#actually a semi decent show

[bakedbakermom]

"jealousy is just a trick you play on yourself" is way too raw a line to come from a preschooler cartoon but here we are

#spirit rangers #actually a semi decent show #developed by a team of indigenous artists and storytellers #and not as annoying as other kids shows

[crazy-walls]

finally managed to take a semi decent pic so sneak peek at my current book nook + flowers in progress

#my acrylic paints are so shiny/reflective that the backgound rarely shows up even semi decently in photos #the sunbeams aren't quite this visible now that they're dried which is a good thing imo ^^ #also it took like 7 layers of alcohol markers & acrylic paint to get the flowers from yellow to a pink that actually fits the other pink #they turned out real cute though imo #not visible here at all: the soft golden shimmer in the wood on the ground and on the door and in the sunbeams/rest of the background #also this is a rather late sneak peek but it has been in the barely discernible/kinda ugly stage for a while now so i didn't wanna take pics #pretty happy how the paint job of the lil wooden door turned out though! #i just really hope the trees i made will actually get some nice bits of green on them that won't fall off - it's supposed to be spring #so only a little bit of green should do #and they'll be in front of the background anyway #miniature #book nook #my art #probably a terrible time to post again but eh

[rebelfell]

actor!steve x assistant!reader x rockstar!eddie

cw: fingering (fem receiving), semi-public. 18+, MDNI 1k

The Vanity Fair party…it haunts me…

“She looks so pretty tonight. Doesn’t she, Ed?”

Steve’s hot breath hit the shell of your ear as he held you pinned against him. His body pressed so firmly into your back you could feel every button on his dark gold shirt, every shiny stone on the chain that hung around his neck, every strand of dense chest hair that peeked out from beneath his collar. His hands squeezed tight around your waist to hold you still, his hips moving in a filthy grind in time with the bass music making the floor vibrate beneath your feet.

Shivers ran rampant over you as stubble rasped against the nape of your neck, his voice as rough and coarse as the scruff that dusted his jaw.

In front of you, Eddie’s teeth tugged on his plush bottom lip as he bit back a lustful smile seeing you squirm in your formal wear.

“Oh, yeah, Stevie. Just gorgeous…” 

Eddie hummed to himself as his eyes roved over you and his knuckles traced the neckline of your gown, making your skin fizz like the champagne flowing freely in the next room.

One of his chunky silver rings flicked your nipple that stood rigid behind the sparkly stretch fabric, earning him a sharp inhale from you that had his eyes lifting to meet your gaze

They danced with pure mischief, rich brown irises all inky darkness in the low light.

The slinky black dress Steve had picked out and left for you in your hotel room still felt more like a costume compared to what you typically wore running around the city doing his errands. It was simple, not remotely as ornate or elegant as the custom-made designer ones being photographed by hundreds of paparazzi tonight.

Still, the material draped nicely around your body and the slit that ran up one side showed off a decent amount of leg. The salacious cut initially made you balk, but you found you rather liked it after all—especially now as it granted Eddie’s hand access to your bare skin, the soft pads of his fingertips slowly running up your thigh until he reached your hip and groaned as he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

All night you’d been running around in a near constant panic, just trying to navigate the event without getting in anyone’s way. And all your efforts had led you here, tucked into some dark corner between your boss and his best friend.

The heat of their bodies encasing yours and the mixture of their colognes in your nose made you lightheaded in the best possible way. Your chest heaved as you inhaled deeply, trying to keep your wits about you as it was so easy to lose them when it came to these particular men. 

This was hardly your first time messing around with them, but their intensity never failed to steal your breath. It had been such a long night already, and it seemed it only would be getting longer.

Only Eddie had actually attended the ceremony. Corroded Coffin had been nominated (again) for the work they did on a score, just to lose (again) to whatever summer blockbuster had swept all the awards. He would have blown it off entirely except this year he’d also been drafted to do a surprise guitar solo during Ryan Gosling’s performance of “I’m Just Ken.”

It was already trending everywhere, everyone calling it the highlight of the night. Just another day in the life of the legendary frontman.

Steve, as usual, just showed up to the afterparty with his hairy tits out to do some brief and semi-chaotic interviews while you dutifully shuffled along behind him with the rest of the assistants and publicists. Except when they were dismissed for the evening, their jobs done for the night, you found yourself being dragged from the crowd to some isolated corner of the vast venue.

“Thought I’d never get my hands on you,” he’d groaned, sounding practically feral in your ear. “Can’t wait to get this dress off you…maybe I should just tear it in half, huh?”

He grinned into your throat as he kissed his way down your neck and then back up to your lips, his teeth nipping lightly at your skin as he went. His mouth slid all and fast and rough against yours, like he was trying to mess up your lipstick.

You’d joked to him once that it was “fuck-proof” and he’d apparently taken that as a challenge.

That was how Eddie found the two of you when he grew bored of the party—hidden away in the far corner, your fingers all twisted up in Steve’s messy hair, his hands rucking up your skirt as he palmed your ass only to grip your waist and spin you around when he saw Eddie was watching.

The sight of him in his Tom Ford suit, a slimmer and sleeker cut than Steve’s slouchy seventies get-up, made your chest swell and your heart pound as he strode forward to cage you in between he and Steve’s bodies.

“She’s been working so hard all night,” Steve tutted as he took your earlobe between his teeth and raked them across the soft flesh. “I’d say she deserves a break, wouldn’t you?”

“Definitely,” Eddie groaned, his hand now fully beneath your dress, his fingers expertly dancing across the crease of your thigh until they found the warmth and wetness he sought.

You couldn’t help but gasp as Steve’s hands snaked around to press against your stomach, feeling how it quivered under his splayed palms as he gave a short thrust of his hips. Eddie’s nose brushed your cheek, his face getting as close to yours as he could without it actually touching it, your breaths mixing as his lips hovered in the space a kiss would occupy.

Legs like jelly nearly gave out beneath you, body held up only by Steve’s grasp as Eddie’s fingers slipped inside of you, fitting there like it was the only place they were ever meant to be.

Music that boomed over the speakers and the sounds of the crowd thankfully drowned out the moan you released from deep in your chest, your hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of Eddie’s suit and knocking diamond brooch pinned there to the floor. His lips were at your ear now, more shivers still rippling down your spine.

“Careful with the merchandise, sweetheart” he whispered, a coy smile curling across his lips. He leaned in closer, his cock now pressing insistently into your hip while Steve’s own was digging harder into the plushness of your ass.

“Yes, s-sir,” you whimpered and instantly let your hands fall to your sides.

“You better have them pull the car around, Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his face etched with a need that matched your own, his fingers reaching deeper inside of you, curling up to find that spot that had your knees buckling while his thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit.

“How’s that sound, honey?” Steve asked, his deep voice all warm and husky in your other ear. “That what you want? Are you ready for us?”

“God, yes—” you answered through your fog, lost in the sensations of their distinctive touch.

“Perfect.” Eddie smirked. “Time to take you to Paris, sweetheart.”

#if you think it looks longer now no it doesn't #that's what he said #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steddie x you #steddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

#Karl Heisenberg #Ethan Winters #RE meta #winterberg #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #RE assets #not to soapbox but that's also why the popularity of AO3's 'soft' Heisenberg tag makes me roll my eyes so hard #this dude is 'soft' like a fencepost to the gut

[tenseoyong]

Give It A Try | e. m

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

virgin!reader, sex toys + lube, implied previous drug use, praise, very little verbal dominance, probably over use of “princess”, squirting, some hair pulling

requests are open

“What is it?” You eyed the box nervously.

“Open it, then you’ll know.” Eddie shrugged, sat beside the suspicious package on his bed,relaxed against the mattress while you hovered in the middle of his room. “C’mon, it’s not that bad, princess, I promise.”

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Eddie to bestow you a gift or two. Though, usually, you could see what was coming your way immediately, it was hardly ever hidden. Like Eddie appearing with an already rolled joint to share “free of charge, for my girl”. Or a set of dice he’d managed to find at the bottom of his drawers to include you in one of his DnD campaigns. Or even showing up with a fist full of flowers he’d obviously ripped from some upper class person’s lawn. 

But, the semi-neatly wrapped box was a strange sight. Especially, the pink colored paper and matching bow, that looked so out of place in Eddie’s messy, darker room.

Plus, the mischievous glint in Eddie’s warm eyes made you all the more suspicious. 

“C’mere, baby, s’not scary, I swear.” Sensing you weren’t too convinced yet, Eddie threw his ring-clad hand out towards you, for you to take. “We’ll open it together, then, yeah? Don’t you trust me?”

Even though he used a mocking tone, and you knew he wasn’t serious, Eddie questioning your trust in him made your lip quiver ever so slightly; and you placed your hand in his larger, warmer one and allowed him to pull you towards him until you were situated on his lap, sat sideways and faced with the box again. 

Of course, you trusted Eddie. With your whole heart, actually. He’d never done a single thing to make your safety with him in the year or so you’d known him, or the barely two months you’d been officially-unofficially seeing each other. He wasn’t at all the scary and intimidating man your peers, friends, and even parents thought Eddie to be. He’d never made fun of you, or teased you anything beyond a light hearted joke between the two of you—he hadn’t even looked down on you or laughed when you shyly admitted to being not only a virgin, but embarrassingly inexperienced—haven’t even had your first kiss prior to Eddie. 

How could you not place your trust in him?

In truth, that embarrassing admission had Eddie rather excited. The idea of being your first everything—from kissing, to dates, to anything and everything sexual—had the most degenerate parts of his brain racing. Since then, Eddie has taken great care to be slow in his advances, carefully exposing you to new and intriguing forms of romance all while soaking up every sweet, innocent, virginal reaction you’d given him.

And, he was more than excited to join you on another new experience. 

Still hesitant, you eyed Eddie’s failed attempt at hiding his glee and grasped the box, bring it towards you. Curiously, you shook it, hearing its context shuffle around a bit. The sound alone wasn’t enough to make a good guess, but it did have a decent bit of weight, not that that fact helped you either. 

“Well, if it had been alive, it’s not now.” Eddie snorted, one hand smoothing over your back patiently, trying to relax you a bit. “Go on, open it.”

The casual change of tone sent a small shiver down your back, no doubt felt by Eddie as his grin grew just a bit—that subtle shift of dominance always rocked you to your core, and now was no different. You bit your lip and shuffled in Eddie’s lap, pinching the soft ribbon between your thumb and pointer finger—and pulled. 

The ribbon fell away easily, floating to rest on your lap as you focused on the wrapping paper next. Taking care to not just rip it apart and make a mess, you peeled the tape holding the edges together, fidgeting under Eddie’s intense gaze. Fold by fold, the paper too, fell away, pushed off the side of the bed and forgotten by Eddie while you held the now bare box. Only a cardboard lid separating you, from his present. 

You held your breath, and inched the lid off the box, blinking longer than necessary to avoid looking inside. 

Eddie pinched your side.

You jolted against him.

Eyes popping open and finally seeing. 

Oh.

“What’dya think, princess?” Eddie’s whisper is hot against your ear. Your throat dry, feeling like sand paper as you swallow back a surprised noise. “D’you like it?”

It wasn’t what you expected. Though, how could you have begun to suspect it?

A relatively small, flesh colored dildo sat in the box you clutched like it was your lifeline. 

Oh.

“I don't—well, I think—um—it’s, uh, nice?” You stumbled, all while Eddie’s amusement was obvious. Your flushed face, and sudden stutter, unsure how to respond to such a gift, was the highlight of Eddie’s day, let alone week. “Th-thank you, Eddie?”

“You’re welcome, princess.” Eddie hummed against your hair. “Why don’t you take a closer look? Pick it up.”

Fumbling over the command, your shaky hand curled around the cool silicone, dropping the box it once laid in over the side of the bed so it too could join the rest of the chaos of Eddie’s bedroom floor. The toy felt odd, and foreign as you turned it over in your hands, quietly inspecting it—somehow firm and soft at the same time—the rubber only having enough give to squish in a small bit before the firm middle held firm. Mock balls at the base, along with a suction cup bottom. And a bright, nearly cherry red, mushroom tip. 

While your focus was on your new and intriguing toy, Eddie supposed this wasn’t far off from torture—watching you experimentally squeezing and caressing the fake cock, all while his own was beginning to stir in his pants. Your weight on his lap didn’t help any, either. 

“I want you to do somethin’ for me,” Eddie swallowed, unable to tear his eyes from your hands wrapped around the toy. “D’you think you can do it for me, princess?” “What is it?” You asked, barely above a whisper. Twisting in his lap, you didn’t miss the low hiss Eddie let out when you wiggled around on his crotch. Feeling the growing bulge beneath you had your body warming from head to toe. 

“I need you—t’fuck yourself with your new toy.”

Shoving his hands beneath your thighs, Eddie all but folded your knees into your chest as he held you until he could scoot back on his mattress until his back hit the wall, manhandling you until you laid against his chest, legs thrown over either side of Eddie’s lap; your legs spread, skirt doing a terrible job at keeping your decency covered. 

Even in the privacy of Eddie’s room, you couldn’t fight the flush in your cheeks and you instinctively went to knock your knees together, pulling at your skirt hem before Eddie gripped your wrist, “Don’t cover yourself, s’ok, baby. Lemme, just, play with you a bit, ok?”

This wasn’t entirely uncharted territory, not anymore.

Eddie was taking his time with you, pacing himself before doing a little more, going a little further each time. Trying to ease his sweet, innocent, virgin princess into his world without scaring or hurting you. It was only a couple weeks ago that he’d decided you were ready for a little over-the-panty touches, guiding you to grind into his denim-covered thigh in the back of his van, and finishing with experimentally sinking two fingers into your warm heat. You’d been startled—and impossible tight—and Eddie took note of the surprised and not at all pleased sound you’d made that day and knew it was going to take a lot of work to get you ready to actually take his cock one day.

So, he’d start again, exactly where he’d left off those weeks ago.

Eddie’s hand dipped below your skirt, hidden from either of yours’ view and seemed to just ghost over your pussy. Tickling you, more than touching, yet you reacted all the same. The soft sign, a small buck of your hips before you settled again. The second stroke, Eddie laid on a more firm touch—the soft fabric of your panties being the only barrier keeping two of Eddie’s fingers from actually plunging into your core—instead making him brush his fingers past your already leaking hole, feeling your plush lips before pressing harshly against your clit. 

You jumped, nearly knocking the back of your head into Eddie’s jaw, all while he laughed. “Still so sensitive, aren’t’ya?”

Digging your nails into the rubber still clutched in your hand, you teethed your bottom lip and nodded, “Feels good, Eds...”

“Good, that’s good,” Eddie whispered, voice so much lower and gravely, heavy with lust. He continued stroking your cunt through your panties, savoring every whimper and offering his own quiet groans with each shift of your ass against his cock. “S’good, my good girl, now, I’m gonna take your panties off, ok?”

“Okay, Eds...”

His hands curled around your thighs again, encouraging you to put your feet on his thighs to lift yourself, giving Eddie room to yank your panties down to your knees. You turned to bury your face against Eddie’s warm neck, and gave an embarrassed whimper at how the cotton clung to your wet cunt, having to literally be peeled away. 

“Now that’s a sight,” Eddie whistled, “Barely even touched you, an’ you’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“Eddie, don't be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean, princess,” Eddie promised. “It’s a good thing. Gonna make the next step easier.”

You’d need it, anyways, with what Eddie had planned. Although, he did plan for the event you wouldn’t be wet enough, and with one hand he blindly reached for the half used bottle of lube he kept wedged between his mattress and the box spring. With his experience hands, Eddie managed to pop the lid with one hand, while grabbing your wrist, pulling your hand—and the toy—to the side, and more in his view so he could drizzle a generous amount of lube onto the silicon. 

“Now, rub it in.” Eddie demanded, releasing your wrist and collecting another glob of lube onto two fingers, that quickly disappeared between your legs again and painting the slippery liquid across your cunt, mixing it with your own arousal. “Get it nice’n’wet for me, princess.”

You obeyed, smoothing your palm from the base to tip of the dildo, slicking up its length.

Eddie thought the way your nose scrunched, displeased with the sticky liquid, was adorable. But you listened to him, regardless. And that, deserved a reward. 

With the aid of your arousal and lube mixture, it couldn’t have been easier to slip two fingers into your throbbing core; Eddie waited, not moving an inch when he felt you tense—probably remembering the last time he’d tried fingering you—but with the lube, the slight stretch was barely noticed. With your pleased whimper sounding as loud as his amps as you moaned against his ear, Eddie was more than happy to take that as a sign. 

Eddie immediately began curling his fingers, stroking your inner walls while searching for that magic button within you. Enjoying every shriek of pleasure you gave, Eddie huffed a small laugh. thumbing at your clit. 

“D-don’t laugh at me...” You whined, teething at the skin of his throat. 

“’m not laughing at you, princess, I’m happy,” Eddie swore, feeling your pussy clench around his fingers at your favorite pet name. “Fuck—just happy, you’re doing so well for me—taking my fingers so well. Gonna make you cum, then you’re gonna take that toy just as good as you’re taking me, right, baby?”

Eddie’s voice, rumbling deep in his chest and vibrating against your back. His fingers buried in your cunt, he was ridiculously quick to abuse your g-spot the second he felt the tip of his fingers brushing the soft nerves inside you. 

It was all too much, way too fast. 

“Oh god—” You breathed out, sloppily trying to thrust your hips in time with his fingers.

Eddie’s lips pressed against your temple, “Feel good, princess? You like my fingers? Hm? Feel me, deep in your sweet, little pussy?”

A strangled moan, and your ass grinding back against his bulge was the only reply you could manage.

“If you like this,” Eddie mused, “Just wait until I’m actually fucking you—I think you’d be dick drunk so quickly—you won’t know what to do when you’re not under me, being stretched open, fucked out...”

It was almost amusing, watching you cum. He’d always figured you’d be a loud, sputtering mess. Eddie was surprised, how quiet it actually was. The only real sign, the way your pussy suddenly tightened, spasming around his fingers while you tossed your head back against his shoulder—a final gasp before your mouth fell open in a silent cry, legs twitching as a fresh gush of liquid met Eddie’s fingers. 

Eddie continued to gently finger you through your high. Slowing his pace until you fully relaxed against him; withdrawing his fingers with an audible squelch.

You wrinkled your nose against when Eddie used the same hand covered in lube and your cum to slick your hair back from your sweaty forehead before curling it around your jaw, tilting your face so he could claim your lips. Smothering you in a sloppy, heat filled kiss. 

“How d’you feel, princess? Feel as good as you looked?” Eddie panted against your lips, giving your bottom lip a teasing nip. “Looked like somethin’ out a damned porno, pretty little thing...”

“Feels amazing,” Your throat was dry as a desert, all your open mouthed panting didn’t help you any. Regardless, the smile you gave Eddie, could have lit up the night sky as far as he was concerned. “C-can we do it again?”

Eddie snorted.

“Again? Already? I can tell you’re going to be insatiable, but—” Eddie smirked, and smoothed his right hand down your arm until his palm enveloped your hand, that still clutched your new toy so hard your knuckles were turning white. “I think it’s time for this.”

Eddie led both your hands back to your core, and guided you to rub the tip of the dildo against your opening.

You jumped, still so sensitive from recently cuming. Eddie’s left hand curled around your hip, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“Just breathe, princess.” Eddie told you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip as he encouraged you to put a small amount of pressure at the end of the dildo. The mushroom head disappearing between your puffy lips. He wanted for you to suck in a chest full of air, before pressing on.

With some effort, Eddie could quite literally feel the pop! of the head slipping through your tight opening for the first time. Coupled with the sharp cry you gave, your free hand clutching at his arm, Eddie was sure he was close to just busting in his pants. 

But tonight wasn’t about him, Eddie had to take care of you first. 

“Good girl,” He cooed, “How’s that feel?” “Tight.” You whined, fighting to wiggle against the odd feeling. “I don-I don't know how to say it, just feels...tight.”

“Tight is okay,” Eddie nodded, feeling the shake in your hand and made sure to keep your hold steady, as to not move the toy again before you were ready. “But it doesn't hurt, right?”

You shook your head. 

“Good, good, that's what I need’a hear.” Eddie smiled. “D’you think you can take some more for me?”

With another lung full of air, you nodded, “Yeah, I can do it, Eds.”

Eddie continued to guide your hand, feeling your fingers clenching the silicon, digging your nails into it as he eased more of the dildo inside you. Every inch that disappeared inside, Eddie pulled it back out slightly, reciting the rubber in your fluids before easing it further. 

Your moans, strained and breathy, filled the air again. Eddie continued to whisper small praises and encouragements in your ear. 

Finally, Eddie had the base, and your joined hands, pressed against your core; every inch of the silicon now hidden within you. He let you get used to the feeling, getting accustom to the length splitting you open that, hopefully, would soon be replaced with Eddie’s actual cock. 

All of a sudden, Eddie knocked your hand off the dildo and took complete control. No longer trapped, you let yourself reach back, loosely twisting your fingers in Eddie’s wild hair. 

Now, Eddie began the real fun. Fully withdrawing the dildo until only the tip was resting inside you, he still so carefully thrusted it back in. 

You moaned together—you, at the dildo bottoming out once again, and Eddie, from your fingers twisting in his hair yanking at the pressure in your core. 

Your hips rolled experimentally, moving in time with Eddie’s thrusts.

“Just imagine,” Eddie said, “How good it’s going to feel when I’m the one filling this pretty pussy. Warm, soft—not like this cold, hard, rubber—I’ll be the real deal.”

Another yank on his hair had Eddie hissing, softly grinding into your ass as best as he could from his position underneath you. “You like that, right? Want it to be me inside you right now, don’t you? I don’t think you’ll ever use this thing again after me.”

“Please,” You begged, choking on your moan when Eddie started setting a new pace, quickly pulling the dildo from your body only to force it back inside you. You could feel and hear the slap the fake balls made against your weeping core. 

“What, princess? Are you close, already?”

“It just—I—it feels s’good—I feel weir—dont stop!” 

“I’m not stopping, angel, don’t worry.” Eddie’s grip on your hip tightened, attempting to push and pull your body—desperate for some form of release—he half-rocked you against his bulge while half-pushing your body in time with the dildo pushing back into your aching cunt. 

The small amount of pleasure on his hand almost had him rolling his eyes back into his head, but Eddie would rather die than miss any second of this—of you—the way your stomach clenched, Eddie was certain your pussy was doing the same and he yearned to be inside you to feel it instead of this toy. 

Eddie wrapped one arm around your waist, trying to stabilize you as your back arched against him. Your hips bucking wildly as a new, blinding heat spread through you as a cord you’d never felt before curled around itself before suddenly snapping—a quite literal flood gate bursting in you. 

Collapsing back against Eddie’s chest, your heavy breathing the only thing you could hear over the ringing in your ears as Eddie slowly pulled the soaked toy from your used core, dropping it against his mattress. He instantly missed your quiet whimpers and breathless moans but that was immediately overshadowed, absolute awe painting across his face, “Holy fuck.”

Blinking through the aftershock, you became aware of the mass amount of wetness beneath you.

Your panties, pushed down to your knees, see-through. 

Thighs so wet, you looked as if you’d just come from a shower. Eddie’s black pants somehow a shade darker, completely wet from the waist to his knees. 

Eddie’s hand literally dripping with your release. 

"Jesus, fuck—” Eddie swore. His eyes darted all over—from his fingers, to your fucked out pussy, to you—who had pulled the neckline of your shirt over your chin in an attempt to hide from his eyes. “That was—princess, you just squirted--that-that was so fucking hot.”

“H-hot?” You gasped, looking from your mess to Eddie’s glazed over eyes. “That was hot?”

“Princess, you can’t imagine how hard I am right now.” Eddie sucked in a shaky breath through clenched teeth. “Can’t wait for next time, I’m gonna make you squirt just like that—but on my cock, instead.” 

aka how those stains got on his bed

#stranger things #Eddie Munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things scenario #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson scenario #x reader

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete.  He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite. 

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you.  You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights.  You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away.  After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone.  After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.  

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself.  It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay.  You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand.  “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them.  They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted.  “I haven’t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said.  “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered.  “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual.  This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.  

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself.  Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band.  The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls.  Screaming, desperate girls.  Shit, who is this guy?  You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head.  Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face.  That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not… 

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble.  Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts.  “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically.  “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around.  Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it.  But was he too good for you now?  He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing.  He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star.  He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them.  You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been.  It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip.  Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great!  We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you.  You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second.  It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach.  This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here.  Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right?  He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago.  But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that.  It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set.  Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him.  In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him.  Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment.  "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile.  "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now.  If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically.  But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh?  That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times.  “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album?  I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you.  Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic.  Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious.  “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone.  It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away.  “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself.  Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom.  Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly. 

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself.  “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush.  “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes.  You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed.  “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history.  Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded.  “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again.  “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze.  “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze.  He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful.  You knew the feeling well.  “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.  

“Uh— hey!  There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed.  “Will you girls go cheer him up?  He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time.  You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead.  Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them.  “Fuck,” you whined.  “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first.  “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright.  He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred.  The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie.  I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed.  “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning.  "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one.  All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him.  “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled.  "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night.  You even let me come in you, you remember that?  So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second.  "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down.  "Guess I did.  You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back.  “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred.  "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control.  But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly.  “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements.  “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth.  “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted.  “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay?  Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.  

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.  

He laughed as he shook his head.  “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck.  “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper.  “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter.  “No, I like you best like this— here, with me.  Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again. 

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful.  Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted.  “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so.  “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob.  “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him.  “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed.  “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way.  In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again.  “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised.  “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt.  You whined as your legs quivered.  "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily.  "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.  

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed.  “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained.  “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly.  His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional.  "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady.  “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I?  M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you.  Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.” 

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually.  “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door.  “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit.  “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back.  “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed.  “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck.  “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.  

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied.  You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving.  "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you.  I worshiped you.  And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours.  I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly.  "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years.  "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted.  "You know how good we are together.  You know I'll always love you.  C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked.  "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool.  "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you.  "I don't want anyone else.  You don't need anyone else.  No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull?  Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe.  It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again.  "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you. 

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before.  “I will,” you promised.  

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you.  The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew.  “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again.  “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show.  Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly.  And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie.  Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that!  You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve.  "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead.  “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be.  “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer.  "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed.  You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained.  "An old friend of mine.  You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited.  I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd.  "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument.  “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion.  You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was.  You didn't think you got nervous anymore.  "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him.  The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone.  Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek.  "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered.  "Believe it or not, I tried.  But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider.  "I love you too," he returned.  "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit.  "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever.  You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger.  Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again.  "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy.  Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

[weebsinstash]

I was cleaning my room and I developed a hyper specific thirst for "your red string of fate soulmate uses The String to basically track you down and invite themselves into your apartment and start going through all your things"

I've just, been having my mind run amok with different ideas for Hazbin characters 💀 Vox wants to go through all your tech and your video games, Velvette and Valentino poke through your closet and your skincare, Alastor... he's just fucking judgy about almost everything lmao

They go to open a specific drawer without asking and you're all but BLOCKING THAT SHIT WITH YOUR BODY because Oh My God They Absolutelt Cannot Find Out That That's Your Sex Toy Drawer. And they find out anyways. Just. mortifying. That's too personal man I would die 💀 like I'm sorry can you imagine something just real uh large rolls out and like you've got VALENTINO just looming at you like "giiiiiiiiiiiiiirl---" cause like. Ok guess that solves the question of if you can fit him djggnjffkffjfjf

But it could also be cute! They see so many things around your room that they do enjoy!! Alastor sees that despite being modern, you listen to music that's from all genres including big bands and old jazz and, even your tastes in more modern music tend to be things similar from your childhood. Vox sees that you have like, figurines and anime merch and games he plays too! Velvette sees that you might dress in a way she considers uh ugly maybe just because you're broke as fuck and have been paying for all of your bills but maybe just maybe you like to draw and she can't help but notice the clothing in your drawings are nice and stylish. Valentino.... I dunno man he's kind of a jerk but I think he'd think it's cute when you get happy and excitedly show him things and maybe he even, idk,the yandereness turns him into a semi decent person and he's actually listening to everything you say even if he doesn't understand it because you're just so cute

Also regarding these guys going through your room I feel like it depends on what kind of story you're going for but if they're not being bullying and sadistic they're probably being nosey and infantilizing so like. You would think it would be horrible for Valentino to find your sex toys or lingerie right? Right! But he'll also notice a LACK of those things so there's no winning!!!! He'll tease you for keeping a vibrator wand in your bedside table and if he DOESNT find any fake dicks he'll tease you about being pent up and ask if "Daddy needs to take you to his favorite toy shop" or something 💀💀💀💀

I'm just saying like. Any which way, it's a scenario for a yandere to come into your life and react with either "oh cool, look how much we have in common! This is just further proof we belong together :)" OR "oh wow, you're not what I expected at all, but I love you so don't worry, I promise I'm not gonna abandon you and I'll just put in the work to change you until you better suit my own personal tastes but trust me you being a brat and resisting is also extremely adorable and I love that too :)"

#i havent posted shiiiiit but ivw been having alastor ideas out the ass #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #hh #sinprompts

[1800titz]

Pornstar!Harry/Tiger doing more than one collab with Y/N/Little Bird.

One in a dressing room, the angle being her on her knees, batting her lashes up at the lens all pretty with her wet hands curled over his shaft and her mouth bobbing over him sloppily. Everybody watching can see the way his ring-clad digits sink into her roots and pet at her scalp, the way his abdomen tenses as her palms twist, the way he shushes her and coos quietly when her hands fall away. The way he coaxes her to deepthroat every bit of him, the way she tries hard to stifle her gags. Nobody sees the way he’d ushered her behind the curtain before the camera began rolling, though, the both of them muzzling mischievous giggles under the sounds of clothes ruffling as she’d sunk to her knees. Nobody sees what happens after he thumbs over the LED screen and toggles the video off, after the last shot where she displays a mouthful of cum, mascara milliseconds from smearing, sticking her tongue out to show off the pool of white he’s left there. Nobody sees the way he drags the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip as she swallows, or the way she smushes the side of her face to his thigh after, or the way he caresses his palm through her hair and grazes over her cheekbone in praise, still catching his breath but trying to keep the over-exerted panting subtle.

Or the one they shot in the car, parked off some road in an empty parking lot in broad daylight, the phone set up on the dash and her legs slung over his thighs in the backseat. It’s the one where she’s angled to face the camera so the sight of her pussy swallowing up his cock is in perfect view, and she’s all spread out, bouncing over his lap, tummy flexing and face painted with euphoria. That’s the one where he helps hold her up as he fucks into her, his own neck strained on view for the camera and his fingertips indenting dimples into her flesh as he pants and groans against her ear. Everybody watching can see that, too. They can see the way her thighs tremble helplessly, the way his curls jolt and his jaw clenches, the way she whines all high, screwing her eyes shut when he gets her to cum over him. The shot of his cum dripping out of her cunt and back over his cock on the last few thrusts. Everybody sees the way they’re glowing and giggly and spent when they’re done, the way her hair is a mussed mess over her forehead as she clambers off of him in the cramped space, the way he blows out a breath, expression easy-going and blissed out as he reaches for the phone. But nobody sees that he holds her for a bit in the backseat when the camera goes off, the way he helps her get at least semi-decent and back into some sort of cover up. The way his fingers brush hers when they drive back, the way one of his hands rests on the wheel and the way the other settles on her thigh.

Or there’s the one where they fuck in the shower — his hands roaming her slick skin before he bends her over against the tile and tucks into her, fucking in at a merciless pace. His curls are doused from the showerhead, and water drips off the tips of his swinging ringlets. One hand works between her shaky thighs, pinching and rolling circles over her clit, and the other snakes its way over her jaw, his digits wriggling into her parted, hungry mouth to keep her stuffed full of him. Nobody sees the way he actually helps her wash off after, the way his hands trail and linger over her body in a less carnal way, the way he helps massage shampoo against her scalp or the way she gets suds on his chin, laughing. No one sees the way his own plush mouth gets mirthy in response or the way he smears bubbly soap over her neck in revenge.

#tiger things #pornstar!harry #pornstar!au #just a little concept :d

[suzukiblu]

Ask game: alien

"He showed me some stuff from Krypton," Superboy says, and that grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his grin widens. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

#tim drake #kon el #timkon #dc robin #superboy #young justice #powersandplanetaries #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[depravitycentral]

Haikyuu Dick Headcannons, Pt. 2

Ft. the Shiratorizawa men: Wakatoshi Ushijima, Eita Semi, Satori Tendou, Kenjirou Shirabu, Tsutomu Goshiki

Tw: implied yandere, masturbation, excessive talk of cum, spitting, facials, implied breeding, pubic hair, oversensitivity, fem reader, MDNI

Because I've sort of been neglecting my followers who came for Haikyuu content, here you are! Hopefully this will tide you over for a while <3

He’s easily six inches, and thick. It resembles the cock of a porn star; every virgin’s nightmare, with a few veins puffing out and a defined, swollen mushroom tip that always just barely slips inside you with a soft pop!Maintenance isn’t too big of a concern for him - he doesn’t really trim, instead preferring to just let it all grow wild but shower frequently to minimize any sort of odor. He doesn’t really like the way he looks shaven, not totally understanding why he should bother, because it’s natural and it’s his body. He doesn’t expect you to shave either, and will in fact question you relentlessly if you do. He’s decently sensitive, mostly because he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience - both with other people and with himself. He doesn’t jerk off much, and as a result he always lets out these slight, barely-there gasps when you touch him. He likes when you pay attention to his slit, especially if you dip your tongue against it, and his hips always jerk forward, cock pushing into your mouth and nearly choking you because it just happens so fast and forcefully – he doesn’t mean to do it, he just can’t help it. (He’ll always cup your cheek afterwards, his voice strained as he asks you if you’re okay, and he’ll promise to be gentle moving forward – which lasts right up until you pay attention to his slit again, and the cycle continues.) His balls are also pretty sensitive, and actually likes it when you go a bit rough on them – squeeze hard, and he’ll groan your name and shut his eyes tightly, brows scrunching together and his knuckles turning white as he clenches his fists.

His cum is thick, and always warm – warm enough to be considered hot, really. It smears across your skin really easily when you try to wipe at it, leaving a film that can only be removed with cold water and soap, but it’s not too big of a deal because he doesn’t produce too much of it. He shoots moderately far, and he’s only able to conjure up a good three or four spurts before he’s spent. This makes cleanup pretty straight forward because although he likes seeing you with his cum on your face, he wants to be able to kiss you and trace your lips, and he’d rather clean up the mess first and then press you up against his chest to sleep. He prefers to come inside you, and will actually have to be persuaded and explicitly asked before sex if you want him to come somewhere else – it just feels more natural to finish inside you, especially because he tends to lose all self-control once he sinks inside you. (He also likes to stare once he’s pulled out, watching how some of it oozes out and dribbles down your ass cheeks, and will often reach down to stuff it back inside, getting it all over his fingers and spreading them lightly to see the way tendrils of it stick together. He’ll even show you, telling you that he wants you to keep it all inside, where it belongs.) When he’s coming he’ll always make eye contact with you, unwavering even as his hips jerk and spasm, even if he’s groaning and his arms are giving out. He likes the intimacy of eye contact and will sometimes even lightly grasp your chin and force you to look at him while he fucks you. He’s a groaner, for the most part, the sound low and rumbly, but when he gets close the groans becomes more like moans, a little higher and a little more upturned at the ends, the pleasure starting to bleed into every part of him.

His favorite way for you to touch him is just a simple, straight-forward handjob. Because he’s not that familiar with jerking himself off, there’s still a bit of thrill when you wrap your hand around his girth, your fingers barely meeting around the sheer size of him. Plus, it feels better when you do it – his own fist doesn’t rub against him the same way yours does, and he doesn’t get as sensitive with his own touch as yours – he’s told you that you jerk him off better than he can, and he means it. He likes when you go slow, flicking your wrist as you near his tip, keeping a steady, consistent rhythm and letting the dull pleasure build. He’ll keep his eyes fixed on you, watching your face and staring at your body, not saying much as you slowly work him closer and closer, simply content to just observe you as you pleasure him. He likes the intimacy of the moment, how you’re taking care of him and willing to spend so long just to make him feel good (it’s really not that long – six or seven minutes, maximum). It makes him feel special, and he’ll always end up thrusting back against your hand, getting himself just that tiny bit deeper, adding a tiny bit more friction, feeling just a tiny bit better knowing that he’s essentially fucking your hand. Reach down and play with his balls as you stroke him – lightly tug at them, rolling them between your fingers and squeezing. You’ll feel him throb in your hands, this vulnerable, genuine gasp falling from his lips, and although he’s not particularly vocal, he likes it when you are. He wants you to narrate to him what you’re doing, telling him how you’re feeling, even when he’s the one receiving the pleasure. It doesn’t have to be much – just a simple you’re so big, ‘Toshi making him bite his lip, defined abs contracting and trembling as he lets a rushed coming, just enough warning for you to prepare as ropes of warm, sticky cum shoot out, landing all over your hand and coating you in white. He wants you to lick the cum off your fingers one by one, slowly and not breaking eye contact, but he’s too shy to tell you, instead content with seeing it all over your skin. He just likes how sweet the moment is, and although he’ll immediately return the favor by settling his face between your legs for however long you’d like him to, he comes best when you’re touching him in simple, genuine ways. (And, when you’re looking at him and playing with his balls. That certainly doesn’t hurt.)

He’s thoroughly average – five inches, average girth, average sensitivity, just a truly utilitarian, satisfactory cock. However, Eita’s got enough experience to know what to do with said cock, how to make you cry out and cream on him and clench down on him like a fucking vice. He’s very observant, eyes always watching your reactions to things, studying the way you bite your lip when he’s thrusting into you, the way you grip at the sheets, even the way you moan his name. He’s perfected the art of rolling his hips, actually thrusting rather than jackhammering, pushing in fast but pulling out slowly so that you can feel every ridge and inch of him. He’s also got very good aim – once he’s found your sweet spot, he’s able to target his thrusts pretty precisely, hitting at least the general area with every punch of his hips. The end result is that you almost always end up coming on his cock, his thumb pressing circles against your clit to help you along. And this is great news for Eita, because he gets so much more sensitive when there’s copious amounts of slick helping guide him in and out, the extra wetness and warmth giving him just the right amount of extra stimulation to send him over the edge. He keeps himself mostly shaven, liking the way it looks, but occasionally he’ll slack a bit, leaving a layer of light stubble that tickles your cheeks when you’re taking him in your mouth.

He's a shooter, but it’s a pretty weak stream. There’s not a huge amount of force behind it, so when it lands on your body it feels like gentle rain – just with very large droplets. His cum actually tastes pretty decent, which is shocking because his diet isn’t the best, especially when he’s on the road. He likes coming on you, but the longer he spends being sexually active with you, the more he finds himself being drawn to finishing inside you, cock plugging you up between your legs. He’s always fascinated by the side of how your cunt – still convulsing a bit after the orgasm he just gave you – pushes a bit out rhythmically. (Sometimes, when he’s trying to brainstorm for song writing, he’ll think back to those rhythms, inspiration suddenly hitting him as he writes a love song, lyrics full of sexual innuendos and yearning.) Eita doesn’t come too terribly quickly, but even if he does it’s okay because he’s able to recover pretty quickly, only needing a good five minutes before he’s rock hard again, cock still covered in his cum and drooling more pre. He really enjoys overstimulating you, so this comes in handy often. He’s decently vocal during sex, but his talking takes a sharp uptake as he nears his orgasm, the words growing less understandable and more rushed as he gets closer and closer. He curses a lot, labored breaths of shit or fucking hell, babe slipping past his lips. And when he’s right on the cusp, he’s slurring out compliments and praises of you, telling you that you’re so damn pretty, lamenting on about how he loves you, chanting like a prayer mine mine mine. He hips go stock still when he’s coming, completely frozen inside you except for the pulsing, letting your walls clamp down on him and furthering his orgasm.

His favorite way for you to touch him is head, but particularly where he’s in control. He’ll always let you have your fun at first when you get on your knees for him, letting you suck and kitten lick at his tip. He’ll let you do whatever you want at first – his hips will buck a bit if you suck really, really hard at the head, but he’ll let you do whatever feels right. Eventually, though, he’ll reach a point where he wants to take over, because you pleasuring him is teasing him, not giving him quite what he’s so desperately seeking. And so, he’ll tangle his fingers in your hair, physically moving your head rather than thrusting himself, treating you like some glorified hole for him to fuck. He’s still muttering all those compliments from before, telling you that you look pretty below him, that your mouth feels good, that he’s wanted this for so damn long, all the while feeling his orgasm draw closer and closer. But the fantasy really comes into play when he finishes – wrapping his fingers around his base, pulling your head off of him and vigorously, violently rutting his fist up and down, jerking himself off as his orgasm builds and builds and builds, eventually crashing down and making him slur out your name, your mouth wide open as he aims his cock, tip right above your open mouth. He wants to control where it all lands, all against your tongue, lolled out and waiting for him. There’s something about the sight that gets him panting, and when it’s all finished he’ll want you to make a show of swallowing it, opening your mouth back up to show him you’ve gulped down every last fucking drop. He’ll want you to lean in and suckle at him a bit more, tongue swiping out to catch any remaining bits of cum, licking him clean and making sure to take everything he’s giving you. It’ll get him shivering in oversensitivity, not quite ready for another round yet, but he doesn’t mind the pain – not when he's got you on your hands and knees minutes later, sinking into you with a thumb working diligently against your clit, determined to make you feel the same as him if not even better. (Often, when his next orgasm hits him, nothing will even come out – he’s shooting blanks, every bit of cum he had to offer already having been swallowed by you earlier.)

He’s five inches, the average size but with a few above average details. When Satori gets hard, he really, really does - when you reach out to grasp at him, fingers wrapping around his shaft, he’s truly solid, truly firm to the touch. If you try to squeeze you’ll be met with resistance, his cock so genuinely swollen and desperate to be inside of you that he’s rock fucking hard. He’s veiny, too; they criss cross and decorate the length of his cock, sitting up raised and sensitive to the touch. The kind of veins you see on posts of men smoking cigarettes and having long, nimble fingers – those kinds of veins. He likes when you trail your tongue lightly along the different lines and patterns, a draw-out hiss slipping past his lips as his eyes flutter but don’t quite shut. His cock goes bright red the moment he gets hard, the pretty rose color standing out against his pale skin, nearly matching his hair. Depending on the day you catch him, he can be a bit insecure about his cock; he wants you to like it really, really badly, and the first time you’ve got him naked in front of you, he’ll be blushing and watching your every expression, hoping and praying that you like what you’re seeing, what you’re tasting, what you’re feeling. It spurs him on to hear you praise him, and the moment you say anything positive about his dick, he’s fucking you harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you crying his name and clenching down on him like you’ll never let him pull out. 

His cum is thin, always running down your skin and leaving a milky trail behind. It’s plentiful; there’s just so much of it, and when he’s stuffing your mouth, he’ll often have to pull out and finish on your face to avoid choking you. (He likes this, though, if only because the sight of you with his cum dripping past your lips and down your chin gets him ready for round two, the urge to stuff every possible hole full of his cum making him near feral.) He dribbles a bit, streaming out of his tip as he pants and groans, like a faucet that hasn’t been turned off with the way it just keeps coming. His favorite place to finish is on your breasts, liking how it looks against your soft skin. He likes to scoop some up with his thumb and rub it against your nipple, smearing it and leaving a sheen against the pebbled skin. When he comes, his whole body jerks, spasming and shuddering, and he even writhes a bit, as if the pleasure is just too much for him to handle. He’s trembling before, during and after he finishes, needing quite some time to calm down. He has to reach out and grasp onto something (normally it’s you or the bedframe), trying to ground himself because his orgasms are powerful, sucking the air out of his lungs and leaving him unable to walk for a few minutes without his knees buckling. He’s a moaner, too, always saying your name or mindlessly babbling, just needing some way to express the pleasure he’s feeling all because of you.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him, bouncing yourself up and down on top of him as he lays down, clutching at the pillow behind his head. He likes the way you look, especially when you lean down too, your tits squishing against his chest as your hips keep working away at him, alternating between grinding down and thrusting, never quite letting him comfortable before changing it up. He likes when you kiss him while you fuck him, and his lips will be insistent, eager, the kiss wet and sloppy and fully of passion. He’ll ask to touch you, bringing his hands up to press against your back, tangling into your hair, cupping at your ass, always wandering and wanting to grab and touch more and more. He likes the way your cunt grips him, milking him for all he’s worth as you use him, his cock like your own personal dildo as you make a mess of him. It feels like heaven, and if you bring two fingers down, slipping them past his lips? Well, Satori is immediately sucking and moaning around them, the only thing he possibly enjoys more being when you spit into his mouth. He likes giving you control, and feeling the way you take charge and squeeze around his length gets his head spinning and his chest heaving, his orgasm drawing closer alarmingly quickly with every bounce of your hips. You feel like heaven, and he’ll want to finish inside you, sending ropes of his cum as deeply inside you as possible – this angle lets him get as deep as physically possible, and he’ll want you to just lay with him afterwards, cock still nestled in your cunt as you sooth sweet words down at him, playing with his hair and letting him calm down from the very slight subspace you’d worked him into. (If you call him pretty in his post-orgasmic glow, the tiniest little dribble of cum will come from his tip, making him shudder and gasp your name, embarrassment eating him up and making him even cuter.)

He’s just shy of five inches, but he’s got a decent amount of girth that makes up for his smaller length. His cock is very heavy, always drooping a bit when he gest hard, never quite passing the ninety degree mark. His tip always takes on this dark color, too, a maroon that showcases just how much blood is flowing to his cock whenever you arouse him. His balls are heavy, too, and although they don’t droop as much as his shaft, they are incredibly sensitive. Almost too sensitive, if Kenjirou’s being honest, because even just the brush of your hand against them gets him sucking in his breath, torn between wanting you to do it again and wanting you to avoid them because he will come if you keep going. Overall, his cock’s not particularly pretty, but it’s functional and will make you lick your lips a bit when you see it – it’s a man’s, packing a punch when he bullies it inside your cunt, always stretching you out more than you expect. He’s a little bit insecure about his size, however, so don’t say anything to him about it – he doesn’t even really like you looking at it for long periods of time, if only because it’s just embarrassing to have you examine him like that, with your eyes all wide and glassy and lust pooling in your gut.

He dribbles, and there’s lot of it; it comes out in bursts, oozing from his tip in globs and dripping all the way down his length, down over his balls, even sometimes getting down to his thighs. It’s pretty watery, and not super opaque – it’s more of a slightly translucent white, to the point where when it’s smeared all over your lips, Kenjirou could mistake it for lip gloss. (But lip gloss doesn’t make your lips look as good as his cum does, he swears. Especially when your lips are all swollen and battered from sucking him off, from excessive kissing and biting.) He’s not too much of a moaner, instead grunting more or muttering out slurred phrases and syllables that sound suspiciously like your name. He’ll let out these harsh exhales of breath as he gets closer, almost sounding pained as the pleasure intensifies. (One time you thought it was a sign of pain and pulled off him, straddling him and asking if he was okay, only to receive an honest to god growl while his hands clutched at your hips and brought you back down to sit on his cock, a strained, bitten back keep going slipping through grit teeth.) His face scrunches up when he comes, eyebrows drawing together tight and eyes closing, his mouth settling into almost a grimace as he rides out the waves of his pleasure – it feels good, he promises, it’s just his face. Prefers to come on your body, or in your mouth – inside you is fine, too, but he really likes seeing his cum against your skin. He thinks you look good like that, and sometimes, as he’s coming down from his orgasmic high, he’ll even run his fingertips over your cum-stained skin and mutter a small pretty…

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re sitting in his lap, gyrating your hips nice and slow. His orgasms are stronger when they come from long-lasting, duller pleasure, and the grind of your cunt against his cock makes his head spin, yearning for more friction and more more more. He likes when you move in circular motions, going clockwise for a while before suddenly changing directions and going counter-clockwise, the sudden change making him hiss under his breath. He likes you to be fully naked when you do this, because he’ll often lean forward and suck a nipple into his mouth, his hands squeezing at the fat of your hips and waist, brown eyes admiring the way you look perched in his lap, like some sort of god. He’ll often try to control your pacing, those hands at your hips pushing and pulling you, trying to get you to speed up or slow down, almost using you like his own personal toy. As he gets closer he’ll move your body faster and faster, the desperation growing and morphing into something that makes him bury his face into the crook of your neck, or against your sternum, an uneven, shaky exhale of your name filling your ears as something warm and wet smears against your pretty folds. He just likes that he gets to look at your face the whole time, and orgasming this way is less embarrassing than the headrush that being inside you and getting direct stimulation gives  him – he can control it better this way, sound less depraved, sound less needy for you.

He’s a solid five inches with a little bit extra, though he is on the skinnier side. He’s got a few veins that run along the top and on the side; not too much, but enough to be noticeable. He likes when you drag your tongue along them, tracing the lines and making him shiver. He’s decently sensitive, always swallowing and gulping as a way to stop any sound from slipping past his lips. Early into his developing feelings for you, he took the time to meticulously and carefully trim himself, even going completely shaven once or twice just to see how it felt. (He’s got this weird fixation with making sure that he looks perfect the first time that he gets you naked in front of him, and this includes his grooming. Eventually, however, he gives up, deciding that it’s too much time and effort, though he keeps a razor in his bathroom always prepped and ready on the off chance that he thinks he might get lucky with you that night – he’s pretty optimistic, so this happens pretty often, never quite getting fruition.) His cock’s always moving, though; he bobs heavily, always seeming to twitch and throb even without stimulation. It's like it’s got a mind of its own – beads of precum drool from his tip at the slightest thought or suggestion of you doing anything even remotely sexual, and immediately he’s throbbing, sometimes even being visible through his pants when he’s really pent up and achingly hard.

His cum does, unfortunately, taste pretty bad. It’s bitter, incredibly so, and although he tries to make it more edible by changing his diet, it doesn’t work too well. This is pretty unfortunate, because he really loves fucking your mouth, and always ends up wanting to finish inside. However, he’s noticed your grimaces and the way your face gets all puckered when you taste him after he comes down your throat, and he won’t press the issue too hard. (He will, however, try to keep himself inside your mouth for as long as possible, only pulling out at the last possible second. Often, he’s not quite fast enough, however – cum releases both inside your mouth and out, making a mess and leaving the taste against your tongue.) His cum is pretty runny, having more the consistency of water, making it very quick to spread and run down your chin and throat, stopping and bunching up at your breasts. He shoots, and quite far, too – a good foot or so, the force behind his orgasms clearly visible in the way he throws his head back, cheeks bright red and sending cum flying, quite literally strong enough to knock over inanimate objects. He moans a lot, the words turning incoherent as he nears his finish, though it’s not too important you hear them. It’s mostly just your name, little pleas and slurred please’s, all melding together to create something that sounds like a mixture of a moan and a whine. His body jerks when he comes, too, his abs clenching and visibly flexing as it just keeps spurting out of him.

His favorite way for you to touch him, as briefly mentioned, is when you give him head. There’s something about it that he really likes – it’s been his longest standing fantasy, one of the very first things he found himself imagining after his feelings for you formed, and holds a special place in his heart. He’ll want you to be on your knees, looking up at him with fluttering lashes and a tongue flicking out to lick across your lips. He’s not too picky on how you suck him off, but he wants it to be messy, liking the feeling of your spit coating him and god, when you pull off him with a wet noise, the strand of saliva and precum that connects your lips to his tip is enough to get him tangling his fingers in your hair, mumbling your name like a prayer as he guides you to take him in again, to keep going deeper and deeper, even if you’re gagging and choking. He’ll want to finish in your mouth, burying himself to the hilt, balls pressed firmly against the curve of your chin as he throbs, balls clenching tightly and flooding your mouth with cum. He wants it to go directly down your throat, and he won’t pull away until it’s all been released, every drop safe and secure in your warm little mouth. He wants to watch you swallow, and he’ll give himself a few pumps as an afterthought as he watches, once more growing hard and aroused because you just swallowed his cum, do you want some more?

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima #yandere tendou #yandere semi #yandere goshiki #yandere shirabu #hakyuu smut #yandere haikyuu smut #_lee's headcannons #_haikyuu #_wakatoshi ushijima #_satori tendou #_eita semi #_kenjirou shirabu #_tsutomu goshiki

[gayvampyr]

im sorry but this shit pisses me off. i don’t care if it’s a joke. where’s the punchline. even in 2022 gays still do not have equal rep in shows. the fact that only in the last couple years have we gotten actually semi-decent queer rep shows how much queer media is still needed. a lot of people still don’t even know what the word “bisexual” means, much less terms like “asexual” or “aromantic” or “nonbinary”. whether you’d like to admit it or not, it matters that a show actually has a bi character and explicitly says the word bisexual— a popular show at that. ik some of you guys have forgotten that the rest of the world isnt as acquainted with queerness as your online lgbt friend group, but a show on a major streaming platform saying “bisexual people exist” is important. it needs to be said, and it needs to keep being said until people stop forgetting and erasing bi people.

and yeah, the line “masculine guys can be gay” might seem like a stupid obvious thing, but a lot of people don’t consider masc guys to be gay at all, just like they don’t expect lesbians to be fem. i’ve been told several times that i don’t “look gay” and that i must be confused because i should like “boy stuff” and dress masculine if i really liked girls. people need to be reminded that anyone can be gay, as ridiculous as it sounds. we need to be seen as more than a stereotype and im sick of you “edgy” gays shitting on every piece of queer media like it’s twilight.

the show that these tags are in response to isn’t even adult media. honestly it’s hardly even YA. this show is for kids and teens who are discovering who they are. growing up, i never had ANY sort of representation. i didn’t grow up thinking it was okay to like girls, or that i could be interested in people other than boys, or that i even had the option to not like boys at all. queer representation is not only important, but it’s crucial. straight people get to see themselves everywhere, and never as comedic relief or the butt of a joke. queer kids grow up thinking that what they are is humiliating, that they should be ashamed of being those people who get laughed and made fun of on tv (and irl). in 99% of media, gay and trans people have been a laughing stock. the most representation a queer could get a decade ago was a white cis fem (but not TOO fem) gay man who was only a side character, was never shown with a partner, and served primarily as a clown, like queerness is a circus and cishets are the audience.

so i don’t CARE if young queer media is cringe. i don’t CARE if you don’t like it or if you think it’s forced or stupid or pointless or even if it’s just for a corporation to profit off our existence. the point isn’t why it was made or how bad you think the writing is, the point is that it exists and that there are now young queer people who can finally see themselves, not as a joke but as real people, on screen and go, “that. that’s what i am.” and im elated for this younger generation to be able to say that when i couldn’t. so i don’t care if you’d rather just be called a faggot again like in the good ol days when we were dropping like flies and everyone hated us. if cringey tv shows and bad writing is the price for queer kids to understand themselves better and for cishet people to get a better understanding of queer people, then it’s a small price to pay. shut the fuck up and let queer media exist

#text post #long post #heartstopper #gay #lesbian #wlw #mlm #queer #this show is for young people #grow up #top posts

[katyawriteswhump]

Freestyle love (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22 prompt, Sports AU.

Nobody ever wanted Eddie Munson on their swim squad, and uni competition was no different. Until Steve Harrington decided to play by the rules.

WC: 966. Rating: T.

CW: none really. Tags: Enemies to lovers, whump, university/college AU.

***

"Munson's freestyle times smash half the teams.'" Steve pushed his wet hair from his eyes, double-checked the stopwatch. “He’s in."

"That science geek pond-scum?” asked Steve's swim co-captain, standing with him beside the pool. "No way. You read the numbers backwards again, Harrington?"

"Shut up. I’m calling this one."

When Steve broke the news, Munson pulled off his swim-cap and a mass of dark, damp hair tumbled out. “One of your teammates said my tats automatically disqualify me,” said Munson.

“That’s bullshit.” Steve actually found Munson’s freaky tattoos bizarrely compelling. Oh, and the body beneath—all lean rope-like muscle, not massive shoulders, but a decent swimmer’s physique. “We need you. You beat most of the sports scholarship guys.”

“I know.” Munson shrugged. “And you can take my place on your dumb squad and stuff it up their buttholes.”

“What the heck, man? Why did you trial, if you don’t want in?”

“To show you over-privileged frat-house dicks you ain’t special. I qualify every year—you’re just the first knucklehead to notice. Anyhooo.” He poked his tongue out stupidly. Steve planted his hands on his hips and couldn’t glare harder. “I’m off to Who Soc.”

“What Soc?”

Munson’s shoulder clipped Steve’s as he passed—possibly an accident, but he nearly toppled Steve into the pool.

“Screw you, man! Crawl back to your den of Satanist freaks, like I care.”

“Yeah?” Munson poked out his tongue again, wiggled his fingers. “Hexing you, Harrington. Oooooh, bet you’re pissing yourself.”

***

Eddie had simply been getting one back for the little guys, against all those over-pumped numbskulls. 

He still felt bad when he heard what happened at the inter-state semis—some moron dived into the pool on top of Harrington in the shallow end, breaking his leg.

It bugged Eddie. So much he wound up visiting Steve at the hospital.

When Eddie sidled into Steve’s room, Steve’s pale face—peeking from behind his plastered leg in traction—said it all: What the heck?

“Hey,” mumbled Eddie. “Guess I’m the last person you expected.”

“On my list of expected visitors, you were somewhere below Elvis.” Harrington seemed pissed. Also genuinely bewildered.

He was still sexy as hell.

Especially now Eddie couldn’t find it in his cold, metal-loving heart to hate the guy. Mmmm, and was it kinda wrong to wanna lick those well-muscled arms, and picture him shirtless… even when Harrington glowered at him from a hospital bed?

Eddie raised his palms in half-hearted surrender. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been doing swim trials since Middle School. My time is always good—the place I grew up in was right by a lake—yet nobody ever gave me my place on the squad before. This face never fits.” He gurned a silly grin. “Then you went and flew in the face of all the laws in the universe and offered me ‘in.’ I guess it... blew me away.”

“I was only following the goddamn rules.” Steve grumpily puffed his flatter-than-usual hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, and I was a dick, and the Hex thing was dumb. I didn’t really… you know…”

“I don’t blame you for my stupid accident.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a complete moron. I'm scraping a pass in English Lit, okay?” As the atmosphere softened, Eddie shuffled nearer Steve’s bed. “Good job. Who's gonna keep me here on a sports scholarship now?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault!” Up close, Harrington looked exhausted, possibly even in pain, with dark smudgy shadows around his eyes. “You know, you can do something to make this less shit.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed oddly—gratefully? “What?”

“Take my place in the squad.” Steve mumbled toward hands clasped in his lap. “I recorded your times, made it official. The place is yours to claim. I'd tell the team myself… if any of them came to visit.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nobody’s got time for a swim co-captain who’ll never swim competitively again.” 

A lump clogged Eddie’s throat. Harrington’s face worked strangely, too… Shit, shit, shit! Eddie reached out, tentatively squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked up sharply, eyes large and liquid. Damn, the boy was tense.

“That stinks,” said Eddie.

“Yeeeah.” Steve’s laugh was shaky, while Eddie’s mind raced: 

“Dude, I’m in a ton of non-sports societies. D & D, model-making, Who Soc… Uh, maybe not that one for you. I can bring a few of the guys and gals here, see if you get into anything.”

“I don’t need YOU to find me friends.” Harrington’s spikiness proved short-lived. He unleashed a resigned sigh: “Look, man, I’m not exactly in the mood for parties, but… If you wanna come back… that would be cool.”

Suddenly, neither of them could look at each other. Eddie’s face was burning. Could he actually be into me?

“Tho’ if you’re not fresh from swim practice when you arrive, I’m not interested, Munson.”

Eddie hooted: “You blackmailing me?”

“I can play dirty, ya know, buck expectations, too.” Steve went in for the kill. He smiled up at Eddie, a proper, hot-as-hell smile, which reached his too-pretty brown eyes. 

Is he hitting on me?!? Eddie gawked like a goldfish.

“See you tomorrow?”

***

On the day of the national finals, Steve watched from the stands. When Eddie slammed home for victory on the final leg of the freestyle relay, Steve was on his feet—okay, propped by his crutches—cheering his head off.

As soon as Eddie could get away, he clambered, wet and dripping, through to the rear of the stands and planted an even wetter kiss on Steve's lips. Steve threw his arms around his boyfriend. It was great to finally be with somebody to whom only the real things in life mattered. 

"Love you, Champ," he whispered in Eddie’s ear.

"Love you, too." Eddie kissed him again.

Victory had never felt so hot.

***

Thanks for reading :) Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic

[jewishconvertthings]

How to Immediately Ingratiate Yourself in [Most] Jewish Communities

(*caveat that I'm an American, liberal Jew, so my experiences are not universal despite being common)

So you've just started going to shul and you're worried about fitting in with the congregation. Or, perhaps, you're moving out of the community you converted in and are worried about finding your place in a new community. Maybe you're switching shuls. Whatever the reason, you're starting in a new community and want to be accepted right away. Here are some tips for becoming a rapidly accepted fixture in the community:

If your community has a weekday minyan, go to minyan. That will show you who the real machers are in the community: the ones who make services happen regularly and who aren't shy about calling or texting people to get butts in seats. If you're Jewish, you might be Jew #10, the perennial hero of daveners everywhere. If not, you're communicating to them that possibility in the future. (No one was more excited for me to finish conversion than the minyan regulars.)

Okay but what if I'm a woman (or not halachicly male person) attending a non-egalitarian community? If it's liberal orthodox community and/or has a partnership minyan, I'd still consider going. I attended morning minyan at my Modern Orthodox shul for months before I completed my conversion because it was less awkward than going to the Conservative minyan and having to clarify that no, they still couldn't count me yet. (And I really liked the people and the post-minyan drash the rabbi would give.) They were actually delighted to have me holding up the women's side of the mechitza and welcoming in the occasional women who would come for a yahrzeit.

Do you have rhythm and/or are possessed of decently good coordination? Learn the cup song! [Tutorial] People will be very excited albeit potentially confused if it comes out that you didn't grow up going to Jewish summer camp. (I'd just tell them you saw the song on the internet and thought it looked fun.)

Are you musically talented or a semi-competant guitar player? Many communities would love to involve you in the songful parts of the service if you let leadership know.

In general, pay attention to what your community is always begging for volunteers for, especially things you can do as a non-Jew or not-quite-yet-Jew if that's your situation, and sign up for one or two things you think you'd be good at. I would say it's better to pick one thing and focus your energy on being THAT guy rather than trying to do a little of everything (voice of experience here.) Real life examples I can think of: being a greeter, arranging set-up for events, helping out with food prep such as kiddush or post-minyan bagels, running groceries to homebound congregants, delivering mishloach manot if your community does that, childcare or assisting with children's activities if you like kids, etc.

Put a fair amount of energy into remembering people's names and faces, and try to work out early who is related to whom. Bonus points if you can file away information about their lives that they tell you during your conversations with them.

If you're asked to do honors by the gabbai, try to say yes to anything you know how to do and are qualified to do halachicly. If you're not Jewish, many liberal communities will still let you open the ark or take a multi-person aliyah with someone who is Jewish, or have you read some of the contemporary English language prayers. Bonus points for if you are able to learn and perform hagbah (especially if you're left-handed/able to hagbah when the sefer Torah is heavy on the left side.)

Honestly, if you're between the ages of 18 - 35, most communities will be thrilled you're there and tripping over themselves to get you to come back. In combination with the above? You're their new best friend. If you are older than that or still a minor, they will still be very happy to have another friendly and helpful face, even if it's just that you regularly attend minyan.

Good luck and here's to becoming a beloved fixture in your new community!

#jewish convert things #convert advice #converting to judaism #jumblr

[arminreindl]

Varanosuchus: First Fossil Croc of 2024

We are two weeks into the year and we already had a bunch of big croc papers, so today I'll cover the first of the two new genera named so far. Varanosuchus sakonnakhonensis (Monitor lizard crocodile from Sakon Nakhon) is a small atoposaurid neosuchian from the Early Cretaceous of Thailand, a country that has seen a virtual boom in croc papers this past year between the description of Alligator munensis and Antecrocodylus.

Varanosuchus was a small animal, maybe a meter in length if a little longer with a notably short and deep skull and long slender limbs revealing it to have been at least somewhat terrestrial. We actually have a decent amount of material of this guy. The holotype consists of a 3 dimensionally preserved skull as well as assorted postcranial remains (vertebrae, ribs, osteoderms and limbs), there is a second skull of whats likely to be a differently aged individual also showing a 3D skull and well the third ones just a skull table but 2/3 is still great.

Now this guy was an atoposaurid, which is a group of crocodylomorphs that lived from the Jurassic to the end of the Cretaceous, their last members existing on the island of Hateg some 66 million years ago. Atopsaurids were generally small animals with short snouts and longish legs. Some examples of atoposaurids include Knoetschkesuchus from Germany, Aprosuchus from Romania and Alligatorellus from France and Germany, all three pictured below, art by @knuppitalism-with-ue

Now the matter of ecology for atoposaurids in general and Varanosuchus in particular is not clear. Altirostral skulls such as that of Varanosuchus are generally associated with terrestrial crocodylomorphs as best examplified by notosuchians. Their teeth and size both obviously speak against being shoreline ambush predators like modern crocs and their legs are straight and slender, suggesting they had an erect posture and not the more sprawling one seen in semi-aquatic forms. Though they could have still had some aquatic affinities. The authors for instance argue that the osteoderms, having plenty of pits, are more like those of an animal that spends time in the water and would thus use them in thermoregulation. So maybe they did enter water from time to time, somewhat like some modern lizards, tho I think its fairly certain that they spend a decent amount of time on land. The artwork below is the reconstruction from the paper itself.

Another matter discussed in the paper is phylogeny, more precisely the relationship of Neosuchians and how Eusuchia is defined. On the first front, its worth noting that the paper recovered both atoposaurids and paralligatorids as monophyletic groups and had them be each others closest relatives, a notion that has been recovered before. More interesting perhaps is the fact that the next closest relatives to these two were hylaeochampsids and Bernissartia, which are typically recovered closer to modern crocs. Which in fact form a separate branch that is the sister group to all the afforementioned clades and taxa. And then you got goniopholids, dyrosaurs and pholidosaurs which are all more basal than the paralligatorid+atoposaurid+crocodilian group, which is back to the ordinary really. The second thing is the definition of Eusuchia. So for the longest time Eusuchia has been defined to include those Neosuchians that have choanae that are fully enclosed by the pterygoid bones (I know I know a bunch of anatomy stuff bear with me). So if the choanae was surrounded by the pterygoid, its an Eusuchian, if not, its more basal. Well, atoposaurids don't have that....BUT VARANOSUCHUS DOES. This, coupled with hylaeochampsids also having this feature and being recovered closer to atoposaurids than to Crocodilians basically suggests that the feature is not diagnostic for Eusuchia and instead appeared multiple times independently.

Moving away from anatomy and phylogeny and all that stuff, I think its very cool that croc research in Thailand has kinda picked up this last year. And fittingly enough some people have even worked on a short documentary covering the known diversity of pseudosuchians from Thailand, giving an overview over the named forms from the Jurassic to today, from titans like Chalawan to even these newest dwarf forms. While the narration is obviously in Thai, there are English subs and I highly recommend looking into it (even if I disagree with their depiction of Varanosuchus as arboreal, its perhaps overshooting the goal a little bit).

Finally here's the paper itself (tho paywalled) New Cretaceous neosuchians (Crocodylomorpha) from Thailand bridge the evolutionary history of atoposaurids and paralligatorids | Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society | Oxford Academic (oup.com) and the wikipedia page I've been working on Varanosuchus - Wikipedia

I'll try to write up a post on the other new genus, Garzapelta, later this weekend so stay tuned for that.

#varanosuchus #atoposauridae #crocodylomorpha #neosuchia #thailand #cretaeous #pseudosuchia #croc #crocodile #land crocodile #prehistory #paleontology #palaeblr #long post #Youtube

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Four: Charles is confused

Max verstappen x lando Norris x Charles Leclerc x reader

Chapter summary: Charles leclerc has always known he's weird. Maybe it takes someone just as weird as him to discover he's not alone.

Warnings: Reader discovers sexuality is a thing, almost a car crash, injury description, allusions to past abuse

Notes: Yay! Charles content! This chapter is wicked long, btw. I got carried away... oops.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc had always known he was different. He just got a confirmation during his rookie season with Sauber.

He tried to keep his head down and show his talent, yet things never went to plan.

He was glad to be racing with Max again. His rival until Max practically flew up the ranks and Charles was stuck moving at the same speed he always had. Far to slow for his liking.

Now he’d achieved his dream. It’s 2019 and he’s driving for Ferrari alongside Sebastian vettel.

Everything seemed to be okay for now. Aside from his weird attraction to his stupid rival and his girlfriend who spent majority of her time in the Ferrari garage.

He noticed it last year and made it a point to stay as far away as possible from them. And for some reason it felt like fate was laughing at him because he always ran into the two.

Awkward. Stumbling. Stuttering.

He hated himself for this. He hated that he couldn’t just be normal. Fall for someone he actually had a chance with. Not the two most taken people in the paddock.

It didn’t help the Pierre constantly talked his ear off about them. Complaining that Max never shuts up about her. A lovely nail in the coffin.

Now at Ferrari he spent so much time around her that he was mentally hitting his head on a rock.

She’s weird and doesn’t get human interactions sometimes. She literally talks about the car all the time. She’s told him a few times what the strategy should be and not to listen to Xavi. Somehow she always knows what advice he’s going to need for a race.

Max, on the other hand, was something he’d not expected. It came out of nowhere during his teenage years. They’ve known each their for so long and yet Charles had yet to hold a semi decent conversation with him.

Max is a good driver and everyone knows it. He’d blamed it on respect at first but now they are 20 and Charles can’t help but memorize every stupidly little detail about him.

He determined that he must be mentally I’ll. Or bisexual. Or both.

“Your eyes are going to get stuck if you keep staring like that.” Teases Sebastian. Charles hadn’t even realized he’d zoned in on the happy could. Max dancing poorly with her to some imaginary music. He just moves he’s eyes to the table. Hoping the German doesn’t think much about it.

“Why so glum?” Asks the older male. Charles sucks in through his teeth. He definitely doesn’t want to explain that he’s attracted to both his daughter and her boyfriend. He’d probably thing he was crazy.

“Jealous, I suppose.” He settles for.

“Of which one.” Charles snaps his head up to Sebastian. A cheeky grin spreading across his face. Surely he can’t be that easy to read, right? “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

Charles is stumbling over his words. Questions of how he knows attempt to come out but sound like gibberish. Thankfully Seb understands him.

“You make puppy eyes at both of them all the time. You should be glad they’re both oblivious. It took her and Max years to figure it out.”

The first time he’d been relieved since this conversation started. Neither of them had noticed him. His friendship with the two was as close as he was going to get and he planned to keep it that way.

~

She’d been staying with Max that night. It was hard to find time to just be in each others presence during race weekends. Her mind was racing this weekend for some reason. Her nightmares had been getting worse recently, so she opted to keep herself awake and let Max sleep.

Her head was absolutely throbbing. She’d already stopped a few nose bleeds. She even tried levitating around random objects to get some of her energy out. Nothing was working.

Her vision was going now. She didn’t want to wake Max, but she couldn’t help the cries of pain the wracked her chest. The feeling of the floor. Then a person?

This was definitely a vision. Not a small one by the looks of it. She’s had a few of these before. Where she sees more then a moment and is able ti get a clearer picture.

She’s following around Charles. The Monegasque is racing. It’s the same track they are at now. She looked at the clock. Tomorrows date. Some time around 4.

Charles’ car has a rear tire explode. His car sending him into the wall. She can see his body dangling as the car flips itself.

Then she’s back. The white hot pain still searing her veins. Max holding her gently in his lap. Why does she feel like it’s still going?

She loses sight of Max one again and is thrown into another image. Her and Max sharing an intimate moment embracing each other.

She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

Someone else joins them now. Their intimate moment now being shared.

She’s confused. She’s scared. And she’s in so much pain.

~

Max held her as the pain dies down. He already had a wet rag in hand to hopefully help cool her rising body temperature and wipe away the blood that was stuck to her.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

“Charles is going to crash tomorrow.”

“But you’re not going to let that happen are you?” There is a smug smile on his face. He already knows what she’s planning. Her and Charles had become relatively close since he’s been at Ferrari. Max actually thought their relationship was oddly cute in a way.

“I saw something else, also.”

“Yeah?”

"We were hugging and smiling. Then, someone else showed up. But it didn't ruin it? Like - they joined us, I guess."

Max ponders for a moment. It's not something he would've considered. It's definitely not something he would've seen himself doing.

The girl panicking on the floor makes him think she probably has no idea that it's actually pretty normal for that to happen nowadays. She's spilling words about how she'd never do that to him.

"Shush. I think we can figure this out in the morning." Max heaves her off the floor and into bed. Continuing to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.

~

She was on edge all day. She repeatedly warned Charles about his tires. She warned Seb about his tires and Charles.

It was nearing four o'clock now. She was watching the tire degradation, and Charles was getting close to not having anything left.

She ran. Ran to get on the radio and tell someone about his tires.

Thankfully, they listened. She hadn't been wrong about things yet. Charles came into the pits and got new tires.

The relief that washed over her when he crossed the finish line in one peice was immense.

Check didn't care he finished sixth. She ran to him regardless.

Charles was shocked when she jumped into his arms. She'd done this before. she always hugged him him when he was done racing. He learned early that she likes physical contact over words.

This hug was different. He could feel the tension actively leaving her muscles.

He just embraced her. Letting himself relax into her hold.

~

She was pacing in Sebs hotel room. Max had been attempting to get her to relax her body. Seb was sitting at the table watching the two go back and forth. Then there was Lewis.

Max had told him the interesting predicament they'd found themselves in. Seb had not really understood everything about it, and Max was doing a terrible job at trying to explain it to him. So he had asked Lewis to attempt.

Lewis had explained the idea of polyamory. The same idea Max was trying to explain. The same thing the girl pacing the room was not understanding.

"geliefde, we don't have to think about it."

"Why are we thinking about it exactly?" Pipes Lewis. He'd been quiet since she started pacing. After his explanation of something she'd never heard of.

All of them freeze. What are they supposed to say? She had a vision of the future and saw them with another male? A ridiculous notion.

Lewis looks between them all. The other three look between each other.

Seb looks at her. His face is caring and gentle. "She's been having some revelations about the world recently."

Lewis either is just nodding in understanding because it's the truth or he knows their lying and doesn't want to push further. Either way, at least he dropped it.

Back in Max's room, she'd finally been able to calm down. It still didn't make any sense to her, though. Why was Max so okay with this?

Max, unbeknownst to her, was pondering the idea. He'd learned to just flow with her visions. It wasn't set in stone but sometimes it was okay to just let it happen. This was one of those things that he was genuinely open to try if she saw him doing it.

Somewhere in his brain, he could find thoughts that he locked away. Things he thought were weird and decided never to open the box to that again.

Obviously, she wasn't opposed to the idea either. She saw herself in that vision. Her feelings are much different than Max's, though. He could see the shame in her eyes every time she looked at him.

Finally, he'd gotten her here. He's kneeling down in front of her while she sits on the bed. His hands are placed on either side of her thighs.

"I'm going to tell you how I feel about this and then I want you to be completely honest about your feelings, okay?"

She nods her head. Still avoiding his eyes. The guilt to much for her.

"I'm willing to see where this goes. We don't have to try to change anything. From what you saw, we're both happy. I quite like seeing you smile." His pointer finger quickly moved upwards, and the pad just barely touches the top of her nose. "Now, explain to me what you're feeling because unlike you, I am no superhero."

Superhero. A nickname she earned a year ago when she first showed him. He ranted about how she was like a few comicbook superheros he's seen. She wasn't fond of it at first, but now it feels endearing.

"I don't understand it yet. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just that Hanna and seb had told me that it's two people, not three or more, like Lewis was explaining earlier."

Max nods his head in understanding. His hope is that it helps her keep going. He keeps up comforting little touches along her body.

"I'm not going to try to change anything, but I also don't want you to he upset. I've seen relationships at the paddock end because of someone else getting in the way."

"Well, those relationships were not meant to he three people. Maybe ours is. I've seen you with far too much love to give. I feel it would only be natural to let others in."

~

Charles couldn't help staring at her. Her stupid smile was making him swoon.

She was trying to tell him about something she's working on. Yet his mind was too far away to heat what she's saying.

She grabs his hand. Her attempt at pulling him back to earth. "Charlie? Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I'm a bit out of it today." He laughs. His stupid nervous laugh.

"Want to go for a walk to clear your head?"

"That sounds amazing."

Their in Silverstone this weekend. A place he knows fairly well. This walk made him see things he hadn't before.

"Is Max going to be upset you're walking alone with a different guy?" Charles is very aware that Max is protective of her. Mostly from people she doesn't know, cameras, and the media, but it still doesn't change the fact that he could get punched for this.

He takes note of how she bites her lip. "No, I texted him you were having a rough day and needed a friend."

He hums. The only response that feels appropriate.

He didn't notice how he kept walking, and she had stopped. Her hands rubbed her temples. "Are you alright?" Concern is etched into his face.

Somehow, he'd missed the car speeding towards him. He curses how quiet electric engines are. He thinks it might be the end. The way he attracts tragedy finally catching up with him.

He feels his body being thrown to the side. He thought the hit would be more painful. Maybe the pain just hasn't registered yet. The little patch of grass on the side of the road catches him. The fall felt abnormally slow.

Charles lifts his head to inspect his body. He feels fine. Better than fine, actually.

He drags himself up and glances at where his friend is. Panic immediately rises as he sees her on her knees with blood running down the side of her face.

He thinks the car might have hit her. But she looks perfectly fine aside from that. A car would have cause more frontal damage, and she probably would have hit her head.

Then again, he felt better then perfect right now.

He runs over to her and drops to his knees. His hands reach to gently cradle her face. She's panting and trying to get to her phone, but her hands are so shaky she can't type anything.

"Can I?"

She just nods and hands the device over to him. She was trying to call Max.

~

Max is almost flying out of the paddock. Yelling to Christian that he'd be right back.

He found Charles only a few blocks away. Keeping the head of his girlfriend elevated. Her face seemed paler, and there is a trail of crimson on the sides of her face.

Oh. Oh no.

Max pulls over and gets out of the car. "What happened?"

"A car came out of nowhere, speeding. I thought I got hit, but I don't know now, and she's like this, but I don't think it hit her either." Charkes spills in one breath.

Him and the Monegasque had been friends for a while. Well- as close of friends as rivals can be.

She's still awake and mildly coherent. She'd overexerted most likely.

"Schat, can you tell me what happened, please? I need to know how to help you."

Charles is confused by the question. Obviously, from what he'd explained, she'd most likely been hit by a car.

"Couldn't let gim get hurt." She mumbles. Somehow, Max knows exactly what she said, and Charles is left to decipher the meaning. Is it an English thing?

How could she have stopped the car? She wasn't even close to him!

~

Before Charles has a chance to ask anything, he's helping haul a female body through the 'secret' paddock entrance. The one usually used for emergencies. Max and Charles both figured this could constitute as one.

Charles was still confused why they weren't taking her to the medical center. Or anywhere else that would be able to help her better than they could.

Seb met them outside the Ferrari motor home. The door to his room open and waiting.

"What happened?" He looks at max expectantly for an answer.

"She over exerted herself, I think. Possibly moving Charles and healing him simultaneously."

"I'm sorry, what?" Charles is eyeing the two of them. The two only stare at him.

"Dies he know?" The German asks Max. The Dutch shook his head no and bit his lip. Seemingly giving away some secret.

Charles is confused, frustrated and concerned. He let's out a string of French words that neither can understand.

"I'm going to see if I can't clean her up and see if she'll wake up. Can you take Charles to his room and explain to him what happened?"

"Like- explain explain? Or explain?"

"He's seen it, so there's no use in hiding it now. By the looks of it, she was also willing to out herself for him."

Then Charles is being dragged off once again. Now to the comfort of his room instead.

The Dutchman practically forces Charles to sit down. "I'm going to explain to you, and you have to promise you will never speak a word of it."

~

Charles is still shocked by it all. Even in the evening after he's done all his media chorse, he still doesn't get it.

He knew there were some things about her that were weird and that her childhood was shit, but this is just insane.

He makes his way up to Max's hotel room. His brain still trying to process.

He thinks about turning around when he gets to the door. However, it's like they are reading his mind or something because Max opens the door as soon as he steps in front of it.

"Welcome!" Max moves aside to let him in. Charles takes cautious steps forward. His eyes landing on the bed where his friend lay.

She looks better now. Her face has some color back to it. The blood is gone. He's happy about it, but now he feels awkward.

"It's okay, Max told me that you know now." She sits up but doesn't look him in the eyes.

Max let's them have space yet remains perched on the corner. The guardian he's used to seeing.

Charles sits on the edge of the bed closest to her. She looks panicked.

"It's a lot to process."

She shakes her head. Her eyes find Max for some sort of support. It was easy with him.

"It doesn't mean that I'm going to stop loving you or anything. It's just information to take in and understand because it's new." He rambles. Not even realizing he let the L word slip.

Now her eyes find Charles'. They look for understanding. Charles then knows his mistake. His hand flies over his mouth in embarrassment. Cheeks are now growing red and warm.

"I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant- I-"

Charles stands up and is about to bolt before Max rudely blocks his way out.

He looks back at her as Charles tries to find a way through. "Is the face less foggy now?"

Charles is now confused, frustrated, awkward, and embarrassed. It's a combination that can't get any worse.

~

She's staring at him. Her eyes bore into his soul. The worst part is that Max is laughing about it.

Somehow, they had a feeling this could happen. She had a vision where they were not a couple but a trio. Now, she was trying to see if she could recall a resemblance. Charles adds insecure to his growing list of unpleasant emotions.

"I don't remember." She confesses. Guilt creeps onto her face.

"Well, the question is, do we want to try this?" Max asks with such confidence.

It throws charles' head into a tizzy. The two people he thought were the farthest out of reach are actually the closest? It seems unreal. "Have you two already talked about this?" Charles is hesitant in asking.

"After her vision, yes. There's been some discovery on our end, and it's something we're willing to try."

The girl nods her head in agreement. Her eyes light up now that Max has taken control of the conversation.

"Okay, I'm willing to give this a shot."

"I can't read minds, I need your open and honest feelings. If we're going to do this, then you're going to have to be vulnerable."

Max takes Charles hands in his. Their arms now stretch the length of the small table.

It's the touch that gets him. He'd seen Max do it to her a thousand times and constantly longed for it himself.

"I've actually been crushing on both of you- for awhile now." He admits.

The two look up at him with both surprise and warmth. They were glad to hear this. Relief floods through Charles allowing him to continue speaking.

"I thought I was broken or something because I wanted to be with both of you at the same time. I thought it was impossible, but here we are." Charles looks anywhere but at them.

Then she's next to him. Her lips pressed against his forehead in an endearing way.

It's weird that her powers had somehow managed to help her get two partners.

~

They take things slow. They keep open communication between the three of them. They double-check everything until they learn comforts and boundaries.

They are almost through the season now. They've come to Abu Dhabi.

Charles is an anxious mess. He jas a chance to help move the team up, and he wants it so bad.

It's the night before, and he can't sleep for the life of him. He checks his phone, sending a quick text to their group chat. Mostly filled with funny cat videos from Max.

It doesn't take long to get a response, and he's on his way.

Charles has gotten used to the fact that she will always be able to open the door as soon as he gets there. He barely bothers slowing down as he enters the room and falls face first on the bed.

"Rough night?" Asks Max.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

The girl playfully lays herself across the two. The weight of her body comforting to them both.

Max dosen't let it stay that way, though, as he rolls them all over and peppers both of their faces with chaste kisses.

It doesn't take Charles long to fall asleep with them. His and Max's arms tangled up with the girl in between them.

~

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @Ipab @jayda12

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#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #formula 1 #racing #angst #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles lechair #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x max verstappen #lestappen #max verstappen is a protector #super max #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #red bull formula 1 #redbull f1 #red bull racing #redbull #ferrari formula one #scuderia ferrari

[marvelmaniac715]

The Lords in Black and Webby as content creators (they’re still siblings and they perhaps all lived in one Content House):

Wiggly:

Wiggly is your standard Big YouTuber - think Pewdiepie or MrBeast without the philanthropy. He’s gotten into feuds with EVERYONE and is highly controversial, his fans are mostly Dude Bros who excuse his actions because “Wiggly’s based, dude”. Nobody can quite figure out how he got so popular but any attempts to get his accounts deleted were stopped in their tracks by his loyal fans. He plays a lot of video games.

Pokey:

He’s a cover artist who has a Rachel Berry sized ego. He thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread, and is actually better than that because bread can’t sing. He’s been booked as the opening act for a few bands so that inflated his god complex, but really he’s semi-average at best, the guy with a guitar at a party who’ll say “Anyway, here’s Wonder Wall”. He doesn’t have as many fans because although he’s proud of his voice he doesn’t like being seen, so he always has an avatar on screen to sing through (see what I did there?) alas, he is quite the elusive figure and he’s only ‘famous’ because of his family.

Tinky:

He’s the wacky, zany challenge guy who tries to break world records or play pranks on his siblings, he’s done at least twenty “Calling _blank_ at 3 am” videos and a lot of them are centred around FNAF. He also posts conspiracy theories and has been cancelled numerous times for stalking smaller YouTubers such as the Alpha Male influencer Ted Spankoffski. He’s rarely featured in his family’s videos for many reasons.

Blinky:

Blinky is a commentary YouTuber who reacts to various movies and tv shows. He’s famous in his own right because he picks up on small details in what he watches and is scarily good at figuring out where the plot is going - his viewers have an ongoing challenge amongst themselves to try and make him watch something that he can’t work out the ending of, but they haven’t been successful yet. Overall Blinky is pretty chill, he doesn’t get into controversies and he’s decent enough to anyone he interacts with - he’s genuinely nice to his fans and is a bit confused as to why his videos blew up.

Nibbly:

A Mukbang YouTuber as well as a chef and beauty influencer (on the side). He is just the sweetest ray of sunshine, with his signature bright smile and sign-off of “Remember, friends, spread kindness throughout the world, because we deserve more smiles!” He’s overlooked by his brothers when it comes to making content but he doesn’t mind; people are drawn to his enthusiasm and he’s one of the most popular brothers alongside Blinky because of the chill vibes he emanates - he’s the only one who’ll collaborate with Webby.

Webby:

Webby was kicked out of the Content House in disgrace when she spoke out against Wiggly’s cruel behaviour. She mostly dances but she also does song covers and fashion videos - a lot of her fans see her as an older sister because her videos are very informal, like you’re talking to your best friend over the phone. She also raises awareness for social issues and has launched several successful fundraising campaigns to help as many people as possible. Some people call her the Guardian Angel of YouTube.

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #lords in black #wiggly #wiggog y'wrath #pokey #pokotho #tinky #t’noy karaxis #blinky #bliklotep #nibbly #nibblenephim #webby hatchetfield #youtube #headcanons #head canon #ideas