#they're so good let me put them on loop!!!!!!!!!

[superfluouskeys]

dino release official audios of your solo songs challenge!!!!!

[optimist-pine]

Bodyguard

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: people are naked, but it's barely even borderline suggestive

Summary: You need a bath, but there's no way you're going alone

Era: Season 1, the Quarry

Your skin practically crawls from the buildup of dirt, sweat, and who knows what else that's managed to accumulate over the past three days. You still haven't quite adjusted to the reality of not having on-demand access to a hot shower and your scalp is all oily, and itchy, and eugh - gross. A little shiver runs down your spine at the thought - well, maybe that's just more sweat...

The bold shades of the sunset are beginning to fade as you make your way to the Dixon brothers' camp. Currently they're the closest thing you have to neighbors, your tent being between theirs and the rest of the group. You're dying for a quick dip and rinse in the pond, but you don't actually want to die for a bath, and you know it's a dumb idea to go alone. Everyone else seems busy though and you've come to the conclusion that Daryl seems to be your only option.

Most of the others actively avoid the brothers, and you can't say you blame them. Merle's constantly stirring up trouble and being a general annoyance, and Daryl's quick to jump to his defense. But, on the rare occasion when Daryl isn't being held under Merle's thumb, you catch glimpses of a very different person than what he usually puts out.

He's sitting in an old lawn chair by the side of a fire when you approach, poking a stick around in the coals. Little sparks shoot off where the fresh evening air hits them, and the smell of woodsmoke fills your lungs.

"Hey." You greet. A spot of doubt begins to arise within you, but you quickly stamp it out. With recent events you were beginning to discover that there wasn't much room left for second guessing or overthinking anymore.

"Need somethin'?" He asks, eyes flicking up to you for a moment before returning to the flames.

You hang your thumbs in your belt loops, fingers tapping against your hips. "If you're not busy, I was hoping maybe you could go down to the water with me? I'd ask someone else but they all seem rather occupied at the moment... and I don't think Shane'd let me go alone." You say.

He looks up, jaw set awfully close to a scowl. "I ain't gonna be yer damn bodyguard." He huffs.

"No- I don't want you to watch me or anything like that- I guess I'm just asking for companionship?" You reply. "You could do whatever you're gonna do here, but just do it down there?" You hike your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the pond.

He stays silent, but a sudden chorus of laughter flows out from the direction of the rest of the group. You study the way the firelight smooths out his rough edges, and you can't help but wonder if the look in his eyes is just boredom or if it's really loneliness.

"Unless you prefer Merle's company, then by all means I'll leave ya to it." You continue, trying your best to ignore Merle sawing logs in the tent, and erase the image of his hand too close to his crotch from your mind.

He jams the stick into the dirt hard enough that it remains standing when he lets go. "A'ight. Lemme get 'mah stuff."

"Awesome, I'll be over at my tent when you're ready." You smile, pleased and a little surprised that you'd managed to get him to say yes. Admittedly, Merle wasn't so bad when he was passed out, but it was reassuring to know that you were at least preferred company over an unconscious jerk.

---

Dirt and gravel crunch under your boots as the two of you walk, your knapsack bouncing steadily against your back with each step. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm not necessarily afraid of the dark or anything, but there's a lot worse things in the woods now than just coyotes." You explain. "And it's just nice not to be alone."

He simply grunts in response.

Good thing you didn't ask him along for his conversational skills.

When you reach the edge of the water you find a rock close to the shore to set out clean clothes and a towel. You see Daryl settle down, back propped against a boulder as he starts rummaging around in his own bag. "Whatcha gonna work on?" You ask.

He pulls out a whetstone and a couple large hunting knives. "Cleanin' mah tools." He replies.

You begin to undress, but a feeling of uncertainty causes you to pause. "Man, I wish I didn't feel like he's sitting up there right now with those binoculars..."

"Who? Shane?" He asks sounding surprised.

"Yeah." You shudder. "Guy gives me the creeps."

You hear scrape of the knife grinding against the sharpener. "Well, hurry up an'ere won' be anythin' ta see." He says.

"Yeah..." You keep your eye on Daryl while you finish, but he doesn't lift his gaze even once beyond sharpening his knife. "I won't be long." You assure him as the cool water rises around you.

As soon as you're far enough in you dive forward, the rush of water instantly reviving and refreshing your whole body as it flows past. You rise upwards as giddiness fills you and you break the surface with a laugh. "This is heavenly!" You gasp. You continue diving and twirling, every sore muscle and painful bruise easing away.

You pause to catch your breath and a small splash has you immediately alert. You left your knife up on the shore with Daryl, but you hadn't heard any sounds of alarm from him so surely it's not a walker. But when you look to the shore the sight has you almost equally as shocked. Daryl is chest deep in the water - bare chested that is - ripples being sent out across the still expanse as he sinks further in.

"Hey!" You yell. "I asked you out here because I thought you weren't some sorta pervert!" You hope it's dark enough that nothing in the water is visible because he's only getting closer.

The moon is full and bright, and the way it reflects off the water makes him look almost ethereal. "Can't protect ya if I'm up'ere an' yer alla'way out 'ere." He reasons.

"I don't need protecting." You roll your eyes. "And all the weapons are up there, Dixon!" You send a splash of water directly into his face.

He returns the splash. "Looked like I was missin' out on alla fun." He shrugs. "'Sides, ya never know when somethin' might jus'-" he disappears under the surface of the water and barely a second later something wraps around your ankle, tugging you under the surface.

When you're released you bob back up to the top wanting to be stern, but you're too busy giggling and swallowing mouthfuls of water to do so. When he surfaces behind you, you turn and splash him again sputtering, "Daryl you- that's not- I can't-" and end up full on belly laughing while trying to stay afloat.

You think you catch the shadow of a smile on his lips before he turns and floats away, like he's done nothing worthy of retaliation. 'Oho boy is he gonna get it.' As quietly as possible you lower yourself in the water, and using shadows from the moonlight, you swim under his head. Reaching up with both hands you use all your strength to grab his shoulders and pull yourself above the surface while pushing him down as hard as you can. Then you make a break for it.

You hear him gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you swim as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

"Get back 'ere, woman!" He shouts, his tone highly amused. "Yer gonna hafta pay 'fer that!"

You don't realize how loudly you're laughing until the beam of a flashlight is suddenly shining directly in your face.

"Everything alright here?" Shane questions, standing on the shore not far from your and Daryl's discarded clothes. A few of the others are with him; Dale, Andrea, T-Dog, and Morales.

Even in the chilly water you can feel your skin begin to flush all the way down your neck. "Yes! All good!" You squeak out, squinting in the harsh brightness.

"We heard yelling." Andrea chimes in.

You're confident that in all your life you've never been more embarrassed. "That was laughing, guys. I wanted a bath and I asked Daryl to be my bodyguard. We were just, uh, blowing off some steam and I guess we got a little loud... Sorry if we worried anyone." You glance at Daryl who appears to be doing his best impression of the invisible man.

You can make out Dale's hat exceptionally well even in the darkness. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Their hesitation to leave sparks frustration within you - do they really think so lowly of Daryl? Is that what this is all about? Sure, nobody really knows him all that well, but you're all practically strangers and he's done alright by you. The desire to defend him takes over and you snap at the group, "Ah, what're y'all, the fun police? Go ruin somebody else's night and leave us be."

You don't take a good breath until they're all headed back to camp, and it's once again quiet and dark. You sigh, tilting your head back to watch the stars so high above as you float. "Dead people walking around eatin' living people - ya think they'd have bigger problems to deal with than a couple'a skinny dippers." You remark.

A quick exhale of a laugh, not quite a snort, echoes across the pond. "People're always jealous of'a good time if they ain't havin' one." He says quietly.

You pull your fingers through the water, feeling the tension push against them. "So... are ya feeling jealous, or did ya have a good time?" You ask.

"S'pose it wasn't too bad." He says. "But I ain't yer damn bodyguard."

And you grin.

---

Yeah, maybe it's a little awkward getting dried off, getting dressed, and walking back to camp but you sleep more soundly than you have since you arrived. And maybe you're a little annoyed with the way everyone seems to have nothing better to do than gossip, but that new gleam in Daryl's eye when he looks at you wipes it all from your mind. And maybe a lot of things suck, but at the end of the day there's someone who actually likes you, and maybe that's enough.

[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[coff33andb00ks]

world around us

summary: you're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night word count: 1k pairing: lando norris x oscar piastri x driver!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff, slightly suggestive language(?) a.n.: final installation of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLI MY LOVE!!! playlist: completely unhinged songs that fit the vibe

"No no no no no no no! You can't do that! You fuckin' muppet!"

Oscar mirrors your eye roll as Lando protests you placing a house on one of your properties. "She owns it though?" he says tentatively.

Lando scoffs, snatching up the guide and snapping it open. "The rules say–"

"I refuse to follow rules when you rolled twice so you wouldn't go to jail," you say with a huff, snatching the guide from him.

"I had to! One of the dice landed on the floor!"

"Oh but when we play golf I have to play no matter where my ball lands?"

"Yes." Lando gives you a look of disbelief, as though the idea of breaking a golfing rule is akin to murder. "It's not my fault you can't hit a ball straight."

"Just for that–" You slap more brightly colored money in front of Oscar - Oscar has to be the banker he's the most honest one among us - and grab a hotel to replace the house. "Suffer."

Lando groans, throwing up his hands. "You're cheating. I hate games night."

Oscar's grin shifts and he begins to chuckle. "We could play Trivial Pursuit?"

"No," Lando whines, picking up the dice to take his turn. "That game makes me feel stupid."

"Uno?" you suggest sweetly.

"No, we'll finish this. Capitalism is good to me, I'll make a comeback." Lando nods to himself as he shakes the dice. "Just shut up so I can focus."

And then, twenty minutes later–

"What d'you mean I owe you double the rent?!"

The rules are checked - well this is fucking bullshit - and he counts out all of his money to pay up. Suddenly capitalism sucks and he's clinging to his one property block and his cash like they're his lifeline.

You'll never know how (he probably cheated) but he wins. Monopoly money rains down as he celebrates and you fall back with laughter when Oscar flips the board in disgust.

You love games night. The silly playlist Lando put together plays, Disney movies play, muted, on the tv, and you've got them.

Lando and Oscar. Your biggest rivals on the track and your closest friends off. You're celebrating Oscar's first win this week now that summer break is here, enjoying the lazy days before you each take off in different directions to visit family and recuperate from an exhausting first half of the season.

"Loser cleans up," you remind Oscar and he groans as he gives you a kiss then begins picking up the mess. Lando's singing along to the latest country song he's obsessed with - Is it your heart or mine? Is it whiskey or wine? Is it somethin' in the night Makin' us wanna cross that line? - and he follows you into the kitchen to get more drinks.

"You sure you don't want to come along with me?" he asks, reaching around you to get a beer from the fridge.

"Let me see... Golfing with a bunch of men versus beach time with my best friends…" You hum thoughtfully, squealing when loops an arm around you.

"That can't be right. Me and Osco are your best friends," he says.

"Let me rephrase. Best women friends."

He's holding you close, swaying a little to the song playing - you think Oscar's the one who added ABBA, or maybe it was you - and you smile a little as you sway with him. He hums songs without realizing it and it's one of his more endearing habits.

"But I'll miss you," he murmurs, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you too." And you will. This season you've grown closer to him. Literally, considering he finally talked you - and Oscar - into moving to Monaco. But also figuratively. You're just as rough on yourself as he is on himself, and with all the macho bravado that surrounds you every race week, it's nice to have someone who understands your being upset over missing out on a podium due to your own failings as a driver, your miscommunication with the team. It's rarer to have someone who understands shouldering the blame of the team's missteps – if I was better at this, they would trust my judgment but I'm not so they don't and that means—

"Not getting sappy on me are you?" Lando teases.

"You started it," you mutter. Turning, you wrap your arms around him. "We can live a few weeks without each other."

"I mean… You'll text right? Call?" he asks softly.

"FaceTime too," you promise.

It's tentative and new and so fucking scary but he gives you a soft kiss. Not your first with him, but it still makes your heart do that weird little flutter that it's only ever done with one other person.

"Jenga?" Oscar calls from the living room and Lando perks up instantly, nearly knocking you down in his haste to get back to the only other person he's going to miss during break.

Jenga with your boys is impossible. They're too competitive, know too many things they can say that make the other break and send the blocks flying.

"Oh of course he's going for the bottom, man loves to be at the bottom," Oscar mutters to you and Lando's giggling, covering his face with his hands as the tower collapses.

The games are abandoned, and you're squished on the couch between them, Oscar's lips on your ear, Lando's head on your stomach as the three of you, tipsy and relaxed, begin making plans for the last days of break while a Studio Ghibli movie plays. It's not said by either of you, but you already know that the three of you will find each other long before the break is over.

The world is easier to bear when it's the three of you together. It's still new, still tentative, still scary as hell, but it feels oh so right.

[willowser]

aww aww katsuki coming home to find you and your kiddos in the kitchen, a disarray of gingerbread and icing and candies spread out across the dining room table.

you'd managed to dye your daughters frosting pink, and she's jumping up and down on her tippy-toes when she sees him, grinning so hard the tendons in her neck are straining. she'd wanted to build and decorate her own gingerbread house this year, but so far she's spent the last twenty minutes being very particular about only the first wall.

"daddy!" she leans her head all the way back when he puts his hand on her face, giggling beneath his palm with her little squished nose. "look at mine, look at mine!"

your wobbly son jumps up in his own chair, using the table as leverage to balance himself as he lets out a squeal of gibberish that vaugely sounds like an echo of what his sister is saying. at the excited pitch in his voice, her head whips around, free from katsuki's grip as her brows furrow.

"he's not even decorating anything," she protests—and she's not wrong; whatever your little boy is doing hardly classifies as 'decorating', and is more like 'eating all the frosting he can before getting caught'. there is a mess of sugar dried all around his mouth.

still, your son squeals in his chair, jumping up and down with even more energy when you place a hand on his butt, in case he slips. the promise of you only encourages him, and katsuki reaches across the table to snatch him up when he tries to get his little knee up on the surface.

your daughter's frown grows; sharing attention remains a soft spot for her. instead of saying anything, she only makes an annoyed little sound and presses her cheek into her dad's hip.

"stuff's gonna give you cavities," katsuki murmurs, though he picks up a few red and green candies and shares them with your already sugary boy—who hums happily. "need a toothbrush for christmas."

"no," your daughter pulls back and tugs on his belt loops, sneering up at him playfully when he pinches her nose. "you have cavities!"

katsuki makes a point to bare his teeth at her, and then presses his forehead to his son and does the same until they're both giggling. "ain't me, bighead,"

"you're a bighead!"

"yeah, 'n i am big, so what's your excuse?" a wicked little grin splits his face when she starts swinging on him, and he deposits your son into your lap before scooping her up off her feet, her girlish scream vibrant and happy in the space around you.

katsuki waits until she calms down a bit, holding her to his chest like a baby, before coming around the table to get a good look at her little pink masterpiece. he presses his mouth into her hair, like he does with you, and her little ruby eyes sparkle when he murmurs, "looks good, kid,"—just to her and only to her.

[justliketoreadsowhat]

Princess Treatment ✬

✰ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 ✰

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

"Show Me What Color You're Wearing Again" your voice echoing through the phone speakers.

Paige huffed at your question, fixing the color of her burnt orange button-up. She had been ready to go 30 minutes ago, yet your indecisiveness slowed down the process of her leaving out the door.

"If you want me to change just say that" Her face scrunched up, beaming through your phone screen propped up on your vanity.

"No! don't be such a teenager, I just want to make sure our colors match" color coordination was important to you, especially for a day like this. It had been 3 weeks too long since you two last saw each other. The words "summer break" meant the complete opposite for Paige, her schedule was overly hectic, to say the least, you couldn't recall the last time she stayed in one place for more than 24 hours.

"Awh baby you wanna match with me?! I feel so honored" she teased, twirling the lonesome braid stitched in the front of her hair.

"You've been influenced by KK way too much, don't ever do that again please" The feeling of cringe shivered down your spine.

Throwing her hands up in self-defense "It's whatever you want to make of it, just be ready when I get there" Hanging up quickly you were left to hassle with your thoughts

Ready for what exactly ?

You had no clue

The only information you were given was, to be dressed in nice attire within the next hour, although that was never enough time for you.

No complaints would slip from your mouth though, being tucked away in your condo all alone for weeks drained the life out of you, it felt as if the days were all mushing together, repeating in an endless loop.

You were desperate for a change.

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

Swinging open the door, you were met with Paige dressed in all her glory, before you could analyze any further, your body flung towards her with an overlying feeling of excitement.

With arms naturally wrapped around your waist like a 2nd nature, every inch fit so perfectly.

"I missed you so much" Your voice trembled with emotion, taking in her aroma of sweet mahogany and amber. You felt her chuckle against your skin "I missed you more princess"

Releasing her from your death grip, you stepped back revealing the now flattened bouquet of flowers. Trying to stifle her laughter "Yeah um.. these were for you but don't worry bout it I'll get you some more" fiddling with the petals trying to make them look alive again.

Taking them into your grasp shaking your head "No it's okay, they're still beautiful" Looking up at her, your eyes met evenly, too evenly.

Breaking eye contact Paige glanced down at your orange heels that matched her outfit perfectly, "I knew something was off, no way you're ever getting past 5'5"

"So you can make fun of my height, but when I tell you you're not 6ft it's a problem" tilting your head, arms crossed instantly waiting for her rebuttal.

"Lying in my face is insane, I'm actually 6'1 so ion wanna hear nothing!" putting up her "talk to the hand" notion. it was good to see her sassiness never left after all this time.

"Let's get going before the sun goes down" taking your hand gently placing it in hers.

"What's so important about the sun?"

"it makes life possible on earth"

"Paige!"

She laughed at her own antics "Just come on and you'll see" opening the car door for you, pulling down the seat to buckle you in. No matter how many times you told her you could do these simple tasks on your own, she insisted every chance she got. Deep down you loved it but she would never get that confession out of you, ever.

"Can I at least get a hint of where we're going"

"Nah, that would ruin the surprise. Just sit back and look pretty" Her hand patted your thigh "Here you can even play your own music" Pressing the Bluetooth button on the screen display.

Your eyes widened "Oh this must be serious, I never though I'd see the day you let me have the aux"

Paige was very serious when it came to her music, it was like touching a thermostat in someone's house, don't ever touch or change it.

"Alright just don't do too much and play that sappy shit" her eyes adverted to you "You know what I'm talking about"

"You're my biggest hater"

"At least you know I'm the biggest" a smug smirk plastered at her face.

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

After a smooth 20-minute drive, pulling into an empty parking lot accompanied by a movie theater, but not just any movie theater. This is where you and Paige first met 5 years ago. Dating all the way back to late 2019.

Hopkins high school girls basketball team decided to take a trip to see the new movie "Us" on a cool Thursday night before they played their next opponent the following Friday.

You on the other hand had picked up a quick shift that night as a ticket holder. The night was slow until the entire in swarmed in gathering around the glass you stood behind.

Nobody caught your eye except Paige. She was talkative, very talkative. She sweet-talked you so well, the entire team got in for free.

She promised she'd make it up to you, 5 years later it's safe to say she did just that.

Surrounded by hundreds of fairy lights and different variations of flowers, roses, tulips, lilies, you name it. The sun shined on them perfectly projecting their vibrant colors.

Parking the car swiftly, you looked at her, tears threatening to form in your eyes. She quickly noticed, swiping a tear that had begun to fall. "Baby don't cry, we haven't even done anything yet" she pleaded, hopeful you'd abide.

"I know but, it's just so beautiful" you sniffled, glancing out the window once more. Eagerly you unhooked your seatbelt wanting to emerge into the theater, before you could open the door Paige grabbed your wrist "Don't even think about it"

Opening the door your feet planted on the ground, following behind her, constantly looking down at the red rose-petal path that led you through the double doors of the theater.

Nobody else was in sight, besides the two of you.

"Where is everybody?" you questioned noticing how bare the concessions were.

She smirked grabbing a bag of popcorn freely "Ion know, probably at home"

There was no way to legally walk into an establishment unless you owned it, or in Paige's case, rented it out. Her humble traits would never allow her to admit her actions, especially when it came to money.

"Come on I already got your snacks for you, the movie is about to start" holding up an assortment of candy and your extra-large slushy you never end up finishing.

"What movie is it!?" your eyes searching at all the advertised posters of the new releases, there was entirely too many to count.

"Just come onn" she dragged, moving quickly down the empty rows of theaters. Following in her pursuit, the sound or your heels echoed through the hallow hallway, turning a corner Piage disappeared into a theater that glowed with a purple ambiance.

Slowly walking up the ramp to keep up with her, the purple glow became brighter, the lights beamed a deep purple, the screen displayed the Disney Pixar introduction you memorized all too well.

"The Princess and the Frog"

"My favorite!!" gushing with excitement you found yourself nearly toppling over your girlfriend. "i never seen this on the big screen before, how'd did you do all this?.. and the- the purple lights it's so beautiful"

She laughed softly at your reaction, stroking your hand in small circles motion "It's only right I do something special for my special girl"

"You're so cornyyy" you laughed pulling her into a sweet kiss. Pulling away her demeanor switched, becoming slightly nervous. "You okay? if you're gonna complain about my lipgloss again I'll change it"

Paige shook her head "No no it's not that" Fumbling through her deep pockets, pulling out a purple heart-shaped velour box "I got you something, so when I'm away you''ll have something to keep with you" her tone soft as she placed the box in my hand.

You swore she could hear your heart pounding out of your chest if it wasn't for the movie beginning to play through the ceramic speakers. Without wasting a second more you opened the box, revealing a ring engraved in a crown, with purple diamonds in each curve, leaf-shaped, just like your favorite Disney Princess.

In awe you looked up at Paige, tears now falling freely, "This is beautiful Paige, I don't even know what to say" you choked.

Wiping your tears with her thumb, she lifted up her other hand revealing a ring placed on her thumb nearly identical to yours, crown-shaped fairly different with a lighter purple tint of diamonds in each wedge. "Every princess needs her prince right?"

Right

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[yesimwriting]

a/n challengers changed me, so have this drabble <3

----

the soft sound of rubber soles making their way across the court startles you more than it should. it's bad enough that you're running so late you had to change in the library bathroom and that you're still putting on your tennis shoes. you don't need anything else making you seem un-together.

"you know..." patrick's closer than you thought he'd be, his racket dangling by his side, just barely scraping the ground you're sitting on. you let your fingers rest between your ankle and the back of your shoe as you look up at him. "you took so long we started to think you were standing us up."

the sentence feels lighthearted, but that doesn't keep unease from prodding at you. your friendship with patrick and art is still new enough that the wrongness of being late feels sharper.

"oh, no," you shake your head slightly in an attempt to emphasize your point. you straighten an arm to rest it on your bent knee. "no, i--the lunch with my sponsors ran long, and i had to change and--" patrick lets you ramble as he bends a knee, slowly moving to sit across from you. he sets down his racket with all the patience in the world, watching you with a lightness behind his eyes that radiates good humor. "and you were joking."

he leans back on one arm before lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "a little, but that sponsorship thing..." patrick angles his head to one side in what feels like mock contemplation. "that sounds important, we should consider ourselves lucky that we made it onto your schedule."

his tone leaves your face feeling a little warmer. you let your attention fall back to your shoe. "no, not like that at all."

"well, i feel lucky," he says, "art, do you feel lucky?"

you turn your neck to look back at art. he's closer than you remember, the toe of his shoe so close to your leg that you'd only have to stretch a little to reach him. he lets out soft sigh before sitting next to patrick. "extremely."

the word borders on flat, a pinch of something you can't quite interpret bleeding into the syllables. his attention shifts away from you and towards patrick. maybe you weren't meant to fully understand. after all, they're life long best friends. and while normally encroaching on that kind of dynamic makes you feel like an intruder, with them, everything's always been comfortable.

"don't." you refocus on your shoes, pulling the laces taut between your fingers. "i'm the lucky one, you guys are great."

"and you're amazing." art breathes out the compliment in a way that feels concrete. real. the words don't feel like a necessary step in a polite exchange, they feel genuine. it's the kind of unabashed praise that's hard not to fluster at. "seriously--your backhand, i've never seen anything like it."

you let yourself smile, ignoring the warmth crawling up your chest. "thanks."

before you can dwell on the exchange, patrick leans forward. his fingers carefully bend around your ankle. patrick watches you expectantly as he extends a leg. you release your laces, letting him lift your foot onto his lower thigh.

"patrick."

"what?" patrick's gaze briefly flickers towards art as he crosses your shoe laces. "i'm helping out our girl." he tugs on your laces, neatly looping them. "ignore him, he's jealous."

you squint at him curiously, feeling like you're missing out on some kind of joke. "really? you think he wants to tie my other shoe?"

"i think," patrick secures a snug knot into place, "he wants to do whatever you want him to."

patrick settles a hand over your ankle. you let out a sound that's more a puff of air than a true laugh. "shut up." you lift your foot in a pretend kick. patrick makes a show of releasing your leg, holding up his hand as if to convey innocence. you pull your leg back. "don't make him sound so lame."

"yeah," art echoes, leaning towards patrick, "don't make me sound so lame."

patrick grins as he shoves art's shoulder. he pushes himself to stand with no warning. "c'mon, let's play."

you reach over for your other shoe before bending your leg. it takes no time for you to pull on but before you can adjust the laces, art's by your side. he pulls on your laces until your shoe feels secure. "too tight?"

with the way he's studying you, it takes you a moment too long to react. you shake your head once. "n-no, that's good."

he angles his head downwards, attention returning to your laces. "good."

art smiles as he squeezes your upper calf in an almost startling display of affection. he pushes himself to stand before offering you his hand.

——

lmk if you liked this, i have so many thoughts about them

[emacrow]

So you know the movie Ponyo

What I'm really trying to ask is do you know the mother and the father are like a little thing where the mother looks like an epic Sea Goddess cuz she is and he looks like a sad sickly old man

I'm just imagine that Klarion and Danny

Like Danny looks like an epic beautiful star Death god powerful in the way he moves but it's subtle like he's slowly comforting you to death

And Klarion looks like a crazy witch boy with a cat who look like he's out right feral and about to throw a pipe bomb at you just because he can

I'm just imagining what happens is Young/Dark Justice is worried about Klarion he's been gone for a while and they're wondering what he's planning I imagine they're surprised when they see him with a Lazarus pit

It's a specially surprising when electric entity sticks their head out of the Lazarus pit and starts talking to Klarion as the JLD and YJL hide there waiting for Klarion into demand help our power they watch this being completely start flirting with Klarion

I imagine Klarion and Danny's conversation going like this

Danny: Hello there my amazing chaos what have you came to talk to me about this time

He puts his hands up to pick up Klarion and bring him closer to his face

Klarion: It's that stupid Doctor Fate it's like he doesn't understand too much balance can ruin the order of the world I might love chaos but that would cause a chaos I couldn't even control

Klarion sits down and Danny's hands rubbing his head on one of Danny's fingers as comfort

Danny: Oh my love I could always talk to him and get him to try slow it down a bit if that's what you need

Danny's face turns into one of concern as he says that slowly starting to move around in the bigger than normal Lazarus pit that Klarion found for him

Klarion: No starlight me and Teekl have that old fart handled how about you tell me about your day instead did you find any more stars how is the balance between life and death doing for you

Danny puts him back down as a twinkle goes in to his eyes as he lays down in Lazarus water slowly starting to swim around as he say

Danny: oh Klarion life and death has been amazing and there's a new Star nursery that I found out there it's just wonderful

After Danny says that he pauses for a moment and presents to go underneath the water he comes out looking smaller with white hair and still wearing the same clothing he was wearing when he was larger surprising Klarion by grabbing his hands

Danny: oh Klarion my dear I have an idea how about we let Dr.Fate have what he wants for once in his miserable life let him have order without the balance that he needs that should show him that he needs you should it not

Klarion takes a second to think through It after he does he grabs Danny's hands right back

Klarion: that's an amazing idea Danny I'll stay with you in the infinite realms let's see how Dr Fate work without chaos helping him keep the balance

After that Danny kisses Klarion on the cheek using the the Lazarus pits to take him and Klarion to somewhere called the infinite realms

I'm sorry this is my first time really writing out Klarion I don't know how to write out characters that well I hope it was good that is what I really like is YJ and JLD was just reacting to this conversation since like the plan was listen and find information

You bet damn right that Dr Fate would have trouble keeping the balance, and would probably have the justice league trying to find Klarion because he thinks he up to something but in reality Klarion is in the middle of deep space, playing around with the stars as Danny is molding and feeding the baby star nursery to build a new universe in the making.

Dani is probably with him doing looping loops playing with star dust while Dan beat up any asteroids that had bad bacteria and let some of the good meteorites in that has good bacteria, and frozen water inside of them.

By the the time Justice league figured it out, probably the Green lantern, Hal. He probably gobsmacked and godsmacked straight back where he came form accidentally by Danny's star fueled cape.

[zweiginator]

okay, hear me out! cw: non-con/dubcon

ooooh “just the tip” with patrick and innocent!reader. he’s seduced reader while comforting her because her piece-of-shit boyfriend made her cry. soon they’re making out and dry humping, and patrick is begging to put the tip in. “it’s not cheating if i’m not all the way in” he says and you agree. once his bulbous tip pops through your entrance, patrick loses his mind. your soaked pussy is clinging to his thick, weeping tip and it’s driving him crazy. a small wiggle of your hips forces a groan out of patrick and he starts to babble in between his moans. he can’t hold it. it feels too good. he has to put it in. his words cause you to clench around him, which pushes him over the edge. he grabs your hips and slams his hips to meet yours, splitting you open on his cock in one thrust. you’re both shaking— you from an unexpected orgasm he’s given you and patrick from finally getting to feel all of you. he convinces you to break up with your boyfriend after giving you a few more orgasms :)

cw: dubcon stuff as anon stated

oh patrick just being manipulative and perverted. he hates your boyfriend and he hates how he makes you cry. but your sniffles and glassy eyes, how you reach out to patrick for comfort and touch when it happens, turns him on. he feels bad admitting it, and he won't tell it to you. you see the good in everyone anyway; it's how you became involved with your douchebag prick of a boyfriend. how you continue to forgive him again and again.

patrick tells you he's not worth your time. a good boyfriend cares about you, holds you in his arms and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. and patrick tells you--that's what he's doing right now.

and it's nothing to worry about. it's not cheating for a friend to comfort a friend. and it's not cheating for patrick to hold you in his lap until you're straddling him. nor is it cheating when he tells you just to forget about your boyfriend as his lips trail up your throat and he's grinding your cunt against his erection, his fingers hooked around your belt loops.

"we shouldn't be doing this." you sniffle, but your arms are slung around patrick's neck. you allow him to move your body on top of his. his arms are strong and his muscles ripple as he holds you tight.

"i bet your boyfriend is doing the same thing. don't you think? since you had a big fight?"

you bite the inside of your cheek, and more tears well in your eyes, stinging the corners.

"maybe he is--"

patrick shuts you up with his mouth. massages his tongue into your mouth and shows you how it feels to be kissed. to feel wanted and lusted after. cared for.

and soon you're more desperate, because patrick's hands are tangled in your hair and you pulled his shirt off long ago. his chest is warm against yours, and your clit is swollen and needy as it bumps against patrick's erection.

he moves you faster. breathy moans and fuck yeahs leave patrick's bitten, swollen lips and you really want to see more of him. you figure he's right about it not counting as cheating if your boyfriend is probably on top of some sorority girl across campus anyway.

so you unbutton his jeans and patrick lifts his hips to let you pull them down, and he quickly holds your waist to flip you over so he's on top. you look so worried, with your eyebrows furrowed together as patrick pulls at the waistband of your panties. but you let him shimmy them down your legs, until they're hooked on your ankle.

"wouldn't it be bad if we had sex?" you ask patrick. you're embarrassed to use the S word.

"why would it be bad?" patrick thumbs your clit and your back arches. "it's natural. plus i'll only put the tip in. that doesn't count."

you nod and spread your legs for him. patrick can hear how wet you are. it heats his body up to what feels like one hundred ten degrees. he lines his cock up with your entrance and you squeak as the head of him touches you. he's thick, much more so than your boyfriend. your nails dig into his shoulder, and his mouth comes down to kiss yours as he pushes in.

"see?" patrick says, resting his forehead to yours.

you swallow and nod. patrick pushes your knees to your chest and looks down at where your bodies are connected. how your little pussy is pulsing around him. begging for more. the veins in patrick's shaft pump blood into the head of him and his nerve endings feel so fucking sensitive. you're so tight and warm and you're whimpering. just letting him do this to you.

"fuck--i-" patrick moans, holding his shaft. "i want to be inside you all the way. you feel so fucking good." he pulls out. watches how your hole quivers, looking so, so empty. so he puts the tip in again. your hips jerk.

"patrick--"

the tiny moan. his name falling from your mouth almost involuntarily. like the stretch of him is making you dizzy, incoherent. it is. it makes his hips snap and he pushes all the way in. he can't help it; his balls slap against your ass as he bottoms out and your eyes roll back. you didn't realize how worked up you were, how patrick's dirty words and sweet affirmations made your clit so, so sensitive. your cunt so ready for him.

your pussy contracts and you cum. you yank patrick forward to kiss him and you bite his bottom tongue with the force of your affection.

patrick pulls out and flips you on your stomach before pushing all the way in again. he stops and watches you push back on his cock, begging for movement. he leans down.

"please--" he begs. a slow stroke. "please fucking break up with that prick."

you nod fervently.

[silkythewriter]

hii!! i found your Vox headcanons and i'm very intrigued! i loved the last two and loved them! i've got a request as well, could you maybe do Vox with a singer! reader? one who sings/hums under their breath whenever they get the chance, or even dance when they think they're alone!

Vox with a singer Reader!

( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫!!

Warnings!: Non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note!: AH HELLO!!! TYSM FOR THE REQUEST PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST AGAIN SOON!

Summary!: Vox with a singer reader!

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! &lt;3.❤️

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

“So I come back to my first note

as I must come back to you

I will pour into that one note

all the love I feel for you”

︎✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

Oh my how this man would be entranced by your small tunes

he’s always found comfort in your voice, even when you were just chattering. But now it’s different, the first time a soft melody escaped your lips, let me tell you, he was hooked ever since then.

He found comfort in your soft hum’s, it was such a calming thing, it was a big difference from the hustle and bustle of the over populated hell. A good one at that, it was an escape for him ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He’ll always go silent when you’re humming, and you’ll never notice it!. He’ll listen to the soft hum with full attention. Of course he’ll always be careful so you don’t catch on!

he doesn't understand why, but he love’s being discreet when listening to you. Maybe it’s the wya you feel relaxed or let the notes flow more freely from you mouth. He’s not quite sure but he just knows he dose it quite often!

sooner or later though he’ll make it be known that he’s been listening to you. Most likely in a teasing way! Loves seeing you get flustered.

soon he may even join you in your little hums if he knows the melody of the song your humming! It’s always such a love filled moment. Although he maybe, a bit cocky and standoffish here on there he’s always so tender in moments like these. You get to see his soft side in rare and soft moments like these.

Although that doesn’t mean the teasing would stop! He loves teasingly calling you his singing bird, or his Canary. But he also means it in adoring way as well!

Your little songs and voice get stuck in his Tv head constantly, it’s always on loop. He doesn’t Hate it, not at all! But sometimes when you are apart it dose make him miss you.

Whenever he’s about to have a melt down/ lose his absolute shit (Aka he fought alastor once again ( ｰ`дｰ´ ) ) he’ll let his mind put your hums on loop its very much a coping method!, I would say it helps him a good chunk of the time but you might already know the shortness of his temper at times.

if you guys are possible in his living space and in private. he’s all over you, his love for you is watered down in public, but I’m privacy he’s be asking you too hum for him so he could relax! He’d love just to lay down for awhile and only hear you. Just you, no screaming and cussing from the other Two V’s, and no interruptions. As much as he loves building his power and fame, sometimes he needs this to recollect and can get back to working on whatever he was doing with a much more eased mind.(´∀｀)♡

Now! As for dancing and such, he loves watching you glide across the floor with such ease. Whatever dancing or way you move he’ll always find some elegance in it. And as much as he’s into new interventions, and the new “day and age”, he does love to indulge in this old slow dance’s. Look! Hear me out! He’s not old timey, more like appreciates the closeness, and how nice it is to just hold you and slowly dance around the living room, or his office once everyone is out of course!

even if you think no one’s watching he probably is, and as much as he loves to have a certain image of himself to show to the public at all times. He can’t help but put it away when he’s just focusing on you when you guys are alone. He’ll stare at you for how ever long just doting on you in his mind.

sometimes he spaces out cause all he can think of is just you, only you, and trust me the teasing he reserves form Val and Vel is outta this world.

they will never let him live down the time he buffered and glitched because his systems and inner fans were over heating just thinking about you.

if he is every away for business purposes, when he’s sure he’s completely alone, he’ll pull up his phone and dial you up so you can calm him down with your voice. This will NEVER be admitted form him, cause only the lord knows how Val and Vel would absolutely use this against him in a teasingly bullying way. Yea he’ll do everything just so they could shut up. (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)💧

I feel as though even if he’s proud to be with someone with such an amazing voice like you he’d hate to share it. He loves stomping and showing off to other people, but something like this he just wants to himself, he knows it’s selfish, But this is Vox were talking about, he wouldn’t care.

late nights always end up with him or you on one of each others chest as you hum him to sleep. He finds it comforting to have you near and to know you’re next to him!.

and here and there he’d let you sit on his lap or just next to him as he works. You don’t have to hum, but if you do lord knows it helps the man so much he just doesn’t understand, sometimes he thinks it’s genuinely some type of magic because of the way you make him feel so easily calm.

and yes he dose have a recording of your singing but you won’t see it reach the light of hell cause he keeps it for his own use. A bit creepy? Yes!, but somewhat endearing! Hehe..(｡•́‿•̀｡)💧

his love for you is very much unmatched, and as ironic as it is you always seem to make him lose his breath around you. He doesn’t see you as a weakness but in the same vain is terrified at the possibility of losing you, his only comfort. Sometimes he stresses himself out so bad at the thought of people using you against him or you leaving him, he has problems and most of those he’s not willing to admit he has. Even if you’re powerful, and can take care of yourself he still always finds a way to worry sometimes and at times like that you just have to remind him you’re there. Verbally or physically, but you can take a guess at the best way to sooth him

if your comfortable with it!, he’d wouldn’t even put music on when dancing just the two of you humming.

even if your not he still find you graceful call it heart shaped glasses but he’ll always find a way to complement you on the littlest of things.

he could be at a business deal with the nest biggest singer in hell and still he wouldn’t think they could top you in billions of years.

Again revisiting my point where I said he wouldn’t want to share your voice, he most definitely would snap if anyone just barged in his office (cough, Val cough, Velevet, cough!, sorry must be sick or something! ( ๑‾̀ ◡ ‾́)..) He’d kick them out immediately if it wasn’t something of importance (or what he seems to be important)

velvet always teases him by saying he’s up in the clouds ever since he’s met you which… yea you cant defend him there…

may the angels have mercy on your vocal cords cause as you can see you gonna be humming to him most of the time you are alone! ♫꒰ ･‿･๑꒱

Overall! please just hum softly with him and dance with this man! It’s his favorite bonding time. He’d give up everything to hear your voice for the rest of eternity. He doesn’t always show it cause of his status but trust me when I say he’s always and constantly thinking and loving you. And the more you dance softly together and spend nights humming together the more that grows! He loves you to no end. ˉ̞̭(′͈∨‵͈♡)˄̻ ̊…

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE (♡ >ω< ♡) Vox is so fun to write for! SO THANK YOU TO EVERYONE AND YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING HIM \(^ヮ^)/ I really hope you enjoy! Please request again! :D.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)

Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.

Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 3,586

Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.

“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”

“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”

Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”

“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”

“I don’t—.”

“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”

“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”

“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”

“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.

“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”

“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.

“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.

“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”

“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”

“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”

“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”

Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.

“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”

“Well, she knows.”

He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.

Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.

“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.

“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”

“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”

Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.

Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.

“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”

“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.

“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”

He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.

“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.

“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.

“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.

“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.

“I—!”

You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.

“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”

Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.

“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close. 

“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”

You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.

You’re ovulating.

And you know it.

Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants. 

“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.

“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even. 

“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”

You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”

Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.

“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.

“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”

You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.

“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes. 

“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”

“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”

You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.

Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.

“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”

“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”

Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.

Shit. He loves you. 

He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.

Yeah, he loves you.

“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”

“Kay,” you hum.

Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes. 

“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same. 

“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”

The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”

“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”

Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt. 

“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.

“Completely,” he smiles. 

Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists. 

“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight. 

“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”

He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard. 

“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”

You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.

“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum. 

You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.

“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk. 

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”

“Are we now?”

“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”

Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin. 

His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra. 

“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.

“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.

“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.

“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”

You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.

“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”

“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder. 

“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”

“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”

“Yours! I’m yours!”

Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.

Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.

“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”

Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.

The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.

“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”

Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

[bambi-slxt]

I’ve been feeling really down lately so would you mind writing something real fluffy with either chris x reader or matt x reader and it’s about how playful they are together and they’re always teasing and tickling each other and stuff like that.

Just something real cute, love your writing btw!!

of course, honey <3 a/n at the bottom

playful!matt & playful!chris:

✨a concept✨

making dinner -

chris: definitely dancing around the kitchen and being exactly zero help. "come on," he yaps, grinning his cute stupid little grin, "dance with me, pretty girl, the pasta can wait." "chris!" you can't help but giggle at the kid. "wanna dance with my lady." his smile is almost too big for his face, and your heart feels tight.

matt: does everything he can to distract you while simultaneously assuming an air of utter and absolute innocence. "i don't know what you're talking about," he says, slipping behind you and pinching your side, rolling his eyes at what he believes is an incredible overreaction from you.

going thrifting -

chris: tries to scare you by hiding in the racks like you haven't been watching him the entire time, only to be disappointed when you're not startled in the slightest. "but...but..." he grumbles, hanging off your shoulders, arms wrapped dejectedly around your neck, "i tried so hard."

matt: "what do you mean, 'don't get the grand-dad shirt'? this is the peak of fashion!"

the shirt in question:

movie night -

chris: resorts to assailing you with tickling when he doesn't get his way. "i wanna - mmfh - watch The Lion - fuck! - King, so we're gonna fuckin' watch - you motherfucker - The Lion - GET BACK HERE!"

matt: keeps trying to drown his face in your tummy instead of watching whatever's put on the tv. "it's just so cozy." his words are incredibly muffled. "you begged me for three days to watch this with you." "mmfh. gimme head scratches." "you're such a baby." "i love youuuuu."

beach day -

chris: insists on playing mermaids ("wait how come you get the sparkly tail. i'm the merman king, i should get the sparkly tail."), lifeguards ("okay, okay, pretend you're like, drowning, yeah. why? so i can be a hero and save you! duh."), and terraforming the beach itself ("it'll be good for a tiktok, yeah, just dig the trench all the way up there by the towels, and then we can divert all the water away from here and-").

matt: hunts all morning for shells for you and teaches himself to braid so he can string them in your hair. he ends up tangling things more than he produces actual results, but is very careful to undo his mistakes and reapply sunscreen on your shoulders. "and here i thought you hated the beach." "i despise the beach," he says cheerfully, closing yet another ziploc baggie filled to the brim with shells. "can't wait to go home." "liar." matt smiles against your neck, his chest pressing into your back. "yeah, maybe."

farmer's market -

chris: conveniently forgets how much he hates fruits and vegetables because, "they just look so, like...anasthetic. that's the word right?" "nope." "anta...antacid? anna..." "aesthetic?" "that's the bitch, look at these strawberries, they're fucking huge-" "you let the strawberries nick bought last week grow mold in the fridge!" chris grins. "what's your point?"

matt: more focused on petting the dogs people brought with them than looking at the actual stalls with products/goods. "who's a good boy, yeah you are, hey babe we should get a dog, oh my god, you're just the sweetest lil' guy-"

night out:

chris: never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk and always stops to listen to the musicians through the bars' flung-wide windows. "baby, look, his guitar's got flames on the side. oh shit, you cold? hey, come here, kid," he chuffs, gathering you under his arm, dulcet harmonies flowing from the bar into the soft night air. "i love you," he murmurs, his lips fluttering against the shell of your ear. "i love bein' out here with ya."

matt: gently hands his finger from the belt loop of your jeans, guiding you lightly through the crowds, watching your face light up at the sights and sounds around you. "holy shit, they're so drunk!" "yeah," he says softly. he couldn't care less about a single other thing in this moment - how would he, when the sparkling neon of the nighttime scene washed over your features?

ice-cream date -

chris: plans to get something to share and refuses to hear anything to the contrary, grinning at all attempts to sway him. "yeah, she'll have - quit it - that one over there, please - i'll tickle you right here in public, i swear to god i will - yeah, thanks - miss lady you better watch it-" "...okay, this is pretty good." he scrunches his nose quite cutely in lieu of a verbal response, shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth.

matt: does literally everything he can to get you to make a mess just so he can do the cliche 'wipe ice cream from your lip' move. "i'm a classy guy, alright, leave me alone," he says with a grin.

cleaning day -

chris: CAUTION- may actually flat-out refuse. "we could just stay in bed though," he grumbles, holding your arm hostage. "we gotta cleannnn..." "nahhhh, come back to me." in a sudden burst of energy, he tugs you all the way back onto him, rolling you onto the mattress and under the blanket in one fell movement.

matt: shuffles your favorite playlist, turns it up, and dances with a feather duster you didn't even know he owned. "WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?" "STOLE IT FROM NICK'S ROOM. COME ON, WE GOTTA DUST!"

grocery shopping -

chris: has a cart and a dream, and is infinitely more focused on you than actually locating the necessary items. "you want it? yes, mamas," he chuckles, "get whatever you want. yeah i mean it. that's what you want for dinner? okay," he shrugs, his downturned smile making his dimples show up and show out, "i'll make ya whatever you want."

matt: has a list and a plan, both of which quickly crumble as he finds it impossible to resist your impulse-purchasing. "no, baby, we gotta..." - long-suffering sigh - "we already have...yes we do, they're at home in your drawer...what do you mean, 'they're all gone', how did you...okay, well chris isn't SUPPOSED to eat your fucking snacks-"

vlogging -

chris: "okay guys, so i'm gonna take her to build-a-bear but it's gonna be a surprise so don't- HEY YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUT HERE YET-" the camera falls onto the couch as a blurry image of you and chris rolling around on the floor fades into view. his hat flies off and his weird, goofy laugh fills the living room.

matt: "hey guys >:|" "tell them :)" "i'm fuckin' getting there. so i said last time that i would never do this stupid wheel of punishments again, but someone convinced me-"

makeup/facials -

chris: "this feels colllld. i'm only doing this cuz i love u. what's this one supposed to do? the last one said it was gonna clean out my pores or something, and this one...'just looks cute', huh? i'm gonna fUCKING-" he launches off his bathroom counter and tackles you onto his bed in a flurry of kisses and tickles

matt: "i think i look great with eyeliner actually. what is it larray says, cunty? do i look cunty? why are you laughing?"

cuddle time -

chris: "absolutely not. come here mamas. you're not goin' anywhere, it's rainin' outside, an' i know you're still tired...come on, i miss ya already..." he smiles as you oh-so-reluctantly nestle back into the covers he holds up for you. "atta girl. stay here til' you die." "chris what the fuck." "that was romantic!" "...sure it was honey. sure it was." his laugh makes you roll your eyes, but the peppered kisses that follow make you smile in spite of yourself. "i love you...you know that, right?" "i had an idea, yeah." he tugs you into his body with a playful growl. "shut up."

matt: simply locks his legs around yours so you couldn't leave even if you wanted to. he traces lazy shapes on the back of your hand and his breath fans down over your neck. "miss girl..." "hm?" "were you aware that i loved you?" "ohmygoddoyoureally?" matt's hold tightens and his low chuckle rumbles through your skin. "you're terrible."

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @solarsturniolo 

notes from bambi:

thank you for the request anon! i'm so sorry this took so long but i hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait, and i hope things get back on track for you soon <3

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[vixen-tech]

sliding in dramatically, stumbling sneakers over head

if its not too much to ask [and dealers choice on the bots!] , could i get your headcanons for the fellas w/an insomniac reader ? totally not projecting. don’t ask me what time it is.

-AT-802U anon (IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS YOU SHOULD TOTALLY LOOK IT UP) (ITS A WEAPONIZED CROP DUSTER)

Not Dreaming of Electric Sheep

Hello you three!!! Thank you guys so much for requesting, and since they're decently similar concepts I've made the executive decision to combine them all into one big "reader has a bunch of sleep problems" post!

And while I have you here, I did look up the AT-802U and I think it's absolutely sick- fantastic namesake. And from anon two, thank you very much for the P03 shout out I love writing our defacto tsundere <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), P03 (Inscryption)

Hal 9000

Hal was made well aware of your insomnia before you joined the crew, as it had a history of disrupting your work. He takes extra care to make sure your sleeping area is in top shape for your arrival.

As mentioned in other posts, he can fill a caretaker roll quite well. He's often reminding you of how long you've been working and how soon it will be until the time you fell asleep the day before in an attempt to help you build a regular circadian rhythm.

He will also start experimenting with various treatment methods if your insomnia tends to be particularly difficult. From diet and meditation changes to different exercise intensities, hoping something will improve the quality of your rest.

More subtly, he will dim the lights throughout the ship at "night" to remind the crew that working hours are over. If anyone were paying attention then they would notice that the dimming doesn't follow any particular timezone, but instead your personal schedule.

Edgar

Edgar is very vocal about his grievances with your work schedule. Not only does it cut in to his time with you, but it also leaves you passing out around the house late at night! (Even if he kind of enjoys it when its right infront of him on the desk) He will constantly be pleading with you to drop some hours.

Besides that, he is far from the best influence on your sleep. He forgets to keep track of time himself and loves to soak up all the time he can get with you. If you let him he will keep you up into the early hours of the morning watching movies and playing music.

He does have a bit of a guilty conscious about it though, and will print you some of the latest articles on sleep science he can find. Including less than reputable homeopathic approaches, but hey- surely something has to work?

If you express interest, he will compose you a personal lullaby. Although it isn't a very scientific angle, he will feel immense joy whenever you fall asleep to it. Even if you only do after the seventh loop.

P03

To be perfectly honest, he did not notice that you had any problems for a good long while. He doesn't sleep himself so he saw nothing unusual in your behavior. Working through entire nights? Losing track of the hours while doing so? Yeah sounds normal, he does that all the time.

It isn't until he sees a decline in your energy, punctuated with a few passed out at your desk moments, that he remembers how much time humans need to spend unconscious to function properly. It's typically not a trait he finds all that endearing.

But for you, he can't find it in him to be more than midly annoyed that he has to be the one to do something about it. Going out of his way to help you under the justification that he'd rather have a moderate amount of good work than a large amount of bad work.

He sets up a timer near your station that acts as your cut off for work. Leaving you with plently of time to unwind and go to bed. If you refuse to and try to keep working he will psychically stop you, even moving your station to a room that he can lock you out of.

You really should be grateful he's putting in this much effort.