guess he’s not gonna remember it tomorrow.

-

10:23am

i stir awake, chris’s arms still wrapped right around my waist.

he groans, waking up aswell.

“why am i cuddling you” he laughs tiredly,

“do you remember anything that happened last night?” i ask, sitting up in bed.

“not really.” he smiles, rubbing his eyes.

i reach over him and grab my phone, opening up the camera roll.

“you had a long love confession to me.” i giggle, his face drops.

“what?” he asks panicked, i give him my phone

he presses play, letting the video play outloud.

“you’re breaking up with me!? you’re my babe, my hot little babe”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: while working on the case and watching a certain profiler with pretty eyes and a well-tailored coat, you overhear some local cops badmouthing him — and before you know it, you decide to put them in their place.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, unpleasant comments about spencer’s looks and behavior, diva is so diva he should marry her right now fr and hold my hand while i say this and don’t panic joke about morgan's baldness...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.8k

𝐚/𝐧: request | i was too much of a lazy bitch to make a header sorry i hope his pretty face makes up for it xx

“How are you feeling out in the field?”

Morgan addressed you with his arms loosely crossed over his chest and a slightly teasing expression on his face. You slowly shifted your gaze to him.

“Absolutely fantastic,” you replied flatly, adjusting your grip on the handle of the umbrella resting against your side. Through the tree canopies spreading above your heads, patches of gray clouds broke through, now and then releasing a few drops as a warning of the real downpour to come. “I love nature.”

He nodded ironically, clearly unconvinced.

“Of course,” he said. “Do you love the mud on your boots too?”

Almost exactly as those words left his mouth, several large raindrops tapped against his FBI jacket, followed immediately by more, falling with even greater intensity. Your friend raised his eyes to the sky, pressing his lips together in displeasure. Rainy weather always made working at a crime scene harder—securing the body and protecting biological and chemical evidence. And collecting the latter was already challenging given the location: a truly remote, densely overgrown spot in the forest, impossible to access by police vehicles. Those had been left at the end of the forest path, as far in as they could get, and you’d been led to the exact place where the latest victim of the serial killer had been found by local officers.

“I’m about to have mud on my boots,” you remarked, already imagining what would happen to the already damp ground after even just a few minutes of such heavy rain. The conditions you encountered had been predictable, so you had chosen footwear suited to them—stylish boots that also perfectly complemented the rest of your outfit. But then again, that was nothing unusual. Even if you had to evacuate during a volcanic eruption, you’d grab something you wouldn’t be ashamed to have melted into your skin by lava.

You opened the umbrella, which had until then been resting with its tip on the ground. Derek took a step toward you, premature gratitude written all over his face—so you stepped back instead, the corners of your mouth curling up mischievously.

“What? Worried about your hair?”

Morgan shook his bald head from side to side, sighing.

“You little witch—”

“Morgan!”

Hotch’s voice called out to you from a not particularly great distance. Even he—who normally never parted with his suit—was now wearing a brown fleece with a high collar and was currently overseeing the setup of a police tent over the recovered body to protect it from the rain.

Derek gave you a nod in farewell, ending the brief chat, but you didn’t even follow him with your eyes. Your gaze remained fixed in Hotch’s direction—or more precisely, on the member of his team who had just approached him. What immediately caught your attention was that Reid was wearing a very well-tailored coat (a detail that made you purse your lower lip in approval, because well tailored coats did have something about them), and he had just begun explaining something, as usual gesturing animatedly with his hands—now covered in blue rubber gloves, lightly dusted with dark soil.

Focused on whatever fascinating theory or analysis he was sharing, he seemed completely unaware of at least half of his gestures, absentmindedly rubbing his chin with the dirty glove in concentration—naturally leaving a mark on his skin.

You rolled your eyes at the sight, but there was something surprisingly gentle in that gesture. You turned the handle of the umbrella in your hand, which also rested on your shoulder—and then the corner of your ear caught a scrap of conversation happening behind your back. Even without turning your head, just by slightly focusing your hearing, you could tell it was coming from two of the local officers also present at the scene.

“Where do you think they even dug him up from?” asked the first male voice mockingly.

“Which one?” the second sounded confused, but a moment later let out a derisive snort. “Alright, don’t even tell me. I already know who you mean.”

Laughter. Real kings of comedy, truly.

“I wonder what he’s even doing in the FBI. I mean, they’ve got to have some kind of fitness tests, right? What’s a beanpole like that even good for?”

“I’ll tell you what he’s good for—pissing everyone off with his babbling. Just look at the other guy’s face.”

Following the suggestion, you looked at the other guy’s face. That, of course, meant Hotch’s face—there was no doubt who the first part of that pathetic, taxpayer-funded conversation had been about. You studied the BAU chief’s expression more closely and didn’t detect a hint of irritation or weariness at whatever Spencer was explaining to him. Hotch simply looked like Hotch.

Your observation was interrupted by the approach of one of your team members, the hood of her raincoat pulled tightly around her head and her glasses nearly completely covered in rain.

“We’re going to have to go back to the car for the equipment,” she informed you, adjusting her glasses on her nose with a sigh the moment she looked toward the path you had come from earlier. That meant quite a bit of walking through muddy terrain, carrying rather heavy items—always packed in sturdy cases for safety reasons.

A certain thought popped into your head, and with a smile creeping onto your lips, you calmed Olivia with a wave of your hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. The woman frowned suspiciously as you turned over your shoulder toward the two men behind you. “Gentlemen, could I ask you for a favor?”

They stared at you for a beat too long, then at each other—and then eagerly stepped forward to fulfill the favor, whatever it was.

“Of course...”

“Anything you wish...”

You cleared your throat.

“You’ll go and bring back the case with number two on it,” you instructed.

Olivia furrowed her brows and parted her lips to protest, but you silenced her with just a look.

“But you need to be extremely careful,” you continued smoothly, “so, very slowly. Ideally, carry it together—for stability.”

The men listened with rapt attention and visible determination to follow your directions. Which, of course, were nonsense—one person could easily carry it alone. But trying to do it as a pair would stretch the trip out nicely in all that rain and mud. Then, well, they were gone, like children you’d promised candy to.

It was so very typical of the kind of men you made use of—just as typical as their pitiful little sense of being useful, irreplaceable.

You watched them vanish between the trees, and when your gaze met Olivia's again, her face showed both surprise and a certain intrigue.

“But we need case number three,” she pointed out, correctly.

You opened your mouth in exaggerated disbelief.

“Really…? Oh, Olivia, why didn’t you say so earlier,” you sighed, making it clear that the whole thing had been a game from the start.

The woman stayed silent for a moment, genuinely trying to figure out your intentions. She gave up shortly after, shaking her head with a sigh.

“And what kind of sadist are you playing today?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” you assured her.

The officers returned, lugging the wrong case and looking like wet dogs, their hair plastered to their foreheads from the rain, which had only intensified since they’d left. They set it down in front of you and Olivia, both sheltered under the umbrella you were holding, visibly relieved they hadn’t dropped it.

You waited a few seconds, during which they stood silently, clearly expecting some kind of eternal gratitude, before raising an eyebrow.

“I said case number three.”

They exchanged a look.

“Um, I’m pretty sure you said the one with number two on it.”

“Um, sounds like you’ve got a hearing problem,” you snapped, sharper than you’d intended, the words slipping out before you could stop them

It wasn’t something you’d planned from the start, and for a second, you were secretly surprised at yourself. But since sharpness and spite had apparently chosen you today, you decided to stick with that version of events and made sure your face reflected the proper level of displeasure.

Olivia glanced sideways at you for a long moment, then nodded with faux certainty.

“Yeah, she definitely said case number three. You must’ve misheard. Not your fault, maybe it was the rain,” she offered in a more sympathetic tone, though still fully backing your story.

The men exchanged confused looks, now with a flicker of doubt that maybe it had been their mistake. So, off they went again—to return the wrong case and fetch the correct one. When they finally disappeared, you gave Olivia a small, grateful smile.

Only to immediately wipe it off your face as the dumbasses reappeared, and declare:

“And what about my handbag? I told you to bring that too.”

And what amused you the most was that the two of them only started showing any suspicion or doubt after their third trek through the rain and mud. Frustration flashed in one of their eyes as he handed you your handbag.

“Was this really necessary for working the case?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Unbothered, and with their eyes still on you, you calmly reached into the bag for your compact mirror and lipstick, touching up your makeup with the faintest swipe.

“No,” you replied, snapping the mirror shut. “But at least you were useful for something. There’s no intellectual work here for two such empty heads, so you might as well make use of those muscles.” You gave them a critical once-over with that last word—because honesty, their physiques weren’t all that impressive either.

They stared at you in complete stupefaction before walking off, muttering something under their breath about a crazy bitch. Well, you had no intention of wasting another word on them. Another thing you had no intention of doing was explaining the entire ordeal to the clearly intrigued Olivia. And the main reason for that was the fact that you hadn’t fully rationalized it to yourself. Maybe you were just running on a higher than usual dose of spite that day.

Maybe there was another reason entirely.

Shortly afterward, Reid approached you, preoccupied with peeling off his latex gloves, only glancing at you with brows furrowed in curiosity.

“Is it just me, or did you send these guys to the cars three times?” he asked.

You merely gave a slight shrug.

“That’s what happens when you have trouble following instructions,” you remarked simply.

And before walking off to rejoin your team, you reached up and wiped that smudge of dirt from his chin with your thumb—the one you'd spotted earlier—leaving him, to put it mildly, completely stunned.

[nottslove]

GENTLE SEX WITH MATTHEO

Warnings: smut under the cut, 18+, mdni. piv, creampie. 1.1k words

IT starts off with him coming back from his death eater meetings all tired and unusually quiet. The scent of your comforting food fills the air, but his appetite is non-existent.

On seeing you, his arms are instantly wrapped around you as he nestles his nose into your neck, an inaudible whimper leaving his lips.

"Matt?" you whisper, tentatively, afraid of chasing him away as your hands gently wrap around his much taller figure, one of your hands tangling itself into his hair because you know how much it comforts him when you play with his dark curls. "What's wrong?"

"Bad day," he mumbles into your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You can see droplets of blood clinging to his robes, and you waste no time in slowly bringing your hands up to untie them, letting them fall at his feet in a pool of fabric.

Left in his shirt and slacks, he exhales, slightly more comfortable than before.

You say nothing, allowing your hands to gently trail up and down his back, fingers tracing over every contour, every muscle... His face still buried in your neck, you can already feel his lips peppering small, needy kisses to your skin, and without second thought, you tilt your head backwards, giving him more access.

Soft moans already leave your lips when he begins gently sucking on your skin, leaving marks of red and pink.

You try to be a comfort to him, but how can you? When all you can think about are his hands, slowly caressing your tits... his lips, leaving love bites all over your pale skin?

You can feel your desire pool between your legs. You can feel your nipples harden underneath his fingertips as he gropes your boobs like they're a stress relief.

"Matty," you breathe, as he lifts his head, but latches his lips to yours, drowning out whatever words you had prepared.

"I need you," he mumbles, as if he can read your thoughts, feel your arousal without you being verbal about it. His beautiful eyes bore into yours, as if he's seeking consent, and a tiny smile worms its way onto your face as you bite your lip, giving him a small nod.

He doesn't need any more consolation— he wastes no time in snagging your lower lip between his teeth, hands reaching around to hold your underbutt, lifting you up and guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

You can feel his hard bulge pressing into your stomach, and you let out a soft moan, audible enough just for his ears. "M all yours," you whisper softly, gently beginning to leave soft kisses all over his neck.

Everything after that is a blur, except for the way Mattheo hovers over you, clad in his boxers after peeling all your clothing away, along with his, pressing soft kisses to every bit of skin his eyes feast on.

"So, so pretty," he mumbles, burying his nose into your stomach, inhaling that sweet scent of yours. "Gonna let me fill you up, Baby?"

You nod desperately as he slides your panties down, tossing them aside and pressing a delicate kiss to your wet folds, enjoying the little whimper that falls from your lips.

"Matty," you whine, bucking your hips involuntarily.

"Shhh, I'm gonna take care of you," he mumbles, dragging his tongue across your slit to collect your essence, eliciting another soft whine from your lips.

And then he's sucking on your clit with his two fingers pumping in an out of you slowly, bringing you closer and closer to your release. You can feel the coil tightening in your lower abdomen, but just before you reach your high,, he stops his movements, and you can see the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

It steals your breath completely.

Your lips collide with his, and before you know it, the tip of his cock is pressed against your folds, raw and red, the tip leaking precum that smudges messily against your soaked folds, mingling with your juices.

"Please," you whisper, giving him another nod as he looked into your eyes for final consent.

And then slowly, he enters you, your walls stretch around his cock, and you can't breathe. He feels so good, so fucking good.

"Fuck, Princess—" he groans, head buried into your neck, his moans ricocheting against your skin. "So tight..."

He inches in, deeper, burying himself to the hilt, and a gasp spills forth from your lips, and your eyes widen, fingers tightening their grip on his hair and shoulder as you leave crescent-shaped marks all over his shoulder.

"Matty—" you whimper, bucking your hips upwards, seeking the friction you need to reach your high. "Please," you whisper again, and you can feel your walls fluttering around his girth.

And then he begins to move, in low, languid thrusts. Bottoming out fully, before plunging into you, the sounds of skin slapping filling the air, which is decorated by your moans and groans of pleasure.

"Such a perfect lil hole— always clenching me so well," he praised, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck. "Fuck— so fucking good, letting me use you all the time—"

His moans are soft against your ear, and you can feel how deep he is, how big he is, and you feel your tears balance in your eyes, unable to tell whether the moans you hear are yours or not.

He quickens his pace, the slightest bit, and your moans grow louder, along with his. "Fuck— Princess, I'm so close, you gonna let me fill that pretty pussy up?" he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks as you give him a small smile. "Yeah, yeah, I want you to—"

Your words are drowned out after a particularly deep thrust, and your fingers clench the sheets underneath as you grow closer and closer to your high.

"Cum with me, Baby," he murmurs, as if sensing your approaching orgasm, his thumb drifting down to the apex of your thighs to gently rub your clit.

That is the undoing of you. Your eyes flutter shut, as white fills your vision and you're suddenly soaring, flying as you reach your high, but he doesn't stop.

Small screams leave your lips at the new angle— he lifts your leg and wraps it around his waist, tip brushing against that fleshy spot in the depths of your cunt.

You vaguely administer the curse-words leaving his lips, too preoccupied with feeling every nerve explode from the pleasure, and the next thing you know, his thrusts turn sloppy and you feel his seed spill into you.

You're a whining, moaning, shaking mess, and Mattheo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, telling you how well you took him and what a good girl you are.

You barely administer his words as he scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom, engaging in a slow make-out with you whilst he waits for the tub to fill with hot water.

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©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The Eltingville Club has a crush

Bill/Josh/Pete/Jerry x fem!reader

warning : The four losers have a crush on you and can't handle it, no use of y/n, fluff (as far as this is even possible with them)

info : Welcome my dear readers to the latest fandom I opened, the four losers are just disgustingly cute, hope you like it and as always have fun reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill

The moment he dreamt of you, when his beautiful, lustful Star Trek dream was interrupted by the sight of you. A sight that shouldn't have thrilled him so much when he saw you in that short red uniform...a dream that showed him you out of all people.

Bill would hold his tongue, not daring to tell the others. The bad thing was that he couldn't ignore you, you were in class and you were only a few seats away from him.

But his eyes couldn't stop looking at you, he'd long since finished his algebra exercises and he just couldn't bring himself to read a comic book, he was too absorbed by you.

Worst of all your smile had turned his cheeks red with anger and shame, how dare a normal boring person look at him, the leader of the club. But the beating of his heart was not out of anger, when he heard a click at the end of the hour and saw your pen drop, his body seemed to move on its own.

He didn't have to look up to see you, he stood in front of the centre of your body and hastily turned his head away, ,,Your pen" he pressed out and flinched as your fingers brushed his, ,,Thank you Bill...nice major violence t-shirt" he heard you say and looked at you in disbelief.

A female being...a female being knew comics?! Wordlessly grabbing his things and swearing he heard the shouts of his friends, but he didn't dare turn round because then he would see you again and that damned smile.

Bill had a never ending denial phase but with a little time who knows maybe you'll bump into each other in the library and you'll engage him in a conversation about comics well maybe from now on it will be a repeat meeting just the two of you and maybe two hearts beating for each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh

He couldn't explain it, but for some time his searches for action fugues and collectible figures went in a female direction, not unusual when he wanted to see his sexist B-movie stars in skimpy clothes...what was unusual though was that they all started to look like you.

A realisation that left him breathless as if after a short sprint as he looked at the figure in a pink top and tight jeans with red lipsticked lips, ,,No-No this can't be true!" he shouted at the figure he had fetched from the mailbox. An outfit he would recognise anywhere.

It was the same outfit you wore last week, an outfit that had drawn his attention to the wearer. He hadn't been able to get you out of his head, this beauty that hardly any figure could portray, a body that was so much more flexible than any figure he had.

At school he sat a few seats away from you, the assignments long finished and Josh hoped for the break when he could go to the club room with the others. A room they went to after the bell rang and he suddenly saw you coming towards him.

To his amazement, he saw a 1981 Wonder Woman figurine in your hands with the glowing exclusive laso of truth and stopped in front of you. ,,Where did you get it?" he asked, his voice almost breaking and barely hearing his volume, not seeing his friends looking at him in anger and confusion as he almost crushed you.

Her answer of ,,I collect heroine figures for the film club I make stopmotion films with them" left his mouth hanging open before his expression became one of excitement. ,,New possibilities!" he shouted hastily, touching the figurine hurriedly but carefully, feeling the warmth of his fingers on hers as he ran back to his friends.

But the next day he sneaked into your club, having brought his own figures to shoot action-packed scenes for the camera. They were the best when it came to shooting and moving the characters, but most of all it was the hours they spent together and besides the films, their feelings seemed to come together like a film.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pete

Lost in his horror films he hadn't noticed it at first, he had looked through his collection so many times and it only occurred to him now when he looked at the cover for Bloody Wednesday, ,,By the machete of Jason" he said surprised when the woman on the cover looked too much like you.

A resemblance he had noticed as his gaze lingered rather obviously on the top, the way the bright colour hugged the torso and that amused look as you chatted with your friends, Pete was a simple horror fan and the idea of seeing you in a zombie apocalypse was just thrilling.

His love of horror seemed to be spreading, at least his heart wasn't beating from the excitement of a Twin Peaks marathon, but from seeing you at lunchtime. His wide grin, the just-too-exuberant look in his eyes, he knew he was going to be the first with a girlfriend.

Of course he had to be the first, his charm and perverted nature he just had to be the first. Of course, at the next club meeting there was a fit of laughter from the others who made fun of both his hope and his misconception.

After all, no clear-thinking female being would be willing to put up with a horror freak like him, would she? At least he wouldn't give up hope, even if it meant that he would be pulled back down to earth. Not taking his eyes off you at school, he waited for the ‘right’ moment.

A moment just before the end of the break, he came up to you in a b-movie ripe moment he let himself stumble and dropped a few of his best horror films and characters in front of you, ,,All good? Nice horror collection" he heard the anxious little question and saw that she was already starting to pick up his things.

,,It's all right now, beauty" he winked, his voice almost carrying over as their hands touched and he saw the smirk on her lips. But this cinematic meeting seemed to turn into a horror film date after school. Maybe he would be the first one with a girlfriend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jerry

On the floor of his room were dice, books, maps, and trading cards from the latest set for his next campaign, which he was preparing. But his eyes didn't leave the card of the fairy princess, because this painted beauty looked a lot like you.

Of course he had seen the fairy princess many times before, but the more he looked at the card, the more captivated he became. ,,How did you escape me?” he wondered, placing the tip of his finger on her hand. She looked exactly like his classmate Dain.

A realization that his friends, however, rather dismissed as his imagination and a bad hope when the four of them had retreated into the shade of the schoolyard to read comics and hope that school was finally over so they could join the club. But Jerry, Jerry's gaze was not on the speech bubbles, his gaze was on his fairy princess.

A princess who sat alone on a bench, nibbling on a muesli bar while enjoying the sun. She looked so pretty, a delicate creature, a future queen of the mystical realm of the forest to which he would send his friends in the next campaign.

The break was over, however, and just as they rose, a gust of wind blew and with a shrill scream, Jerry hurried after his fairy princess card that had been blown out of his hand. ,,Come back, my holiness!” he called angrily and saw his fingers close around the card you had snatched out of the air.

Puzzled and cautious, he stopped a few meters away from you, his tousled blonde hair slightly blocking his view as he saw you coming towards him. ,,The fairy princess, future ruler of the realm, an outstandingly pretty card” your words left him speechless as he felt your gentle hand on his for a moment when you returned it to him.

It was only a brief meeting, one that seemed destined to be short-lived, but it was a meeting that would become many. Jerry could always hear his beating heart when he had his elf princess in front of him, her voice reporting cards and the princess finding her prince more attractive than any other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

NOT YOUR BRO

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: y/n decides to use some ‘unusual’ nicknames for her boyfriend, drew, except it drives him insane.

based on this ask !! you come up with the CUTEST requests @xoxosblogsblog so thank you for this :) i hope it’s what you wanted, i tried to make it more of a one-shot than a drabble so i hope it’s okay <3

WARNINGS: just some fluffy goodness, one f bomb, and i believe that’s it !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, its soft jazz playlist creating a relaxed atmosphere as Y/N and the girls browsed racks of clothes. They had spent the morning shopping, arms now laden with glossy bags from Charleston's trendiest stores. Their conversation had drifted from outfit critiques to relationships as they admired a collection of flowy dresses near the dressing rooms.

"I don't know, it's just hard finding someone who actually gets me," Madelyn said with a shrug, running her fingers over the fabric. "You know, someone who doesn't freak out about my schedule."

"You'll find your person," Carlacia assured her. "Trust me, the right guy won't care how busy you are—he'll hype you up for it."

"True," Y/N chimed in. "Drew's my biggest cheerleader. Sometimes it's annoying how supportive he is."

The group laughed, and Madelyn smiled wistfully. "What do you even call Drew? Do you guys do the whole nickname thing?"

"Oh, for sure," Y/N replied, chuckling. "It's usually just 'babe,' but sometimes I call him 'Drewseph' when I'm feeling extra ridiculous."

"Drewseph?" Carlacia snorted, nearly doubling over. "That's incredible."

"I know, right?" Y/N grinned. "But seriously, I think he'd have a heart attack if I called him anything else. He's so used to those two."

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "Like what? What would actually make him freak out?"

"I don't know..." Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Probably something like 'dude' or 'bro.' He'd be so confused."

"Oh my God, you have to try it!" Carlacia said, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"What?" Y/N laughed, glancing between her friends.

"You should totally call him 'buddy,' 'pal,' or 'dude' tonight—just to see what he does," Carlacia suggested, practically bouncing on her heels.

"I don't know..." Y/N hesitated, though her grin betrayed her intrigue.

Madelyn joined in, nudging Y/N with her elbow. "Come on, it'd be hilarious. You know he'd lose his mind in the funniest way."

"I feel like he'd just be super offended," Y/N admitted, laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlacia said. "That's the point! He'll be all pouty and confused, and we'll all die laughing."

"Okay, but you guys better back me up if he gets mad," Y/N warned, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Madelyn promised, crossing her heart.

"Fine, I'll do it," Y/N said, shaking her head with a grin. "But you owe me if this backfires."

"Deal," Carlacia said, holding out her pinky for Y/N to shake.

As the group headed to the checkout counter, their laughter echoed through the boutique. Y/N could already picture Drew's reaction, and she had to admit—it was going to be fun.

—

The warm glow of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Drew and Y/N's spacious Charleston apartment. It was the perfect evening to host the Outer Banks cast for dinner and a game night.

The girls entered the apartment, greeted by the savory aroma of roasted chicken, mac and cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Drew met Y/N at the door, leaning down to kiss her. "How was your day, babe?" he asked, his voice soft and warm.

"Perfect," Y/N replied, grinning. "How about you? Are you a certified chef now?"

"Close," he teased, sliding an arm around her waist. "Go wash up; dinner's almost ready."

The girls exchanged knowing glances behind Drew's back, suppressing their giggles. Carlacia nudged Y/N with a wink. "You better deliver tonight," she whispered.

"Oh, I will," Y/N murmured, smirking.

At the long dining table, everyone was buzzing with conversation as Austin laid down the last plate. Drew, seated next to Y/N, had one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. She eyed the mac and cheese near him and decided it was time to set the plan in motion.

"Hey, can you pass the mac and cheese, please, buddy?" Y/N asked, her voice casual.

Drew froze mid-conversation, his head snapping toward her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at the plate, then back at her. "Uh, sure... babe," he said, emphasizing the word as he slid the dish toward her.

"Thanks, dude," Y/N replied nonchalantly, biting back a grin.

Across the table, Carlacia snorted into her drink, and Madelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Drew's jaw dropped slightly as he turned to her again, a mixture of offense and bewilderment crossing his face.

"Dude?" he repeated under his breath, as if the word left a bad taste.

"Hmm?" Y/N feigned innocence, loading her plate with mac and cheese.

Shaking his head, Drew tried to let it go, but the girls' muffled laughter didn't escape him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't press further—yet.

The dinner continued with more subtle jabs from Y/N. "Hey, pal, can you pass the salt?" she asked later, earning another baffled look from Drew. When he handed it to her, she responded with a cheerful "Thanks, champ!"

By the time they cleared the table and set up for games, Drew was visibly on edge, his lips pursed as he watched Y/N interact with the group.

They were midway through a heated round of charades when Y/N delivered the final blow. "Your turn, bro!" she called to Drew, grinning widely.

That did it. Drew stopped in his tracks, tossing the game card onto the coffee table. "It's babe! Not 'dude,' not 'buddy,' and CERTAINLY not bro!" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in exasperation. His hands flew up in frustration, and he turned to Y/N with wide eyes. "What did I do? Are you mad at me? Why are you calling me that?"

Y/N couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as tears welled in her eyes. Carlacia and Madelyn followed suit, collapsing against each other in hysterics.

Drew's jaw dropped further. "This—this was a joke?" he asked, his voice wavering between relief and indignation.

Y/N wiped her eyes, reaching for him. "Yes, babe, it was a joke. The girls dared me to do it to see how you'd react."

Drew folded his arms, pouting dramatically. "That's mean. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered.

"Aww, come on," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

Drew let out a dramatic sigh but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his face. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"Lucky?" Y/N teased, kissing him again. "You're the lucky one, Drewseph."

The guys, still confused about what had just transpired, looked at each other. "Are we supposed to get it?" Austin whispered to Chase.

"No clue," Chase replied, shaking his head.

The girls' laughter echoed through the apartment as Drew finally cracked, pulling Y/N closer and resting his forehead against hers. "You owe me," he murmured.

"Anything you want, babe," Y/N whispered back, her grin mischievous. "But admit it—you love me even when I call you dude."

Drew groaned, shaking his head. "Don't push it."

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet and silly !! going to get through to some angst requests soon, i feel like i’ve been drowning you all in fluff which is CRAZY because i’m an angst girly at heart🫣 i have enjoyed writing happy drew & rafe so i can’t complain !!

pls send some angst requests pls !! mainly w/ a happy ending :)

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Cosmic Experimentation pt. 2

Author's Note: Ah shit, here we go again. Fingering Anaxa's chest hole, as promised~ Once again inspired by @angelesca 🩷 (thank you for your kind words btw!! You're too sweet 🥹🫶) — I can't believe we have to wait an entire month for his banner…so homophobic 😔

Pairings: Anaxagoras x male reader

Warnings: Dom male!reader, sub!Anaxa, fingering unusual holes, dacryphilia, feisty Anaxagoras

“I was half-kidding!” you yell-laugh, crossing your arms in front of you to block your partner's relentless attacks.

You were kind enough to carry him over to the bed, seeing how his legs refused to keep him upright after your previous amusement, and what does he do in return? Anaxagoras yanks a pillow from underneath his head and starts weakly beating you with it!

“Calm down! I said I was only kidding!” you quickly grab the middle of the pillow, stopping the onslaught of fluffy blows in an instant. Still huffing in annoyance, Anaxa begrudgingly lets go, allowing you to disarm him. “You were so sweet and adorable earlier, love. Where did all of this come from?” you ask, leaning over your beloved boyfriend and fixing his hair that had become tousled during his fit.

He doesn't answer at first, mostly glaring at you like a bratty girlfriend while you simply hold his gaze in amusement. It takes about a minute of this stare down until he relents. “Sometimes, I think you enjoy provoking me.” he says plainly. His reddened cheeks reveal the emotions fueling this silly temper, however.

It's all too cute, how much Anaxagoras allows you to get away with. Not only does the demised scholar allow you to invade his personal space more than anyone else, he puts up with — or perhaps it's more accurate to say that he enjoys — your teasing and the way you play with his emotions just to see him flush and stutter his way through an excuse.

You can't stop yourself from leaning down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Anaxa's sour expression melts away as he loses himself in the kiss, returning the affection with interest. A hand on his waist causes him to arch his back a little, which gets him lost in pleasure all over again. The kiss becomes hungrier, deeper, and Anaxa parts his lips, practically begging you to come inside and claim what's yours.

Hands begin to wander; yours and his. While Anaxa's hands find a comfy place behind your neck, tugging at the back of your hair, your own hands explore the expanse of his body. Trailing along his sides, tickling the exposed skin of his shoulder that's normally hidden underneath his jacket, then settling one hand on his chest. As if it has a gravitational pull of its own, your fingers travel inwards, grazing the outer edge of the cosmic design in the center of Anaxagoras' chest. Your fingertips ghost over the middle of it…

And the effect is immediate.

Anaxa arches off of the bed, whimpering and wrapping his legs around your waist without even realizing it, and moaning against your mouth while his eye squeezes shut. You pull away, looking down at your partner with wide eyes. ‘Was it because I touched it…?’ you think to yourself, smiling as a far dirtier thought creeps into the forefront of your head.

“Would it…would it hurt if I stuck my fingers in here?” you nearly whisper. You're straining your ears to pick up any kind of response from him, since he decided to cover his mouth with the back of his hand out of embarrassment. The noises that threaten to escape at any second have him acting extra shy, it seems.

Anaxagoras collects his thoughts, then gives you an answer. “I don't know… It's not like anyone has ever tried to *ahem*… touch me like you did earlier.” He shifts slightly, clearly flustered, but you can detect the hint of scholarly curiosity in his voice. You exchange looks, and you ask for permission to experiment with this area too. Offering a promise to be even more gentle, if that's what he wants.

He says nothing, only grasping your wrist again and bringing your touch back to his chest whilst maintaining an expectant look. The sensations are much the same: cold, damp, and gooey once you actually penetrate the space.

You use your pointer finger at first, easing Anaxa into the situation once again. His whines fill the room, and he squirms around without thinking. “Easy now — does this feel good too?” your gentle tone makes Anaxa feel comfortably lightheaded — like he's floating through warm water in the sunlight. He can only muster a weak nod of his head, but it's good enough for you.

The cosmic space ripples like liquid with your every move, though you're unsure if you can say that it's truly "liquid". Even as it moves, it still seems solid. The knowledge-seeking part of your brain poses all sorts of questions and hypotheses: How does this space even work? Is it an actual opening to the inside of his body; does it feel like I'm sticking my fingers into his chest, or a more pleasurable hole? Am I going to accidentally poke his heart or lungs? Does it work more like a pocket dimension where my fingers aren't technically inside of him? Was it safe for him to lick that blue goo off of my fingers? Is it some kind of blue cum? Does his chest hole have a prostate or something? Can I safely put my dick in his eye hole? Can I safely put it in his chest? That would be weird, right? How many people can say that they get to fuck their partner's chest pussy?

“AaaAaAAhHHhhHnN–” Your deep introspection is interrupted by Anaxagoras moaning loudly and suddenly. At first, you're worried that you somehow hurt him, but that thought is quickly discarded when he starts clawing at the sheets and grinding his hips against yours. “hAAaaH– Yes! Do that again…please!”

While lost in your thoughts, you inadvertently find the spot that you'd been searching for. The part of him that you can lightly press on and immediately send your partner straight to heaven.

The fresh tears streaming down your boyfriend's cheek only serve to make him more beautiful in this moment. You almost find yourself lost staring at his face as his expression twists wildly, punctuated by more moans and cries of your name. His cries become even more frantic when you stop moving your finger, too lost in your daze to realize that you're barely fingering him at all.

It takes a few shouts of your name to finally snap you out of it, and your partner is none too pleased that you stopped touching him the way he needs. “Did I say stop?!” Anaxagoras bites, furrowing his brow as he looks up at you through wet lashes.

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. That pretty face of yours must have put me in a trance.” Your teasing is unappreciated, only earning you a harsh glare and a huff from Anaxa. Both of which cease when you get back to gliding your finger in and out of his chest hole. Deciding to test the waters a little more, you add a second finger, just as you did with the matching mark under his eye patch.

That added digit has the exact effect you wanted it to have, causing your partner to squeal and throw his head back. Then, you curl your fingers, and the motion instantly causes Anaxa's eye to roll into the back of his head. It has an obvious effect between his legs as well, feeling the hard bulge rubbing against yours with every slight movement of Anaxa's hips.

Just the same as before, this hole begins to overflow with that blue liquid. It squelches loudly, following every thrust of your fingers with a distinct schlik schlik schlik noise. You're knuckle-deep inside this space, scissoring your digits as if you're trying to prepare Anaxagoras for something bigger… (would that even fit?!)

You try to hit that special spot repeatedly, sending your boyfriend into a hysterical frenzy of tossing his head back and forth and whimpering like a virgin. “Are you gonna cum again, love? Do you like when I touch you like this?” you prod, using the hand that previously held onto his hip to squeeze Anaxa's ass.

As you pick up the pace, his voice becomes your favorite song — a symphony of high-pitched moans, beautifully articulated and precious, interlaced with his cries of “faster!”. And at the peak of it all, you exclaim; “Cum for me, love! There ya go, good boy~”

With one final cry of ecstasy, Anaxa creams his pants for the second time today, letting himself moan without restraint as ropes of cum stain the inside of his underwear. His chest cavity takes every quick thrust as you finger it through his orgasm, oozing even more of that blue liquid.

You remove your fingers and observe the gooey substance again, the way it drips down slowly, making its way down to the base of your fingers, and stretches without breaking when you spread them apart. You press your fingers against Anaxa's parted lips and he sucks on them without making a fuss. Even as he lay breathless and on the verge of dozing off, your partner is kind enough to once again clean your fingers.

“Feeling ok?” you ask sweetly. Anaxagoras tiredly nods his head, humming as his tongue laps at his own blue fluid attached to your skin. You lean down to press a kiss against his temple, hugging him as you press your bodies together, then exhale a shaky breath of exhaustion. You'll prepare to clean yourselves up in a bit. But for now, you want to enjoy the afterglow of your little adventure in peace.

[nysrage]

GOOD MOANING, Ekko.

synopsis: get ready to rise and whine! or however that saying goes, ekko never really thought about it much..

the bedroom was wrapped in a quiet, moonlit glow, the soft lights of the city filter through the loft's wide window. beyond the glass lay the skyline, stretched out in a breathtaking display— buildings stood tall against the night sky, windows flickering like distant stars. the moon was low, casting a shimmering glow over everything, from the rooftops below to the ruffled sheets on the bed.

but tonight, the city felt different.

rain pattered against the window, a steady rhythm that filled the space with something soothing, intimate, hypnotic. behind the glass, the room inside carried warmth. there was a faint scent of mahogany teakwood and something distinctly him in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that whispered beneath the cracked window. the bed, a sanctuary of soft blankets and plush pillows, just big enough for the two of you to tangle into one another. heavy curtains framed the window, allowing just enough of the outside world to spill in without disturbing the cocoon of comfort that the two of you built inside.

the rhythmic tap of rain against the glass melted into the slow, steady rise and fall of your breaths. against a dim glow, your bodies we’re shadowed in a soft light, warmth pressed to warmth beneath the covers. your body curled instinctively into ekko, cheek against his warm chest, lulled by the soft drum of his heartbeat.

outside, the rain continued—soft, endless, a perfect melody for the night.

but soon, the stillness would be broken. because beneath the cocoon of blankets, beneath the hush of the rain, a dream was beginning to take hold—one that would make the night anything but quiet.

something had changed.

the sheets ruffled as you shifted in your sleep, dream obviously pulling you deeper. your breathes came in slow, unsteady waves. your body instinctively pressed back into his. that sweet voice of yours letting out breathy mumbles— ghosting out of those soft lips of yours. a sigh passed your lips, barely audible— but he heard it.

it wasn’t unusual for you to move around at night. You always seeked out his warmth in your sleep, wanting to be inside his skin if you could. ekko didn’t move, voice heavy with sleep, “c’mere baby, i got you..” his strong hand drifted beneath the covers, taking hold of your hip and pulling you in closer. pulling a soft and breathless moan out of you.

his eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep. bushy brows furrowed, still caught in the haze of sleep. your fingers curled into the sheets, body arching ever so slightly as you chased his touch. body pressing back into him, drawn to his warmth even in your sleep. his fingers still rested along your hip, tensing when a breathy moan of his name broke past your lips. translating beautifully in that disgusting dream that lay behind your eyes.

a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he exhaled through his nose, suddenly wide awake. his body grew hot, becoming much more intentional with his touches. he leaned in, letting his fingers explore your body. all soft, curvy, and blue beneath the moonlight, squeezing at those chubby thighs. a shaky whine slipped past your lips, “Ko— pleasee”

ekko buried himself into your neck, drowning himself in that flirty perfume you wore. Pressing himself against you with his already half-hard dick, strained against his sweats that rested against your ass.He groaned to himself, “I know pretty girl, I know..” wrapping himself around you swiftly, one hand working its way up to your pert nipples while the other dipped beneath your night slip and cupped your warm pussy.

Your back curved into a delicious arch against him, you were always so sensitive in the morning, even when he barely touched you. ekko slipped his fingers past your folds, collecting the slick that pooled out of you along his fingertips and spreading it along your clit, swirling his thumb along the sensitive bud with a low groan.

Your lashes fluttered open, body twitching and hot. golden city light, and rain-slicked glass coming into focus but quickly blurred at the strong sensation of buzzing in her clit. “k-ko?” you whined out, turning to be met with his darkened, lust filled eyes.

“what’s goin’ on in that pretty little mind that’s got you so wet hm?” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. Fingers never stopping their slow torment as your legs unconsciously spread to give his hand more room, ekko gave you two quick slaps to your clit, “answer me.” biting down on your lip from the shocks of pleasure.

“you ‘ko, fuck it’s youu” you whined you.

with a groan ekko slipped his middle and ring finger into your pussy. Squelching as he curled effortlessly into that spongy spot that had you clamping down on them. Nails digging at his arm as you rolled your hips against his palm. Stroking your gummy walls, until faint squelching of your pussy could be heard above the rain against the window.

hips bucking up against his hand as he brought you closer and closer to that burning feel of ecstasy. slicked walls molding around his fingers as they deepen with every thrust. “pussy always so wet for me.“

“let daddy have it..”

curling his fingers again, hitting that spot inside you that made your eyes widen and your mouth open in a silent cry. cocking your leg back further for him to get deeper. “mhm open her up, just like that pretty girl”

legs shaking uncontrollably as you fished out a creamy mess along his hand. moans bouncing off the walls as he towered over your twitching body, admiring pretty you looked in your orgasmic bliss as his heavy dick sat atop of your gushy folds.

Ekko slapped his head along your clit teasingly, smirking as your body twitched beneath his. covering his throbbing tip with your slick just before sinking himself into your pulsing pussy. the two of you moaning at the pressure, as he bottomed out inside you.

“Good moaning to you too..”

[mangooes]

Thinking out Loud

The manor was quiet—unusually so.

Sylus stepped through the threshold of the living room, one gloved hand loosening the collar of his coat, expecting the usual: reports scattered on the coffee table, Mephisto perched somewhere suspicious, or maybe the twins passed out from a long stakeout.

Instead, he froze.

The lights were dimmed, casting a soft golden glow across the walls. The big windows stretched open to the city skyline—lights flickering like stars below. But what caught Sylus’s attention wasn’t the view.

A vintage vinyl record was spinning slowly on his cherished turntable—one of the many he collected from his global hunts, this one a pristine edition from the 1960s, playing a slow, crooning love song with that subtle grain only vinyl could offer. The room was bathed in golden amber, the sound warping gently at the edges of the notes, making everything feel timeless.

And then he saw her.

(Name).

She was in the center of the room, barefoot, her curls tied up messily with strands bouncing as she twirled. One hand held a feather duster. The other moved with graceful, lazy flair as she swayed to the old jazz song playing softly from the speakers. Her hips moved with the rhythm, hips swaying, shoulders bouncing slightly with each beat—completely lost in her own world, humming along off-key and completely, devastatingly adorable.

Sylus leaned against the doorframe, lips twitching with amusement.

Of course she hadn’t noticed him yet.

That was his favorite part.

Her joy was a song of its own.

He watched for a long moment, lips curving in that rare, fond smile reserved only for her. The vinyl continued to play softly, a tender hum of nostalgia and love in the background, and finally, (Name) twirled and spotted him.

She stilled like a deer, eyes wide and mischievous. “Sysy~!” she chirped with that breathless grin of hers. “Were you watching me dance again, how long?”

“Mm.” Sylus’s voice was smooth, velvet with a bite.

“Long enough,” he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. “You always throw private concerts when I’m not home?”

(Name) stuck out her tongue. “Maybe. Depends who’s watching.”

He stepped forward, crimson eyes glittering as he approached her with slow, measured grace. “If it’s me… then consider me your number one fan.”

(Name) rolled her eyes, but the blush that dusted her cheeks gave her away. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m a criminal lord, sweetie. I think drama’s part of the job description.”

She dropped the duster dramatically into the couch cushions and walked up to him, eyes sparkling with playfulness. “Well, since you’re here… care for a dance, Mr. Onychinus?”

He raised a silver brow, his lips curled upwards. “You sure Ms. Onychinus? You know I’m more fight than finesse.”

(Name) grabbed his hand anyway and placed it on her waist. “Lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

Sylus smirked, then without looking away, he reached for the turntable controls with a casual flick of his finger.

The needle lifted, and with a touch of his Evol, a different vinyl floated from the shelf—a slow romantic waltz pressing etched in deep red vinyl. The red and black mists placed it delicately on the turntable, reverently like it was a sacred ritual. The needle dropped with a satisfying crackle and hiss, and a lush, string-heavy melody bloomed through the room.

(Name) blinked. “You’re changing the track?”

“Of course,” Sylus whispered as he tugged her closer, one hand cradling the small of her back. “If we’re going to dance, it has to be our rhythm.”

They began to move.

Slow. Fluid. Effortless.

Her laugh melted against his chest as the two of them began to sway in gently.

The kind of dance that didn’t need steps or instruction—just two hearts beating in sync. Sylus guided her easily, his fingers firm but reverent on her waist, the other clasping her hand. They swayed in slow circles in the center of the room, the city lights painting their skin in gold and red.

Her cheek brushed against his chest as she tilted her head. “You’re being extra charming tonight.”

“I’m always charming,” Sylus teased, dipping his head closer so his breath tickled her ear. “But tonight, you’re glowing, kitten. Couldn’t help myself.”

(Name) laughed softly, chest fluttering as he twirled her under his arm, then pulled her close again. “Glowing? I just finished cleaning.”

He grinned, crimson eyes gleaming. “Then I must have a thing for house faes.”

Then, in one swift motion, he slid his arm under her knees and lifted her into the air with a graceful twirl.

(Name) squealed, laughing as the room spun around her, hair flying loose from its messy bun.

“Sylus!”

“Shh,” he hushed playfully, cradling her against his arm. “You’re ruining the moment.”

He let her feet touch the ground again, but barely—his arms still wrapped around her, one hand brushing the fallen curls from her face, tucking them behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her jaw, stroking down to the edge of her neck.

She was breathless.

“You’re unbelievable,” she breathed.

“One of many reasons you married me,” he quipped.

He was already watching her like she was the only thing in existence.

And this time, it was (Name) who leaned forward—her hands framing his face—and kissed him.

Soft.

Full of warmth.

The kind of kiss that said you’re home to me.

When they broke apart, she didn’t step back.

She just wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and whispered, “I love you.”

Sylus froze—not because he didn’t know it. But because, even now, every time she said it so freely, it still knocked the wind out of him.

He rested his chin on top of her head and whispered back, “I love you too, sweetie.”

STOP IM CRYING SO HARD HIS BIRTHDAY IS IN 2 DAYS!! anywayss did u guys also buy the birthday merch from infold?? i bought the smoll keychain doll hehe, take my money. (ANYWAYS THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THINKING OUT LOUD ADSKJDNASK THE SLOW DANCE)

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Demons

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Asriel ventures back to Hometown while on the trail of trying to find out what happened to Kris, and stumbles across an unusual man who's all too excited to share his demon-warding knowledge! But it's unclear so far whether this knowledge will actually be of help to him...

Yaaay all done with this series back with the Dreemurrs! This one was definitely the longest, but also had some important info! What I'll tackle next is a mystery to me right now...

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: Exterior shot of a back alley in Hometown, with old barrels and boxes stacked behind medieval buildings. Asriel walks down the alley, wearing a striped shirt, glasses and scruffy blond hair, and carrying a large canvas bag over his shoulders. The annoying dog trots happily beside him.

Panel 2: The annoying dog drops his nose to the ground, sniffing at some interesting smell.

Panel 3: The dog bounds off ahead of Asriel to a haphazard collection of trinkets, boxes, jars and displayed charms, all partially covered with colorful cloths. A man is kneeling under one of the tent setups. Asriel walks to catch up with the dog, asking, "What's got your interest this time, dog?"

Panel 4: The man pops up from his odd collection and turns to Asriel with arms spread and a big smile. He has short curly hair, and is dressed in a medieval robe with a cape slung over his shoulders, and bone designs in his sleeve cuffs. He answers, "Just the finest assortment of handmade charms and magical meals made by yours truly, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" The dog happily circles Papyrus, tail wagging.

Panel 5: Asriel is a bit taken aback by the introduction, but waves in greeting anyway, and responds with "…Oh! Howdy!" The dog sits in front of Papyrus, panting and wagging his tail.

Page 2 Panel 1: Papyrus leans down with a big grin to pet the dog and ruffle its face. "What a bright and clever fellow! Such a sweet face!"

Panel 2: "You're a good, good boy, aren't you?" Papyrus continues. However, the dog glances over to the side, as something has got his attention:

Panel 3: It's one of the charms Papyrus has on display: a large femur bone decorated with paint, beads and feathers.

Panel 4: The dog leaps up and snatches the charm in its mouth. Papyrus looks agape at this thievery, eyes cartoonishly wide. "Wh-HEY! That's my SPECIAL demon-warding charm!"

Panel 5: The dog goes running off further into the alley, the bone still in its mouth. Papyrus shakes his fist at it and yells after it: "You thieving scoundrel! I take back all the nice things I said about you!"

Panel 6: Papyrus quickly turns back to Asriel with a more apologetic look; even now he can't be too mean. He says, "I apologize, I didn't mean to yell at your dog. I'm sure he's normally better behaved!" Asriel waves off the apology with tired bemusement. "No, it's fine. He's not really my dog." Under his breath, he adds, "He just keeps following me around for some reason…"

Panel 7: Papyrus stands back up and gestures to his odd collection. "In any case, you at least are welcome to my little shop-in-the-works!"

Page 3 Panel 1: Papyrus leans in close to Asriel, observing him, and getting a bit into his personal space. "You look a little familiar, though! Are you perhaps related to Mr. Dreemurr?" Asriel nervously adjusts his glasses, and replies, "Heh, yes. I'm Asriel, his son."

Panel 2: Asriel holds up a hand and gives a little sideeye to the alley around them. "But, uh…I actually don't want my parents to know that I'm back in town, so I'd appreciate you keeping quiet about me being here."

Panel 3: Papyrus mirrors that sideeye, hands on his hips, as if recalling some recent incident. "Ahh…I know well the trials of avoiding family. Especially when they decide to try out some terrible new jokes."

Panel 4: Papyrus makes a lip-zipping motion with his hand and mouth. "Not to worry, my lips are sealed!" Asriel smiles back, and says, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

Panel 5: A wider shot of the two still standing within Papyrus's collection of tents and trinkets. Papyrus asks, "So, if it's not to see your folks, what brings you back around Hometown?" Asriel glances around them, and replies, "I'm looking for something. Or well…kinda hoping I don't find something here."

Page 4 Panel 1: Papyrus points up one finger, looking as if he's already solved this problem. "If you don't want to find it, then looking for it seems rather counterintuitive!"

Panel 2: Asriel looks a little taken aback by that logic. "Yes, well… Okay you have a point, but…"

Panel 3: Asriel keeps glancing behind him, as if expecting to see someone there. "This is kind of the next step in a trail of research I've been doing."

Panel 4: Papyrus puts a hand to a chest and puffs himself up, imitating his heroic poses from Undertale. "Well, if your research involves handmade charms and tasty foods both designed to ward off demons, evil spirits and the like… Then I'll be your most cited source!"

Panel 5: Asriel crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, intrigued by this. "Really."

Panel 6: "You know a lot about demons, huh?" Asriel asks as he sits himself on one of the rugs within the tent setup. Papyrus keeps up his self-congratulatory pose. "I, the Great Papyrus, am a bonafide expert in such subjects! Sad that so few around here seem to recognize my talents."

Page 5 Panel 1: Asriel holds his hands up, willing to follow this strange thread wherever it might lead. "Well, I've got a question that all my research hasn't been able to answer for me, so perhaps you can…"

Panel 2: A pause as Asriel holds on to his thoughts, hands closed in front of his face. Papyrus sits down on the rug across from him.

Panel 3: Asriel lowers his hands, his face deeply serious. "How do you kill a demon?"

Panel 4: Papyrus looks back at him with an equally serious expression, then…

Panel 5: The seriousness is gone as he gives a casual shrug, and gives an answer. "Oh, that's simple. You don't!"

Panel 6: Asriel looks a little bit baffled, and disappointed. "…You don't?"

Panel 7: "No, silly. They're immortal, like angels!" Papyrus keeps up the casual shrug, as if this information is obvious.

Panel 8: However, Papyrus then seems to become aware of why this is being asked. He looks around the area frantically, his head whipping back and forth. "Why?! Are there demons around here that my detection flatbreads missed?!" Asriel offers an amused smile back. "Heehee… no, I don't think so."

Page 6 Panel 1: The seriousness returns to Asriel's face as he scratches at his nose, lost in worried thought. "I just…have this real bad hunch. I'm trying to prepare myself for all potential outcomes."

Panel 2: Papyrus ignores the seriousness of the situation, and just seems impressed. "Preparation! The hallmark of the truly intelligent!"

Panel 3: Asriel is still set on getting some information, and continues his questions. "Thanks. So, if you can't kill them, what do you do about them?" Papyrus holds up a finger again, happy to keep explaining: "Well, you got two options! First, you can banish them back to their own plane!"

Panel 4: Papyrus continues, "However, that's really only the ideal option if you're the one that summoned them in the first place. Otherwise it's a whole ordeal." In the background, Papyrus's point is illustrated with a little graphic of a cult member holding up a hand in rejection of a demon within a summoning circle. The demon looks confused and perturbed by the rejection.

Panel 5: Asriel says, "I see. What's the other option?" Papyrus continues his explanation across the two panels: "You bind the demon to something! Quickest and easiest thing to do is bind them to an object! Buuut, problem with that is, if your object gets broken or destroyed, now your demon's free and even angrier than before."

Panel 6: To illustrate his point, another background graphic shows a shocked human with a broken jar in front of them. A demon rises out of the remains of the broken jar, looking angry and ready to strike.

Page 7 Panel 1: Papyrus again continues his explanation across two panels. "Hardest and most time-consuming thing to do is to bind them to a place! Good option if you have the prep time, but then you can't really use that place anymore. Better pick a restaurant you hate and hope no one there minds you standing outside it chanting for three days straight."

Panel 2: To illustrate his point further, a scene (perhaps a flashback) shows Papyrus with his arms raised outside of a restaurant, supposedly chanting angrily at it, while another person stares back at him from the doorway, hands on their hips in annoyance.

Panel 3: Asriel watches as Papyrus finishes up the rest of his explanation: "Aaaand, last thing you can do is…bind the demon to a person! Which…"

Panel 4: Papyrus stops suddenly. For the first time, he looks actually disturbed and hesitant.

Panel 5: Asriel watches quizzically, waiting for him to continue.

Panel 6: When he doesn't continue, Asriel tries to prompt him on, tilting his head towards him. "…And?"

Panel 7: Papyrus quickly waves his hands in front of him, smiling nervously, clearly trying to dismiss the whole idea. "But you know, we don't need to go into the details of that!"

Panel 8: Asriel says nothing, but remains in nervous thought, one hand covering his mouth. It's clear that this is sticking in his mind the most.

Page 8 Panel 1: Asriel remains sitting with a hand to his chin in thought, but Papyrus has moved on to better advice. "But as I always say, an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure! You're much better off trying one of my charms or meals to-go!"

Panel 2: Asriel lets himself smile more at this suggestion. "Y'know? I'm sold. And also a bit hungry."

Panel 3: Asriel gets up, and drops a handful of coins into Papyrus's open hand, which Papyrus looks at in surprise. Asriel says, "Give me your best demon-warding meal."

Panel 4: Papyrus stares down at the coins in his hand, his eyes cartoonishly big and shiny, full of excitement. "WOWIE!! My FIRST ever sale!" he says with a big smile.

Panel 5: Papyrus leaps up and begins to rummage through some of the boxes and barrels around his collection. "This calls for my finest delicacy!" Asriel watches him from a few steps back, and mutters under his breath, "…First ever?…"

Page 9 Panel 1: Papyrus straightens back up, gesturing to a small sack that he is holding in one hand. He looks pleased with himself. "Spiced candied yam bites, from my home country!"

Panel 2: "Each one will purge you of evil spirits for a whole ten hours!" he continues. He hands the small sack off to Asriel, who takes it from him and says, "Sounds like a good deal." In the background, the annoying dog pops back up from behind some other boxes, holding something in its mouth.

Panel 3: Asriel hefts the bag over his shoulder again, and holds up the sack of treats in acknowledgement of the exchange. "Well, I know where to come if I need more info and good charms."

Panel 4: Papyrus stands proud, both hands on his hips, happy at being able to spout off his knowledge to a stranger. "Yes, yes! Tell all your friends about the fantastic advice and the culinary masterworks of the Great Papyrus!" he says excitedly.

Panel 5: Asriel heads off back into the alleyways, and waves goodbye to Papyrus. The annoying dog follows close behind his steps. Papyrus enthusiastically waves to the two as they leave, and says, "Safe travels to you and your annoying dog!"

Page 10 Panel 1: Papyrus turns back to his collection of trinkets and boxes with a determined look, hands on his hips. "And now to see where that criminal canine buried my special charm…" he says to himself.

Panel 2: While continuing on through the alleyways, Asriel opens the small sack and pulls out one of the candied yam bites.

Panel 3: Asriel glances back down at the dog, and notices that he's carrying something that's making a tinking noise. It's partially hidden from view. "Oh boy, what did you steal now?" he asks with a wry smile.

Panel 4: Asriel takes the yam bite and pops it into his mouth with a crunch…

Panel 5: …Only to then make a face, his eyes wide and his mouth scrunched up, as if tasting something indescribable.

Panel 6: "What IS this flavor?" Asriel asks to himself, although all but his back foot are off-panel. The focus is on the annoying dog, who is shown to be carrying a strange, heart-shaped metal lantern on a chain.

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking of an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male noble yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

tw: none for this part

about a week has passed since your impromptu tea party with oliver. everything about that interaction left you feeling unsettled, and him barging into your estate certainly didn't help his case.

as you think back to that conversation, you recall his words. he claimed that the two of you were lovers, but also stated that apparently no one knew. you were able to determine that original person in this body was close to their parents and that their family was tight knit, so why wouldn't they know?

"your" parents definitely would have approved of the relationship, so there is theoretically no reason for this to be a secret. unless it had to do with his parents? but that doesn't really explain why your parents wouldn't have been told...

as you continue to spiral, you hear a knock at your door. your father pokes his head in with a wide grin on his face, "oliver is here!" he said, "and he did provide notice this time! hehehe~" your father seemed to grin even wider at that, "anyways, lunch is starting soon and hes waiting~~" your father wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"why... why wasn't i made aware of this??" you replied in shock. both at the sudden lunch plans and at your father's behavior.

"well he's a nice boy, and this is an informal gathering. him dropping in for lunch isn't unusual, he does it all the time!"

you had been in this body for around two weeks, but your father seemed to believe that this was a regular occurrence. you tried to come off as calm and composed, but the best you could do was force a wobbly smile. "oh. well. uh. i'll get ready..."

your father initially looked concerned, but then seemed to remember that you had been "struggling with your memory" (read: you know nothing, absolutely nothing, about anything)

his face shifted into one of guilt, "i'm so sorry, i forgot, kinda like you hehe, wait that's rude-," he collected himself, "yes, every two weeks oliver comes here for lunch, then the two of you usually spend time together until dark, then he leaves."

"ah, i understand," you said, trying to keep calm. you did not, in fact, understand. as you collected yourself and prepared to get ready for the sudden visit, your father quickly left to go entertain the guest.

...

oliver's eyes lit up the second he noticed you enter the room, "ah! hello!! its been so long!" his wide smile seemed to infect your parents, as they begin grinning as well.

it seems like there was some truth to what he had said, everything you had asked your parents about and what your father described lines up perfectly with what oliver said. even still, something just felt wrong, you couldn't explain it, and you felt a small wave a guilt wash over you as you looked at the genuine joy on his face from seeing you.

you tried to ignore both the guilt and your intuition, deciding to simply get through the meal and try to gather more information. after you steeled your resolve, you responded, "yes, it really has."

after that short interaction, lunch went as expected. you were easily able to confirm that the part about him being your childhood best friend was true. additionally, your parents' behavior seemed to suggest that they genuinely liked oliver, and that he liked them. you spent most of the meal observing their interactions, and whenever someone mentioned your silence you simply directed their attention to your plate of food.

after everyone finished their meals, your parents called for the staff to clean up, but not without thanking them as they entered and thanking them again as they left. your parents then retired to the living room for the afternoon.

with only two people left at the table, you finally had to confront what you had been dreading during the entire meal, but at the same time, you were also looking forward to it for some reason.

oliver meets your eyes and grins,

"how about we take a walk in the garden! the honeysuckles should be blooming this time of year~"

a/n: thank you @ersharyzst for giving me the idea for the last line! i apologize for any errors, i'm too tired to proofread this. i'll try to look over it again soon and fix any mistakes. this was mostly set up for the part, which i hope to release in a couple days!