#but i AM having more fun drawing than you so maybe i’m onto something

[alpinelogy]

Erika, I am here again, living up to the name Cherie gave (they called me greedy). Can I please have a little snippet of the previous ask I sent🥺👉🏽👈🏽(only if you have time of course)

fake fic ask game (still open o7)

Of course I have the time for this, don't worry I am very much having fun with this AU :3c

Ask and response in question

gewis, 0.9k, royalty au, mutual pining, outsider pov

——

Lewis does not host that many events at his own estate, certainly less than average, probably less than is expected of him. But he is a duke, there is no way anyone would even try and condemn him for that, try and judge him, make him the center of the gossip for the weeks. Certainly not with how private and grand anything he hosts ends up being.

Alex is pretty sure he has a standing invite only because he is George's friend, because him being invited almost guarantees that George will come too, and despite his best attempts, Alex is almost sure he can see through the seemingly indomitable Lewis Hamilton. He is just a man just like the rest of them no matter what George would like to claim.

So now here he is, standing to the side of the ballroom, where all the guests who are not dancing are scattered around. George is right next to him, practically staring over to where Lewis is standing, laughing over something someone in his circle had said.

“Just go ask him for a dance.” Alex hisses out so that the music overpowers his words for everyone but George who is standing right next to him, “Release both of us from this farce.” He practically begs, has a half mind of inconspicuously pushing George out onto the dance floor right into Lewis’ arms on his own.

Instead of doing anything though, George glares at him, “No way.” He says and somehow manages to sound petulant and still keep his manners, “I can't, it would be improper.” The tone is almost haughty, but Alex knows George too well, and can hear the slight undertone of fear, of hesitation. Even if it is misplaced.

“If you think every single guest was not handpicked by Lewis and would not look past such a small transgression then you are sorely mistaken.” Alex barely avoids scrunching his nose when he says that. He feels strangely out of place here even though he has been invited just like everyone else, “George I’m pretty sure Lewis has one specific goal in mind tonight.” He adds in more kinder words. He means it, truly. He means the best for George, even if he has to be slightly rude to push George to get it.

“Doesn't seem like it.” George mumbles, takes a sip of his drink. He looks all the way like a proper haughty noble, the youngest, most precious child of a duke. Alex wants to laugh at how far that is from the George deep inside, the one that thinks maybe a bit too much sometimes, “He looks quite content where he is on his own with his friends.”

Alex has to suppress an eye twitch. He would normally let it go if it was just him and George in George's drawing room, but now they are in polite society, he needs to mind his manners, “If you bring him up one more time.” He knows that George knows who he means by him, he leaves the threat empty, hanging. George can draw his own conclusions, “I promise you are the only one who thinks there is something going on between them.” He is insistent, he knows. He however is sure enough of his words to allow himself to be to.

“Just go and try, okay?” Alex says, more kindly this time. He does not mean to be harsh with George, he can hardly understand the complicated matters of love, “Mingle, near him and you'll see.” He pats George on the shoulder, tries to make it encouraging. He is pretty sure he fails but he does not care, not much, not when George finally gets the usual confidence he has and seemingly coincidentally but at a second glance very intentionally makes his way slowly over to where Lewis is standing.

Alex could swear that the smile on Lewis’ face increases tenfold when he sees George make his way over. He moves to the side, makes space for George to join the conversation. If George stands maybe too close to Lewis then no one seemingly says anything, Alex files it away in his mind. He is pretty sure he saw Lewis move over closer to George once George assumed his spot. He files that away for the future, somehow he thinks he will need it, that he will have to use it to convince George that this was not a one time fluke.

He is sure that by the time the next song starts, he will be able to see Lewis and George out there, on the dancefloor with the other couples.

One of these days, when George is no longer in denial about everything, when George finally admits that Alex was right the whole time, that there was no reason to be jealous of anyone within Lewis’ circle because Lewis had his eyes only for George, Alex will make sure George pays him back handsomely, owes him a favor probably for the rest of his life. He will not hold it over his head, but he will carefully keep it in mind, for when he feels like getting under George's skin at least a little bit.

For now, Alex slinks away to find Charles, he too should be somewhere in the crowds mingling about the dancefloor. He needs someone to commiserate with about this farce, about George’s inability to admit to his own feelings, to admit that he knows Lewis’ feelings, that he reciprocates them just as much.

#ask #ask game #san tag #gewis #britcedes #erika.fics #...honestly ive been meaning to write some sort of vaguely regency bridgerton royalty esque au might use this as an excuse to do so #also ive been meaning to write gewis and more gewis wips are always cool so...

[mumblesplash]

getting better at drawing when you’re not trying for realism is kinda funny bc it’s like wow now my art looks even MORE like the exact midpoint between old-school disney and late 2010s anime. i didn’t think it was possible and yet i’ve done it again. inspiring

#and soon? even More. #there’s also the additional layer of not being able to explain what about my art is better than it used to be #like idk what to tell u it’s just better now. all my old stuff is crap compared to this. leaps and bounds #source: dude trust me #tbh i think my artistic abilities probably seem much more consistent from an outside pov #bc i never want to draw anything i can’t draw #like if i TRIED to draw that cuteguy stoplight drawing a few months ago it would have looked terrible #but i wouldn’t have tried bc i wouldn’t have wanted to bc i couldn’t you see #that’s the thing about art it never feels any easier #if you start out frustrated by your skill falling short of your vision guess what #your vision will continue to improve as you gain skill and that frustration never goes away #but it also never feels any harder #my first experience with drawing was being pleasantly surprised to find my skill slightly exceeded my aspirations #(i was 3 and my aspirations were draw a duck) #and you know what. to this day the pleasant surprise remains #what i’m saying is dream small stay in your comfort zone and do not strive for great things #cannot recommend complacency enough #this isn’t sports you don’t get gains through effort you get gains and then the effort happens on accident #don’t listen to me i probably don’t know what i’m talking about #but i AM having more fun drawing than you so maybe i’m onto something #impossible to say #i’m certainly not smart enough to figure that out i’m an idiot have you seen the kind of advice i give #mumbling

[eiightysixbaby]

horror movies & chill

word count: 2.6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: SMUT - 18+ MINORS DNI. this is literally porn with a smidge of plot, sorry not sorry. mask kink, choking, degradation kink on the low (eddie calls reader slut/whore), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie

The TV screen lights up the dark living room, flashes of different colors streaking across the space. You sit on the couch, blanket draped over your lap as your knee bounces absentmindedly. Your boyfriend had wandered off to get something, and now you sit alone in suspense as the girl on screen figures out there’s a killer in her house. The movie goes eerily quiet, the lone heroine peering around her silent home. You know what’s coming next. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that when it gets too quiet, a jump scare is right around the corner.

And yet.

You scream in unison with the girl on television, two hands gripping your shoulders from behind just as the fictional killer grabs his target. You spring up off of the couch, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap. You spin around, frantic, your body gone cold for a moment. Wicked laughter erupts in front of you as you get your bearings, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“God dammit, Eddie!” you shout, hand over your heart as you attempt to steady your breathing. “You absolute asshole!”

Eddie’s doubled over behind the couch, a cheap Halloween store Ghostface mask covering his head. He’s still laughing, trying to get words out and failing.

“Baby…” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even though he’s trying to be serious. What a dick. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get you that good,” he says, walking towards you.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you reply, but nevertheless you let him grab your arms, rubbing soothing patterns on the skin.

“I know. I am, baby, you’re right. That was mean,” he agrees, nodding his head beneath the black and white mask. You know he'd be giving you puppy-dog eyes if you could see him.

You can’t help but laugh, the initial panic leaving your body. You must’ve looked petrified, and you’re a little mad he scared you so badly.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s head cocks to one side, sympathetic, playing it up for you. “Of course, sweetheart. And how do I do that?” he asks, stepping slightly closer to you.

He wants a genuine answer, but you find your breath hitching in your throat. Maybe it’s the way his fingers rub circles into your lower back. Maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body onto yours. Maybe it’s the sound of his labored breathing beneath that sweaty mask that's getting to you. You press your thighs together, suddenly feeling too hot for such a cold October day.

And Eddie can see, through the mesh eye cutouts, the way you bite your lip just slightly. He can see the way your lips part but no words come out, the way you tilt your hips closer to his. And he definitely feels the way your fingers hook into the belt-loops on his jeans, drawing him in.

“Oh my god. Are you into this right now?” he asks, voice dripping with his smug attitude. He’s grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat, if only you could see it.

You don’t answer right away, shifting on your feet. You look down, not sure if you have the gumption to tell your boyfriend the god damn Ghostface mask is turning you on right now. You were scared shitless mere minutes ago. But the way your heart pounds now is completely different to the way it had before.

“Shut up….” you mumble, your face growing incredibly warm.

“You are so fucking into this right now,” he says, laughing as he gets the last word out.

“Okay, if you’re gonna make fun-” you start, drawing your body away. Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“Waitwaitwait,” he interrupts, pulling you back to him. “I just didn’t expect it, is all,” he reassures, his voice sounding muffled beneath the rubbery material.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, eagerly anticipating his next move. You can't quite bring yourself to act first.

He brings your body flush against his, two fingers gliding up one of your arms, sending chills down your spine. He leans his face close to your ear, his breathing audible. “I won’t judge if you like the mask, baby,” he purrs, his voice deeper now.

His other hand wraps around your waist, palm pressing into your lower back, pushing your crotch against his. You gasp, goosebumps perking up along your arms. Screams erupt from the movie, the final girl running free from her potential killer. It’s comedic, really, how you’re stood here ready to jump the killer’s bones.

Eddie’s hips roll, just slightly, but enough for you to feel the tent in his pants. You let out a shaky breath, your body seeking him out, wanting him to give you more of that friction.

“What is it, babe?” he taunts. “You want me?”

“Eddie…” is all you get out, a breathy little thing, your hands pressed to his chest.

And then he’s pressing you against the wall, hiking one of your legs around his waist, his crotch pressing against your needy core. One big hand comes to wrap around your throat, cold rings soothing the flames that lap at your skin. He squeezes, making you delightfully hazy, pinning you hard against the wall with his body.

“This what you want, baby? Want me to fucking ruin you?” he asks, voice akin to a growl, squeezing your throat yet again.

“P-please,” you mewl, desperate for more. You know you’re soaking through your panties, practically aching for him.

Something about not being able to see him drives you crazy. Relying on just his voice, trying to gauge his tone. You’re writhing beneath him, grinding yourself against him. He’s so hard it has to be painful, you can feel it even through the layer of denim covering his bottom half.

“Oh, she’s so desperate, huh? Pussy needs me, baby? God damn…” he rasps, and you throb for him.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh where he holds it, giving it a sharp squeeze. His other hand removes itself from your neck, tugging down the zipper on his jeans. You undo the button for him, just as eager to get his pants down as he is. His cock stands at attention beneath the fabric of his boxers, begging to be touched. He ignores it for the meantime, though, releasing his hold on your leg and letting you drop it. He makes quick work of sliding your leggings and panties down, fingers collecting the honey that drips from you.

Groaning, he brings his fingers to your mouth, prompting you to suck them. You oblige, mouth opening and enveloping his digits. Your tongue swipes over them, tasting yourself and coating them with saliva. And then they’re pulled from your lips, teasing your clit before slipping into your cunt. Your leg wraps around his waist once more, allowing for a better angle. He scissors those two fingers inside of you, his breathing heavy, sounding almost amplified from beneath the mask. Your hips buck forward, forcing his fingers deeper. One hand grips your side, pinning you back against the wall.

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, slut,” Eddie barks, words sending sparks right through you.

His fingers curl in a ‘come here’ motion, your body feeling boneless as you try to keep yourself upright. He laughs, a devious thing, clearly satisfied with how pliant you are for him. You can tell how wet you are from the slick sounds coming from every glide of his fingers, your body so desperately craving more of him. He adds a third finger, prying you open even farther with complete ease, grunting as he feels the way you tense around him.

“Eddie,” you gasp, “f-feels so good.”

“I know it does, baby, I know,” he coos, smirking to himself at the way your body writhes beyond your control. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, hm?”

“Yeah, oh god,” you cry, head tipping back as you moan to the ceiling, his fingers pressing so deep inside of you.

He moans despite himself, your cunt completely drenching his fingers. His cock twitches in his boxers, leaks and pleads for you. You’re a little blurry through the eyes of Ghostface, but he can still make out the way your face contorts in pleasure. He loves making you feel like this, loves having you in the palm of his hand.

“My filthy girl, so fuckin’ wet for me all because I put this mask on, is that it? Really gets you going, huh baby?”

He wanted you to like the mask, if he’s honest, and the fact that it’s working on you is driving him up a fucking wall. He needs to be inside of you, needs to fuck you hard and pump you full of his cum before he loses it.

Three fingers slide out of you, squelching slightly as you suddenly clench around nothing. He yanks his boxers down, merely a hindrance to him, his thick cock springing free. You whimper at the sight of it, chewing on your lip as you watch him wrap his hand around the shaft. He pumps himself a few times, lets his pre-cum drip over his fingers, and it makes you ache. You feel like your body is on fire, you need him so bad, white-hot flames licking up your thighs.

A few more pumps and then he’s releasing himself, hoisting you up so both of your legs tangle around him. He grips the meat of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh the best he can. He lines his cock up just right, your cunt glistening with your arousal. And you want to kiss him so bad, you want to feel your tongue against his and you want him to bite you, to suck bruises into your neck. The fact that you can’t almost makes you crazier, spurring you on more. You can only imagine what his face looks like as he sheathes himself inside of you, can only imagine those perfect parted lips as he sighs blissfully.

His cock pushes through your slick folds until you can feel his balls pressed against you, his thick length fully seated inside of you. It’s such an enticing stretch to fit him, your whole body vibrating with desire. He rocks himself in and out, in and out, letting you get used to his size. Your cunt has already soaked him in your cream, you can see it pooling where his body meets yours.

“Fuuuuuuck baby,” Eddie groans, panting beneath the warmth of the mask. “Such a needy whore for me, god damn. So fucking wet.”

You whine, canting your hips upwards ever so slightly, the tip of Eddie’s cock pressing so deep inside.

“She’s fuckin’ soaking me, angel. This pussy loves me, doesn’t she?” he says, thrusting into you harder now. He sets a quicker pace, holding your weight against the wall with complete ease.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moan, waves of euphoria rippling through every inch of your body. He’s so deep and so big and so good.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, clawing at him through his t-shirt as he fucks you like it’s his last opportunity. You can hear grunts and strained whines falling from his lips, breath coming out in spurts from exertion.

“Babe, fuck, can I take this thing off? Need my mouth on you baby,” he pants, hips snapping against yours and making you cry out.

“Yes, yes - fuck Eddie!” you moan, nearly screaming his name.

The mask is whipped off in one swift motion, Eddie’s unruly curls sticking out. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with sheer need, those perfect lips of his so pink and plump. His mouth is on you in an instant, kissing your lips, your jaw, his teeth biting at your neck. He sucks on the delicate skin, unforgiving as you hiss at the sensation. His warm tongue laves over the irritated area, soothing you and sending a shiver down your spine. You roll your hips, needing more from him, needing him in impossible ways.

“Fucking Christ, you’re so desperate for me,” he gets out through heavy breaths, his cock impaling you over and over. His cocky demeanor doesn’t waver, hands squeezing your ass, smirking when you whine at him.

Filthy noises fill the living room, wet smacks as your dripping pussy sucks Eddie back in for more more more. He glances down to where your bodies join, his dick shiny with your juices. Eyelashes flutter as he looks back up at you, pulling your face to his to kiss you harder. His greedy tongue roams your mouth, his lips demanding in the way they move with yours.

Eddie can tell you’re getting close by the way your eyes roll back into your skull, the way your pussy keeps squeezing him so tight. Your brows knit together as you focus on how good he feels, eyes pinching shut.

“Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet girl,” Eddie instructs, fucking you faster. “Look at me when I’m making you feel so good.”

Your eyes open, big and glassy as they plead with him. You’re so ready to snap, your body overwhelmed with pleasure as Eddie abuses your cunt. Your fingers tangle in his hair - something you’d missed while he’d had the mask on - and tug, drawing a throaty groan from him. His balls are slapping against the skin of your ass with each rough thrust, fingers digging so hard into flesh you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Those big brown eyes of his are incredibly dark, his lips parted as he watches you slowly unravel right before his eyes. You feel yourself about to tip over the edge, about to let go, and he can see it on your face.

“Gonna cum for me, dirty girl? Little slut’s gonna cum all over my fucking cock?” he taunts you, every single word sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

“Gonna cum so fucking hard, Eddie, oh my god,” you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering to a close as you reach your peak.

You’re delirious as you cum, your walls squeezing Eddie so fucking tight. Strings of curse words are falling from his lips as he chases his own release, drawing it closer and closer as you completely soak him. Movements get sloppy, not aided by the slippery mess you’ve created, and Eddie’s breaths grow staggered.

His cock pounds into you one, two, three more times before his hips stutter, hot ropes of cum filling you. You can just barely feel the way he twitches inside of you, every last drop of his release pouring out. Both of you settle finally, catching your breath as you come down from your highs. Eddie sets you down, your feet hitting the ground once more. Your legs feel like rubber, like you might crumple to the floor if it weren’t for the fact that he’s holding your waist and pulling you in to him.

You look down at the floor, the crumpled mask staring up at you, mouth gaping in a perpetual scream. You’re dizzy with realization of what's just happened.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he says finally, tilting your chin up so your eyes will meet his. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know…” you admit, cheeks growing hot. “Something about that damn mask,” you smirk at him, getting a waggle of his eyebrows in response.

“I can go to the store right now and get more… who do you want next? Michael Myers? Jason?” Eddie jokes, smiling when you scoff at him.

“Just make sure to keep the Ghostface one around, okay?” your shy request has him grinning, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Oh, you’ll be seeing more of him for sure.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #ghostface!eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #divider by @cafekitsune

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 365!

1 year! One whole year of daily doodles!!

Honestly?? Idk how to feel, so much has happened since I first started this blog.

I guess I’ll just write what I’m thinking right now??

(Everything under the cut, this thing is longer than I expected)

A lot of this text probably isn’t going to make sense. I’m writing this at 1 am. If there’s any mistakes or errors that’s why. I’ll fix them in the morning maybe.

So like. This whole thing kinda started as a joke, I wasn’t intending to actually draw for a year straight lmao. Like I even used a completely different art style from my regular one that was simple, quick and intentionally dumb. Not that I’m upset by it, I’m actually quite proud of myself that I managed to stick to something for an entire year. That’s pretty unusual for me believe it or not. My original intention was to stop at maybe 20 days because I really wasn’t expecting for this blog to get as much love as it did.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much to everyone who has followed and supported this silly little idea I had, you guys are the biggest reason my experience has been so positive and worth it. (Sure it’s not original but I hope it’s at least been interesting!)

I’ve said this a few times now but I’ve mentioned wanting to take a break. I’ll admit that even though it’s been fun it’s still pretty tiring to keep up with this blog sometimes since some recent life events have made it so hard. After some thought, I’ve decided that I’ll likely take a break sometime in the coming months. Maybe toward day 400 or so. As of right now, things are at a lull so I’ve been okay enough mentally and physically to keep up this daily streak I think. Though this could change in an instant for whatever reason.

Overall I think my burnout has kind of gone away I think?? Or at least I’ve been reinvigorated recently after replaying a few runs of hk randomizer and steel soul. No promises it’ll stay away but I silly expect it to come in waves.

Ok but call me crazy or delusional or whatever, but my hopes are up that Silksong will release this year. (which means slowing down/not doing daily doodles yay) I genuinely believe big news is coming since I’ve been getting a lot of dreams lately about something happening with Silksong in March. Idk, I could be wrong but after doing this for a year I’m literally clinging onto anything right now lol

I’d obviously still make the occasional doodle or two when HKSS releases but not daily. This stuff is tough to keep up sometimes, I would never do daily posts like this again once it’s over

Oh yeah also I have an actual big drawing I’m still working on, expect that in sometime in the next few weeks I think!

Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to say right now so I guess that’s it for now!

Thanks so much and here’s to more doodles!

#silksongeveryday #ssed #hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stomp up the porch steps as your dad rocks in the wooden chair, in his usual meditation over a can of Molson. He grunts in his way, acknowledging your return and you shoot back a sharp, ‘hey’. Inside, your mother crochets in front of a soap opera, not looking over as she clacks her needles together. You know better than to try to start a conversation during her programs.

You go to your room behind the stairs and keep yourself from slamming the door. Greta always knows how to ruin your day. She might be right about being your only friend but maybe it’s time to make new ones. This town isn’t just the two of you.

You flop onto your bed sideways and stare at the ceiling. You can’t let her spoil the whole day off. That’s bullshit. What’s the point of spending hours caring about her nonsense. Tomorrow, you’ll be back to cleaning up hotel rooms and wishing you could just lay in bed and do nothing.

You sit up and shake off your agitation. A thorn sticks in your side but you try to ignore it. You could work on your embroidery. The Summer Solstice is coming and you might just talk yourself into sharing a booth with Hilde again. You sold quite a few patches last year.

You pull out your sewing kit and the box of half-finished patches and make a nest on the floor. You turn on the old CD player and listen to the same disc you always do. You set to work as you try to tune out the world.

You poke through the patch and jab into your fingertip. Shit. You growl as you wish you could stab Greta in her stupid little eyes. She’s such a bitch. You hope she has fun with that pig. She’ll be right back at The Horn scavenging for one night stands.

You’re not judging her, you’re judging this place. There really isn’t much to choose from. It’s the exact reason you have a vibrator hidden under your mattress. You’ve seen the men around here and you’ve talked to their girlfriends and wives.

You blow a raspberry and suck on your fingertip. There’s still a hint of vanilla on your skin. You drop your hand and lean back against the dresser.

Something’s gotta give. You’re so fucking bored of this town. There’s nothing to do. Greta just wants to drink and fuck around. If that’s what she enjoys, power to her, but you’re about to glaze over. You want something, anything to change.

🍦

You yawn as you walk up Thunder Lane towards the B&B. Another shift, another dollar. It’s minimum wage but better than nothing. You don’t have the education or the experience to demand more. Besides, the Odinsons aren’t bad employers. Usually you get a free meal or two.

You enter through the front door and greet Darcy as she droops over her coffee. She chirps as she sits up, startled by your sudden appearance. She relaxes as she realises you aren’t a guest or her employer.

You stop by the breakfast bar to grab a cup of your own before you head down to the laundry. You’ll try to catch up on the towels before check-out begins. There aren’t too many of those anyhow. Not yet. Midsommar usually draws in the tourists as a sort of novelty.

You load a washer and set it to spin as you restart a dryer left full from the day before. You give it ten minutes to fluff the towels and start folding. You sip your coffee between towels, drinking it away from the so you don’t stain the pure white.

You load up the cart with fresh towels in preparation for your daily route around the hotel. As you bend to grab some extra wash clothes, you’re started by a deep hum. You stand up straight and turn to face Thor as he looms in the doorway. Gods, he scared the piss out of you. How can a man that big sneak around like a cat?

“I heard there was a broken machine,” he drawls as he leans his elbow on the doorframe.

“Uh, yeah, that one again,” you point to the corner as you add the washcloths to the cart. You feel him watching you still.

“Ah,” he clucks, “and how are you today, lady?”

“Eh, just another day,” you shrug. “You?”

“Hm, as you said it. Another day,” he remarks, “we have a guest.”

“Oh?” You turn the cart around.

“In the Berkano suite,” he explains.

You nod, “right.” You mark the chart pinned to the handle of the cart.

“She is very demanding,” he muses, “from the city.”

“They usually are,” you give a tiny chuckle. You wish he wouldn’t stare at you like that, or that he’d at least move out of the way.

“Not like you village girls, eh?”

“I guess,” you furrow your brow.

“Mm, how’s Greta?” He winks.

“Fine, I don’t know,” you sniff and grab the handle of the cart, rolling it forward.

“My birthday’s coming up. Maybe she’d come?” He suggests.

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you stop, blocked from leaving by his burly form.

“You’re invited too, of course,” he grins and his eyes dip down for a moment, “is that a new apron?”

You have to hold back a scoff. You know better than to mess around with Thor Odinson. It’s more than just the Confucian philosophy of not shitting where you eat, it’s good sense. You’ve heard the stories. Aside from that, he’s a bit above your age range.

“Nope,” you answer flatly, “anyway, I should get started.”

“Well, are you coming? To my party?” He asks.

“I’ll see if I’m free,” you deflect.

“Bring Greta,” he slides out of the way, “and whoever you like. Any pretty girls you know.”

You bow your head to hide your disgust. You don’t think you’ll be feeding anyone to the wolves, especially not yourself. You pass through the door and feel a brush against your hip. You ignore it and roll down the hallway. You wouldn’t even hand over Greta to that beast, for more than the fact that she is excommunicated from your life.

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #drabble #au #series #the devil all the time #second best #backwoods au

[teapartyprincess4two]

Full Set is too damn good you write it sooo well. like I actually NEED more matt stories from you 🙏

Small Town Dreaming- M. Sturniolo

pairing: neighbor!reader x bestfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, best friends to lovers (kinda)

warnings: use of y/n, slow build up, small town au

summary: There’s not much to do in this small town but fall in love.

—

Your small town has been boring for as long as you can remember. The town was so small you could probably run down every street in less than an hour. There was one movie theater that played reruns of movies no one cared about, a bowling alley with 4 bowling balls in total, a park with a wooden termite infested playground, and a library with books so old they had mold. Everyone either had a flock of chickens or a herd of sheep, spending their free time tending to the livestock.

One of your favorite pastimes was to sneak up onto the old water tower and just people watch, occasionally pulling out your sketchbook to draw the familiar faces that passed by. No one ever left this town, it always seemed to suck people right back in and keep them here forever. So many people have tried leaving, packing their bags and driving down the main dirt road to freedom. For some reason or another they always turned back though, throwing their dreams out the window on the way.

“One day I’m moving to LA with my brothers,” Matt sighs dreamily, the both of you laying on the trunk of his car as you watch the stars. Without dreams this small, boring town would crush everyone’s spirits. “That’s a good idea,” you say, squinting your eyes as you pretend to squish the stars between your fingers. They looked like fireflies dancing in the sky.

You had a lot of dreams too, most of them involving running away and never turning back, but none of your dreams were written in stone yet. For some reason you felt like you’d end up like many others, too involved in your daily life to ever do something big. You’ve seen it happen to a lot people, your mom included. She was full of dreams and aspirations, but as soon as she got married and started having children it just felt easier to stay.

“What about you?” Matt asks, turning his head to look at you. “What about me?” You say in a teasing tone, hopping off the hood of the car. You were never the type to sit still, plus you didn’t have a definite answer to Matt’s question yet. “What are your dreams?” he asks again, formulating the question in a way that was much easier to answer. It was simple, you wanted to leave, but you were too scared to say it out loud. You felt like if you vocalized it, it wouldn’t come true. Maybe you’d follow Matt and his brothers, you didn’t know yet, but you didn’t want to stay here for the rest of your life.

You take a while to respond so he interjects again jokingly, “or are you staying here forever?” The idea of staying here forever was actually terrifying, but you’re only a junior in high school so it’s easy to push the thought to the back of your mind. “I am NOT staying here forever,” you reply, shivering at the idea of this town becoming your finally destination. “I won’t end up like my mom,” you whispered, shaking your head as you looked at the ground. Matt stays silent as he hops off the hood of the car, walking over to you and hugging you. “It’s okay. You can just come with me and my brothers,” he whispers against your hair as he rubs comforting circles into your back.

The sentiment was nice and it made you smile. “That could be fun,” you murmured, dreaming about a life that seemed so far away.

—

You’re 21 years old now and that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’re currently in the kitchen helping your mom prepare lunch for your dad and brothers. “Make sure you don’t cut the tomatoes too thick,” she instructs as she expertly cuts onions beside you. Over the years she managed to refine her kitchen skills, the onions having no affect on her whatsoever. You, on the other hand, are wiping away the involuntary tears with the back of your hand.

“I know how to cut tomatoes,” you reply, squinting so you can see through the tears. Her eyes are trained on you as she piles the onions into the pan. They sizzle loudly, steam rising from the hot pan. Sometimes you wonder why you even bothered helping her if she was going to be so bossy. “Then why are they so thick?” She retorts, grabbing one of the tomato slices from your cutting board and wiggling it around in her fingers. You laugh as you watch the tomato dance back in forth, “fine you do it then.”

She doesn’t second guess it, instead she grabs the knife from you and swiftly cuts the rest of the tomatoes. She’s done before you can even look away. You walk over to the sink to wash your hands before replying, “no one is gonna die from a thick tomato slice.” She sends you a glare as she grabs the cutting board and slides the tomatoes into the pan. “No, but you need to know how to do this stuff for when you get married. No one is gonna wanna marry a girl who can’t cook,” she responds with a tsk, mixing the vegetables in the pan so they become sautéed.

You don’t say anything, you just watch as she tastes a now translucent onion, checking the flavor. “Needs some garlic,” she mumbles, moving towards the cupboard to grab the seasoning. Talking about marriage and relationships with your mom was always awkward because she always found a way to push your buttons. “Speaking of marriage,” she says again, turning the stove off. Now she’s completely facing you, cleaning her hands on a kitchen towel as she continues, “what ever happened to that Matt boy you always used to hang out with?”

You groaned, she brought Matt up at least once a month. “I haven’t talked to Matt since high school, mom,” you reply, rolling your eyes at her inability to remember details you repeatedly told her. She nods her head almost like it’s the first time she’s hearing this as she whispers, “that’s a shame.” The last thing you want to talk about is an old friend who actually managed to leave this town behind, so you decide to wash the dishes in the sink to avoid any further conversation. Hopefully the sound of the running water would drown out your mom’s voice.

You let the hot water run over your hands as you reminisce over all your memories with Matt. There was homecoming, football games, prom night, nights at the bowling alley, sneaking into the theater for popcorn, and of course stargazing. A small smile adorns your face at the memories, you cherished those moments despite them feeling like forever ago.

“He would’ve been a good husband,” your mom says casually, dumping any remaining dirty dishes in the sink before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

She was right, he would’ve made a perfect husband.

—

“I’ll be back!” You call out to your mom as you tug your shoes on and grab your coat from the couch. November was always chilly, especially in a town like yours where there were no large buildings to block the wind. That wouldn’t stop you from sneaking up onto the old tower, instead it actually excited you. The rush of being so high up was the most exhilarating thing this town had to offer.

“Where are you going?” She calls back, peering her head into the living room from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna go hang out with a friend,” you comment, not wanting to admit your true destination. She always scolded you when you told her you were going to the water tower, claiming it was dangerous and reckless. “You better not be climbing that old tower,” she gave you a stern look before returning to her cooking.

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. If you weren’t allowed to do one dangerous and reckless thing, you’d go absolutely insane in this town. “Bye,” you finally say, dismissing yourself in a sing song tone as you walk out the front door.

The walk is short, the only hard part of your journey being the climb up the ladder. It creaks with every step, the rusty metal leaving your hands orange. Finally you arrive at the top, plopping your bag on the metal floor. You carefully take a seat, making yourself comfortable enough to begin people watching. Your legs swing back and forth as you look toward the ground, you were really high up.

People pass by, most of them by foot and you rest against the metal railing as you watch them. All these people were stuck doing mundane things like carrying their groceries home or walking to a friend’s house. So many familiar faces spark your creativity causing you to pull your sketchbook from your bag to begin drawing.

You see your brothers in the distance playing soccer on an old dirt road and you decide they’ll make the perfect warm-up sketch. So, you work diligently to replicate the figures in the distance, trying to capture their motions. The sketch is coming out good, but your pencil suddenly snaps, interrupting the flow you’d created. “Stupid cheap pencil,” you mumble to yourself, resting it in the crack of the sketch book that lays on your lap. You dig through your bag in search of a sharpener, finding it tucked between an old gum wrapper and a candy bar.

Just as you’re about to turn back to your sketchbook, the wind aggressively blows it off your lap. “No, no, no,” you yelp, trying to catch the book before it can slip away. One arm grabs a hold of the railing as the other reaches for the book that’s too far gone. You groan in annoyance, shoving the sharpener back into your bag and getting up slowly so you can make your way down and get your book.

“Ow! What the fuck?” someone exclaims from below, your book hitting them right on the head. ‘Great,’ you think, quickly slinging your bag over your shoulder and climbing down the stairs. Of course your book managed to hit one of the 200 people who populated this town. “I’m so sorry. I was drawing and then the stupid wind-“ you begin to apologize, climbing down the ladder as quickly as possible. You’re interrupted though, “Y/n?!” Everyone in your town knew everyone, who the hell was actually confused to see you?

“Yeah?” you reply, hopping off the ladder and turning towards the voice. Immediately your eyes go wide at the person in front of you. After 3 years of not seeing him, Matt stood right in front of you holding your sketchbook. He looked so much older than the last time you’d seen him. Small stubble scattered across his jaw, his arms adorned with tattoos, and he held a much more modernized look. “Matt?!” you ask in shock, rushing towards him excitedly. Seeing him after so long felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Oh my God! You look so different!” He exclaims, he’s equally as excited to see you. When you both were in high school you were inseparable. Sometimes you’d let your mind wander and dream about a life where the two of you were married, but that was then and this is now. “That’s what 3 years will do,” you chuckled, taking your sketchbook from him and putting it in your back. “Has it really been that long?” he asks, his eyes examining everything about you.

Since the last time he saw you, you’ve grown a little taller and your hair is much longer. You’ve got a woman-like essence about you that you didn’t have before, he’s sure that every guy in town is fighting for a chance with you. Last time he checked, you were the only girl worth looking at, let alone fighting for.

“Yes, dude! Where have you been?” you punch his arm playfully, earning a slight push from Matt. It felt like he never left, you two picked up exactly where you left off. “Chris, Nick, and I have been in L.A,” he responds, the two of you beginning to subconsciously walk away from the water tower. A gust of wind blows past you two causing you to pull your coat tightly around you.

“Aw, Chris and Nick! I haven’t seen them in so long,” you reply longingly, reminiscing briefly on all your memories with the other two. “Yeah we’re here visiting our parents for Thanksgiving. We should all hang out one day,” he says, the word ‘visiting’ leaving a bad taste in your mouth. It was a gentle reminder that they actually escaped this place and only came back as a favor to their parents while you were stuck here indefinitely.

“Yeah that could be fun,” you say halfheartedly. “Are you visiting too?” he asks, genuine curiosity leading him to push further into your personal life. You gulp, becoming scared to admit the truth to Matt. “Ugh no, not really,” you respond vaguely. “Oh, are you leaving soon?” he asks again, unable to stop himself from prying. He can’t help it, he hasn’t seen you in a long time and he’s curious. The two of you are now outside your house, the walk coming as second nature from all your walks home from school. “I never left,” you admit, an awkward cough following the sad statement.

Matt doesn’t know what to say, he finds it hard to believe that a girl like you never found her way out of this place. The only reason beautiful girls like you got stuck in this town was because of marriage, but Matt shook the thought from his head.

“It’s getting cold,” you say as you look back towards your house, breaking the silence that settled between you two. As excited as you were to see Matt, you needed to escape this awkward situation immediately. The wind was howling dramatically, shaking the surrounding trees and picking up the dirt from the roads. “Oh. Um, yeah. I’ll let you go. We’ll catch up another time, yeah?” he says sheepishly, feeling bad for embarrassing you. You hum in response, waving slightly at him before turning on your heel and hurriedly making your way inside.

“Was that Matt?” your mom asks enthusiastically as soon as you walk inside, leaning against the couch so she can get a better look out the window. Had she been watching the whole time? “Invite him inside!” she exclaims, not even giving you time to answer her previous question. “No, mom! He’s busy!” you lie, coming up with an excuse on the spot and watching from the window as Matt walks home.

“That boy is NOT busy. Marylou told me her boys were visiting,” she replies, rolling her eyes at your lame excuse of a lie. If she knew the triplets were in town, why did she ask if that was Matt? She clearly wanted to catch you flustered and annoyed. “Well he doesn’t want to come in,” you retort, shrugging your coat off and kicking your shoes off.

“You are never getting married, are you?” she asks sarcastically, giving you a blank look before disappearing into the kitchen.

—

Matt was home in a good 15 minutes, walking in to his house to find his brothers on the couch awaiting his arrival. “Did you bring it?” Chris asked, leaning against the backrest of the couch to look at Matt. Matt shrugs off his coat and kicks his shoes off, wondering what the hell Chris is on about. “Did I bring what?” Matt asks in confusion, walking over to the couch and sitting beside Chris.

Chris was now squished in between his two brothers, all three of them watching a random movie to pass the time. They had to resort to the old VCR their mom had because their phones didn’t get any service out in the country. Neither of them wanted to go through the hassle or rewinding the movies, so they were currently halfway through one without any context. It was hard to readjust to a slow paced lifestyle after being in L.A for so long and they couldn’t find anything to do. So, they sent Matt out in search of fireworks, but of course he got distracted along the way and came back empty handed.

“The fireworks, dumbass,” Nick chimes in, facepalming at Matt’s failure to complete the easiest task ever. “Oh, yeah, no. I couldn’t find any,” he lied, still thinking about his encounter with you. When your sketchbook fell on him, he flipped through a few pages and recognized so many of the people in the drawings. Some of the earlier pages were even filled with drawings of him and his brothers.

“Bullshit! We saw them yesterday at the corner store!” Chris shouts, getting up from the couch to go find the fireworks himself. “If I find even ONE firework, I’m beating your ass,” Chris says, pointing a menacing finger at Matt before slipping his shoes on and walking out the door, coat in hand. “Did you go to the right store?” Nick asks, watching mindlessly as the characters on screen converse. He has no idea what the plot of this movie even is.

“Well I tried, but I sort of got distracted,” Matt admits, shifting uncomfortable in the couch. He grabbed a pillow from beside him, hugging it closely to him. “How could you possibly get distracted? The store is 5 minutes from here!” Nick exclaims, looking suspiciously at his brother. Nick knew Matt was hiding something.

“I ran into an old friend,” Matt shrugged, sinking further into the couch and holding the pillow even closer to him. He knew that if he admitted to running into you, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d be bombarded with questions about you, how you’re doing, why he didn’t invite you over. Nick is looking at Matt expectantly, wanting him to spill the details on which ‘old friend’ he ran into, but Matt’s gaze is focused on the tv in front of him.

“Matt!” Nick says dramatically, pushing his brother by the shoulder to grab his attention. “Which friend?!” He finally asks once he’s successfully grabbed Matt’s attention. Matt debates whether or not he should just admit he ran into you, but before he can say anything he’s interrupted by Chris arriving from the store.

Throughout this entire conversation, Chris had managed to successfully find the fireworks and even ran into you on his way back home. You were reluctantly running an errand for your mom, but of course got distracted by Chris. He asked about you, inquiring about your personal life just like Matt had, and then insisted you come over. He said something along the lines of, “Nick and Matt would love to see you! Matt especially.” Chris was completely unaware of your encounter with Matt earlier that day, so in his mind this would be your first time seeing each other after years. So, as to not seem rude, you abandoned your errand and followed Chris to his house. He was carrying so many fireworks that he dropped a few along the way, but luckily you were there to pick them up.

“Guess who I brought?” Chris says dramatically in a sing-song tone, dropping all the fireworks at the front entrance. Nick and Matt look towards the front door, Matt’s mouth going agape slightly at the sight of you and Nick immediately jumping up from the couch. “Y/n?!” Nick exclaims, running over to you excitedly and embracing you in a hug. This was very uncommon for Nick, seeing as he wasn’t usually a hugger, but he hadn’t seen you in so long that he made an exception. “Hi Nick,” you greet awkwardly as he smothers you in his arms, hands still full of fireworks.

“Oh my God, girl. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long,” Nick let’s go of you, holding you by your arms so he can get a good look at you. He noticed all the same things as Matt and Chris, you looked like a woman. “Here,” you admit with a shrug, not embarrassed to admit it anymore. You’ve already gone through this round of questioning twice at this point with both Matt and Chris. “Oh,” he mumbles awkwardly, offering you an equally as awkward smile.

Matt was still watching in shock, what a coincidence that he ran into you earlier today and now you’re in his house. Well, in retrospect, the town is so small that you probably would’ve ended up here anyway. “How has life here been?” Nick asks again doing air quotes around ‘here’ before taking the fireworks from you and dumping them where Chris had dumped the rest. “It’s.. been” you laugh, rocking back and forth on your feet awkwardly.

Nick nods, deciding he’s had enough awkwardness for one day. “Wanna pop some fireworks with us?” he asks, hoping you’ll just say yes and break the awkward tension. You look between him and Matt, wondering if this was the right decision. Matt’s smiling at you, he wants you to say yes so bad. “Sure, why not,” you reply with a shrug, deciding this will be the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Chris appears from the kitchen, lighter in hand. He’s pretending to use it as flame thrower, waving it from side to side dramatically. “Get ready to burn!” He says evily, earning a laugh from the rest of you.

—

The fireworks left long sparks of color in the sky, the booming sound resonating throughout the entire town. It’s dark now and the wind has calmed down considerably, making it the perfect time for childish shenanigans. You and Matt were sat on a pair of lawn chairs, watching as Nick and Chris lit up firework after firework. They would light one, place it carefully on the ground, and then scurry away like excited children.

Matt is staring at the sky, mesmerized at the colorful sparks that flew by. The stars were faint, the light and smoke from the fireworks dulling their luminosity. You also watched the colorful explosions, but you held your fingers out in front of you to squish the stars. You created a game out of it, trying to squish the stars before the colorful sparks reached them.

Matt noticed this and chuckled slightly, reminiscing on the old habit you never seemed to let go. Upon hearing his laughter, you turn your attention to him quickly in confusion. “What?” you ask with a small pout. He smiles sincerely at you, examining your beautiful face as the colorful light from above decorated your face. The strobing lights seemed to only further accentuate your features.

In this moment Matt felt 18 again. He felt like he was seeing you for the first time and realizing he had a crush on you. “Nothing, you just always used to do that,” he replies sheepishly, pointing towards your hands briefly. It was a habit you never realized you had, you mostly did it to pass the time. You don’t say anything, but the silence isn’t awkward. You just smile at Matt before returning to your make-shift game, occupying your mind the only way you knew how.

You felt so comfortable right now. It felt like everything was the way it was supposed to be. It felt like old times, just you and your friends enjoying each other’s company. With each star you squish, you remember all your late nights under the stars with Matt. All the meaningful conversations and deep secrets you two exchanged, both of you becoming closer and closer each time. You always thought you’d end up following them and leaving this town, but life had other plans for you. Sometimes you even wondered what would’ve happened if you had confessed your feeling for Matt, would you two be married by now? It feels so wrong to think about, because you know that if you would’ve confessed he would’ve stayed and never fulfilled any of his dreams. He, like you, would’ve been stuck here.

Matt, on the other hand, can’t stop himself from smiling as he takes in more of your features. You looked so different, yet exactly the same. He still doesn’t understand why such a beautiful girl like you would stay in such a boring place like this. Of course he wondered if you were married, it was a common custom in your town for girls to get married young. Plus there was no a shortage of men waiting for the right moment to ask you on a date. Matt remembers it all too well, you’d always reject potential suitors in favor of spending time with him. He never understood why, but he always found himself feeling relieved when you did that. Maybe he internally wished you two would’ve started dating, but he never gained the courage to confess. He shook the thought of you being married out of his head, trying to focus on all the positive things tonight has to offer instead.

“Matt! Y/n! These are the last ones, come light one!” Chris calls out, waving the remaining fireworks in front of him, enticing you two to join in on the fun. The two of you are pulled from your thoughts, looking at Chris with smiles. Matt jumps up from his seat, jogging towards Chris and grabbing ahold of one of the fireworks. You get up a lot slower, taking in the moment in front of you. You really missed this.

“Girl! Hurry!” Nick rushes you, becoming impatient with your leisurely pace. You smile again, picking up the pace and grabbing a firework. “Ready?!” Chris asks excitedly, lighting everyone’s firework. You nod, excitement and adrenaline filling your body. As soon as he lights the fuse, you each place the fireworks carefully on the ground and run away in the opposite direction.

Lighting the fireworks was so much more exhilarating than just watching, your heart pumping rapidly as you try catching your breath. You’re standing next to Matt who wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, both of you looking up to watch the colorful explosion in the sky.

—

You don’t see the triplets again until a few days later, too busy helping your dad with the yard work to go anywhere. “Why can’t one of them help you?” You groan, looking at your brothers playing soccer in the field across the street. You always got stuck doing chores with your mom or dad while they got to have fun. “Can’t trust those guys to remember their own names, let alone help me,” your dad replies with a grunt, picking up two heavy buckets of water. You do the same, following behind him as he walks towards the pig enclosure.

It was so sunny today that you felt like you were melting. You were sweating underneath your overalls and the boots you were wearing were starting to rub against your ankles. “Fill that tank over there,” your dad instructs with a tilt of his chin, pointing in the direction he wanted you to go. You missed the tank as you tried pouring the water, some of it falling on the ground and creating mud. Your boots sank into the mud slightly causing you to groan in annoyance again. The pigs were oinking and squealing, almost like they were taunting you.

“Stupid fucking mud. Stupid dumbass pigs,” you grumbled, picking the other bucket up and dumping its remnants into the tank. “Language,” your dad warns sternly, only causing you to roll your eyes. He’s definitely said worse than fuck. You wipe the sweat from your forehead, adjusting your overalls in the process. “Are we almost done? It’s so hot,” you ask your dad, hoping he’ll have mercy on you and let you go inside. He doesn’t. “We still gotta shovel along the back to build that fence your mom asked for,” he informs you with no intention of letting you go early. You groan again, of course your mom wanted a fence. All you could do was prepare yourself for the long work day ahead.

-

Your arms feel like jelly, each pile of dirt you shovel sending you further into exhaustion. The sun was not letting up either, beaming brightly on the two of you. Your overalls were covered in dirt and your sweat mixed with the debris creating a gross mess all over your face and arms.

“You guys almost done?” Your mom asks as she walks over to you two. She’s holding a glass of water in each hand, working carefully not to spill any of it. The two of you stop digging and you’re silently thanking God for the small break. “We still have about 6 feet left that way and another 3 left this way,” your dad says, grabbing a glass of water and taking a few sips. Of course your side was missing the 6 feet, you were a much slower digger than your dad. You down the whole drink in one go, finally quenching your thirst after a hard days work.

“Well do you guys think you could wrap it up? We’ve got a visitor,” she says casually, taking the glasses back as she makes her way inside again. She was not going to stand in the hot sun for a second longer than necessary. ‘Visitor?!?’ you think, as you look down at your dirty overalls and muddy boots. If that’s how dirty your clothes were, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how dirty you were. “We’ll finish up tomorrow after breakfast, shouldn’t take us more than an hour,” your dad says, slapping your back as he follows behind your mom.

You jog behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of the visitors through the window. You can’t see anyone yet, so you just decide it’s probably one of your mom’s friends. If they saw you this messy it wouldn’t even matter. Both of you make your way inside, stomping the mud off on the grass before walking in.

“Y/n! Say hello to your friend, don’t be rude,” your mom immediately says once you walk in, referring to people waiting in the living room. Your mom considered everyone your friend, so you still weren’t too worried. “I’m going,” you call back, slowly walking over to the living room just in case it was someone you didn’t really know. If it was someone you didn’t know, you’d be able to excuse yourself with the excuse that you’re dirty or tired.

“Hi,” you greet plainly, peeking your head into the living room and waving at the unexpected company. “Hi,” Matt greets awkwardly, taking in your dirty appearance. You freeze at the sight of him, why didn’t your mom mention HE was the visitor? That was literally one of, if not the, most important detail of this story. “Excuse her, she’s been helping me out in the yard,” your dad chimes in, wiping his hands on an old kitchen towel before reaching a hand out towards Matt. “It’s nice to see you again, son,” your dad says, taking Matt’s hand into a firm handshake.

“It’s nice to see you too, sir,” Matt responds, getting up from the couch to properly greet your dad. He felt like he was your boyfriend, meeting your disapproving father for the first time. Your dad nods and exits the room, not interested in conversation. All he wanted was a cold shower and honestly that’s all you wanted too.

“I can come back another time?” Matt suggests, realizing he came unannounced and seemingly at a bad time “Nonsense! Y/n’s got time to chat, don’t you sweetheart?” Your mom interjects, listening to the whole interaction from the kitchen. She was whipping up a snack for you two in hopes that Matt would stay longer. She really liked Matt.

“Uh yeah, I got time,” you answered, too embarrassed to admit that you wanted him to leave so you could shower. “I can wait. If you wanna go get changed?” he says, sitting back down on the couch. You want to get on your knees and praise this man for being so considerate, but instead you give him a thumbs up and run to shower and change.

—

After freshening up you return to the living room where Matt is now talking with your mom. She made him a grilled cheese and cut up some strawberries for him, she even sprinkled sugar on them to make them extra sweet. They’re deep in conversation so you wait by the door to listen. “So, Matt, when are you planning to ask my daughter out?” your mom asks casually, unaware of the weight of her words. This sentence alone almost made you enter the room dancing just to have an excuse to shut her up.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, gulping nervously. “You heard me,” she replies, plopping a strawberry in her mouth and looking at him expectantly. “Oh- I- I thought y/n was married?” He says, unsure of what he’s even saying. Matt feels so awkward, he just takes another bite of the greasy cheese toast on his plate to give him an excuse not to talk.

When your mom hears this she laughs loudly, clearly amused with Matt’s assumption, “I wish!” Matt’s caught a little off guard by this comment, were you not married? Or at least spoken for? You wanted to slap your hand over your mom’s mouth before she said anything too embarrassing, but you decide to see where this conversation is going. You lean against the wall, getting comfortable for the eavesdropping you were about to do.

“I’ve been trying to get that girl to date, but no luck,” your mom continues, putting a smile on Matt’s face. He was both happy and relieved to hear that you weren’t taken. “She used to have a little crush on you in high school. And I’ve seen the way you look at her,” your mom won’t stop talking, she just keeps spilling your secrets. This is the first time Matt’s hearing of this, had you really liked him this whole time?

You decide you’ve heard enough, en entering the room with an awkward cough. “Thanks mom,” you say sarcastically, offering her a tight lipped smile. You look at Matt, trying to read his expression while also signaling to him that you want to leave. He gets the hint, dismissing himself politely from your mom. As the two of you are walking out you send a glare towards your mom and she returns it with a toothy smile and a wink.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckle awkwardly, shutting the door behind you. “No, I like your mom,” he replies, beginning to walk down the dirt road. “I know, but she can be a lot,” you apologize, becoming worried that she over shared and maybe scared Matt. “I can handle a lot,” he shrugs, the two of you now walking towards the old water tower. You smile at him, grateful that he’s not making it awkward. Your mom just confessed your crush to him like an old school girl and here he was being a gentleman about it.

When you two arrive to the water tower he signals for you to climb up first, holding your back securely until you’re high enough, then he follows behind you. You arrive at the top, sitting down carefully and patting the spot next to you so Matt will join. He gladly sits next to you, looking over the vast land in front of you. Miles and miles of green grass, crop fields, and only a few buildings and houses scattered in between.

The both of you talk about everything you’ve missed out on for the past 3 years, his stories being about his adventures in L.A and yours being about your life here. “I haven’t been up here in a long time,” he whispers in awe, taking in the scene in front of him as the sun begins to set. He had to admit that this was a beautiful town, despite it being so boring. “Well, you haven’t been here for a long time,” you reply, leaning against the metal railing as you join him in admiring the view.

“I was really surprised to see you that day. I thought I’d never see you again,” Matt says. After he and his brothers left they had zero contact with you and it always felt like a part of him was missing. “Yeah, it was nice catching up with you guys,” you reply, feeling like these past few days were the best you’ve had in a while. When they leave, you’ll just go back to your normal mundane life.

He can sense the sadness in your tone, feeling bad for leaving you here. “I’m glad you got out,” you admitted, resting your face on the arm that laid on the railing so you could look at Matt. “This town kills everyone’s dreams, I’m glad it didn’t kill yours,” you continued, offering Matt a small, genuine smile. If he was honest, he’d be happy staying here forever as long as it was with you.

“I don’t know. There’s one dream of mine that didn’t come true when I left,” he trails off, watching the as the sun disappears along the horizon. The sky goes from orange to purple as Matt feels the sudden urge to tell you something he’s been holding onto for a long time. “I doubt that,” you chuckle, looking up slightly to see the stars slowly come into view.

He laughs too, unsure if he should be admitting any of this to you right now. “I used to have a big crush on you too,” he admits quietly and casually, looking up at the stars too. Your neck almost snaps off as you turn to look at him, he notices this and laughs again. “It was back in high school… Getting a date with you, even just a kiss, was one of my biggest dreams,” he admits, remembering all those nights when he almost told you. “When your mom mentioned you used to have a crush on me it made me think of how different our lives would’ve been. If we ever acted on it, you know?” he continues, looking at you now.

You had a small, sad smile on your face because you weren’t sure if there was still a possibility at a future with Matt, but you were willing to try. “I mean, we can make the dream come true. If that’s okay?” you ask, leaning into him slowly.

“That could be fun,” he whispers, quoting what you told him that one night under the stars. He leans in and captures your lips in his, his last dream finally coming true.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Boop another Matt story for the girlies.

Thank you anon for the nice compliment 🩷🩷 I hope you enjoy this Matt story and that it was everything you hoped for haha.

This took me so long to write idk why. Anywaysss I mentioned im writing a Nick story WELL IM PROBS SCRAPPING IT AND STARTING OVER. I find it so easy to write Nick in my other fics but for some reason when he’s the main “character” i struggleeee.

Okay I’m done now, enjoy reading. k byeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt x y/n #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris x y/n #chris x reader #nicolas sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x y/n #teapartyanonreqs✨💗

[wooahaes]

right in front of you

pairing: non-idol!jihoon [trsr] x gn!reader

genre: fluff. office worker au.

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: oblivious reader.

daisy's notes: the way id get fired for getting distracted too easily w jihoon around tbh

Jihoon was… Well… Jihoon. The two of you happened to be the youngest of your coworkers, and something about that had turned Park Jihoon from Jihoon, the cute guy at work to Jihoon, partner in crime and lifeline. 

It wasn’t that everyone was rude. You respected your seniors as much as anyone else would, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them were on a power trip at times. Not all of them, thankfully: just one or two members of the staff that liked reminding you that they were in charge, all while treating you like you were some kid they’d found off the street and graciously given this job to (even though you aced the interview with your own skills and your actual manager had never acted this way toward you). Jihoon would text his remarks to you, forcing you to hide smiles whenever you glanced at your phone, or he’d whisper them to you on the elevator ride out of the building, or on those coffee outings that he took you out on when he wasn’t buying you dinner. At some point along the way, your crush on Jihoon went from a surface level thing to something deeper. 

Of course, it probably wasn’t going anywhere. Jihoon was cute and sometimes he flirted with you, but he casually flirted with plenty of people from what you could tell. At least… That’s what it felt like as you stood across the room from him, watching as he charmed a few of your coworkers. He let out a warm laugh, lighting up the room more than the Christmas tree you’d watched Hyunsuk decorate with a few interns. 

“You’re admiring again.”

And of course he had to come up to you, a cup in hand half-filled with fruit punch. Hyunsuk leaned against you, watching as Jihoon dazzled the room. 

“Am not.”

“You’ve been standing here the entire time,” he said. “There’s no shame in it. You should go ahead and ask him out.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped away from him, throwing away your empty paper cup. “Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m going out to get some air.”

Hyunsuk whined at you playfully, but let you go. You escaped out of the office, pressing the button for the elevator as you collected yourself. Maybe you should ask Jihoon out sometime, but… not tonight. Tonight felt far too soon to make your move. Besides.. Did Jihoon even like you like that? He didn’t seem interested in anyone at work…

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped in. Seconds after you pressed the button for the ground floor, someone rushed onto the elevator, turning around once he was safely inside. The doors slid shut, and you were met with the reflections of yourself and Jihoon in the clean doors.

“I made it,” he said aloud after a moment, teaching up to loosen his tie slightly. He looked at you after a moment, a confident smile on his face. “I thought I’d miss you.”

You blinked at him, brows drawing together. “Huh?”

“I saw you leave,” he said. “I got caught up talking to the interns, but I had hoped the elevator was slow.”

Something about the way he was looking at you with a sense of tenderness in his eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Now you felt silly: Jihoon didn’t look at other people like this. You looked forward again, not hiding your smile as you stepped a little closer to him. 

“Then I guess it’s good that it was.” 

Jihoon’s hand brushed against your own, and you took initiative to take it. “Are you heading home for the holidays?”

“I don’t think so. Are you?”

He nodded. “I’m heading back to Busan,” he said. “My family wanted to see me, and since we have the time off…”

The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors slid open. The two of you stepped off together, Jihoon’s hand warm in your own. You ran your thumb across the back of his hand, “That sounds fun.”

“You could come with me, you know.” 

“Oh, really?”

He chuckled. “Really. If you don’t want to be alone… Then you can come with me.” He swung your arms a little, smiling. “My family won’t mind.”

As your friend or as your partner? One of those felt a little soon. Then again, you’d already met his family before. His parents came into the city a few weeks ago, and you happened to run into them as he was parting ways with them after a lunch out with them. Jihoon had waved you over and introduced you as a close friend then with this cute smile on his face that honestly reminded you of the one he’s had since the moment he ran onto the elevator and—

Oh my god. Jihoon wasn’t even hiding it. You stopped dead in your tracks, and Jihoon turned to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m an idiot.”

Jihoon could only stare at you at first, clearly confused by your confession. “No, you aren’t—”

“No,” you squeezed his hand. “I like you, too.” 

Jihoon relaxed, chuckling to himself. “I know.”

“You knew?!”

“Why do you think I kept asking you out?” 

Holy fuck. How were you so oblivious? Maybe it was because you were too caught up in thinking about your own feelings that you never stopped to consider his. “Jihoon…”

He stepped closer to you, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “There’s a cafe with hot chocolate not far from here,” he said. “I’ll buy you a cup. It’s better than the cheap stuff that Hyunsuk bought.”

You smiled to yourself, averting your gaze. “Okay,” you said softly. “But I’m buying next time.”

Jihoon guided you toward the front doors of the building, his hand securely holding yours. “I’ll hold you to it.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.dec23 #wooahaes.fic #treasure imagine #treasure x reader #treasure x you #treasure fics #treasure fluff #park jihoon x reader #park jihoon x you #park jihoon fluff #jihoon x reader #jihoon x you

[awakentheeldritchabomination]

The Thing About Redesigns, Rewrites, and Reimagines…

(Part I: Broader Discourse)

To those of you who’ve been keeping tabs or maybe seen my posts floating around the tag, you might recall me mentioning that I felt a bit of hesitancy toward the prospect of joining in on the recent wave of redesign/rewrite content. In the more likely scenario that you haven’t or do not know what the crap I’m talking about, that’s fine lol. Understandable. It was a little thing I had written into my first rewrite/redesign post about Charlie. In a short aside, I explained that it was because I’d felt “bad about tinkering with someone else’s work like this”, and then I’d left it at that. So… yeah. Why am I bringing it up now?

Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that this fandom is… a lot. Y’know people have been talking…discourse is being had… heated, moral arguments are being hurled left and right. And in light of all the growing, reactionary accusations, I…found myself starting to feel bad again.

My initial issue, the reason why I didn’t immediately jump to sharing my ideas was that, for all her faults, I empathize with Viv as a creator and didn’t want to feel like I was disrespecting her, her characters, and her vision by reworking it to suit my own. I had frustrations and criticisms, but I never wanted to make it seem like I was trying to ‘fix’ her work or her style. I really didn’t want to be one of those pretentious dipsh*ts (the kind that take a piece of art, digest it through their own preferences and biases, then spit it back in the artist’s face with a, “There. I made it better”). In the end, I went through with it because I had a small hyperfixation and a tendency to project my own issues onto characters I love (I’m sure some of y'all can relate). And also, I was having fun. But… then more discourse poured in, and I saw all the concerns I expressed reflected in the arguments presented by other fans and artists.

And well… That made me feel like I was doing something wrong, like perpetuating and becoming the exact problems I had wanted to fight against. So, I took a step back. I reevaluated.

Now, I have thoughts (shocker!).

And they are conflicted.

On one hand I agree with the idea that redesigns/rewrites are not inherently bad or disrespectful things when it comes to productions like Hazbin since Viv is not a small creator with no power. She and her team have ultimate authority over the show’s events, and those plans will not be derailed by what is basically some random tumblr artist’s fanart/fanfiction.

In regards to the critical side of things, that kinda comes with consuming and digesting the messages and presentation of a work of art. Ideally, it should get people to discuss in this capacity, especially when it deals with such sensitive subject matter as Hazbin does (and especially when it is executed with evidently problematic notions which do bleed into the designs at times).

Still, I do think this trend can be disrespectful if the intention and presentation are made with an aggressive holier-than-thou attitude which explicitly seeks to one-up the creator. Though I understand where it comes from, I think that can be just straight, undiluted maliciousness with a generous helping of pretentious, self-appointed superiority. And I don’t think it’s necessary to pick apart the style itself. You don’t have to like it, of course, but I feel like stating your preference for one way of drawing over another and asserting it as if it were some objective truth antagonizes the entire point of individual artistic expression and personal taste. Criticize the lack of diversity (something which, I’d like to add, is not actually unique to Hazbin) and potentially problematic aspects, but not the style. Even then, it’s important to be constructive not destructive.

That being said, I don’t expect everyone to agree with me (especially if anyone who’s a die-hard fan finds this) Whether you do or not is on you, and that’s okay.

This is more a snippet of my thoughts than a fully developed rant. I just wanted to share where I’m at right now. There will be a part 2 to this expanding some of my feelings while also outlining where I might go from here because things are going on in my head, and I don’t actually know whether I will continue or not with this project. Right now, it feels like it’s drifting toward a more original direction (Charlie feels like an entirely different yet vaguely similar character and dang it I’m attached…It’s kinda weird lol) so….anyway—I digress.

Thank you for reading.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin rewrite

[merakiui]

Hey Mera! I have a question, and sorry if this is a dumb one, but I recently read your yandere sk Floyd work for the lunar love event, and I was wondering um what colour is Stygian? Google said it’s a dark colour so is his hair just a darker shade of blue or is just rly dark, like almost black?Also, has his hair grown out a bit while he was in prison? Like by a bit or a lot? Sorry it’s just small curiosities but I was wondering what he would look like, (I’m not sure if you’ve posted something already talking about his appearance), I love the idea of (ex) prisoner Floyd and am thinking of drawing him so I just wanna know the juicy details (like any piercings or tattoos cause I’m a thirsty anon)

Hello!! It's not a dumb question at all. It is a word meaning "very dark," but it can also mean black or ebony. I pictured Floyd dying his hair black when I wrote it. I feel like he wears blue-colored contacts for all of a few days before he tires of that and switches to his regular contact lenses or maybe even glasses since moray eyesight is terrible. <3 thinking of Floyd with black hair and glasses... aaaa he's cute even if he's dangerous!!

But then appearance-wise, I think he'd definitely look more intimidating than adorable. I like to imagine he has sleeve tattoos on his arms. Maybe even an eel tattoo on his chest or curled around his bicep. It's fun to imagine him with tattoos that tie into his Coral Sea origins. Omg and maybe a tattoo referencing his unique magic "Bind the Heart"!!! Many thoughts... orz perhaps he even got some of the tattoos while he was in prison. He definitely has a shrimp tattoo or maybe he's tattooed your name onto him. Normally Floyd would find it boring or cheesy, but he's so devoted to you! If he can't have you physically pressed to him, then your name will suffice (for now).

As for piercings, I like to picture sk!Floyd with a dick piercing (while sk!Jade has his tongue piercing), but maybe that's irrelevant. ^^;;; his hair probably did grow in prison, unless if it was a regulation in the prison that his head had to be shaved. But pretending that that wasn't the case, Floyd probably cut his own hair while in prison (or attempted to with what little tools he could sneak back to his cell). He had to look nice and handsome for his interviews with Shrimpy, after all! <3 maybe he even likes the longer, messier-than-normal style when he escapes. Maybe he keeps it in a short, loose ponytail or maybe he complains about the hairstyle and cuts it back to his preferred length some time later. I think it really is mood-dependent for him. >_< but Floyd with Shinpei's hairstyle is so omg!!!!!

There are just so many possibilities with Mr. ex-prisoner sk!Floyd. :D if you do end up drawing him, I would love to see!!!!!

#twisted chit chat #serial killer floyd

[cairi-fruit]

Nadine Ross is often characterized as butch/a stud, especially when compared to Chloe in their relationship… because she’s a black, muscular dark skinned woman. Am I gonna talk about this???

I guess I chose violence today, especially since I rarely text post on here, mostly jokes and ideas when I do, but this is has been on my mind for years tbh. I know people often talk about persons trying to fit queer relationships in a heteronormative lens, making one partner seem more masc and one seem more fem, when that may be the case sometimes, but sometimes partners are also equally fem, equally masc, equally stem etc. Its also the case that black/dark skinned characters are often painted with the masc brush more.

I’m a black dark skinned sapphic. Hi. Maybe I’m projecting? (I mean I project autism onto Nadine too as an autist myself, heyo.) Personally, I don’t see much of a reason in canon to assume Nadine is butch or a stud, she’s not dressed super fem whenever we see her, but we literally only see her when she’s working. It’s in her character to dress practically while Chloe is more chill about that sort of thing. Sure she wears a pantsuit instead of a dress in Italy (uncharted 4) but she was still working and expected worse than Rafe did. Pantsuit is still practical there. She still did her make up and wore cute rings tho. I just don’t see why some people characterize her as allergic to make up, or dresses, or feminine underwear or anything of a similar sort.

Don’t take this as me having an issue with studs or more masc presenting black women, I love them I’m friends with many irl. But as a black woman I can speak to the way black and dark skinned women are often kept from femininity, that femininity is more closely tied to pale skin, “neat” (ie long flowing straight) hair, daintier fames and Eurocentric facial features which Nadine has none of, neither do I. I don’t expect the people who this post will reach to be the ones who still to this day call Nadine trans slurs even because she dares to be muscular (something I have also dealt with irl and showing my face online in the past), but I can’t help but wonder how her race affects this when those people often use racialised language as well.

Think of how women are often slut shamed for what they wear, based on their unchangeable body more than the clothing itself. A thin white woman in a camisole and shorts is comfortable, and a curvy large chested, big booty black woman in the same outfit is a thot. It’s kinda similar in that way, that a small framed white (or lighter skinned, straight haired) woman in a simple shirt and pants is just wearing basic clothes, but a black woman in the same outfit is butch. The way black women who are anything other than HYPER fem with long acrylics, wigs/weaves/braids, complex pretty dresses (which are ALL lovely don’t get it twisted) are immediately coined a masc is just… weird to me. It’s like we have to put more effort into proving we are women and can be feminine too.

If you ask me Chloe and Nadine come across equally stem, I don’t see either of them more or less likely to engage in traditional femininity than the other. Even simple things like the fact that many people write/draw Nadine as taller than Chloe, when being taller is associated with masculinity when Chloe is canonically 5’8 and Nadine is only 5’5. So I begin to wonder why no one portrays Chloe as possibly being more masc in turn. Or even Elena, who we only see look pretty “fem” or whatever, opposed to practical, in her wedding photos.

TLDR: Ask yourself why you might picture Nadine as being more masc than Chloe. Is it just a fun headcanon? Is it seeing yourself in her character? Is there reason you believe that cause of things she actually says and does in Uncharted? Or if it was reversed, that Chloe, or he’ll even a white woman acted the same way as Nadine, dressed the same way as Nadine, would you still assume that she was butch? Or does her hair, build and skin tone add to why she comes across more masculine, because this is a thing many black women, especially sapphics, who don’t present as hyperfem have to deal with irl, myself included. We are often perceived as more masculine, trying/wanting to be men, being called trans slurs or being seen as too masculine in our bodies to be AFAB/being “transvestigated” (which people do do to Nadine), all these things that try to keep us at an arms length from womanhood and femininity. So keep those things in mind when you portray a character (particularly in transformative work, your own OC is a little different).

#why did I choose violence today idk #I don’t like talking about these things especially not on tumblr cause it stresses me out #but like I said it’s been burning in the back of my mind for years #I will say it seems to have mostly chilled out in the fandom so thanks #that might also be because it is dead tho #chloe frazer #nadine ross #uncharted #chlodine #uncharted the lost legacy #chloe x nadine #fandom and race #I guess #hopefully I don’t get eaten alive for this #also no terfism y’all are nazis #Pls don't eat me up for this yall I don't usually open my mouth am scurred

[yeehawbvby]

no bottom surgery pls! and maybe reader eating him out? i think that man deserves his pussy ate lmao

(i am also a trans man if that matters! thanks again)

You got it >:3 

Like I said in a previous response to you, I’ve never written an explicitly trans character before, so if I fuck it up by any chance then please don’t hesitate to correct me on anything!! I’m more than happy to make any necessary revisions! 

(I’ve also never written a M!Reader before but I’m gonna for this, since you’ve specified your gender. I’m very nervous to post, but it was a fun challenge, so I really hope it doesn’t disappoint 💕 ^^)

The Sweetest Treat | TransMasc!Arven x TransMasc!Reader

Note: In case anyone is new here, please note that I headcanon Arven as an adult! Please consider this aged up if I’m proven wrong in the future.

Rating: Mature/Explicit | WC: 1,388

“You sure this is okay?” 

Your head is rested on Arven’s bare thigh while his dripping core pulses below you. His breaths shake as you trace featherlight shapes with your fingers around his pubic area; you don’t want to touch him until he’s ready, but Arceus it’s tempting. 

Peppering soft kisses of reassurance to his skin, you hum a quiet “Mhm.” One he can feel more than he can hear. “Just let me take care of you,” you murmur. 

Looking up at him with hungry eyes, you revel in how vulnerable your partner looks. How prepared he looks. 

“Alright,” Arven sighs.

“You comfy?”

“Yeah.” He nods after readjusting his weight onto his elbows a bit. “A-are you?”

Laughing, you nod back at him. Although your comfort is the last thing on your mind right now, it’s not a lie. Arven’s soft yet firm thigh is the perfect pillow, and his extremely yellow bed isn’t the worst mattress you’ve laid on. 

“Ready?” 

A shaky sigh leaves Arven as he nods again. “Do your worst.” 

Gladly. 

Your eyes flicker down to Arven’s pussy, and it takes all the restraint in your body not to touch your own.’You can do this to yourself later,’ you repeat in your head. Don’t wanna give your boyfriend a shitty experience just because you got distracted by your own carnal desires. 

You drag your pointer down to Arven’s lips, dipping just slightly into his folds. Before you can even really do anything, he’s squirming beneath your touch. His satisfaction brings a genuine smile to your face. 

“Mmmn,” he hums, eyelids flickering shut. 

So reactive… 

‘I can have fun with this,’ you think to yourself.

You press a light bite to Arven’s inner thigh, and his visible iris flickers back open with a gasp. “Eyes on me, ‘kay?” 

Blushing madly and swallowing a whine in his throat, Arven nods his response. You press on him a little harder before using your pointer and middle finger to spread him open. Finally, you plant a chaste kiss against him, before gently licking up his slit.

Arven’s teal orb doesn’t stray from yours as you draw lazy letters and numbers onto him with your tongue. It stays trained on you as he moans, squirming against your mouth. 

You stop for just a moment and sweetly smile up at him. “That’s my good boy.”

The praise raises Arven’s brow and he groans, bucking his hips into your touch. He’s stronger than you, so you struggle to hold his lower half in place as he writhes against you. Taking the hint, though, he does his best to keep still.

Arven drinks in the way you look — foggy eyed and with a deep blush coating your own cheeks, while he makes a mess of your profile with his arousal. You catch him staring, and you know that it’s not because he’s been told to, but because he wants to. The sight of you laying naked with your face between his legs, making him feel the best he ever has, is something he’s only ever dreamed of.

Another giggle escapes you as you hover over his bud. Your lips brush against it as you use your honeyed words to continue breaking him down. 

“You really like being my good boy, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” Arven whines. His visible eye rolls back for a moment before his gaze reaches yours again. Makes you smile wider, more catlike. He’s so obedient. “Yeah,” he sighs. 

You give him a particularly harsh suck, just to see what sort of reaction your boyfriend will gift you in return. He doesn’t disappoint; a wanton groan escapes him, and he throws his head back. His beautiful throat’s exposed and you can almost see some of his other eye from this angle. One of his hands tangles in your hair, tugging just hard enough to get your rocks off a little, as the other grips the sheets.

“S-such a good… ah!” Arven stops himself with an embarrassed yelp.

…Oh?

“You were about to call me a good boy too, weren’t you, baby?”

Biting his lip, the man doesn’t answer you. Can’t have that, now, can you? Still working your tongue along his folds, you slide a finger into Arven’s entrance.

“Oh, fuck!”

“So?” You ask between laps. “You were saying…?“

“I-I, shit, yes, you’re such a good boy...”

So cute!

“Thank you,” you lilt as you add a second finger. “S’this alright? I can pull out if you’re uncomforta—“

Arven cuts you off, desperately advising against your suggestion. “Please don’t, feels so good.”

A second hand wraps into your hair as you smile against Arven’s cunt. “Glad I can make you feel like this,” you murmur. “My sweet boy.”

A heady cry emits from Arven’s throat. God, you love his sounds. “My sweet…” you pause to flatten your tongue against him, licking a slow, hard strip. “…perfect boy.”

Pulling away so as to give your mouth a break, you use your thumb against Arven’s clit. You can’t help but shiver a little at the sight of his wetness and your spit mixing, creating a thick connection between your chin and his core.

“Tell me what you need me to do.” 

“Oh— mmm.” Seeming to have been caught off-guard by your order, Arven clears his throat. “C-can you go faster? Please?”

“Of course,” you whisper. 

Just as he requested, you twitch your thumb around him while your fingers dance inside him. You pepper love bites on his skin, kissing each bruise better as they appear. All the while, Arven’s mewls are getting louder. Throatier. Needier.

You return your tastebuds back to him, doing your best to lick and suck according to his responses. He really loved that little flicky-thing you just did with the tip of your tongue, so you surprise him with it every once in a while. Every time, he sounds absolutely euphoric. 

Noticing how your partner twitches into your lips, you wonder how close to completion he is. You don’t want this to end… then again you’ll make him cum as many times as he wants you to if it means you’ll get to keep at this.

“How are you doing, love?” You hope he was able to understand you, talking with your mouth full.

His response is… incoherent, to say the least. He’s been fucked stupid. Perfect. Must be getting there! 

“You gonna cum for me, or what?” Biting his lip and looking down at you through tears, Arven nods. Smiling and pumping your fingers into his sweet spot even harder, you add, “Bet you’re gonna taste so fucking good, baby.” 

Before you can even get your lips back on him, Arven’s beginning to snap. You do your best to work your tongue in all the ways you know he loves, as the flavor of his release coats your mouth. You can’t deny the excitement and pride that bubbles within your tummy as he rides your fingers and ruts into your licks. Not wanting to overstimulate him, in case he isn’t into that, you stop moving, simply letting him get off on you. 

As he comes down from his high, Arven leans back onto the bed. His chest heaves, and his skin glistens with sweat, but he’s laughing. 

“That was so cool…” he mutters. You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself, or to you, or to Arceus.

After licking your fingers clean, you inch up on top of Arven, cuddling into his chest. “You did so good,” you softly reassure him, running your fingers through his bangs before cupping his face. 

“You did all the work…” he bashfully mumbles. 

Arven leans his face against your forehead, pressing a brief kiss to it. Working his way down your temples and cheeks from there, he meets your lips – you feel his features heat up under your touch as he tastes himself on you, but he slips his tongue into your kiss anyway. A quiet squeak escapes you, and your seemingly innocent boyfriend’s lips curl into a grin. 

Oh?!

Within seconds, your back is against the mattress, Arven’s body hovering above yours as he kisses down your neck. You squirm beneath his touch, feeling your cheeks grow rosier as Arven determinedly nibbles and licks lower, and lower, and lower, until he’s near your own core.

“Your turn, sweet boy.”

#arven pokemon #arven x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #pokemon scvi #trainer arven #rival arven #pokémon arven x reader #pokemon arven x reader #no use of y/n #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fanfic #trans arven #trans!arven #transmasc #transmasc reader #trans reader #ftm reader #arven x male reader #arven x m!reader #anon

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Continuing some of the previous conversations + talking about random stuff…

Anonymous asked:

I meant by the new prison warden info since you mentioned you been thinking over.

Ohh, I see! Sorry for misunderstanding, Anon.

No, unfortunately we don’t really have anything new to share for now :( That being said, whenever we get asked about the AU, we kind of come up with a lot of new stuff on the spot  lol so if you’re interested in any particular character, feel free to ask.

artfulhero-m asked:

Ryu that office worker Lilia art got me feeling like I'm at work cause as someone who works in an office herself with coworkers who are decades older than her (I'm in my 20s) I cannot express how extremely common the scaring prank is between my coworkers, at least once a week I'm hearing someone yell "BOO!" and hearing in response either a scream or complete silence followed by laughter.

Based off of real events, you got me thinking about Lilia leaving some kind of noise machine underneath other's desks playing fart sounds when the office reaches rare moments of quiet in the day. That fart machine will circulate around the office for a few days.

I am so happy to hear that you have no idea!! I’m very glad we came up with something that has this very specific office vibe lol As someone who has 0 experience with the office environment, I had no idea this type of behaviour was common in any way. I hope these interactions are mostly positive though and not annoying lol

Lilia ABSOLUTELY leaves all kinds of noise machines and whoopee cushions around, you can also never shake hands with him because he has that ring that shocks you, all kinds of classic pranks he’ll absolutely do. And as time goes, they’ll get more and more elaborate.

And if Lilia gets closer to Idia in any way shape of form, it’s over for everyone, because if they join forces… With Idia’s genius mind and skills, he could enhance that noise machine in a way that’ll make the whole office shudder…

Anonymous asked:

Oh, I sent the cursed asks about what Lilia bullied Idia into telling and Lilia’s past crimes. Those were what I was apologizing for XD

So those were yours!! Good to know. I liked these asks though lol

Anonymous asked:

After reading about General Lilia’s sordid past, the song Weedkiller by Ashnikko reminds me of him. Just….major psychotic, unhinged, creature vibes.

Psychotic unhinged creature is such a good way to describe this particular version of Lilia, and I feel like this song could fit perfectly into his personal mixtape! Along with a bunch of death metal songs, so the sound is going to be quite contrasting lol

Anonymous asked:

Do you have any designs for Ace's brother? I've always thought of his brother as Jack Hearts from Disney recruiters if you don't, but I've slapped so much angst onto those boys it's hard to imagine they wouldn't want to "support" each other whenever Ace comes home for the holidays.

Well… it’s kind of awkward, because our view of Ace’s brother is closer to Eddy’s brother from Ed Edd n Eddy lol Ace used to think that his older brother is cool and maybe even idolised him a little when he was a kid, but then got disillusioned and annoyed as he grew older. They bicker a lot because they’re siblings + both of them are kind of mean and quick to throw each other under the bus. His brother isn’t necessarily malicious (although scenarios in which he is a complete jerk could be super fun too), but they often have heated arguments + there is this sense of “I’m older, therefore I win” between them.

Sooo… while this design isn’t something that we’re 100% sure about (if I ever draw him again, he might look COMPLETELY different, so keep that in mind lol), but the overall vibe is kind of like this. A jerk that kind of looks like a slightly older Ace.

That being said, Ace’s brother being supportive of Ace and overcoming complicated stuff is a sweet idea, Anon! I really wonder what their actual relationships are like…

Anonymous asked:

Ohhh, you would LOVE Criminal Minds. Serial murderers, mind games, sympathetic backstories, cursed people doing cursed things, it’s a beautiful, terrible show. ☺️

I can’t believe this is my first time hearing about this show considering the fact that it’s rather old?? But thank you for recommendation, Anon! <3

We very rarely watch live action series, but anything that is described as both beautiful and terrible (and cursed!) is always intriguing.

#replies #ryuichirouart

[gabessquishytum]

hi hello it's me, your anon, i think this is about the closest i can manage to living in your basement so here i am! with more thoughts and filth.

please consider dream bringing hob to his throne room ahead of an audience he'll be holding. he leads hob up to his throne and there's a... very, very large post. that looks like it's part of the seat. and dream says he wants hob sitting in his throne and looking pretty while dream holds his audience.

hob has to be picked up and lowered onto it, and by the time he's seated there's no way he can get the leverage to get up on his own, so he just has to sit there, impaled, as dream dresses him up. maybe a robe so there's no sign of what's going on? maybe just a montain of jewelry that makes it very, very obvious? both are fun.

for extra fun, make it dream/hob/corinthian and the corinthian comes wandering in while dream's busy and goes up to hob but doesn't realize at first what's going on, just starts teasing hob for being such a slut that all he can do is whine and squirm on the throne of the king of dreams because he's not getting enough attention. and then he notices the shape of hob's belly and starts teasing him for being even more of a slut than he'd thought.

Anon, baby. Sweetie. I am dead and deceased. You have ruined me. I am but a pile of twitching bones.

But listen. Listen. Hob is a helpful guy, ok? He loves helping! So when Dream comes to him and asks for assistance in providing entertainment for this audience thingy Hob is like yes!! Absolutely what can I do!! And then Dream smiles at him in a certain way and Hob knows. He knows that he’s got himself into something.

And he doesn’t mind, honestly! The choker Dream put around his neck is golden and glittering and Hob feels like one of those precious jewels on display at the Tower of London. There’s a thin, guazey piece of fabric over his lap, meant to draw attention there rather than protect his modesty. He’s squirming and sweating and no one is touching him, Dream isn’t even looking at him. He’s busy of course, and Hob is merely a part of the furniture of the dreaming right now. Seeing as he has the actual furniture stuffed so far up inside him it’s actually rearranging his insides, that seems an appropriate description.

There’s the small and dubious comfort of the Corinthian, draped over the arm of the throne. His golden hand occasionally reaches out to drag idly over Hob’s damp skin. Needy little bitch, he whispers. You’d better stay still. And Hob wants to say that he’s trying, trying to be good and helpful! But his tongue is too heavy for speech, his skin is soft and tingly, his stomach is warm and achingly full.

When Dream passes by the throne, on his way to speak with one of his visitors, he allows his fingers to brush through Hob’s hair. It’s such an idle touch. Hob nearly bursts into tears, until he remembers that his job is to be helpful. Pretty and helpful and full.

So yeah basically I’m dead. How long can I keep you in my basement? A century or two?

#anon baby I am utterly ruined and so is Hob <3 hehe #dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman #hobrintheus #nsft

[ravenatural]

15 Questions tag game

The rules are: Answer the 15 questions and tag 15 of your mutuals.

Tagged by @echoghost1 , ty Echo!! :D

1. Are you named after anyone? 

Ohh okay so this one is kinda fun because I technically am on four counts! My legal first and middle names both came from two different people ( one a famous author, the other my great great great ( great? I think it’s 4 ) aunt. The other two counts come from chosen names! while I’m not positive how much raven counts ( chosen at 13 because of raven teen titans haha ), Alva is another name I chose for myself that came from an ancestor on my moms side

2. When was the last time you cried? 

Last week? I think? Shit’s been kinda stressful all of a sudden

3. Do you have kids?

I babysat a couple of kids for a few months when I was like 18-ish and worked a job that had a daycare room, and I absolutely adored them to the point my mom started referring to them as my kids, but I am neither a legal guardian nor still in contact since the place went out of business so I’m gonna have to answer no to that one

4. What sports do you play/have played? 

Ohh man okay i don’t think I’ve done any sports since I was like. 10 years old, max. I briefly did soccer, and then basic ballet and tap lessons; I had a couple group recitals, but never advanced past flats, and honestly did not retain even muscle memory on anything

5. Do you use sarcasm?

I can’t because I’m the kind of awkward that struggles with tone inflection and quick wit so when I try people always think I’m serious 😔 

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? 

Something that can be complimented, generally.

Like, one of the things I do as someone with a customer facing job, is actively look for things to complement people on, for a multitude of reasons. It’s def not some kind of a requirement for my position, but more just that I like to break up the basic check-out process a little by finding something that I can genuinely appreciate ( which, the more I’ve done this the wider an appreciation of people’s personal style preferences I’ve had in general ) and communicating to them I like it, which never fails to brighten up an interaction.

It’s honestly really great too, because people often like to share the story behind the things I compliment, and I love to hear those stories, so it’s a good balance I think!

7. What's your eye color? 

I’ve always been told they’re brown but I’m like 98% certain they’re actually hazel? But the definitions of hazel I see are very, well, hazy tbh, and I’m afraid to commit to being 100% certain lmao

8. Scary movies or Happy endings? 

I like both BUT the happy endings I’d really like to have a lot of toil and angst and maybe a lil tragedy first—I want that happy ending to have blood stains that are over time bleached away by sunlight, but forever imprinted onto the fabric

9. Any talents? 

Idk if I’d describe myself as talented in any manner, but that’s mostly because I prefer to think in terms of skill-set over natural talent

That said, I have never formally—or informally really, for that matter—studied gemstones, but I can recognize and name a decent number of them on sight relatively easily, and have ID’d multiple pieces of tanzanite jewelry first try ( something where every individual, all unrelated, who was wearing said jewelry have said I’m the first person to not only think it was something other than sapphire, but to also know instantly. All I can really offer as to how I know is “its just the way it is” because ig the color and shine differences aren’t as easily noticeable to everyone else? ). It’s a side effect of having a detail focused mind that I’m honestly really proud of

10. Where were you born? 

Nice try sucker you’re not getting the answer to my online account security question THAT easily

11. What are your hobbies? 

Drawing

opening new tabs from my YouTube recommendations side bar for every song title that looks interesting and seeing how much new music I can find in one sitting before I get bored

finding hyper specific and sometimes rare things people I know haven’t been able to find and then buying it for them

googling the fuck out of some random ass thing that just came up in conversation until I have a bunch of new fun facts on the subject

sewing

and more!

12. Do you have any pets? 

LOTS

context: my family runs a small hobby farm, + we have our indoor pets ( only cats for indoor now ), we’ve had a variety of livestock over the years, but currently it’s just sheep and chickens for outdoor

13. How tall are you?

Just a lil over 5’5” but not quite 5’6” ( no I don’t need to be that specific but the doctor commented on it last time she took my height and damn if I won’t take the small win )

14. Favourite subject in school?

Mmmmm I’m gonna automatically disqualify art just to make this slightly more challenging for myself.. probably Astronomy? Tbh I’ve never been able to wrap my head around enough math concepts to understand a lot of science formulas, so that whole portion of it didn’t quite work out for me, but I enjoyed the fuck outta reading the textbook

15. Dream Job? 

Oh okay this one is actually really specific, but. Making an anime / cartoon style comic and / or illustrations and maybe a variety of other artwork for NASA, no this position does not exist but I want it IMMENSELY

Hooooo this got a LOT longer than I expected lmao

trying to avoid tagging mutuals I’ve already seen tagged in this one, obvi feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna do it ( we’re low stakes tagging in this household )

@zrllosyn

@magiwou-meowvin

@13threbagel

@lactoseparty

@aggressivelyclueless

@mcfanely

@cosmicteafox

@tunafishprincess

@ukiinas ( I silently salute you for being my longest standing mutual 🫡 )

…and anyone else who’d like to! ( I don’t feel like digging through my followers to fill the list to max shajsisoa have at it fellas )

#Tag game #Ask game #15 questions tag game #long post #ravens ravings

[almost-a-class-act]

Listen I'm very hungover but I wanted to start 2023 as I mean to go on, that is, writing my faves having a nice time. Happy new year etc, maybe I'll post this on ao3 if it still makes sense when I'm firing on all cylinders.

Fandom: Band of Brothers Pairing: Luz/Toye --

“You need to listen to me.”

There’s a pretty good view of the fireworks from the roof of their building. George is kind of surprised that no one but them seems to have figured it out yet, but admittedly, he’s never met a door marked ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ that he hasn’t tested to check if it’s locked. Other people, by and large, tend to obey signage.

“I’m listening, Joe.”

They are tucked away behind the mechanical penthouse, on the far side from the door, hidden from the bracing wind that cuts across the roof. Joe has the lapels of George’s jacket in his hands, and most people who get this kind of treatment from Joe Toye are about to be laid out but George is being subjected to a different kind of onslaught.

“You...” Joe presses his lips together, considering what he wants to say. The fireworks that George can see over his left shoulder dimly light up the side of his face in dull blues and pinks. It seems to be a chore to pull sentences together, but his eyes are very earnest, and George does not let his smile grow the way it wants to, because he would never want Joe to think he’s making fun. “You didn’t have to come,” is what he comes out with. “After the war.”

“Well.” George draws it out. He can’t help a little levity; after all, it’s rare that they are buzzed on cheap wine together and Joe takes the opportunity to be sincere at him, six inches from his face. “I think I did.”

“No.” Joe is firm. “You didn’t. You could have gone home.”

“Okay,” George agrees patiently. “You’re right. I could have gone home. Theoretically. I’m sure there was a train heading that way.”

“I’m not joking,” Joe says sternly.

George shrugs. “Neither am I.”

Joe frowns at him. “Listen to me,” he repeats, as if George could – or would – do anything else. “You changed my life. And I know you could’ve gone home instead.” He readjusts his grip on George’s coat and leans in close, as if imparting a secret. “That’s all. That’s the whole thing.”

“You wouldn’t have come out to Massachusetts to see me?” George asks.

“Hell, no.” Joe seems offended that George would even think to ask the question. “I had shit to offer. Less than shit.”

George has heard versions of this before, and he says what he always says, with patience and conviction: “That’s not true, Joe.”

“It is true,” Joe insists. “I knew you coulda done better. So I wouldn’t have come. It had to be you.”

They watch each other, Joe with that dip between his brows, George giving what he’d said the full consideration it deserves.

“I did go home after the war, you know,” he says, after a moment. When the furrow in Joe’s brow deepens, George reaches up to smooth it gently away with his thumb. “Where else would I go but here?”

Joe seems unsure of what to do now that he’s been evenly matched in sincerity; he compensates by leaning in for a kiss with much more tenderness than his previous intensity and grip on George’s coat would suggest. There’s something deeply Joe about it; George smiles against his mouth at the thought.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you,” Joe mutters, apparently coming to some version of his senses, loosening his grip even as he says it.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” George reaches up to cover Joe’s hands with his own. “I was kinda into it.”

“Yeah?” Joe seems to visibly attempt to commit that to memory, which George finds unbearably charming.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “Although I’m starting to wonder if you think I’m usually not listening when you talk.”

“I know you listen,” Joe says, faintly defensive. “But this was important. I had to make sure.”

George scoops up one of Joe’s hands with his and brings it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. He can’t help the burst of fondness that bubbles up and onto his face. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” Joe is solemn again; he means it. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, Joe.”

#band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth #luztoye #you've heard of christmas fluff now get ready for #new year's fluff

[rosieofcorona]

17, 29, 39 for the writer asks!!!!!

BESTIE thank you for this!! I kind of wrote a novel but these were so fun to answer. <3

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

Ooooh, I am a Lore Girl™ at heart, so this is really my favorite part of writing anything. The Solavellan fic I’m working on right now (in which they have a child together post-Trespasser) has a lot of this that I’m sure won’t make it through editing. 

One example: I love the idea of them naming their child Fenhala. Of course, there’s the obvious link to Fen’Harel in the prefix, but -hala (depending on the root word you use and the translation you prefer) could mean “end,” or “last,” or possibly even, “helper,” “rescuer.” 

Within the context of the story, the name could almost be prophetic– it could be used to imply that their child will aid or end Fen’Harel, or become the “last wolf” himself (last of his line, last of his people)– but the linguistics and the concepts behind them are unlikely to be explained outright. That said, this particular story is very ambitious and very much a work in progress, so we’ll have to wait and see. :)

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry? 

All over the place, tbh! As far as literature goes, anything Tolkien, Nix, or Gaiman will get me in a really fun headspace, but I've also been known to make a character playlist or two if I want to induce a specific mood.

Beyond that, I love to play D&D (surprise), which is always great for thinking up new concepts on the fly, especially if I’m not feeling particularly inspired. It’s nice to be able to springboard off of other people’s ideas and takes some of the creative pressure off. 

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

HOO BOY, the obsession, I think? Which maybe sounds silly but honestly if I'm compelled enough to start writing something in the first place, that usually means I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. It also means I’ve probably done a lot of research in the meantime and have managed to stay interested in the idea.

If I truly feel like there's a roadblock, I've become progressively more comfortable stepping back from a story and letting it simmer until I feel like coming back to it. For me, that usually works better than trying to force something onto the page just to call it finished.

#ask box #writing asks #rowanisawriter #THANKS AGAIN BABE THIS WAS DELIGHTFUL #writing stuff #my writing