#[ anon it really isnt that deep ]

[tangledinink]

I just saw another ask calling Gemini au Donnie afab, and obviously he does have XX chromosomes in your au (or the turtle/mutant equivalent at least?), but if afab means assigned female at birth and Donnie and Leo were assigned male at birth by Big Mama.... Does that technically make the two of them amab trans men???

Or.... amak? assigned male at kidnapping?

LMAO yeah. I always grapple with the terms because I'm like. WELL... THEY TECHNICALLY... WEREN'T ASSIGNED FEMALE AT BIRTH LMAO,,,, they're both, technically speaking, amab, so yes, they are in fact both amab trans men lmao.

And they weren't TECHNICALLY kidnapped... so... amaa? assigned male at... adoption??? u w u

[androcola]

Why monkees hiatus? ☹️

ive been feeling as of late that no one is interested in my content as a whole anymore. I feel like I was always Begging people to interact with it and I felt annoying doing that. I feel like people only really wanna talk about torksmith doomed yaoi and head timeloop anymore 😓

I feel like no ones really interested in my art anymore. I mean it gets like 20 reblogs and 15 of those will be me. also no one Comments on art anymore. I get more interaction on my private instagram than I do on tumblr and I think that's sad

ive been feeling like I've really overstayed my welcome. I mean ive been here for 5 years. it was about time I burned out. and also I've been kinda depressed and losing interest in Everything I like so that's a part of it too. im not saying I'm going away forever, but it feels like the spark is fading and while I still think about mike and micky all the time, I feel like everyone's kinda over me now.its better to burn out than to fade away

[usertoxicyaoi]

why did u like it so much? i reaaaally can't see it.

hiiii anon!!!

why do i, along with so many others, like taikan yohou so much? maybe bc its given us everything we wanna see in a show in the most authentic way possible where you can Literally see the progress happening episode by episode, but even by the end, segasaki and yoh are still segasaki and yoh by their very nature. its just that throughout the journey within the show, they grow, and we as an audience get to see their origins - BOTH of their origins bc both their points of views equally matter in the switch up of their narrative voices - and we get to learn why as 2 individuals they are who they are and why that causes so many hinderances between them. yet by the end, they manage to be able to express what they feel, whilst STILL being true to who they are as individuals. there is no fix it or cure or a 180 change in who they are as people. segasaki is still blunt and brutally honest, whilst yoh is still hesitant and quiet. but segasaki uses words and actions and is able to be a lot more vulnerable in front of yoh where he shows how tired and scared he is of losing yoh, and yoh is alot more braver in speaking up and speaking his mind. but it works. its exactly the way it should be and it fits for the intense vibe and atmosphere that taikan yohou exclusively has always had and has always been about. where every scene and every second counts and is there for a reason. where the drama isnt something that feels uselessly done for the sake of it. its drama that happens solely bc they as people are not perfect and they acknowledge that and yet they still try to resolve their issues despite their shortcomings. and yet!!! they still remain true to who they are!!!!!! everything has a place and a value and a meaning in this show. its literally as simple and as complicated as that.

[vero-niche]

a fellow english major, really happy to see someone who's proud of their degree <3

you know that "no love, no matter how brief, is wasted" line? i think the same applies for knowledge too - no matter how useless it may seem, knowledge acquired is never in vain.

[broke-on-books]

May I ask about your beef with T.S. Elliott? I don't know much about him, but I'm curious as to your opinions on him.

Um well I don't like Eliot for many reasons (I wrote a whole blog post on this for school haha) so I'll try to make it quick but it really breaks down to three subjects for me

1. His personal life

2. His actual body of work

3. His reception and legacy

In terms of personal life, he of course really sucked, like (this is from memory so there may be mistakes) he institutionalized his wife and didn't visit her for a decade (and she died in the institution), he also was publically antisemitic, and very, very good friends (like besties) with Ezra Pound, the poet whose most famous poem is his 800 page lament on the fall of Mussolini and spent all of wwii betraying his country and making + promoting axis propaganda, so that's just like a whole can of worms there to unpack.

With his like actual work stuff, this is probably where I give him the most leeway bc he has a few lines that genuinely go really fucking hard. Like there are some lines where I 100% understand why he is a behemoth in the world of poetry. Like "this is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper" and "do I dare disturb the universe? In a minute there is time for decision and revisions which a minute can reverse" and "I will show you fear in a handful of dust" all go so hard. They do. This is true. But the rest of his work is just really nonsensical to me (and I've read his most famous pieces many times) and requires heavy academic investment to try and understand. I'm talking like intense knowledge of classical and medieval works, at least 3 languages besides English, etc.

Like there's more deciphering involved than actual poetry (I think in the book for the Waste Land there literally is more end notes than poem. And that poem is Long). And like this feeds into the third point I have which is the reception of his stuff and how I hate that T S Eliot is put up as like "total genius, greatest of all time, PINNACLE of poetry" by some people. Because I very think it starts falling into an elitist attitude of "getting" Eliot and seeing like deciphering these pieces as some sort of accomplishment on its own in a way that doesn't feel genuine to me.

Like there's just something off there about the vibes to me. That for some people they care more abt "understanding" Eliot then engaging w the themes of the poems themselves and then just brag about reading Eliot a lot (and likely Pound too and much of the imagist movement) in a way that again I just don't like.

And I think doing this and lifting Eliot up so high when his poetry is in the style it is actually hurt poetry a bit as an art form because like. It is what poetry haters accuse poetry of being like it's inaccessible, complicated, hard to read, and people get snobby about it. And I think people see that and get the wrong idea or confirm wrong ideas they had about poetry as a whole from his work which breaks me heart.

TLDR Eliot has a couple lines I think are absolute fire, but I dislike most of work. I don't like the imprint him and his reputation have had in regard to poetry, and I think he was a horrible human being.

& Every once and a while I'll read some of his more popular poems to check that they're still bad and pay a visit to the one line I like hidden within 60 bad ones

[b0tster]

On anon but. I'm someone who has detransitioned. I just want to say that, I was on HRT for about a year. It changed my body in ways that I absolutely love. I have a deep voice, and sharper features, and I have new perspective on my identity and how it interacts with the world. Being trans is a journey. From when I was five up to when I was 17, I fullheartedly believed I was a boy. I was, in that moment. But now, I'm a girl, too. I feel better as a girl - prettier, comfortable. But when I was a boy, I felt good too - in that moment, I was handsome, and I felt so so strong. It's not as scary as it seems. People ebb and flow and change. You can be what you want to be, and if ultimately you want to go back? You can. Just don't discount your experience as a mistake. In the moment it felt right. In the present is what matters.. You'll reflect on it, and maybe you won't ever change. Maybe it'll be what sticks. And that's a lovely thing in and of itself. You will find the you that fits. You will become someone you love by letting yourself express. I promise. Holding back will just mute everything that makes you, you - don't feel like you need to medically transition, either. It was right for me, but research is key, in all things. You'll be beautiful no matter what. Your experiences will shape you - as long as you allow yourself the freedom of expression. I promise.

this is so beautiful. the word detransition does seem to have a negative connotation in certain spaces and im really happy to hear u sharing your positive experience.

its so important to stress that you can simply try it. and if it isnt for you, you can stop.

[goomyloid]

im the kris costume anon (that is... a description, alright self jklfhdfkjas) and i just had to jump up and down at what you said at the end about kris protecting noelle!!!!

because gosh did it do things to my brain when noelle said 'then kris, maybe you can take your sword and be the hero that protects me from the mice?' like... hmmmm noelle?? HMM???? i say as i fuck up the puzzle and scare her endlessly with mice anyway but--

gosh i love that yeah, kris as a knight as opposed to baggy clothes gremlin must've been so confusing for noelle! also they just naturally know all these aura farming ass poses, are agile as hell, and things that make them *look cool*?! i love that kris is still shorter than her though shdjsdhjs

i also wholly subscribe to the idea that kris is trying to protect noelle by distancing themself from her (or something) so it is Doing Things to my Brain to consider what noelle must've been thinking to see them as a knight

agljkghkhkfjas oh my god, i had a similar thought during the weird route of 'haha it's like kris is the knight protecting their mage ha a h a...' before tucking that away deep in my mind, because i thought i'd get flayed for it so it felt like someone dumped cold water on my head when i read what you said LMAOOOOO bless...!

I will say the things ur afraid of getting flayed for… theure gonna flay me instead… get behind me big goomyloid will protect you

axwgdhecqcshf i can imagine that noelle has never really thought of kris as being very “cool”… MAYBE when they were playing the piano she would think so? but “cool” probably isnt the right word (maybe earnest instead) and its definitely not the same as how they appear in the DW lol… suddenly bro is swordfighting and whatever else and noelle is just ?!?!?!?!??! (hand over mouth) Why are they kinda… i didnt know they could…

IT MAKES ME GIGGLE even though normal route kriselle is much more lowkey i think its a cool tidbit… who knows maybe seeing that different side of them will awaken something in her………. but in reality theyll always be a little penguin

also — i laugh when i see people draw kris taller than noelle tbh… this is proof that we fundamentally view the characters differently. sorry. kris always must be significantly shorter sorry

also yeah i definitely think that out of all people kris wants to protect by Keeping Them Out Of It it’s probably noelle. susie is way different, because not only is she super strong in character and blatantly disobeys Us all the time, but at this point shes kind of irreversibly deeply intertwined with whatever the hell is happening story-wise. i said it somewhere in a twitter thread but if kris is going to want anyone to understand their position, it’d probably be susie. conversely, kris is driven away from noelle for all sorts of reasons, one of which is probably guilt over Various Things (them possibly having something to do with dess’s disappearance, or the fact that theyre Working For Dess Now or something, or just general low self esteem and feeling as though they’d be weighing her down by staying in her life). they miss her but they feel like they dont have the right to, so they keep pushing themself away and clinging onto susie as a result (this isnt discrediting the krusie friendship or anything but rather one of many reasons that kris seems so attached to her)

cold silent knight there to protect noelle… little did kris know that this protection would lead them into getting closer to her again.. PLAN BACKFIRE epic fail loser!!!! i think about how before kris cut her off in the couch scene, noelle was probably going to say that kris said they would protect her (since she reiterates it later) and i just go Oughhhh. Aauuuugghhhh. if i could redo my little comic interpretation of the porch scene id add that in there because i Forgot

reminds me of this doodle i did (for angel/demon au) where kris’s silent protectiveness gets completely trashed as they are the one forced to hurt her……. forced to hurt the friend you promised to protect… you TOLD her youd protect her…. she is harmed and then as punishment you feel as though you must harm yourself. hey does anyone else see that 18-wheeler coming down this lane or is it just m

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words, no warnings --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, and you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting on the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly providing some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smile was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[piroulinewafers]

ik this isnt exactly a request but can you write more for caleb with submissive reader? the fic was so sweet and you wrote the dynamic so well! 🥹

𝐚/𝐧: thank you anon for giving me a reason to post the other draft i wrote for the subby reader ask yesterday ;; i really appreciate ur kind words waaa ;;

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! subby reader 𝐜𝐰: smut + overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

the bedroom was thick with the scent of warmth and closeness— a blend of summer heat, soft fabric, and the unmistakable trace of skin against skin. the windows were cracked open just ajar, but no breeze came through, only the faint hum of cicadas drifting in front the outside world. the air felt heavy, not suffocating, but close— like it was holding it’s breath.

their sheets were tangled at the foot of the bed, forgotten, and clothes lay scattered across the floor in a trail of quiet affection as soft moans and grunts echoed in the room, spilling outside into the air.

caleb gazed down at her flushed face, hair splayed out messily on the pillow as she lay there, completely spent and overstimulated from their marathon of lovemaking. 

he could see the glazed look in her eyes, the way her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. the room was filled with the musky scent of their coupling, air thick and heavy with the weight of their passion, and yet all he could think about was her. 

the colonel gazed down at where his hips met hers, feeling the way her soft, warm flesh yield to his hardness. he could feel every inch of her velvety walls fluttering and clenching around him helplessly, still sensitive and overstimulated from the countless orgasms he’d given her. the sensation was exquisite, but he knew she was too far gone to truly appreciate it anymore. 

he had yet to find his own release, cock still rock hard and throbbing inside of her.  normally, he would have revealed in the feeling of being buried deep within her heat, savouring the way her body gripped him like a vice. 

but not now, not with her like this. he could feel the way she twitched and trembled with every slight movement, her breathy whimpers and moans no longer sounds of pleasure, but of overstimulation and growing discomfort. 

caleb gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to start moving again, to chase his own release. he knew it would be easy to just let go, to use her willing, pliant body for his own gratification. and he knew damn well she wouldn’t fight it too.

but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. not when every finer of her being was screaming at her to stop, even if she was too stubborn to say the words out loud. 

he gripped her hips firmly, holding her still as he fought the instinct to thrust. “shh, just breathe, baby,” he coaxed, his voice strained with the effort of restraining himself. “you don’t have to do anythin’ else. i know you’re real sensitive, i know you’re tired. let’s just rest like this for a bit, m’kay?” 

she looked utterly debauched, thoroughly used, and yet still she tried to arch up into him, her body instinctively craving more even if her mind screamed for rest.

“no, caleb, please,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and ragged. “you haven’t… you haven’t cum yet. i can take it, one more round, please? i wanna make you feel good, s-so good,” 

he could see the determination in her eyes, even as they were glazed over and unfocused. she was trying to so hard to please him, to be the perfect lover, that she was ignoring the clear signs of her own exhaustion and overstimulation. it was admirable, in a way, but also deeply concerning. 

didn’t she know that he would always love her, regardless? he didn’t need to ejaculate for her to be a good partner, she was already perfect just the way she was and he didn’t want anything to change.

he could feel her trying to clench around him, her body instinctively tightening, as if to urge him on. but he had himself still, refusing to give in to the temptation. he cknew her body couldn’t take it, knew that any more stimulation would only lead to pain and discomfort. 

she was too submissive, practically a doormat in bed. he saw the way he eyes would flicker with hesitancy or confusion before she blindly nodded and agreed to everything he offered or ask with a pretty smile on her face. 

“listen to yourself, baby,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over her kiss-swollen lips. “hear how ragged your breathin' is, how hoarse your voice is? you’ve given me everythin' already, more than enough to satisfy me ‘nd then some.”

he brushed her hair back from her face almost tenderly, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin, could see the way her chest heaved with each laboured breath. she was utterly spent, completely at her limit and the knowledge that she would still let him use her even now humbled and awed him. 

“such a good girl,” he murmured. “so perfect 'nd selfless, always putting me first. but i need you to listen to your body, alright? you can’t keep going like this, not when you’re this sensitive.”

he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he breathed in the scent of her skin, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into the skin of her sides. a huff left him at her lack of response, almost like she was childishly ignoring him as if though that would change his thoughts. 

“you love me, right?”

“mhm…”

caleb smiled, sighing softly. “then you’ll listen to me, okay? you’ve got to listen to that pretty body of yours.” 

with that, he carefully pulled out of her, hissing softly as her over-sensitive walls clenched around him involuntarily, his tip an angry red and leaking pre.

carefully, he gathered her up into his arms, rolling them both onto their sides so he could spoon her from behind, tugging the blankets over their warm bodies and tucking her close to his chest. his arm wrapped around her waist possessively, holding her against him as he nuzzled into her hair. 

“there, that’s it,” he coaxed softly, feeling her slowly start to relax into his embrace. “just rest now, baby. you have to stop pushin' yourself like that just for my sake, okay?” 

she offered a sleepy nod, a clumsy, tired agreement.

“promise me, then. or i’ll think about it all night long and i won’t get a wink of sleep.”

she scrunched her nose at his words, pouting and letting out a soft huff. “i promise…”

finally, he let himself smile, gently brushing a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. the room was warm with the scent of grass and summer sweat, but her presence made everything feel calm— like golden hour after a long day.

her breathing started to slow, synching with his, her weight melting into his chest. caleb pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“atta girl,” he murmured. “sleep well, ‘ll be right here. always.” 

and with her tucked safely in his arms, the quiet hum of night settled in— peaceful and still. 

[valeisaslut]

DEAD – LYRICS ANALYSIS PART ONE OF READER’S ALBUM — PARALLELS W/ COLLIDE (BECAUSE I’M DERANGED)

i’ve been working on this for like a month now and when i say i’ve dissected every line, every note, i mean it. this isn’t just a tracklist—it’s a map. a mirror. a heartbreak scrapbook. the "album" lives in collide's world, and if you read closely (and listen even closer), you’ll find the parallels everywhere. the lyrics aren’t just songs—they’re memories. confessions. everything she couldn’t say out loud.

especially with the music—this is the heart of the story. the sound of losing her. the sound of still wanting her. the sound of standing on stage with a smile while bleeding under it.

thank you everyone for helping me build this!! every anon and follower that has suggested their songs and analyzed why they thought they fitted the story completely <3

this is where the pain lives. and this is how she sings through it.

TRACK 01: THE GREATEAST.

this is the first track on the album, the opening shot, the raw nerve—it's everything you never got to say to ellie when things first shattered, when the lines blurred from pretend lovers into something real and devastating.

"all the times i waited for you to want me naked" : this isn't about sex, not really. because yeah, sex was easy, effortless—fucking in hotel rooms and dressing rooms and anywhere else your bodies collided, tangled, desperate, hungry—but this was about something else. something more vulnerable. something that felt impossible to ask for: you waited for ellie to see past the fame, the chaos, the fake dating that felt too fucking real, and want you stripped bare emotionally, too. you waited for her to crave not just your body but the whole messy, complicated disaster that you were becoming together.

all your love, your patience, your desperate admiration for the person she could have been, was left bruised and unappreciated. it felt worthless.

"you could've been the greatest"

it’s not an accusation—it’s grief. mourning the ellie who wrote songs about you, who kissed you breathless backstage, who whispered promises she wasn’t strong enough to keep yet. mourning the person she was underneath drugs and cameras and the fucked-up pressure of fame that tore you both apart.

TRACK 02: MY EVERYTHING.

track two—"my everything"—is the aftermath of the greatest. the ache settling deep in your bones once ellie was actually gone, when she left to heal, leaving nothing but silence behind.

"you weren't my everything till we were nothing": when ellie was there, tangled up in addiction and chaos, breaking promises faster than she made them, you convinced yourself you'd survive losing her. but then she left, the room emptied out, and suddenly all the little things turned into everything you ever wanted, everything you lost.

"pain is just a consequence of love": it’s a confession, a surrender to reality. loving ellie meant accepting pain, accepting loss, accepting that maybe your pride had kept you from truly showing her how deep your feelings ran. maybe you were scared—scared of being vulnerable, scared of rejection, scared of loving someone whose demons threatened to take you both down.

"if i cross your mind, just know i'm yours": here’s your heart laid bare, bleeding openly. you’re begging ellie from afar, wherever she is, to understand your love didn't disappear with her. if she ever doubts it, if she ever wonders late at night, you want her to know you never really let go. your heart still carries her name, her touch, her chaos, even in her absence.

this track isn’t just regret—it’s clarity. the kind of clarity that only hits you after loss, when you’re forced to admit the messy, undeniable truth: ellie was—is—your everything.

TRACK 03: THE SUBWAY.

track three—"the subway"— (IT GOT COPYRIGHTED AND ISNT IN THE PLAYLIST IM GONNA DIE PLEASE) is that bitter, aching moment when reality hits and you're left behind, trapped in memories.

"she's got a way" vs. "she got away": perfect parallelism of heartbreak. ellie's charm, her way of drawing you in, her effortless cool—“she’s got a way.” but that same charm meant you couldn't hold onto her, couldn't stop her from slipping through your fingers—“she got away.”

"made you the villain, evil for just moving on": this line screams guilt. ellie left to save you, and you know deep down it’s not fair to resent her for it. but it doesn’t make your anger hurt less. it doesn’t stop you from seeing her shadow everywhere, even in the dark.

"it's never over": direct parallelism with ellie's song, she writes it after—"lover, you should've come over"—

TRACK O4: PAPER BAG.

track four—"paper bag"— (we LOVE FIONA APPLE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD) is raw hunger, emptiness, the brutal truth of realizing your hope was just an illusion. it’s about reaching desperately for something beautiful and real, only to realize too late it was never really there.

"i thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag": you mistook ellie's promises, her kisses, her whispered reassurances as something tangible, something true. but in the end, they floated away—empty, weightless, meaningless. the metaphor hits painfully deep because it mirrors your hunger, literally and emotionally. the emptiness left behind by ellie’s absence turned into something physical—starving yourself unintentionally, appetite replaced with heartache.

"i thought he was a man, but he was just a little boy": you thought ellie was steady—strong enough to love you, to choose you—but in the end, she was still that scared, reckless kid. the drugs, the outbursts, the running away… all of it screamed someone who never got to grow up.

when writing, i often portray ellie’s mannerisms—especially in the harder, rawer moments—as childish. not in a mocking way, but in a devastating one. her reactions, her outbursts, the way she shuts down or clings too tightly—they come from a place of arrested growth. like deep down, she’s still that scared, unloved kid who never got the chance to grow up before the world demanded too much from her.

"hunger hurts, but starving works when it costs too much to love": this line is heartbreakingly powerful. the ed worsened as ellie disappeared, your inability to eat mirroring your inability to move forward. pain became comfort, emptiness felt like control, something to hold onto when everything else slipped away.

TRACK O5: SPRING INTO SUMMER

track five — spring into summer — is the dream-state track. the foggy, weightless fantasy where ellie comes back, where love wasn’t lost before it was fully yours. it’s soft. it’s aching. it’s the kind of song that only exists in that cruel half-asleep place between memory and want.

"nobody knows what it's like to be us": that’s the truth at the center of everything. you and ellie were chaos, yes, but you were also real. no one knew what it felt like to share stages and secrets and sleepless nights in hotel rooms. no one knew the inside jokes, the way your bodies curled into each other after shows, the way ellie always grabbed your hand before going on stage like she had to touch you for luck. you were something rare. something nobody else understood.

"i'd never let you leave": she did leave. and maybe that was the right thing, maybe she had to. but in the dream version, the one that plays behind your eyelids when you’re too tired to fight it, she stays. she sees everything clearly this time. she doesn’t run. you don’t wake up empty.

"love you like i mean it just because i can": there’s something gentle here, a kind of tenderness you never got to hold onto when it all crashed down. this line is a fantasy: loving her fully, openly, without the fear. without the addiction. without the press. just love. just because.

this whole track feels like lying in the sun after a brutal winter. it’s not real, but you wish it was.

TRACK 06: FADE INTO YOU

track six — fade into you — is numb. not loud, not desperate—just quiet devastation. the moment when you're so emptied out, all you can do is stare at the person who ruined you and wonder if they ever really saw you at all.

"i look to you and i see nothing": this line is the collapse. the final straw. you loved her so deeply you forgot to protect yourself, and now when you reach for her, there’s nothing left. no light, no promise. just a shell. you look for answers in her face and find a void.

"you live your life, you go in shadows": ellie, with her addictions, her silences, her ghosts. you watched her disappear into herself over and over again. she was there but unreachable. a shadow in the bed next to you, the studio across from you. never fully real. never fully present.

"i wanna hold the hand inside you": this is the most intimate kind of wanting. not lust—not anymore. it’s that terrifying, tender desire to touch the parts of her even she can’t access. the parts she hides. the scared kid under all that bravado. you wanted to love her there. and she never let you.

this track doesn’t cry or scream. it just… aches. like the aftershocks of everything that’s come before. like you're dissolving into her memory, and she never even noticed.

TRACK 07: J'S LULLABY (DARLIN' ID WAIT FOR YOU)

track seven — j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) — is devotion. soft and impossible and unconditional. it’s the vow you made without ever saying it out loud: if ellie asked, you’d wait forever.

"when dividin’ up the universe, you could have mine": a direct, aching mirror to the supernova—ellie where she promised the universe but didn’t stay long enough to give it. here, you’re offering yours without hesitation. if the world had to be split, she could have all the light. you’d sit in the dark if it meant she’d feel warm.

"i’d give you the sun if you asked me": this line feels so young, so wide-eyed in its love. it’s a memory and a wish at the same time. how you used to look at ellie—like she made gravity optional. like she deserved everything. and maybe that was the problem. maybe you gave too much of yourself just trying to get her to stay.

"i’d put the piece in your backyard / in hopes to be enough for you to stay": this is where the heartbreak seeps in. you would’ve built a whole life around her, buried pieces of yourself in the hope she'd finally feel rooted.

this track is all the things you never said when she was here. and now you whisper them into the silence, hoping somehow she’ll hear.

TRACK 08: LOLM. AND OH. WE HAVE TO ANALYSE.

track eight — loml — is the THESIS of the album. in the MIDDLE. the collapse, the clarity, the quiet resignation. it’s everything you never got to say in that green room. it’s what you should’ve screamed when she walked away. it’s what still sits on your chest when you try to sleep.

"we embroidered the memories of the time i was away / stitching, 'we were just kids, babe’”: this is how you both survived it. by romanticizing it. by pretending it wasn’t as messy or painful as it really was. "we were just kids, babe.”

and babe—that was hers. the way ellie always called you babe even when you weren’t really hers, even when it was "fake dating". she said it like a tether. and you held onto it like it meant safety.

"in your suit and tie, in the nick of time": the grammys. self explanatory. the moment everything started being real, when the feelings poured and soaked the both of you. that is the moment with her you cherish the most.

"are they secondhand-embarrassed that i can’t get out of bed?": because the world moved on. the fans stayed entertained. but you—you're still in the wreckage. still in the hoodie she left. still in the ache. still in the bed. you wonder if people are tired of you being sad.

"what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye / the coward claimed he was a lion": the green room. the breakup. that fight. and then she walked out like she was doing you a favor. like she’d decided to let you go, when in reality, she just couldn’t stay. and then trying to be strong for the crowd, to show the part of her everyone wished to see. the lion.

"but i’ve felt a hole like this / never before and ever since": because no one else comes close. no one else makes you feel like she did—high and low, wild and full and wrecked all at once. the hole she left is too specific, too jagged, too hers.

"you’re the loss of my life": not just the love. not just the muse. the loss. because at the end of everything—after the fake dating, the sex, the songs, the drugs, the award shows, the endless nights, the promises—what you’re left with is just that: she’s gone. and she took you with her.

TRACK 09: COOL ABOUT IT.

track nine — cool about it — is to talk. to smile. to pretend you’re okay. it’s playing house with grief. wearing a version of yourself that doesn’t scream when she walks in the room.

“i’ll pretend bein’ with you doesn’t feel like drowning”: this line is the quietest heartbreak. she’s could be sitting across from you, probably with a smile, maybe even sober, maybe even okay. and it still feels like drowning. and you still won’t let it show.

“once, i took your medication to know what it’s like”: this is devastating. because ellie’s addiction shaped everything. and maybe, in the worst moment, you tried to understand. to feel what she felt. and now you carry that knowledge like a curse. like a shared secret she doesn’t even know you have.

“wishin’ you were kind enough to be cruel about it”: because the worst kind of heartbreak is the soft kind. the kind that lingers. that doesn’t come with a slam or a scream or a final blow. ellie left gently. so gently it still confuses you. and you almost wish she’d just break your nose instead. at least then it would make sense.

this song doesn’t cry. it doesn’t rage. it just hurts. quietly. constantly. like her presence. like her absence. like everything that went unsaid.

FOLLOWING IN PT.2 BECAUSE TUMBLR DOESN'T LET ME ADD MORE THAN 30 IMAGES FUUUUUUCKKKKKK

[muletia]

hihi same anon w the starscream cockpit ask and i kinda wanna go off it more bc i cant think normal ab this guy ever (sorry this is a long one T_T <3)

i really liked you bringing up teach him humility in the most nasty, raunchy way. but it got me thinking about the aftermath of those little meetups (if they are js meetups). imagine him js zoning out for the nth time, reminiscing about his rendevous with you until his processor is overheating and his spike is aching for any type of relief.

he goes back to his habsuite and goes straight to trying to relieve the pain. sticking his servo as deep as he can in his valve, his other servo palming his spike just hoping it could bring some semblance to your soft organic hands. he bites his intake and looks at himself in the full-length mirror he obtained (stole) just for this occasion.

it isnt the same. nothing about this is pleasurable to him. its not your hands on him. its not your strap in him. he lets out a frustrating whine, he cant even see his servos through his cockpit. the image of your strap dragging through his cockpit burned into his processor.

looking at his debauched form in the mirror, he groans and tries to drive his servoes deeper into his valve, make the touch on is spike softer. anything to fool his body into think it was you making him melt. but nothing he does is enough to relieve his pain. not deep enough. not soft enough.

he whines again as he realizes he has to wait to meet with you again if he wants the sweet release hes been chasing since he left you. the feeling of an overload edging him.

god you ruined self-servicing for him...

Anon, please, never apologize for your yapping when you're producing gold like this. I love this so much omg

I absolutely adore playing with Starscream this way. Breaking him down to the point where even self-servicing stops bringing him pleasure because he’s strap/cock drunk 24/7. I need him lowkey to show just how badly he craves your strap the next time you meet. How much he needs it just to feel any pleasure from overloading at all.

Arrogant, mighty Starscream, reduced to a pathetic form, begging on his knees just to feel your strap stretch him open again. Whining and crying, and if that’s not enough, spreading his pretty valve lips with digits to prove to you just how desperately he needs you.

And then, finally, that blissful look on his face when he sees your strap thrusting deep inside his cockpit, filling him up until he’s completely devoid of thoughts <3

[ghostgirl-22]

Art deciding he wants to prove he can do more than just hit a ball with a stick so he decides to go to online medical school and hes practicing on patrick, doing all the routine ones,touching each other all over, soft spoken and intimate, putting sticks on their tongue like a slow burn leading up til he has to do a prostate exam, theyre practicing everything on each other. Art cant find pats prostate and he helps him, its all very awkward and sweet, after patrick says he can show art where to find it as he has more experience with men, so he gets art on his back

"This isnt even the correct position patrick" "do you want help or not? Im just showing you where it is"

Theyre so gentle with each other and patrick gently slides his fingers inside art, curling up into his prostate "you see there, you feel that?"

I thank you anon for this prompt. Sorry it took me so long. I took tons of liberties. Rearranged it in my head a lot. Also didn’t proofread much at all. Also it probably gets too into the weeds on the medical office stuff but we have fun 🤗

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

I’m going with Art’s uncle is a urologist and Patrick and Art are staying with him over a college break and he hires both Art and Patrick as “medical assistants” to help him with stuff in his office. So they’re messing around all summer, cleaning the exam rooms in between patients, scheduling appointments. Art is vaguely interested in studying medicine, Patrick is mostly bored by all of it except when they’re messing around with the office tools and Art’s pretending to do exams on Patrick whenever they get a free minute.

It’s oddly erotic. Patrick’s sitting on the exam table swinging his feet while Art tells him to open his mouth, wide, wider. Art’s standing too close, pushing the tongue depressor onto Patrick’s tongue, light shining in Patrick’s mouth. “Can you open wider?” Art whines anxiously, “I think I see something.”

Patrick opens as wide as he can. Art is so close, lips parted, eyes shiny, looking deep into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick squeezes his hands between his thighs. Getting hard for this is so ridiculously and pathetically down bad.

Art pulls the tongue depressor out. “I think you have strep throat,” He says, grinning.

“That’s the third time this week,” Patrick smirks.

Art puts the tongue depressor in his own mouth and starts chewing on it. He does stuff like that all the time. Putting stuff in his mouth after it’s already been in Patrick’s. It makes Patrick crazy. Art rubs Patrick’s knee idly and then picks up the reflex hammer. “Don’t kick me,” he says.

“Don’t hit me then,” Patrick says.

Art ignores him and swings the hammer at Patrick’s knee anyway just to watch him reflexively twitch. “Okay I guess you’re alive,” Art says.

“Is that your final diagnosis?” Patrick pulls at the tongue depressor and Art opens his mouth to let Patrick take it.

Art looks around for the stethoscope. “Better check your heart, just to be sure.”

Art’s uncle takes Art’s med school aspirations much more seriously than Patrick does. “You boys want to sit in on my next patient?” He asks, interrupting them.

“Yes please!” Art says excitedly.

Patrick doesn’t love watching Art’s uncle give prostate exams to a bunch of vaguely homophobic geriatric men but it does help break up the day. The next patient is relatively young though. He looks like he’s not even 40 years old and he’s actually kind of really hot. Patrick’s curious about why someone so young (and hot) would need to see a doctor like this.

“This is my nephew and his friend, he’s premed at Stanford. Do you mind having them sit in?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Yeah, sure,” the guy shrugs and smiles at them, like he could care less. Art’s uncle shuts the door of the exam room and starts asking him questions, and the guy is talking about how he’s afraid his prostate is swollen because of how he’s felt. “I was actually having sex with my boyfriend and he started to get worried because of how large it felt.” The guys says.

Art and Patrick exchange glances. Patrick doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way people will just blurt all their personal information in here. Art’s uncle doesn’t miss a beat though. “Is it painful?” He asks.

“No that’s the thing doc it feels really good, I end up having so many orgasms, once three times in a row,” the guy says. “But I’m just scared that it’s not normal?”

“Well that is normal, prostate stimulation can feel good and does often lead to ejaculation.” Art’s uncle says clinically, he’s distractedly typing away on the computer. “How about frequency? Have you had to pee a lot?”

”Not any more than normal, no.”

“Alright, well lets get it checked out for you. Take down your pants,” Art’s uncle says professionally. Patrick presses his lips together and looks up at the ceiling as the guy starts to undo his pants. He really is too attractive. Patrick knows now he could never do this job, the idea of a really hot guy walking in and not being able to flirt is just devastating to him.

He chances a glance at Art and he’s just watching the patient undress, a little bit of color in his cheeks. Patrick wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s aroused. Or both. Knowing him probably both.

Thankfully Art’s uncle is just talking generally about various conditions that usually don’t affect young men as a distraction so it doesn’t feel awkward in the room. The patient bends over the exam table and Patrick considers bolting from the room but he knows that would make him seem even more awkward. He balances on the balls of his feet hoping there’s no way anyone can tell that he’s got a chubby.

“Yep it feels healthy,” Art’s uncle says as the man sort of moans a bit. Patrick swallows.

“I’m sorry doc,” the patient says quickly.

“It’s no problem, happens all the time,” Art’s uncle says, taking his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Yours is just a little large, but seems to be perfectly healthy and functioning normally.”

”So it’s okay to— that it feels so— so good?”

Art’s uncle just laughs. “Yes, enjoy it,” he says with a wink. “And just come back to see me if there’s ever any pain.” He adds as he washes his hands.

“Oh I will, thank you,” The guy says, letting out a sigh of relief.

”Come on boys, let’s let him get dressed,” Art’s Uncle ushers them out of the room. He goes straight to a hallway computer to continue typing notes. His actual medical assistant is triaging another patient.

Art’s chewing on his bottom lip. Patrick’s trying to recover from the whole… thing. He’s not ever thought of prostates outside of old guys and dumb jokes. Never even considered the idea that it feels that good. The hot guy leaves the exam room a moment later and offers them a warm smile. He then goes to the front to take care of his bill.

“Lighten up boys, there’s all kinds of lifestyles, we don’t judge in here” Art’s uncle says, patting them on the shoulders. “Clean up the exam room and then you can take lunch.”

”Uh okay,” Art says.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, distractedly. They go back in the room and Art tears off the wrinkled exam paper from the bed and pulls some fresh paper down.

“You know what’s crazy?” Patrick asks him.

“What?” Art says, crinkling up the old paper and putting it in the trash.

“I don’t even think I know where my prostate is,” Patrick says.

“You don’t?” Art asks, pulling his gloves off and dropping those in the trash can too.

“No but I mean… could you imagine? Like what that guy was saying. Three times in a row. I could jerk off a thousand hours and never… you know…”

Art laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s um… that’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees. They’re quiet for a minute.

Art takes a breath and then goes to the sink and washes his hands. “Maybe…” he says and then trails off.

”What?” Patrick asks, he picks up the disinfectant cleaner.

“Maybe I could find it for you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”l

“What? I mean— you see how fast my uncle does it? It’s probably easy.”

Patrick laughs.

“Come on, seriously, be my patient,” Art says, determinedly. He pulls on a new pair of gloves. Patrick takes a breath, remembering he’s still mildly aroused but he decides to play along anyway. If Art really wants to be a doctor he’s gonna have to get used to bodies being in all kinds of weird states. That guy had definitely moaned, Patrick hadn’t made that up and he’d definitely almost touched himself because of it.

“Okay Dr. Donaldson,” Patrick says smiling as he starts undoing his slacks. He rubs the outline of his dick idly through his boxers.

Arts chewing on his bottom lip, watching Patrick, his eyes linger on the place where Patrick was rubbing and he shifts on his feet, antsy. “You’re not supposed to be…to be hard,” Art says quietly.

“Sorry, I think that last patient was my type,” Patrick says, smirking and rubbing it one more time just to watch Art squirm.

“That’s so… so beyond fucked up,” Art says, softly.

“Well I didn’t do anything, and whatever just revoke my license then,” Patrick shrugs with a grin.

Art shakes his head, a little smile on his lips. “Be serious okay um—- I think my uncle uses some kinda… this,” Art pumps some liquid out of an industrial container of lubricant. “Okay um… bend over,” he says lightly. But it doesn’t feel light at all. It feels… loaded. Like all the years they’ve spent dancing around a quiet longing are now simmering just below the surface.

Patrick eases his boxers down exposing his ass and he rests his elbows on the exam table. He can hear Art breathing in his ear, this hot feather light sound. He feels the cold, wet of the lubricant and Arts fingers behind the gloves and he shivers. Arts pressing into him. Patrick holds his breath, the intrusion isn’t completely unpleasant. Arts using two fingers, snaking them around.

“Can you feel it?” Art asks, breathlessly.

“I mean, I feel your fingers,” Patrick says, lightly. “Do you feel my prostate?”

“Um…” Arts starts pushing deeper. “Do you know what it feels like?”

“Well no,” Patrick says, “you said you could find it. He’s your uncle. This is your legacy after all.”

“I can find it,” Art says. “But this isn’t my legacy. I want to be a cardiologist.”

“Tomayto, tomahto… oh—wait oh—Art,” Patrick breathes. “What was that—“

“Here?” Art asks, excitedly. And Patrick sees stars for how sensitive it feels.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans as Art rubs his fingertips along it. Patrick’s dick reacts immediately by filling out.

“I wish I could see it, it feels… different…” Arts voice is pitchy. He won’t stop rubbing it.

“Fuck, fuck… Art. Oh my fuck… take it easy, sweetheart,” Patrick gasps.

Art takes a breath and eases his fingers out.

“Shit,” Patrick whispers. “I didn’t mean you had to stop.”

“Patrick,” Art says quietly.

“What?”

“Please, Patrick, can you find mine?” His gaze is dark, his skin flushed and he looks so needy. And yeah… yeah okay. Patrick would probably give him anything right now.

He licks his lips and nods. He’s so horny he’s not exactly clinical about it, doesn’t even bother with the gloves, just wets his fingers as Art presents himself and presses them deep inside the heat of him. Art is clenching around him immediately. Patrick starts scissoring his fingers back and forth listening to the delicate sound of Art catching his breath.

Patrick searches for what he was feeling when Art was doing it and lands on something smooth. He rubs his fingertips along it gently and slowly Art begins to moan.

“That’s it,” Patrick whispers. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?” He pumps his fingers in and out, sliding them along the smooth muscle.

“Oh my god, ohmygod Patrick,” Art cries. He’s pitched so much higher than usual it makes Patrick’s teeth ache. He takes his free hand and starts stroking himself, all the while playing his fingers along Art’s prostate.

“Mm, my god,” Art sighs a litany, lying across the exam table, moaning and pushing back.

He’s so selfish, Patrick thinks, amused. He saw how good it felt and stopped fucking Patrick two strokes in because he just needed to have it for himself. And Patrick’s stomach hurts because he just loves that about him. That and he’s addicted to the way Art’s voice sounds right now… moaning so much that if the rooms aren’t soundproof… which Patrick is almost certain they aren’t…then they’re entirely fucked.

“Oh… oh Patrick I’m fucking…. Oh no… no. Oh shit,” Art cries and then he’s wetting up the table, ribbons of it spilling everywhere while he’s clenching on Patrick fingers, in deliciously tight spasms. “I did it on—I made a— a mess….” he groans breathlessly. Patrick still has his fingers inside because he’s kinda curious if he can make him come again. Art is just shivering for it.

”Patrick,” he whines.

“Yeah?” Patrick breathes. “Just relax, baby. It’s okay. You’re just making me crazy baby. Wanna fuck you.”

”Fuck,” Art groans.

“God. I really wanna fuck you.” Patrick whispers up against his throat. “I just wanna push my dick in here instead and fuck the shit outta you.”

“Oh fuck,” Art cries out again. More starts spilling out of him and Patrick just thinks, fuck it.

He slides his fingers out and Art is leaning heavy on him, pressed up against him with all his weight… he lets out a startled sound when Patrick presses the head of his dick right up against Art’s entrance.

“Patrick, wait,” Art says, a slight tremor in his voice, Patrick kisses the back of his neck and he settles down almost instantly. Patrick presses just a little more and hears the smallest little intake of breath. There’s barely any give there, his fingers are one thing but his dick is…Patrick has to wait for that. Art is so fucking virgin tight it makes Patrick want to scream. He’s had so many dirty dreams about this.

“God Patrick,” Art says, he sounds scared and turned on at the same time. His voice all airy. “You gonna— you wanna— fuck me s-so bad huh?” He whispers, his voice breaking a bit when Patrick presses in just the tiniest bit more. Patrick lifts his hand and realizes, in a detached way that he’s shivering. He starts jerking himself off. Rough and tight into him, while Art is clenching, virgin tight at the head of his dick. He’s not even inside, not even a little bit and they’re both panting like they’re actually fucking. Patrick finishes embarrassingly fast, spilling all over Art’s bottom as Art whimpers.

“Holy shit,” Patrick breathes.

”Mmhm,” Art sighs, contentedly.

”I think your uncle is gonna kill us.”

“Oh no… fuck,” Art whines, suddenly panicked. “We have to… we shouldn’t have fucking done that.”

Patrick grins, slowly pulling his boxers back up. “It was your idea doc.”

“Yeah but— I said I just wanted you to try and find my prostate not—“ he sighs. “Never mind. Help me clean up.”

They get dressed and clean up the mess they made in the exam room. Art’s still a bit of a mess when they leave. His shirt is all wrinkly and his hair is everywhere. Not to mention the way he’s flushed.

They go to his Uncles office and he’s sitting at his desk eating lunch, he takes in the sight of them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey uh— so um— funny story— we were cleaning up and—” Art stammers.

His uncle raises a hand interrupting him. “I’m not one to judge,” his uncle says, his eyes crinkling with mild amusement. “But next time at least wait for me to close the office first.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Art says weakly.

“Don’t worry about it. No damage done this time. We had the last patient at least two exam rooms away. Didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Patrick says. “I was so scared everyone could hear him.”

Art glares at him and he shrugs.

“So I’m guessing you found it then?” Art’s Uncle asks.

“Uh, found what sir?” Art asks.

He shrugs. “The prostate. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

And Patrick can’t help it. He just starts laughing.

(I ask that y’all forgive any ethics violations against poor Mr.hottie patient. Whose only crime was being hot in front of Artrick with a sexy medical problem. No I don’t generally think medical problems are sexy. I also don’t condone fucking during office hours. Even if your uncle owns the place and you’re not a “real” employee. Especially then. Also now that I’m aware Patrick’s doing the sweetheart thing I’m doubling down 🙂‍↕️)

[carisisrolledupsleeves]

i come to you hands clasped begging… i’m kind of desperate for a sonny x reader where the reader is a bit of a party girl and goody two shoes sonny falls for her after seeing her in a club dancing, he introduces himself to her and spends a while trying to win her over and she relents and they go on a date. one date turns into many and reader is mocking sonny for being a bit of a square like are you sure you can handle me cos i am a lot x sonny may be a dork on the streets but proves he can handle reader in the sheets if you know what i’m saying… welcome to my island remix by charli xcx is what has provoked these thoughts and also proved i can make ANYTHING about sonny carisi

well my dear anon, i hope you are happy with the result, i hope i did a good job with your request / under a read more because i got a little carried away oops

disclaimer: yeah, its smut okay. no, it hasnt been proof-read, english isnt my first language bla bla, we're just gonna raw it (pun intended)

Welcome to my Island

All night you could feel his eyes on you. His gaze had followed you as you made your way to the dancefloor and was fixed on you as you moved to the music; your heartbeat taking on the fast rhythm of the song as you smiled to yourself. Usually you would have ignored any man on a night out with your girlfriends. Always the same greedy, sleazy look on their faces, unable to hide their intentions. But he was different. It didn’t feel dirty, it didn’t feel as though he was already undressing you in his mind. Instead, it felt like a quiet fascination, and deep down it had made you wonder why on earth a guy like that would look at you with such interest. Something beyond the usual attention a hunter shows for its prey. 

It had encouraged you more than you would admit just yet. You amped up your moves, let them become more suggestive, just to coax a reaction out of him. Sure enough, as you tossed your hair back over your shoulder you found his eyes had averted, and he was biting his lip in an attempt to hide a shy smile. Oh, what a wicked game you had started. 

He seemed so out of place, almost like his friends had dragged him here by force. You decided to give it time, wait until he had a few more beers in him; you could sense he needed a bit more courage. And then finally, after what felt like a hundred stolen glances later, he made his way over to the bar where you were waiting for your next cocktail. 

‘Hi.’ he just says and you immediately notice how intensely blue his eyes are. 

‘Hi.’ you reply with a smirk, turning towards him as you lean against the bar, new drink in your hand. 

‘I’m Sonny.’ 

You burst out laughing and feel bad for it instantly. You can’t help it though, he is almost begging to be teased. 

‘Sonny? What kinda name is that?’ you ask and he buries his hands inside his jeans pockets. Ohhh. You got him. 

‘Well, it’s not my actual name, it’s just wha-’

‘Well, what’s your actual name then? Because I’m not calling you Sonny, Sonny.’ you wink at him, twirling your tongue around the straw and even in the dim lights you can see his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. How cute. 

‘Dominick.’ he answers.

‘Dominick? And why the hell would you have a sexy name like that but introduce yourself as Sonny? Well, nevermind. Dominick. Nice to meet you, Dominick.’ you over-emphasize his name, making it sound as naughty as you can and he blushes again before swallowing hard. 

In that moment you knew, and boy, did he know as well. He was going to lose this game. 

—--

Despite being a wild card, you weren’t into one night stands. And as much as you liked to tease and flirt, especially with him, it wasn’t your thing to take a guy home on the first night. Besides, it was way too much fun to see how far you could take this. Make him lose his mind, make him drop that goodie goodie thing he had going that might have worked with your Italian grandma but not with you. You really made him work hard for it before you agreed but you enjoyed those first few dates; he was a gentleman with manners you weren’t used to. Holding the door open for you, pulling out the chair, picking up the bill every time (which you hated), and walking you to your apartment but never even hinting at wanting to be invited up. Not even a kiss on the cheek when the truth was, you had pictured his face between your legs from the second you had laid eyes on him. Oh how handsome he was, and everything he did he did with such intensity, such intention. It made him even more attractive. You were dying to be touched by him with the same intensity, with the same intention. 

You tried your hardest. Every trick in the book. You wore your sexiest outfits, made the raunchiest comments, teased him relentlessly, got so close to him you could feel the heat radiating off of him and made sure he felt yours. All you got in return were those shy smiles, the flushed cheeks, and Dominick stumbling over his words like a little boy. Naturally you started wondering. He was obviously attracted to you. You knew he was catholic, you both were. Raised in big Italian families. But he didn’t strike you as someone who wanted to wait until marriage. 

—--

It’s your 7th date and you take him to a party one of your friends is hosting. It’s a warm summer evening and he looks so sexy in his light gray button down shirt, the bit of chest hair peeking out driving you absolutely insane. Is he unaware of the way he affects you or is he just playing dumb, you have no idea. It puts you in a mood, that sexually frustrated kind of mood. You decide to do your own thing, leave him stranded for a bit. Why should you not have fun just because he’s being a total square? Dominick watches you intently, just like he had been the night you met but you ignore him. It isn’t until you almost stumble over him sitting alone on the stairs as you make your way down from the rooftop that you finally acknowledge him again. Feeling kind of guilty but still frustrated. 

‘What is your deal?’ you ask him. 

‘What do you mean?’ he asks back.

‘If you can’t handle me then you should have never asked me on a date. I only said yes because you’re cute and I thought you’d loosen up a bit. Why pursue me if you’re scared of a girl like me?’ you cross your arms and expect him to get up and leave. 

Dominick remains quiet for a while. And now you’re the one who turns around to leave but he catches your hand and pulls you toward him, to your surprise. 

‘You think I can’t handle you? You know what I think? I think you can’t handle someone having real and true feelings for you. You can’t handle me being a nice guy. Treating you with the respect and affection you deserve. I think you’ve gotten so used to losers who only want the one thing from you that you can’t handle someone wanting more.’  

His words hit you like a brick. You know he is right. You know you can’t say anything in response because he hit the nail on the head. A snarky retort, maybe teasing him some more? It would all be useless. There’s this glint in his eyes now, one you haven’t seen before. It was always you, having the upper hand, having him wrapped around your finger, making him blush, making him stutter. But you can see it now. The mischief behind his soft, earnest eyes. Dominick’s played the game as well, leading you on, giving you the false impression that you are in control. The truth is obvious now, as you melt in his arms like putty. He pulls you closer, tighter, his lips on yours all of a sudden, eagerly. 

All you can do is nod and mumble a dazed ‘Mmhmm’ when he goes ‘Let’s get outta here’ and you cling to him all the way to the subway, barely aware as the train starts and stops moving until you get off at his stop. He more or less drags you along, pausing only to kiss you whenever you mutter his name needingly. Shit, you know it’s over for you. 

The second the door closes he has you pinned against it, kissing you again with such a force, it feels almost primal. You can’t say or do anything but hold on to him, letting him take over. The plans, the ideas you had for this moment, all gone out the window. It’s ironic how all you wanted was to seduce him, blow his mind in every possible way so he would forget his own name (Sonny, Dominick, whatever) and yet here you are, helpless as his large hands roam over your body while he’s kissing you roughly. Do what you want to me, with me, I don’t care. 

You whimper as Dominick’s mouth leaves yours and wanders to your neck, biting there, your fingers already digging into his back at the sheer pleasure of his assaults. Damn, I should have known. Good catholic boys are always freaks deep down. You giggle and his head shoots up, eyes boring into yours.

‘What’s so funny?’ Dominick asks, his voice somehow sounding stern but playful at the same time.

You hold his gaze, trying to catch your breath but you fail. His hand is on your thigh, moving under your dress until his fingers are tracing along the outline of your panties, slowly yet deliberately. 

‘I asked, what’s so funny?’ he repeats, touching you just inches away from your already damp center. 

‘The way I thought you couldn’t handle me.’ You are the one sounding shy now, like a little girl.

‘Babe, you have no idea. I’m gonna handle you all night. Over and over again. You think I didn’t keep score of all that teasing?’ he growls, his fingertips now ever so slightly sneaking under the fabric of your thong brushing over the soft skin there. 

Fuck. Oh my fucking fuck. You nearly pass out as he kisses you again. You press your body against his, moaning as you feel his erection, oh my God. There’s nothing you want more than to have him inside of you, and you squirm at the thought of it, knowing he will keep you waiting for as long as possible. 

‘Please, please.’ you beg but it’s useless. 

He shakes his head, instead picking you up and carrying you over to his kitchen island where he sits you down, his hands once again reaching under your dress to pull your underwear off with one adept motion. 

‘Let’s see just how wet you are for me, darlin’’ his fingers find your folds, making you shutter and you meet his eyes, the bright blue now darkened with lust.

Dominick spreads your slick all over his fingers before thrusting them into you, his thumb beginning to circle your clit harshly as you grasp his shoulder, your head falling back from the intensity of his touch.  

‘Fuuuuck, Dominick!’ you moan, feeling the muscles in his arm tense as he expertly curls his fingers inside of you.

There’s no slow climb. It’s a rapid ascent, straight to heaven. Within seconds. You stare into his eyes, and all this time you wanted to unleash him, he has now come and unleashed you in a way you didn’t think was possible. You can feel yourself tighten around his fingers, ready to burst but he withdraws just before you can topple over. 

‘What? No, please!’ you protest.

‘Shhhh.’ he covers your mouth with his hand softly, parting your lips with his fingers covered in your juices. 

You open your mouth and suck them in, tasting yourself, and he keeps them there as his face disappears between your legs. You lick his fingers as he starts to eat your pussy, his tongue stroking through your folds as you feel his free hand spread you open to get better access to your pulsing clit.

‘I can’t! FUCK!’ you have to stop yourself from biting down on his fingers, sucking them into your mouth again instead, making him moan and bury his face even deeper inside your cunt. 

He’s so good at this, so so good. 

‘You are so fucking delicious.’ Dominick dips his tongue into you, turning you into an even bigger mess. 

You come hard, and he keeps you in place with his strong arms as you shake and twitch, a deep and feral moan escapes your lips as he catches your wet release in his mouth, licking it all up. He sucks on your swollen nub, making you shudder again before you even come down from your climax, and your hand flies into his hair, pulling, as you press yourself against him. 

‘Almost couldn’t handle that, huh?’ he grins smugly and you want to curse him out, want to tell him to shut the fuck up but he grabs your hips and picks you up again, and you are limp from your orgasm in his arms. 

‘Ugh, I just want you inside of me.’ you kiss his neck; that exquisite, long neck, as he carries you toward his bedroom. 

‘Is that all you want?’ Dominick asks. He knows he has you exactly where he wanted you, after weeks of trying to break down your walls. 

‘No. You know it’s not.’ as soon as you’re on the bed you’re trying to distract him by unzipping his jeans but he catches your hands in his.

‘Do I? I wanna hear you say it though.’

There really is no point. You know there isn’t. You are both vulnerable now, anything goes. 

He frees himself of his clothes and you immediately want to touch him everywhere. Oh, he is so fine. 

‘I want you. I want all of you. I want us. Forever. Always. I wanna be yours, all yours. And I want you to be mine, all mine.’ you press your face into his chest and breathe him in, that heavenly scent you had imagined all over you for weeks now. 

‘Well, I’m all yours, baby. I have been since that night at the club. You were so naughty. But I was up for the challenge.’ He kisses you again fiercely and then with one swift motion he is kneeling between your thighs, his hands grabbing your waist with such strength and determination, and his hard cock just inches away from your pussy. 

His hand brushes over your slit, and you watch as he covers himself in your slick with a few strokes of his dick; fuck, he really knows what he’s doing, and it makes your brain short-circuit. 

‘So you’re mine, huh? All mine?’ Dominick teases and you nod, swallowing hard. 

He splits you open with his tip, making you whine before he slams into you and you almost choke on your own moan. Big and hard and throbbing inside of you. Good Lord, he fills you up perfectly. Dominick gasps as he watches himself getting sucked inside your wet little hole, cursing under his breath as he feels you tighten around him already. 

‘Fuck, you feel good wrapped around me like that. How did I manage to wait that long?’

‘I don’t know but you better give it to me every day from now on.’ you wrap your legs around him, digging your heels into his lower back as he starts moving with a smile on his face. 

‘You won’t have to ask, honey. I won’t ever get enough of you.’ he licks his lips, looking down at you in the most obscene way that gives you the most obscene thoughts. 

You really had been fooled by his good boy act.

Dominick is hitting your gspot so skillfully at this angle, fucking into you deeply, dragging along your walls that are still so sensitive after your first orgasm. It won’t take long until the next, not if he keeps this up. It’s almost too much. The way he looks at you with furrowed brows, as if your pleasure is all he wants to focus on. Your back arches as one of his hands leaves your waist to graze upwards to cup your breast, down over your hip and thigh. His soft touch is such a contrast to the firm hold and hard thrusts he administers. Then his hand travels further until his fingers find your clit once more, your eyes rolling back as he adds yet another sensation to your body again. How could you have ever underestimated him like this? When no man could ever make you feel like this before? There’s this knot in your stomach, making it harder to breathe, and it has nothing to do with your approaching climax. 

‘Need you closer.’ you almost cry out, surprised at the desperation in your own voice. 

Dominick obliges, leaning down to kiss you, his whole body covering yours and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. You press yourself against him as his movements slow down a bit, and nothing has ever felt as intimate. Your hands wander, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he rolls his hips against yours; long, slow, deep thrusts that make you see stars. His hot breath is on your skin as he nibs on your jaw.

‘You make me delirious.’ he whispers, his voice shaky with abandon. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, needy for the friction and he gets the hint, picking up the pace again. He’s as close as you are, you can tell by the way you feel his muscles tense.

‘Fill me up, Dominick.’ you purr into his ear and your hands wander down to his ass while you squeeze him inside of you. 

He growls, grabbing you again, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you’re sure he’s leaving you with bruises. The thought of having his marks all over you, his cum inside of you; yes when you said you wanted all of him you really meant it. And you bliss out just as you feel him pumping his hot seed, your name leaving his mouth in a sinful moan. Fuck, you’ve never come so hard in your life. It’s earth-shattering; you convulse so violently you’re surprised he’s still able to pound into you. Dominick hisses as you scratch at his skin, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. 

‘That’s right, sweetheart. That’s right. Let it out. You’re so fucking sexy when you come.’ Dominick breathes, his fingers finding your clit to send another wave through you making you cry out. 

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. 

And truthfully, you have no idea how much time passes. He’s still on top of you, he’s still inside of you, and you don’t want him to move either. You want to drink in his scent, that intoxicating scent now mixed with the smell of sex which makes it even more intoxicating. You want him to imprint on your body and soul, you want to forever feel his skin against yours. Damn him for making you feel this way. 

‘I hate you.’ you joke, nudging his cheek with your nose and he looks at you with a smug smile on his face because he knows you mean the opposite. 

‘I love you.’ Dominick replies, for the both of you, sending your head spinning once again. 

[nothomegal]

Mmm, this isnt a fic request (or maybe yes) but i NEED for reader to break and finally give in for their cuddle session with Danny, oh! And finally start to fall in love with him

Aww you're right anon! I guess it's only the matter of time for the reader to eventually give in and accept the weird ghost guy that keeps sneaking into their life (and house).

And I know it took me way too long to do your request, I apologize for the wait, had some trouble writing this since I never liked how it turned out -.-' Luckily though, I think I finally got something decent!

"Favorite person"

(Ghostface x GN Reader)

Summary: everyone has a limit, and unfortunately today is the day you reached yours as life wasn't all too kind to you for the last 24 hours... But hey, at least your dear intruder has your back, so not everything is that bad! Right, doll?

Warnings: mild example of unhealthy and obsessive behavior, the rest it's all fluff.

Word count: 2.2k

The grip around (Y/N) remained tight. The intruder kept holding their tied form closely in complete silence, something very out of his character.

But such oddness didn’t come from nowhere, and (Y/N) was the one who indirectly caused it. Today was probably the worst day of their life, everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. It's honestly incredible they still had the emotional strength to return home without bursting into tears on their way.

They’re not quite sure how or when they fell asleep, their mind been a mush of blur since they entered their home. All they can remember is waking up already laying in bed with their arms tied behind their back and their body pressed against the chest of the masked man, the same one that would often come to mess with them.

Sometimes he would reveal himself willingly and others just stay in the shadows and observe them from afar or straight from the corner while they’re in a deep sleep.

This night however, apart from tying their hands, he haven't done anything from his previous visits. No cheeky remarks about anything specific they did that day, no rants about some random topic and no attempts to scare or tease them... Heck, he didn't even run his hand through their hair or body. Absolutely no additional touches beside holding them close.

This really threw (Y/N) off. Ghostface, who's been a huge pain for them, the authorities and basically everyone in the town, was... Acting so thoughtful, nothing like the selfish villain he's been portraying himself as for the past numerous nights.

It's not the first time he hugs and holds them in his arms, he's actually super touchy with them and never fails to express his amusement of how helpless they always look. But now?... Now it doesn't feel like any of his shenanigans, but a genuine attempt to comfort them while not pushing too much, though the effectiveness of said attempt remains questionable.

Their thoughts and wonders were interrupted when they feel movement and then something grab their chin to then gently move their head up until they're face to face with that unsettling mask that resembled a ghost.

—“Feeling better?"—

They don't make a sound, quite the opposite, they press their lips in a thin line as they stare into the dark eyes of his mask.

—"If I take off the tape, will you talk to me?"—

Their body tensed at such question. Is he... Is he actually going to?...

—"Of course as long as you don't try anything funny... But you know better."— he leans closer to your face. —"Right, (Y/N)?"—

They gulp nervously, but Ghostface is right, they do know better than to gamble with their luck. Besides, they have no energy to fight or struggle anyways, so of course they'll play along... For now, at least.

With a more defeated look, they slowly nod.

The man releases a pleased hum and without a warning yanks the tape off of their moth, making them yelp from the pain and surprise.

—“There you go, hope it didn’t hurt too much.”— he snorts at your cringed expression.

—“It… It did… A bit.”— you mutter quietly. —“But not as much as a stab would…”—

The killer paused at the sound of their voice, but the calm was short as out the sudden he grabbed them by the chin again and squeezed their face a bit.

—"Aww, look, your first words.”— he remarks playfully before tilting his head. —“Well? Isn’t it just sweet to finally be able to talk, hmm?”—

(Y/N) remains quiet for a couple of seconds, unsure if they should speak again or not. But when It became clear that the interaction wouldn't progress without their contribution, they force themselves to talk.

—"I… Y-Yeah… It is nice."— you answer while studying his masked face. —"But… Please, don’t get too mad at me for replying slow... I'm not used to talk to... Killers, after all. {Or people in general...}”—

—"...Mad? At you? Oh silly..."—

His head then straightened and he squeezed their face a bit tighter.

—"You're so comically shy that I wish I could just cut you up and pull out some confidence out of your body."— he says in a playful tone, though it sounded way more sinister than intended. —"But it's not that you aren't good at speaking, it's the people you call 'friends' that made you believe that..."—

His tone then became significantly colder at the last part, which made (Y/N) tense and go quiet. But despite the dread, they couldn't help but agree with the killer, their friends indeed aren't as good as they thought.

It's another of the many bad things that happened to them today. They weren't supposed to discover it, they just got in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up overhearing the few people they thought they were close with talk about them. Nasty comment after comment, disgust and disrespect lingering in their tones as they said their name between insults and cruel jokes…

They didn't even bother to listen to the end of the conversation, they just fled the scene and did their best to not cry until they arrived home. And in the entire day, in this whole period of time they looked so pathetic and miserable, none of their other ‘friends’ bothered to see if they're alright or help with any other issue. Absolutely no one took a moment to even say 'hello', and that made (Y/N) feel the loneliest, like they're just a ghost in other people's life, being acknowledged only when they announce their presence.

They get pulled back to reality when the hand lets go of their face and their body is pressed closer to the masked man, making the embrace feel more intimate.

—"...Sorry I can't take the angst as easily as I take people out."— he mutters, his hand slowly traveling up and down your head. —"But I can prevent said angst in the future. These assholes will not disturb you again, I made sure they won't..."— his grip tightens, turning almost possessive.

A shiver traveled down their spine at his words.

They should be afraid, panic that this stranger so deliberately admitted of harming, and most likely murdering, their friends like it’s the most mundane thing to do. They definitely should at least freak out or give any other kind of distressed reaction, they should… But they don’t.

To be completely honest, they weren't even upset at what Ghostface did. After today's interaction their view on his character changed quite drastically. Though he still had that playful and cocky behavior, they now know that whenever he says or shows them care... It's genuine, or so they think. Could this be a trick to make them let their guard down? Definitely. Does it make sense? Uh... Not really, but this man likes to do odd things to throw off any bystander with his shenanigans.

But even if their strange relationship is just a game to him, then damn he's good at it. They almost feel like them matter, like they can be loved and it's just bad luck people around them can't see or appreciate them... Unfortunately though... They know it's not true, it can't be true, they're too pathetic for that, so much that even a psycho killer had pity over them to pretend-

A surprised gasp escaped (Y/N) when their body was suddenly flipped and tackled against the mattress, with Ghostface now looming over them.

They didn't even need to see his face to know what type of expression he had, the atmosphere was all it took to know he was upset.

—"I am not pleased with how you keep viewing yourself, (Y/N)."— he finally says after a pause. —"And I am certainly pissed that you're doing it around me."—

All (Y/N) could do is stare at the ghastly mask in dead silence. Despite having their mouth untapped, they couldn't bring themselves to make a sound, as if paralyzed from fear and anticipation of what he would do if they happen to upset him more.

When the killer began to lean down lowly, they held their breath by instinct.

—"I'll say this one time, and you better not force me to repeat it."— he said in a low and slow tone. —"You are my favorite person in this whole cursed world. And I swear if you dare to think badly about yourself again, I'll fucking stab you."—

He pauses, either letting his words sink in or re-evaluating what he just said or is about to say.

After not coming to a clear conclusion, he sighs with mild frustration.

—"I... Look. I'm aware of my reputation and the image you have of me. And though I do like to amuse myself with these visits of mine, not ones I did it to mess with you, not in the way you think..."—

He pauses again, the eyes of his mask staring directly into theirs, either studying their expression or thinking.

—"I wanted to end you ones..."—

As he speaks again in a lower voice as he extends his hand, aiming for their neck.

—"...But I don’t want it anymore."—

The hand was drastically redirected towards their face, covering their eyes in a quick movement. Whatever sound of surprise or confusion (Y/N) was about to make is shushed when something soft and warm was pressed against their lips, the sensation sending shivers through their body.

—"{Or ever again.}"—

That's all they heard before their eyes were uncovered and Ghostface plopped on the mattress right next to them, his head placed on his hand as he waits for their reaction.

(Y/N) can only cluelessly blink while staring at the ceiling, wondering if the warm sensation they just felt on their lips was actually Ghostface-...

Their face starts to get progressively redder as the realization kicks in. My god. Ghostface, from all people, actually!-

Their head snaps at his direction when that famous deep raspy chuckle left him, clearly entertained by the fifty shades of red their face is going through.

—"What? Never had a kiss stolen before?"— he teases.

—"I- Uh... No. Not really..."— you answer as you look away, face even redder.

—"Good, all for me then."—

Now it's (Y/N) who lets out a snort, finding his behavior silly yet quite charming. Huh, strange how quickly they moved on, the previous dread and fear they felt when he pinned them was now like a long forgotten dream...

Is the famous Stockholm syndrome affecting them already? Why are they suddenly so okay with his presence? Even when knowing about his mood swings they can't shake off this strange sensation of comfort...

Is it because his actions and intentions are now confirmed to be genuine? Because he really seems to like and cherish their company? Cherish them?...

...

...You know?

Fuck everything.

They're too tired for this 'BS' about morality and shit. It will be a tomorrow problem to overthink, now they should just give in and take this night to relax and... Well, maybe even put into use this little freedom of speech they got and actually chat to the man, maybe even get to know more about him.

They look at killer again, the dark eyes of his mask still fixated on their form as he observes them in silence, almost like he's looking at a piece of art rather than another person.

—"So... Are you going to stay here all night?"— you finally ask.

He's silent for a little while.

—"You want me to?"—

—"Kinda. You... You're not too bad of a company, I guess."— you shoot him a timid smile. —"And even if I didn't I doubt you would've leave."—

He lets out a snort at their last comment and then lies down, a bit closer to them.

—"You're right, you're now haunted by me either you want it or not."—

There is a small pause between them, both just laying and looking at each other, a strange atmosphere of calm now lingered in the room, making this moment feel oddly right.

Out of the sudden, they feel a pair of arms snake around their form and bring them ones again into that warm and intimate hug. And this time, they welcome the gesture by snuggling closer to the man and letting out a content sigh.

—"So."— he then says as he tilts his head to look at you, now in his arms. —"What's your favorite scary movie? I never got an answer to this question."—

—"Huh? Aren't you supposed to know that?"— you arch your brow. —"Y'know cuz of the whole stalker thing and all..."—

—"Yes, but want to hear you tell me that. I just really like the sound of your voice."—

They can feel their cheeks warm up, and they can't avoid to get even shyer when the man chuckles at their expression.

—"W-Well... I have a couple."—

At first they sounded awkward while speaking, as if expecting him to interrupt them or laugh at their preferences. Nevertheless, he never made a sound and seemed to pay close attention to what they're saying, sometimes even asking more things about the movies when given the opportunity. Overall, Ghostface is a very nice guy to talk about any kind of nerdy horror stuff!

At some point, they even forgot that the man holding them was a serial murder. It actually felt like talking to an old dear friend rather than a criminal.

And as they talk through the night, (Y/N) finally understands why Ghostface always became so touchy and clingy whenever he had a bad day.

Cuddles and rants indeed help, especially if done with your favorite person.

And though they're certain he's not one yet... Just by seeing how the night progresses.

They wouldn't be too surprised if he somehow sneaks his way into such spot.

[that-hippie-user]

you know, it sometimes shocks some of my subs the dedication i put into what i do. like... i legitimately put passion and fervor into unpotty training folks with legit hypnosis. i miss NO opportunity to rope someone in if i can.

but then... why? i mean, this is a fetish right? is it that important?

YES.

folks, you cannot comprehend how much i care about this.

you, all of you, anyone who has considered falling under my spell and losing your ability to hold it, every single mushtush in my lovely "Cult of Stardust" as i call it, be they openly so or stealthwise, ALL of you are making important steps in your lives!

why? because you are giving yourselves permission to explore something no one else has the guts to. you looked at potty training and thought "i never asked for this!" and instead of tucking that desire down deep with shame or holding back for fear of the consequences, you reached out either through anon asks or open ones, for MY input on if you should.

do you comprehend how brave that is? YOU are seeking a life of diaper dependence because the warmth, safety, nostalgia, comfort, and arousal you feel to diapers is just THAT powerful.

and sweethearts, if you're brave enough to consider that, imagine what ELSE you can do?

questioning gender? fuck it, try hormones! more cute clothing options right? wanna learn a hobby? sure! you'll suck at it to start with, but maybe pretending its arts and crafts will motivate you to learn! write a book? why not! you can do so without distractions now. coming out as queer to your friends and family? why not? subtlety is for cowards and YOU arent a coward, the stink and crinkle in your pants proves as much.

seriously, you are considering taking the plunge into a life like NOTHING you've ever done before. and do you think that's wrong? of course not! it's your life! but you might hesitate regardless, right?

hell, you probably harbored shame about this stuff for a while, right? so that probably means you expect me to like, i dunno, warn you? say that its risky? maybe laugh cuz you joined me in my obsession?

I WEAR DIAPEES FOR MY OWN ENJOYMENT JUST LIKE YOU DO, WHY WOULD I EVER JUDGE????

in fact, i choose to do PRECISELY THE OPPOSITE.

because if i dont? you might miss out. you might miss out on a fun new adventure in your life, and a new avenue of happiness. you might bury yourself deeper in that closet and spend more days unhappy because YOUR dreams arent fulfilled!

does that really sound so crazy? do you think wanting diaper dependance is silly? no. you are pursuing a happiness that only you and folks like you can understand, opening yourself up to being weird and different because you understand on some level that those are GOOD things to be.

and you're coming to me, someone who has been where you've been, and asking my input.

and i will ALWAYS work as hard as i fucking can to make sure that YOU make the choice that YOU wanna make.

this could be HUGE for your character arc, you think im gonna miss my chance to help you achieve that?

no. i do my part, i preach my gospel of crinkles, and to all the folks who want it i help them partake in the bliss of fully accepting yourself.

this MATTERS to me, this isnt a fetish, this is a way of life for me. and im tired of pretending it isnt.

i LOVE who i am... dont you wanna do the same for yourself?

[mythicmanuscripts]

Sensitive!Jace is canon to me now!

Could you write something about edging him? I feel like he would be really into it to prolong the high as much as possible before having to come down, but he'd also be so impatient about it like begging and tearing up a bit because he wants to finish yk?

That + some teasing like asking him what he wants even though he can barely form coherent sentences, let alone make up his mind

Amazing idea anon!! I absolutely love this idea oh my god. I also love how we're all obsessed with sensitive!Jace, it is cannon to me too now.

Anyway, soft, NSFW sub!Jace below the cut!!

I've discussed this with other asks before but it definitely bares repeating: Jace would have discovered edging on his own and not even know what it was? He just knows that it feels so good and if he stops before he cums then he doesn't get that horrific comedown afterwards. However, it was also playing with fire because if he did cum it would be so much more intense and he'd be left panting and crying for over an hour afterwards. He also had to be careful because any stimulation soon after that at all could make him cum and send him spiralling.

(Sidenote: I'm now picturing a situation where Jace edges himself before the wedding because he's far too horny to do nothing. When he stops for the last time, he just lays there for a while trying to make sure he doesn't accidentally cum. But then he gets out of bed to change into sleep-clothes and while he's doing this, his shirt grazes his cock and then next thing he knows he's collapsing on the floor and cumming so hard he can't even get up for a while. Maybe after this he panics and goes to you? Or even calls a servant to fetch you and you find him on the floor, still unable to get up? Just a thought lads... Anyway back to the actual ask!!)

It takes Jace a few months to admit he likes that, and I think maybe it only gets admitted when you two are talking? You're laying in bed with him, with Jace on his side to face you.

You're discussing how you can help him better after he cums and so you ask him what he used to do when he touched himself, and that's when he blushes deep red and tells you about how he used to touch himself and then stop before he came.

Immediately you ask if that's something he'd be interested in doing with you, where you edge him. He's nodding pretty much instantly, and then burying his head in your shoulder because he's gotten all flustered. You chuckle and wrap your arm around him, turning onto your back and taking you with him so that he's on top of you.

You ask him again, and he just whines and stays where he is, clearly embarrassed and very very flustered. You've been with him for long enough now that you know as much as he gets all blushy and squirmy, he absolutely LOVES being lovingly teased like that. He feels so nice and warm.

You feel him nod against your neck, and then you feel more than hear him mumble something. You ask him to repeat himself, and whines again before lifting his head just enough to say, "Would be nice, as long... you'll be there after, right?"

Which, you'd die for him actually.

You give him a little squeeze and turn you head to kiss his cheek, "Of course," you tell him, kissing his cheek again before saying, "Always, I'd never make you recover alone, you know that."

You can feel him smile against your neck, and you slip your hand under his shirt to run your nails up and down his back. You feel the way his entire body shivers and he relaxes into you, letting you rub his back. Jace just... absolutely loves being petted? Laying in bed with you and letting you love on him.

Pretty soon you feel he's starting to get hard, which isnt at all surprising considering what you had been discussing and how you're gently scratching his back.

"Wanna give it a try?" you ask him, kissing his cheek when he lifts his head up.

You feel him nod against your neck, and also feel that he's starting to rock his hips to get some friction. As much as you want to just turn him over and play with him, you also want to tease him a little because he's clearly all soft and flustered and in the perfect headspace for it.

You tell him if he wants it then he has to ask for it, and he immediately whines and tries to hid in your neck, grinding down against the bed harder. You give the hair at the nape of his neck a light tug and ask the question again. He tries his best to answer you, but he also can barely form sentences.

He slips into subspace so easily. He's all warm and safe in bed with you, feeling your hands all over, knowing you'll make him feel amazing. He lifts his head and looks up at you and you see that teary look in his eyes that lets you know he's floating.

You flip him over then, and start playing with him. He's so sweet, squirming and whimpering as you palm him through his underclothes. When you remove his clothes, he’s rock hard.

You settle between his thighs, gently stroking his cock before taking him in your mouth until he’s crying out and saying he’s close. He’s so pretty, tears streaming down his face as he begs and pleads, but he’s also thanking you the whole way because it feels so so good.

He keeps on begging to cum but then thanking you every time you edge him because it prolongs the pleasure and it feels amazing.

When you finally give him permission to cum, he actually tells you to stop. You’re confused, and obviously you pull away immediately and ask what’s wrong.

It takes him a few minutes to stop crying enough to speak and then he asks you to come sit up the top of the bed with him. You ask what he means and he blushes and whines and then eventually says, “Wanna, wanna be held when I cum. Please?”

There’s no way in hell you’re denying that request so you quickly shuffle up the bed and pull him close. You wrap your arm around his shoulder to keep him close and then lift his one leg up and hook it over your lap so you have full access to stroke him.

He cums like that, crying out and burying his head in your shoulder. He’s so sweet, shaking and whining. The moment it’s over you quickly remove your hand. You know how sensitive Jace is at the best of times and now that you’ve edged him you’re sure it’s even worse.

He ends up curled up sideways on your lap, his entire body shaking. You just rub his back and kiss his neck, whispering praise into his ear. He eventually just collapses against you, not an ounce of tension anywhere in his body as he just breathes deep.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks up at you with this lazy smile and it’s just so so clear that he’s so happy?? Yeah he’s sensitive and definitely vulnerable, but he’s in bed with you, in your arms, he knows he’ll be just fine.