#it feels like a metaphor for what im going through

[eddiesxangel]

Hellooo today is my birthday, sooo since im alone and nobody came to wish me a happy birthday,cab you do one where Eddie is the only one that remembers reader birthday and decides to reunite the whole Hellfire club to give a party that reader (us) deserve 🌹🌹🥳😘🥰

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART 🩷🫂 ( I hope I can help with the birthday blues 🥺) my birthday is also this month, Gemini twin! ♊️ 👯‍♀️

Sometimes, you dread today because the impending disappointment is always there... Did you expect everyone to wish you a happy birthday? No. But you still want at least one person to acknowledge your day, especially your best friend.

Yet, here we are, 3:00pm and still not a call or mention of anything remotely birthday related.

You impatiently watched the clock that hung on the wall of Family Video tick, watching the minutes pass so slowly. It was dead, but what did you expect? It's three in the afternoon on a Wednesday, and not many people come in on weekdays to be in with... Until you see a familiar metalhead bopping past the large window and through the door, making his grand entrance.

"Sorry, I'm late, sweetheart." He schmoozed as we walked towards you at the checkout counter.

"It only took you long enough," you rolled your eyes, suppressing the feeling of our heart fluttering; maybe he remembered after all.

"Come on, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn't at least apologize for returning this fantastic movie six days late?" he smirked as he leaned an elbow on the counter.

There it was, the inevitable disappointment. He had forgotten.

With a heavy sigh, you take the slasher film from his grasp and think for a split second about not waving the late fee.

"This was supposed to be in on May 30th... It's now the fifth." You deadpan, hoping maybe something clicks.

"I know that sweetheart, but now I have an excuse to see my best friend at work on her birthday." He smiles knowingly.

The breath you didn't know you were holding gets released, and you cannot help but smile.

"You didn't think I had forgotten?!" Eddie steps back dramatically while metaphorically clutching his pearls.

"Well, since you're the first one to acknowledge my birthday and it's..." you look at the clock you've been watching all shift. "3:49pm. Yea, I didn't think anyone would have remembered." You look down, playing with your nails.

"What do you mean the first to acknowledge your birthday?"

"Exactly that," you shrugged.

" You mean like no one has said happy birthday yet?" He raised a curious brow. " Not Dustin, Mike, Max, Erica?" He could go on bit you cut him off by shaking your head no.

"Well, I am sure glad I got to be the first." He smiles, and you can't help but smile back. Eddie has always been a good friend. Ever since you met in high school when you became a part of the Hellfire club, you've been inseparable ever since.

The back door opens, catching both your and Eddie's attention, and Steve walks out, chewing on a half-eaten sandwich.

"Sup, Munson," He mumbles.

"Come in to wish y/n here a Happy Birthday," he emphasized, and you could not help but roll your eyes.

"Today is your birthday?!" He almost choked on his food. " Why didn't you say something!?"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is! and it makes me look like a total ass."

"Steve, stop. You're not an ass... Doofus, maybe, but not an ass." You giggle.

"I'll give you that because it's your birthday. Happy Birthday"

"Thanks, Stevie"

"So, any big plans? He asks, looking at you, then to Eddie, then back at you.

"Umm, no, not really."

"Yes"

You and Eddie say in unison, and you look at your friend quizzically.

" Don't make any plans for Saturday night, okay?" he taps the counter before taking off.

"Okay? Bye?" You wave after him, confused as ever.

"He's so weird." Steve looks to you.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

*

The rest of the week was average and went by quickly. The only thing Eddie told you was that you were expected to come to his apartment at 7:30 p.m. Which you did.

You knocked on the door and heard Eddie shushing people from the other side. With a huge grin on his face, he leads you into the apartment, and then around the corner, you're ambushed by your friends yelling, "Surprise!"

"Oh my god, what is this?!" you smile, this was very unexpected. Everyone was in their old Hellfire shifts and stood around a table that had been set up for a game of DND with some gifts beside it on the floor.

"We are celebrating your birthday." Eddie nudges your shoulder.

Tears threaten to form as you take in the sweet gesture Eddie set up for you.

"You did this from me?" You try not to sniffle but fail.

"Of course he did!" Dustin pipes in.

"Happy Birthday," Mike smiles. and the rest follow suit.

"Please tell me you didn't get me presents." You notice the gift bags sitting beside the table.

"Of course we did! What kind of friends would we be?"

"One's who forgot her actual birthday until I reminded them," Eddie sneered.

"It 's okay, we are all here now together; thank you guys, this means the world." And it did. Nothing meant more to you than spending time with the people you loved, playing a game you all love, and having fun.

It had been so long since the last Hellfire meeting, and you were so happy they could all make time from their busy lives to spend it with you.

"Ok, let's eat and then play!" Eddie turns to the kitchen, and you follow.

"Thank you, Eddie. I don't know how else I can show you how grateful I am for you."

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He leans in and gives you a wet kiss on the cheek, making that the second time this week Eddie's made your heart flutter.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #best!friend Eddie munson x you #bff!eddie munson x reader #bff!eddie munson x you #best!friend Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson imagine #tj's mailbox #request

[a-pirate]

God, I need to scream.

#theres so many things #like now that im thinking somewhat rationally after last week im just #im at the end of a rope metaphorically and emotionally #i dont know where to go or what to do #i can't see through the darkness so i just #feel it in my throat #i need to scream so bad #and where can i? nowhere really

[kaikree]

something that isn't talked about much when it comes to healing yourself is that it might end up killing relationships (both romantic and platonic)

and i don't mean that in a way that should dissuade anyone from trying to heal. i mean you are where you are, on a path to try and get better, to do right by yourself and take care of the child inside you and nurture the things that have been hurt and sometimes you look around and realize that the people that you used to stand beside are a half-mile back on the track, so far that you can barely see them

and you want them to be with you still. you know that if they can get themselves up this hill with you that they'll feel better. things can get better and it's hard but you're up here climbing a hill, you know that it's possible and they can do it too! they can climb the hill with you and look out at this great view

but

you can't move their legs for them. and no matter how you wave or cajole or promise that it's not as hard once you get into it, they will not move from where they are. and you can sit there and try to talk to them from afar, but the healthier you get the harder it is to yell back to where they're standing.

sometimes there comes a point that you have to turn around completely because the path they want to stay on will only leash you back to a lower point. and that's... not actually your fault.

and yeah that can get so very frustrating. there have been times in my life where while talking to friends who were in bad spirals i would get frustrated b/c no matter what i said or did it seemed like they were hellbent on staying exactly where they were no matter how much they hated it or how much it hurt them. i could sit down and walk with them through resources and venting sessions and so many ways to to get out of the place they were in and it just... repeated. in a cycle. at some point i had to come to terms with the fact that you can't help someone who refuses to take the first step to help themselves and sometimes sticking around someone like that is only going to keep you tethered to that mental state.

#chinhands #sometimes i wonder if you'd actually communicated with me that we'd still been able to be friends #this whole metaphor makes sense in my head but idk if it translates #and then the awkward sense of feeling like the other person resents you for not being as miserable as they are #or that they resent your successes when they happen #tbh i wish i could say that i chose to end that relationship but i wasn't the one to cut the tie #i just realized that when i finally #finally #told them that they'd done something that was hurtful #that it rebounded and became about how me being hurt was actually hurtful to them #i'd made so many excuses about not telling them when they were out of line or wrong b/c i could handle it #excuses of 'theyre going through things and im privileged so i can take it' #'but if i tell them that this isn't okay then i'll be responsible for what they do to themselves after' #which in hindsight yeah that. probably. should have been indicative of something. #it wasn't something they threatened or anything like that #it was 100% my own fear and knowing that if they spiraled i was thousands of miles away #with no way of contacting anyone near them or getting help if something did happen #relationships can go bad even when everyone has good intentions #they probably think i hate them but tbh i just wish they'd get whatever they need to pull them out of the hell in their own head #they're a good and kind person just stuck in the shittiest kinds of place

[dromaeo-sauridae]

hollow knight is about a lot of things but the one thing i cant stop thinking about is the descent

#not even a metaphorical one i mean look at the map #you fall into kings pass then you fall into dirtmouth then go down the well #then down into fog canyon and down through fungal wastes and come out at the top of the city #then when you get to the bottom of the city you go even deeper #into the sewers #and hell by the time youre falling down a broken elevator shaft and sound of rain slowly fades out #as you navigate through spikes #you really start to feel the weight of hallownest #even before you find out whats going on that deafening silence feels so wrong #the only real enemy down there is someone who looks exactly like you #and then when you get the kings brand and fall into the abyss #and you realize #you are not the only one #but you might be the only living one #and im still not done because when you get the kingsoul and the ground literally falls out from under you #throwing you into a hole of corpses #corpses of your siblings #and you just sit there #the call of the void is extremely literal #personal i guess

[dykefever]

this fleabag au is like. the most complicated thing i’ve written emotionally/mentally like. help why did i do this

#i keep having to write out paragraphs of where sirius is at and what he’s feeling and why #way more often than i usually would like most scenes im contemplating where he’s at #i think it’s because i’m going off another story to use as inspiration but then changing it to make sense with r/s and there’s like. #transference and projection going on soo much more than i would usually dig into w s (although #i think it is there always 4 him just way more in this au) #but then it slowly changes to r being a very real person he desires perhaps the first thing he’s genuinely wanted #because r actually sees him and knows him etc and that is terrifying to him #i’m hoping all this work will actually come thru at the very least create a coherent through like #line** for his emotional journey #amen anyway also including religious imagery/ metaphors/bible verses etc IS A LOT OF WORK! i don’t go here!!!! #laura says some things #fleabag au

[benevolentslut]

.

#if i just left this friend group. ghosted them all. what would happen #would my life improve #would they look for me #on the one hand i know that the friends i have outside that group are infinitely healthier relationships #and i don't have to question every little thing i do around them (i still do it but i don't have to) #but on the other hand. i've been in this friend group for nearly over a decade #known some of them even longer than that. and they have been supportive when they've wanted to be #and. even though my friends outside the group are way healthier for me to hang out with. there's only 2 of them total. #one of them is my ex and the other lives in a different state #i suppose i could reach out to the group that split off from this one a few years ago but im well aware im part of the reason they left #so i have no idea if they'd even forgive me #not to mention. at least 3 of them were subtly transphobic #sooo yeah. metaphorically i can either chop off an infected arm #be healthier with just one and maybe even get a transplant or smth #or. i chop off the infected arm and then i bleed out. or something. i don't know where this analogy's going anymore #im just so tired of feeling like i'm walking through a minefield just to keep these guys friends #i hate that i fucking fell in love with the worst of them too #and i hate that if i don't have someone else to give affection to then i end up circling back to her #and of course that's not the other person's problem to deal with! and if they don't want it from me that's fine #i just hate that that's what happens in myself #i can't believe this is the same person i was gushing about barely a month ago #that rose-tinted glasses thing is so fucking true #i so hope whoever i'm with next is better. someone who actually cares about me and not just about. what they see as my issues #and trying to force me to grow past them in a really fucking toxic way #like encouraging growth is good! obviously! but. #if it gets to a point where i feel like a fucking failure for performing even slightly below their standards #i think it becomes a problem

[wyllsravengard]

there's a lot of discussion and speculation about the fact john doesn't speak of arthur in rdr1. logistically it's not hard to understand that rdr1 just came out years before rdr2 and thats why but . But.

but when you think of rdr1 with the additional context two, there is something quite... in line with john trying to forget arthur. wanting to. or burying him. not just in metaphor or in soil but in his memories and in some way failing to do it but in another succeeding

you think of john and his commitment to his son and wife and you think of his willingness to do anything for them. moral or not. righteous or not. and you think of the fact that john didn't know at the time the sort of man arthur believed him to be, but he perhaps modeled himself in the image of his older brother. near incidental. he has so little in common with arthur really. john's broody and lacking remorse and at twenty-six he's inconsiderate entirely in a way arthur never was.

but time is a thief and one day, he turns 38. he's older than arthur when he dies. and john doesn't remember well what he looks like, and all he can feel when he thinks of arthur is grief. grief that never ends. thats the thing about all of it, you'll realize - is that john knows arthur best in the retroactive.

the sort of complicated, odd man arthur was revealed to him in the creases of pages and keepsakes. in the carving of his guns that john finds after arthur is gone. in the ring of the woman arthur loved long ago. in the confessionals to his son isaac and the regret in the letters he wrote to their psuedo father. you realize john knows more of arthurs stagnant ghost that can't guide john into manhood the way he so desperately needs. and it's all he has to go by to make a man of himself.

john never finds out what kind of man arthur believed him to be and he has to infer the real good man arthur was. in grief there is love. john loved arthur enough to want to be like him. and in burying the living, breathing man arthur was he's forced to cling to his spirit. has to piece together the kindness of his older brother through memories and diary entries and secondhand stories. and that's how he models himself in rdr1 to me. where arthur is moral john becomes dutiful and where arthur is kind, john is helpful. he becomes the shadow of arthurs best qualities. he can never be arthur. no one could ever be arthur, even if arthur had given them the page by page instructions of how to do so. this is all he has. all he knows. all he can do.

john misses his brother. so he tries to embody him. but he can't really in the same way he can't grieve him. so he makes a home for arthurs ghost to return to in himself. john never mentions arthur because it dregs up painful what-ifs, but they share so many mannerisms and bastardized qualities. john has fashioned himself based on those loose memories.

one day, a stranger meets john and says. "why would you remember me, friend? you've forgotten far more important people than me" and john will remember all the ghosts he's ever loved briefly. there will be a blurry face and a forgiving voice and it will sound like a memory and it will linger in johns ribcage like a moth. and john won't remember. he won't. he can't. he buried his brother without ever doing it.

john says a lot of things. feels a lot of things. he shoots his gun to the stranger who calls his memory into question and the thing jams and the bastard roams free. john will taste blood in his mouth. he'll feel a cough in his lungs and well, he won't remember his brother still. buried men must stay buried.

of course. of course john never mentions arthur. he can't remember him, even though he's inherited so much of his manner. to speak it of him would be admitting to his existence. its admitting: i miss you. im sorry. it was my fault.

of course john never mentions arthur. he's made all this effort in forgetting him that even when his body and his gesture and his character betray the fact he's forgotten - his mind will soothe the pain and blur out his face.

and instead of remembering in life even once, he'll die the same way arthur did. alone. protective. contented. redeemed. john loves arthur like most brothers do - with muscle memory.

even if john cuts the necrosis of arthurs memory off of him, his body will twitch at the phantom feeling of his existence. john remembers even when he can't. arthur his only brother. the most important man he's ever forgotten.

#z.gen #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr1 #rdr2 #rdr1 spoilers #rdr2 spoilers #im feeling soooooo miserable about them you wouldnt believe

[aluciahaz]

Sub Adam who had been a brat all day and reader punishes him by edging him and making him beg for forgiveness 🙏🏻

he would try so hard to not give in but once he does it's nothing but sobs and whimpers, begging his mommy to let him cum and to call him a good boy<33

LETS GO!! i have to admit this is super long, sorry!! i feel like my fics keep getting longer and longer cause i just start throwing a shit ton of metaphors for no reason 💀💀 im trying to work on shortening them!!

burns good

—adam x gn!reader (reader’s gender not specified but term mommy is used)

—includes: mommy kink, crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

“come on just—stop, ngh! stop fucking with me-EE!” he jolts as you touch his cock again with your feathery touch before writhing against the ropes that bind him to his chair.

it’s been an hour of this. and although his words may be sharp, you can tell he’s losing his edge.

“maybe if you used your manners, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you spit out, grabbing his face roughly to force him to look up at you, fire still behind his eyes.

you’ll extinguish it soon enough.

“why would i need to? i’m a legend—AH! ha, fuck!” he shouts as a quick slap from your hand stings his inner thigh, making him shiver in pain, but his flushed face shows his true emotions.

“you’re a slut, that’s what you are,” you say with venom, and the shudder through his body showed that your words ran through his veins like fast poison. he gazes up at you in almost awed disbelief, unable to respond with a witty response.

“you love it when i treat you like this, huh? is that why you act out all the time? acting like an asshole just so i can put you in your place? answer me.” you seethe, your fingers digging into his legs until they bruise.

his bites his lip, not wanting to confess the truth. but he can’t lie. not when you’ve got him cornered like this.

“maybe—NGH! fine! okay—yes—i do it on purpose for you to—fuck—to do this shit to me! happy?” he admits, his back arching as you touch his cock once more, teasing adam with the finish line that’s so far away.

“good boy. see? that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” you see his hips try and buck up from his seat and quickly move your hand away, enjoying the pathetic whine of aggravation from him.

“now all you need to do is say it nicer! come on, you can do it,” you say, smirking at his hesitation. but his uncertainty wasn’t due to your patronizing tone, no. he wasn’t collected enough to catch onto that.

it was the subtle praise. the encouragement. he did something right, he’s getting your attention. good attention.

it makes his head swivel in delight, and even though he’s reluctant to follow through with your request—his pride was on the line!—he opens his trembling lips, his shaky voice conveying a lovely message.

“i act out so you…you can punish me, and—hnn—so you can drive me crazy, i—i…” he takes in a deep breath as you watch him intently, smiling at his confession. it only spurs him on more.

“i need it, please—mommy, please!” he begs weakly, yet his eyes scream for your help. they shine with tears from overstimulation, but what’s more noticeable is the pitiful desperation in his look that overrides his crying.

you can’t help but want more. he was pretty rude this week.

“please what? use your words, baby,” you coo, watching him battle between his ego and desires. his small whimpers as he tried to figure out what to do were adorable, but soon, he looks straight up at you, the victor clear.

“please let me cum!” he begs, his voice crawling into a high-pitched whine. it’s desperate, it’s sweet, and it only makes you want to play with him more.

“oh, but…baby, you don’t deserve it.”

those words were enough to make him wail and shake in his seat, but the feeling of your breath right against his ear and your harsh punishment sent him flying into a true spiral of delirium.

“nononono PLEASE! i’ll be good i’ll—hic—be…” his arms push against the binds frantically, trying to break out of them to just do something. anything.

for a few seconds.

“AH! hm—ngh! fuckfuck—!” adam’s voice is almost non-existent with half of his words filled with the raspiness of pain and the airiness from unrequited yearnings as another lash runs against his leg, red blooming on his skin.

god, he wanted you so bad. he wanted you to touch him, to make him feel special, to just let him cum after what seems like decades. he needed you to help him because even without these ropes, he knew he would never be fully satisfied without your hands on his skin.

but he had to serve penance for his actions. no matter how sweet he wailed, no matter how much he writhed, he had broken a covenant of sorts between him and you. and he had to learn that yes, his unruliness will not be tolerated, even if he begs—

sorry is not enough.

so you keep getting him close to the gates of heaven, only for him to fall back down from seeing stars. each time, he would cry without fail, and each time, his attitude would crumble.

now, there is no hesitation when he pleads for mercy, there is no question as to whether he should follow what you say, and there are no thoughts of defiance corrupting his mind. he was as unchastely pure as one could be, following every sinful demand you say.

you call him all sorts of things. slut, whore, pathetic, giving him whiplash from how kind you were earlier. it makes him cry earnestly, just wanting any semblance of praise to feed off of; to taste the sweetness of love that danced between your words

“i need it—hic—i—please, please be nice to me! m-mommy, mm! i’m so sorry! imsosorryplease, i’ll be a good boy—please, stop being so mean!” he sobs, shaking in his chair as you refrain from giving him what he wants.

adam’s voice quivers, and his breath hastens. his eyes are lidded like he’s inebriated, and he is. he’s drunk off of your words, your demeaning, cruel, vicious words, and they only motivate him more to beg for your forgiveness like a sinner at church.

when you speak again, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, the thorns of your piercing words completely burning away with the warmth of your blessing.

“you’ve been so nice to me for quite some time. perhaps you can be good after all,” you observe with a hum, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement.

“yes—yes i can!” he says frantically, trying to persuade you to do something more. to let his head soar into the clouds and get dizzy from the height.

there was a brief moment of pause as you pondered if you should give in to his pleas, but considering it has been a while, you don’t mind handing him a brief blessing. one that will slowly grow further and further, his brain distorted by the constant pleasure that you put upon him. until he cries and says he can’t cum anymore, and the overstimulation was making everything feel too much.

too good. too perfect. perhaps heaven was overrated when things like this existed. when you existed with your perfect hands running over his body, kissing his neck with delicacy and following it up with bites filled with carnal pleasure.

it was a thought that’s crossed his mind plenty of times. well, when he’s able to think. as you let him cum, your fingers now around his cock as he thrashes in his ropes, screaming and wailing as you keep moving your hand, his legs trembling as you ruin him so well.

“w-wait! wait too much—ngh—fuck! mommy, please!” he squeaks, his whole body shuddering with his sobs as he tries to collect himself somehow, but he can’t fight this sensory overload. not even with the experience of being the first man.

there’s a certain feeling burning inside of him. like a flame that was comfortably warm, yet was flickering too high out of the fireplace, signaling danger. but he can’t stop getting closer, even if it melts his ability to think in the process. the burn of lust was just too good.

he didn’t even try to fight the fire, not even caring about his appearance as he begs for you to both stop and keep going, unsure of which poison to drink from.

yet, as he was engulfed in the divine flames of your sinful blessing, he couldn’t help but feel a bit happy as he sniveled, his tears glistening against his skin. you were giving him so much attention. it didn’t matter that the pleasure was intertwined with pain, it was just a more direct sign that you had all your focus on him, and that’s all he ever wanted.

“ngh..i can’t—i c..can’t…” he says weakly, his voice practically fading into nothingness. at some point, his position changed to him lying down on the bed, still completely tied from limb to limb. but you thought that after cumming for the third time, he deserved a more comfortable environment for the rest of the night in order to soften the cruelty of your hands.

and although his voice is cracking at the seams, and his body is at your complete mercy, the mere action of you having him moved to the bed made his heart swell. it was that slight affection that made the sting on his thighs feel so nice, the almost overbearing heat of your body over his feel so loving.

“you’re doing so well. come on, just one more for me, baby,” those words were the sweetest things in the world. it made every red mark and each brutal remark worth it.

“mmn…okay—AH! mommy!” he keened, weeping as his legs jolted up just barely, too weak to even react properly as your fingers delved inside of him, quickly finding the spot that made him shiver all over.

“so—so much! i feel—i can’t—!” his eyes shut tightly as he cries, unable to put his thoughts into words. but you’ve been here time and time before, his words aren’t necessary to understand what he’s thinking.

he begs with his tears, says ‘i love you’ with the arch in his back, and screams that he wants to cum against all odds with the dazed look on his face, his eyes slowly opening to show a man who’s lost the inability to speak with words, but fluent in the language of bliss.

as he cums with a silent scream, barely anything coming out of his used cock, you watch as his eyes run to the back of his head. you watch how his whole body stiffens in a single moment before becoming limp, pleading for you to take care of it.

you can’t help but oblige, gently removing the ropes that bind him, kissing each angry imprint of love on his body, and whispering words of well-earned praise to your angel.

adam can’t cry anymore, yet if he could, he would, as being overwhelmed with love and care was just as intense as drowning in lust and desire.

he feels so vulnerable, yet he enjoys it wholeheartedly. it allowed him to get pampered like some sort of royalty. perhaps he should start doing this more just to get treated like this.

but when he suggests for you to call him ‘king’ the next day you put him back in his place, rolling your eyes in annoyance. he never learns, but he doesn’t want to. your lessons felt so good after all. why would he want them to stop?

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

#hazbin hotel #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #sub hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel dom reader #adam x reader #bottom adam #sub adam #hazbin hotel adam

[rodolfoparras]

we talk a lot about the characters being "loser boyfailures" and having no game and being rizless but think about the reader being that. guy in his thirties, no relationship ever, negative riz, absolutely no game, my man cannot speak to people without making 13 grammatical mistakes just an absolute pathetic wet dog vibes....

and the 141 boys could not want him more. they're absolutely head over heels for their loser boyfriend. i imagine Simon sees him bump into a chair and apologise to it and he's jumping his bones right then and there. pretty boy Kyle Gaz Garrick never goes anywhere without bringing his wet dog of a man with him. people are wondering how that happened and if he's blackmailing him, he gets very offended and sassy on his boyfriends behalf and when you're back home he rants to him about stupid people while milking his loser dick. Soap is just.... he's just himself the bigger the loser the more he wants the man. his boyfriend fucks up an interraction or fails at something and looks so wet and pathetic that he just has to put his dick in his mouth idk what to say Soap loves his loser boyfriends cock and when he tries and riz him up and falls flat on his face (literally and metaphorically) Soap just has to have him cream his hole im sorry but the man isn't letting his boyfriend go anywhere without having his mans loads in him. Price just loves him for the sincerity and how endearing his loser boyfriend is (just like an old man). the boyfriend will bring him coffee with a treat he tried making for Price and fuck up both the coffee and the treat but that old man will still praise you and give you kisses while his hand wanders bellow your waistband. with him Price gets to get rid of the anxiety of being too old to be useful because someone needs to make his boyfriend into a proper man. and when his boy does things right and suceeds Price rewards him by riding his phat loser cock for the whole night, milking load after load untill nothing comes out anymore

thanks for listening to the ramble i just want some love to the losers of society, there's too many perfect people in fics

Sugar!!!!!!! This is one of my favorite things I’ve ever read why do y’all leave these masterpieces in my inbox on anon you should post this sugar 🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️

Especially the gaz and price part???

Imagine all eyes on Gaz in whatever room he walks in they barley notice you behind him but he’s always got a hand around your waist, gently nudging you forward and introducing you as his boyfriend to whoever’s there

He lets you take the stage just endearingly staring at you while you try to make conversation with whoever was eager to meet the two of you

And after you’re done you got a goofy smile on your face feeling happy that you managed to get through that conversation without fucking it up

And Gaz? He’s swiftly pulling you into a room crashing his lips against yours and it doesn’t take much before he’s riding your cock marking you up and feeling all possessive because yes this wonderful sweetheart is his boyfriend and he needs the world to know that

Or you, Price’s boyfriend feeling a bit insecure because Price has so much experience and you have none but he loves it, loves how you look at his old man body with such amazement love how eager you are to learn how to get him off, tears trickling down your cheek as you suck his cock, using your hands wherever your mouth can’t reach

Or you being careful as ever when you first fuck, asking him if he’s okay, if you’re hurting him all while he’s looking at you with the biggest smile on his face because bloody hell how did he get so lucky to have someone as sweet as you and he’s even more endeared when you’re swiftly apologizing because you came too quickly

#alec answers #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #gaz x reader #gaz x male reader

[iiseor]

☆ gloomchair2010 ☆

synopsis: ellie adds you in a chat room after a mutual game. IB

cw: AU, kind of loser!nerd!ellie x popular!reader except reader is like a loser in the online world and popular irl while ellie is the opposite; make sense?? Semi stalker!ellie. This is part 1..if this does good ill continue !

ⓘ new friend request: @gloomchair2010

accepted ! reject

Gloomychair2010 has joined the chat

@gloomchair2010: hey :D

@ynspeaks: hey..?

@ynspeaks: do i know you?

@gloomychair2010: lol.. dont think so ! but we just played random duos together :)

@gloomychair2010: good game and all, just wanted to see if you needed help figuring out how to work your weapons and stuff so next time you dont die so quickly xD

@ynspeaks: haha right, i just realized your username... thank you, and i dont really play often... but you can help if you'd like :)

@gloomychair2010: really??? Would've thought you were a pro the way you stood there and let that guy shoot you in open space !

@ynspeaks: omg >< was i really that bad?

@gloomychair2010: maybe just a little ....

@gloomychair2010: nothing a little mentoring cant fix... whenever you have the time.

@ynspeaks: sounds fun :D I'm down

@ynspeaks: i like your display name btw !!!! it's so cool

@ynspeaks: what does it mean?

@gloomychair2010: you don't know ?

@ynspeaks: should i ? :(

@gloomychair2010: haha thought you would, it's a metaphor to a pretty popular game.

@ynspeaks: ohhhhhhh

@ynspeaks: i dont know much about this stuff story :<

@ynspeaks: kinda just getting into it, needed a distraction :]

@gloomychairs2010: oh....? Really??

@glooomychairs2010: something wrong?

@ynspeaks: nothing big... just life you know?

@gloomychair2010: sorry to hear that :(

@gloomychair2010: maybe you should try playing musical chairs, it'll make you happier

@ynspeaks: ??????????

@gloomychairs2010: gaming reference, sorry

@ynspeaks: sorry LOL , ill learn eventually :]

@ynspeaks: my moms going to call me for dinner soon so ill have to go, but it was nice talking to you. A good distraction so far :D

@ynspeaks: Im y/n btw... if you didn't read my user!

@gloomychairs2010: oh right it's getting pretty late

She said knowing she stays on the game way past midnight.... every night

@gloomychairs2010: oh and I'm ellie... in all honesty i didnt read ur name xD

@ynspeaks: it's okay!! you were too busy trying to save me from dying LOL

@ynspeaks: Nice to meet you ellie :3 chat later!!

@gloomychairs2006: nice to meet you too y/n :^)

*ynspeaks has left the chat*

*gloomychair2006 has left the chat*

After your chat ended, ellie found herself reminiscing about the conversation between you two. Though the conversation was extremely short, there was something so intriguing about you that she could somehow feel through the screen.

and that night, instead of staying up till 4am playing video games, she decided to take all technology based skills she obtained over the years, and utilize them in a deep dive internet search on you and who exactly @ynspeaks really was.

#🫧 sena #ellie x fem!reader #ellie x dina #ellie x abby #ellie the last of us #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #ellie x reader #abby x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou #loser!ellie

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary:  And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice?  Im crying?  This fandom is so soft.  Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight.  This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

*** 

The train is quiet.  In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud.  And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that.  Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it.  When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice.  They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train.  The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him.  It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie.  Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit.  He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it.  It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down.  And Eddie does feel sympathy for him.  Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time.  And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate.  He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.  

But he’s not a monster.  He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better.  That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down.  It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day.  Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though.  He’s not quite there yet.  At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.  

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him.  After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch.  Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry.  It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand—a small and subtle thing.  ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts.  ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand.  Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed.  Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend.  He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs.  ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him.  ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students.  It’s not your average ASL class.  It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something.  It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist.  ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head.  ‘What’s your stop?’  He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand.  Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb.  ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch.  Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him.  ‘Sleep,’ he tells him.  They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s.  But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes.  He’s asleep before stop four.  He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is.  Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs.  His fingers are nice.  Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin.  Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him.  Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from.  But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better.  A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either.  He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts.  ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise.  That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf.  At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five.  Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it.  His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine.  ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods.  That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly.  ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head.  ‘Nineteen STITCHES.  CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces.  He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have.  Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs.  ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk.  Tried everything.  Fail.’

Eddie winces again.  ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs.  ‘They removed tumors.  Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense.  And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it.  As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek.  Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back.  He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye.  ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs.  Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever.  It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train.  Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah.  Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down.  Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class.  And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie.  He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it.  He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back.  His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful.  Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again.  ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes.  Hard.  So hard he gets a little dizzy.  ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard.  ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public.  Like, hearing public.  Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath.  ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously.  ‘I was tired,’ he repeats.  His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall.  Stalks a step closer.  Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye.  ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts.  Stops.  His hand hovers in the air.  His shoulder.  His own Eddie?  ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him.  It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again.  ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats.  He needs Steve to get it.

And oh.  Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now.  Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it.  He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs.  ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

Kiss him.

#Steve Harrington #Deaf Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Deaf Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #steve x eddie

[poppy-metal]

listen. i’m blowing up your inbox and im sorry but i’m a wreck. TALK TO ME AB THE EMOTIONAL I NEED YOU SEX.

eddie’s passionate, and that definitely extends to sex, but you both are so overcome with love and gratitude that you’re both there and okay, and you’re being so gentle with him he wants to cry because he loves you so much. yall figure out why they call it “making love” that night

I was made for loving you.

a/n: this is my fix it fic. my comfort. my delusion.

cw: past fwb eddie x reader. feelings. reader is bad at them. soft sex. soft dom!eddie

why does the term 'making love' warm me up on the inside? i am disgusting.

thinking of being in a fwb situation with him before you went and saved the world together. you'd always kept him at arms length, he's just a punk and you did ballet type shit. but stumbling into your big empty house, dirty and grimy and sweaty, you don't seem that far apart. from that different of worlds.

he'd almost died. you'd had that second of bone chilling fear deep in your gut when the bats had taken him down. the screams you let out had your throat still feeling raw. you hadn't let go of his hand the whole ride home. the whole time he was being attended to. you hadn't spoken much.

you're still silent now, nawing on your bottom lip as you let him use your shower. the distant sound of the water fills your room and you can't handle it anymore. the distance. the being away from him.

he jumps, predictable and dramatic, when you open your bathroom door. he's got the shower running but he'd been sitting on the closed lid of the toliet, scrubbing his hands down his face, still fully clothed.

"jesus." he says, startled. he runs a hand through his bangs, making them stick up. "ever heard of knocking? what I'd been indecent?"

you come to him, knowing he's deflecting. "seen you naked before, munson."

he looks down at his hands on his lap. bites his bottom lip. "right."

you kneel down in front of him and put your hands on his knees, looking up at him. he has such big eyes. expressive. they can't hide anything from you. right now you can tell he's still terrified.

"you almost died, eddie."

you see his throat work around a swallow. his knee under your palm starts to shake a little. bobbing up and down. "i know. yeah i-" he takes a breath. closes his eyes and then opens them again. they look wet. "i know."

you grip him a little hard. your bottom lip trembles. "i almost lost you."

he smiles then. its a crooked, half little smile if a bit wobbly. "can't get rid of me that easily, sweetheart."

you know he uses jokes like this, his sarcasm, as a defense. usually you roll your eyes at it, let it roll off your shoulders like water and maybe say something biting back, even if you don't mean it. you can't find it in you to joke right now.

"I don't want to get rid of you." you say, completely serious. "eddie, you know that right? you know that i- that you-"

he looks at you. his eyes are that intense kind of dark they get before he kisses you. when he knows you're bluffing when you say something casual. like he can see inside you so easily. like its nothing. it never fails to make you feel stripped bare. naked.

"that you what?" his voice is soft. testing. his hands cover yours on his thighs, thumbs stroking over your knuckles.

you'd kiss him now usually. to avoid the truth of your feelings. to cover up, at least metaphorically, how naked he made you feel.

you swallow and instead of covering up, you stand slowly. his eyes track the movement until he's staring up at you, wide eyes framed by pretty lashes.

"that i need you." you say, simply. and then you're raising your hands to unbutton your tattered blouse. your hands trembling.

you've undressed in front of him more times then you can count, had him undress you. this is different. this means something. this is you letting him in.

he watches you, entranced. he always looks so worshipful. before you'd always dug your nails into his back to avoid those looks, dug your heels into his ass and taunted him in some way to make him fuck you hard not gentle.

gentle was what people who felt for eachother did. gentle was making love. gentle was being in love.

when you step out of your panties you're already slick between your legs. but you ignore that for now and reach for him. you want him bare too. you want nothing between you, nothing but skin and bones and flesh and aliveness. hes alive. hes okay. hes here.

"wanna feel you." you say, almost pleadingly as you guide him to stand. he's taller than you, your nose at his shoulders. your fingers delve into his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders. "need to- need to know you're okay. is that- is that okay?"

you'd never asked something like that before. but you genuinely want to know. maybe this isn't what he needs right now.

you hear his shaky inhale and then his hands are helping you, shaking just as much as yours to divest him of his clothes. you swallow when he steps out of his jeans. his body is beautiful. a work of art. pale and lean. your hand pets through the hair trailing down his navel, marveling at how his stomach flexea under your touch.

"i need" he stops and then starts again. "i need you too. so much. you don't know how much i do."

you peer up at him and let yourself smile as your hand reaches down to lightly grip the hard flesh between his thighs. his eyes flutter when your palm envelopes his velvety cock. stroking it once. "show me?"

when he looks at you, he looks pained. "I don't know if i can pretend I'm not fucking in love with you tonight, baby. i can't- i can't just fuck you like you weren't the last thing i saw before i thought i was gonna kick it."

you feel your chest crack open. you regret so much of your past. so much time spent pushing this beautiful boy away when you should have been pulling him closer. so much closer. letting him love you.

"i don't want to pretend anymore, eddie." you lean up on your tip toes to brush your lips against his. "make love to me."

he lets out a broken sound. a whimper almost, and then he's kissing you. hard at first and then gentle. his hands cup your face. tongue flicking against yours, melting into your mouth. "let me clean you up first, yeah? think we both need to not smell like sewage."

and you do. let him. and he lets you. you step into the lukewarm shower together and its the most intimate you've ever been with eachother. wandering hands gliding over wet skin, fingers massaging shampoo into hair. you hold eachother, chest to chest for awhile under the spray, fingers dancing between his shoulder blades as his stroke down your spine.

when you step out, you don't bother with towels, both needy now. you let him guide you back to your room, to your bed, where he lowers you down onto the soft plush of your bed.

"so pretty." he says against your stomach, kissing his way down. "you've got such a beautiful body. know you don't like me spending too much time on it- but god. that's all i want to do. take my time with you. love every inch of you with my mouth."

he kisses your pubic bone and you close your eyes. "let me?"

you spread your legs in response.

his mouth between your legs is wet and slippery. your cunt is a wet and open gash between your legs, weeping its blood, your slick, into his licking mouth. he's gentle, flicking your engorged clit with the slick muscle before gently wrapping his mouth around it.

one of his hands glides up the bed and you immediately let him enterlace your fingers, gripping onto him hard as he eats you out impossibly slow. he's looking up at you as he does, and you widen your legs as far as they'll go for him, feel the lips of your sex part under the insistent pressure of his lips and tongue.

you don't look away, holding his hand as you look down at him licking between your folds, delving his tongue deep between them. your mouth drops when he pushes it against your hole, trembling when he starts to lick it inside you. deep and broad strokes.

"eddie, i-" you can't finish the sentence, overwhelmed.

he comes up, his mouth wet and red from your juices and you feel the cool metal of his guitar pick necklace glide between your breasts as he lowers himself on top of you, melding your bodies.

he sees your eyes on the necklace and his shoulders are hitching in the next moment, as he distangles it from around his neck and through the mess of his hair.

you hold your breath, tears pricking as he places it around your neck. fingering it where it rests in your clavicle. "you look good with a little me on you."

your eyes water and you don't try to push back the tears as you spread your thighs around his waist. lift your hips to aid his gentle rocking between your legs. "you've always been on me." you swallow. "in me. i-in my heart. always."

he rests his forehead against yours, both of you holding your breath as the spongy head of him prods at your entrance, gliding between the slick folds and pressing against that tiny hole. it opens for him, as always.

"fuck." he sighs as he slides in. slides home. your body welcoming his inside it easily. "you're imprinted on my f-fucking soul, honey. drove me crazy that i couldn't show it to you."

you grip his back, feeling the muscles flex with the movement of your bodies swaying on the mattress. you're meeting his thrusts, moving your body with his, toes curling at his sides where they dangle around his moving hips.

"never- never gonna push you away again." you gasp, overwhelmed. this feels so good. intense. "dont let me eddie- need you. need you so much."

he shakes his head, sweaty forhead against yours. he's pressed so close to you, you can feel the sticky sweat between your bodies making your skin slip and slide against eachother. your cunt is making wet sounds around his cock filling you over and over.

"not gonna let you." he moans against your mouth, kissing you hard. he's punching the breath out of your lungs with each thrust. "you're mine. you hear me? mine the second you locked eyes with me in homeroom, mine the minute you approached me after school behind the bleachers, mine the second you let me inside you, mine the second you stepped through that door and told me to make love to you."

"eddie." you whine and pant, gripping yourself to him tight. "eddie im gonna-"

"do it, baby." he looks between your moving bodies where his flesh is steadily meeting yours, watches his cock glide in and out. watches the shine of your need for him coat his cock when he slides out and grunts when he thrusts back home. "you cum on me you're not getting away from this, from us. the moment you wet my cock you're saying you're mine. no going back."

his lips mesh against the lobe of your ear, grinding his pelvis hard into yours. hes so fucking deep.

"so. fucking. do. it." each word punctuated with a deep thrust.

your world whites out as you cum around him, shaking and moaning and clinging onto him. its the biggest thing you've ever felt. your heart feels like it can't even contain all its feeling. Its too much.

"im yours." you cry out, soaking his cock. "im yours, im yours."

he's fucking you harder now, moving against you desperately as he chases his own pleasure. "yeah you are." he moans, his fingers looping through his necklace around your neck and pulling so your head it tugged forward until your foreheads are knocking. "about time you caught up."

when he cums, you both moan. the warm splash of it filling your milking walls. "god your pussy." he whines, "it was made for me."

you wrap your arms around him. both of you anchoring the other.

"i was made for loving you, I think."

#ask #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie spaghetti #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4 spoilers #stranger things x you #eddie x reader

[icaruspendragon]

im sorry to ask but i dont know what else to do—how did you do it how did you dig yourself out because it feels like i am choking on dirt and people keep shoveling it onto me and i miss her so much and i dont know how to make this feeling stop. she was my best friend. ive never lived in a world without her before. how did you do it. how are you doing it

grief is so hard and so heavy when we first meet it. it feels like all our arms will ever hold for the rest of forever. and it is, in a sense. once we pick it up, we never really set it down. not fully.

and I don't think it gets lighter, I think we somehow, impossibly, get stronger.

there's lots of metaphors for grief. that's one of them. another one I like to use is that it feels like you're in the grave with them. like lazarus. like yourself. waiting for someone to raise you from the dead. to raise you both.

I've learned a lot about crawling out of the grave. more than I would have ever wanted to learn. like how emptiness is actually quite heavy. or how to pretend like you feel half-alive. but I think the most important thing I've learned is that somedays, we inexplicably end up back in it. and that sucks.

because we just spent months clawing our way through the bugs and the earth. because our soldier-hands have finally breached the surface. because the sun is finally caressing our hell-fresh faces. because for the first time in months we feel like we can finally breath. and then, suddenly, we're right back in the terrible thick of it.

those days make it feel like I'm sisyphus and grave dirt is my rock. or like I'm prometheus and the darkness is my eagle.

but then it's tuesday.

which is to say my brother died on my 25th birthday, a monday. and that day is now a memory that's fuzzy around the edges. single snapshots I know are connected, but I couldn't tell you how. I remember my mother standing in my bedroom and tears and family and phone calls and cleaning my living room because I didn't know what to do with my hands. I remember going to my grandmothers and my phone vibrating off the table and leaving to go get coffee because I couldn't sit still. I remember joking, trying to joke. trying to do whatever I could to make sense of that impossible day. I remember checking my phone and reading and rereading the messages, a mixed bag of congratulations for surviving another year and condolences that my brother didn't, I remember not knowing how to respond to any of them. so I didn't. I remember being surrounded by so many people doing nothing but extending love and kindness to me and never feeling more alone. the world was ending and I was alone. I thought that day would go on forever.

but it didn't.

it ended, as all things do. monday was over and my first day as an only child was done.

and suddenly it was tuesday. and everything was different but also exactly the same.

it was tuesday and my brother was dead. I was so heavy when I woke up that first tuesday. so heavy and confused. I thought the world had ended. it surely felt like it had. but it hadn't. because the world couldn't have ended on monday.

not if it was tuesday.

it was tuesday and my brother was dead but the world wasn't ending. monday should have been our demise, but it wasn't. and it hasn't. and it won't. because just as sure as we have mondays, we'll always have tuesdays.

that's something I've taken a strange comfort in, knowing that we'll always have tuesdays.

the feeling never stops. but I think that's okay. because you're only feeling that way because there was love first. and as much as what I felt on that first tuesday hurts, as much as it suffocates, as much as it consumes, I'd take the hurt and the suffocation and the consumption because the love I felt first will always, always be worth it.

tuesdays will always be worth it.

like yeah, if I loved less, it wouldn't hurt this bad. but I don't want to live in a world where I have to love less. where I was loved less.

I'll take the pain. I'll take the grave days. I'll take the rock. I'll take the eagle. I'll take apocalyptic, earthshaking mondays. I'll take every last wretched bit because goddamn what a miracle it is to love so bad it hurts this big.

I hold that love, his love for me and my love for him, a love that's now become our love in the cage of my ribs while I'm in the cage of the grave. and I dig.

it's monday and I dig.

I dig.

and then tuesday comes.

#asks #long post #grief #cw: death #hope this helps some way

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer Reid × gn!reader.

Warnings: mentions of death, not explicitly mentioned gunshot wounds, grief and blood.

Summary: when what should be an easy case ends up going horribly wrong.

"You're okay honey, look at me. Good that's so good baby, keep looking at me" Spencer sounded frantic as he begged you to keep looking at him. You weren't entirely sure what had happened. One minute you had the unsub in your sights, your gun raised towards him. And the next you found yourself on the dirty floor of the old warehouse where the team had located the unsub.

"Spence... my stomach hurts" you whine, clearly you're disoriented, maybe it was the pain, or possibly the blood loss. You'd looked down only to see Spencer's shaking hands pressed to your abdomen, blood now coating his normally clean hands.

"I know honey I know, you're gonna be okay" his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that were a comforting warm brown with golden specks smothering the space around his irises, they were staring back at you with... grief? Fear perhaps?

"I don't wanna die..." it was pathetic how weak you sounded, and if you weren't currently bleeding out in your husbands arms you would've reprimanded yourself for letting your mask slip, for allowing your fear to cover your tough facade. But you truly hadn't been this scared before, maybe that was a lie... maybe you were more scared when you first laid eyes on your newborn daughter, the daughter that you and Spencer loved to death. Death is a funny concept, or at least that's how you see it, you can recall Spencer telling you that he had seen a bright light whilst in deaths grasp. But you couldn't help but be scared, for you had no idea what laid beyond the life you're living, was it dark? was it inviting? Perhaps it is like a hug... or possibly comparable to bring thrown in a frozen lake?

"D- don't say that. You're gonna be okay, and we're gonna go home to our baby girl. And you're gonna give her kisses like you always do, you're going to read her her favourite story. I promise." You couldn't fault him, his promise was inviting, it was almost believable. But you'd been studying human behaviour for years and you knew when someone wasn't sure of their own words. You could see the salty tears that threatened to roll down your husbands cheeks like a wave rolling calmly across the undisturbed ocean surface.

You could didn't have the heart to tell your poor husband that you weren't leaving this warehouse alive. The hope in his eyes was enough to diminish any thought of arguing against his prior statement.

Your toes and fingers were begining to tingle, maybe it was death pulling you're life from you on string at a time... perhaps it was the blood loss making you feel weightless, whatever it was you weren't entirely sure if you welcomed it or not.

"I- I don't wanna die... but- I think im ready" you whisper, at this point your skin is deathly pale and you can feel your chest struggle to move as you attempt to fill your lungs what ever air you can aquire. You felt heavy, but yet somehow also weightless, like you were sinking into a cloud, clouds are mostly condensation so surely you could be heavy enough to sink through one whilst also being light enough to have remained on the cloud. Well now you just weren't making any sense, how could you lay on a cloud, despite it being an obvious metaphor you felt troubled by the way your mind was traveling.

"I know... baby I know." Spencer sniffles, oh... he knew? Perhaps it was the calmness in your expression, maybe it was the smoothness of your voice. You felt guilty, you had a wonderful husband and a 3 year old daughter that you would die for. You didn't want to leave your husband widowed at 31 and you didn't want to leave your daughter wondering when you were coming home, you didn't want her to think that youd abandoned her. But you knew that there was no way you could survive this. You could feel it, you could feel yourself... dying.

"I'm sorry" your voice shook with regret and guilt as you stared into your husbands glassy eyes, you allowed your eyes to wander over his face almost as if they were frolicking through a beautiful garden, you adored his beautiful nose, and the few freckles that graced his smooth shining skin, the small amount of stubble peaking through as he had been to preoccupied getting your daughter dressed for preschool this morning to shave, you lastly glanced at his full pink lips that were pulled into an odd mix between a frown and a soft smile.

"It's okay sweetheart. You can go." It felt odd him telling you that you had his permission to go. Go where? You weren't entirely sure yourself, but once the words had left his beautiful lips you could physically feel yourself relax slightly.

You'd always found the thought of kissing someone that was dying odd, as a child it almost felt like necrophilia when a character would kiss their dying lover in a movie. Perhaps you'd mellowed with age, or perhaps you couldn't fathom the idea of dying without kissing the love of your life once more.

Spencer gently cupped your cheek not caring for the blood that was smeared against your pale cheek, he gently slotted his lips against yours. After 10 years they still fit perfectly, it was almost like finding the missing piece of your puzzle that you've searched years for.

And so for one last time your normally vivacious bright eyes turned dull, staring into nothingness as your body gave into the blood loss. Spencer couldn't bring himself to look into your dead eyes so instead with a shuddering breath he gently closed your eyes but not before pressing a goodbye kiss to your forehead.

Note: thank you for reading, please don't hesitate to correct any grammar mistakes. Also just a reminder my requests are open so feel free to request a story.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds

[jeysbvck]

it always leads to you (in my hometown)

oh hi, im back after almost a year of not posting fics, and of course it's my main man who pulls me back in! this is my first jey uso fic, so pls comment & reblog & let me know what you think!! i tried to make it angsty, to fit the song more, but i guess that's not the direction my brain wanted to go!!

jey uso x afab!reader

smut, 18+, minors dni!!

word count: 2,420

some people i thought might like this (if you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!): @southerngirl41 @bebesobrielo @harmshake @afterdarkprincess @rollinsland @wrestlezaynia @crxssjae

summary: when you're in town for the holidays, it always ends up with you in jey usos bed for the weekend. this time, it isn't enough, and jey shows you why you can't leave him behind.

You stared out the window, feeling content as you watched the snow fall outside, frost gathering on the glass. You and Jey had spent all weekend in bed, sleeping half the day away and sharing body heat in more ways than one; which is how you spent all the fleeting weekends together. You had so much to do before you left in two days, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the warm bed, especially when Jey was sleeping beside you, looking like a literal angel.

This had been happening for the last four years and you remembered it all too well; the bewildered, haunted look when Jey locked eyes with you for the first time in years, like he'd seen a ghost. You remembered the ice that ran through every vein in your body when he walked past you without acknowledging you, making you consider whether you were a ghost. You remember lying in your childhood bedroom, old photographs of you and Jey still on your walls, staring down at you, judging you. You knew you'd hurt him when you left, he didn't think your reasons were good enough; but it never crossed your mind that he'd pretend you were a stranger. But as you stared at the posters and photographs on your walls, you realised that you were a stranger now, you didn't recognise the girl in the photographs anymore.

A few days later, you bumped into Jey again, this time you were both alone, walking past the school you used to share, and things seemed different. He opened a dialogue, asked you how you'd been, asked about your life, and before you knew it, you'd been standing in the cold for half an hour. Jey offered you a ride, and you weren't ready for this to end; it felt familiar, but also new. So you accepted and you drove around the small town, commenting on how things hadn't changed. Four hours later, you were in his bed, doing things you had only dreamed about.

You thought it would be a one-off, that maybe the universe was giving you a better goodbye than the first time, a better reunion than the one in the bar. But the next holiday you were in town, he text you, and you ended up in his bed again. Then Jey started surprising you at the airport -sometimes you hadn't even told him what time your flight was- and although he dropped you off at your parents house, it wasn't long before you were spending most of the time with Jey. It was essentially a weekend-long holiday hook up, a way to make you feel less lonely during the holidays and a way to have what could've been -what should've been- if you had just stayed.

Jey stirred in his slumber, retracting his arm that was stretched over you, taking away the warmth and leaving a chill behind, as you pulled the quilt up further, you couldn't help but think of it as a metaphor for how you would feel in a couple of days when you left. You turned your back on the beautiful view outside the window to the -in your totally, unbiased opinion- the more beautiful view next to you. Even after all the years of knowing Jey, he still took your breath away, he still set your heart ablaze. Every time you were here, you took every opportunity to mentally record every detail of him to take back with you. Every new grey hair, every tattoo, every laughter line, every perfect imperfections, you took it all in. You basked in the warmth, the comfort, the happiness that you felt in this bed, knowing it would all be over in a flash.

"Mornin' babe," Jey said, with a sleepy smile, "you're watchin' me sleep, forgot you were a creep."

You hummed in response as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his pillow-like lips. "And I forgot you snore." You teased, and Jey scoffed, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Such a liar." He mumbled against your lips and you smiled, pulling away and finding your place on his chest. Your fingertips traced the lines of his intricate tattoo on his chest, as his stroked your back, soothingly.

The time you spent with Jey, in this bed, the room, the house; felt like a different world. Like reality as you know it didn't exist here, it was just you and Jey, and nothing else mattered. You hated leaving, you hated getting on the plane, going back to your life like you hadn't just left the warmest place you'd ever known.

"So..." Jey started, and you knew what was coming. The dreaded question that he asked every time. "How long we got? Until you-"

You cut him off, not wanting the words to be said, as if it somehow wouldn't happen if Jey didn't speak it into the universe. "I know what you mean, Jey." You sighed. "Can't we just stay in this bubble for a little longer?"

"How much longer? Like, you wanna talk later, over dinner? Or how about the mornin' of your flight so we barely get to say goodbye?" He snapped, and you scoffed at the outburst. "Ay, you're the one who-"

"Okay," you cut him off before he finished the sentence, sitting up and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing the robe that had been thrown on the floor the night before as you stood up and pulled it over your body. "You really wanna spend the time arguing?"

"No! I jus'-" Jey groaned and turned on his side, his elbow resting on the mattress. "Okay listen, I know our whole thing; no stayin', no waitin', but-"

"No Jey, this works!" You lied. You knew you were trying to convince him more than yourself, because you knew it wasn't working. If it did, leaving him wouldn't break your heart, you wouldn't spend the year counting down to the next holiday. Nobody in your life knew you like Jey. They didn't know which smiles you were faking, or which laughs were genuine. They didn't even know your coffee order, or your favourite film.

"This works for you? This is enough for you?" Jey asked. "Because it isn't for me."

You bit your lips, you'd expected this every time, you knew it would happen eventually. Jey was always going to find someone who could give him more than you could offer.

"What are you saying?" You asked. "You don't-you wanna end this?"

Jey got his knees and shuffled towards you, leaning up and cupping your face with his hands, his eyes level with yours. "I don't wanna end this." He said. "I wanna be with you."

"Jey," you whispered, hoping he could see in your eyes how much love you have for him. "I can't- We can't-"

"Ay, just listen." Jey said. "What if I came wit' you?"

You stared at him, speechless, your face still in his hands. "That's not funny."

"It ain't supposed to be funny."

"Stop it. You can't just say stuff like this, not in here, not like this when we're all caught up in the bubble!" You said, throwing your hands around. "You have your family here, a life here, you're just gonna leave it all behind?!"

"Didn't stop you." Jey retorted, and you rolled your eyes.

"That was different! I didn't pack up my life to follow someone across the country!" He smirked at you, making you roll your eyes a second time.

"Ay, you think highly of yourself, don't ya?" He joked, but you groaned and pulled his hands away from your face, putting your own over your face. "What if I ain't doin' it for you? What if I'm doin' it for me?" He asked. He pulled your hands from your face and held them. "I know you tell me not to, but I wait, babe. I wait for you to call, to text, I ask your parents when you're comin', so I can wait at the airport for you. I don't wanna wait anymore, I wanna be wit' you, for real, and you can't stay."

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to let yourself smile, and you turned your back on him, sitting back down on the bed. He was saying all the right things, wearing your favourite smile, and it was hard to be logical right now. This was never an option, because what if he ended up resenting you? Having Jey sporadically in your life through the year was better than the alternative.

Jey ran his hands up and down your arms, planting little kisses on your shoulder and neck. "Jus' think about it, babe." He whispered in your ear as he kissed your neck. "We can have more than jus' weekends." His hands slid over your skin, grazing your breasts as he followed a path down to your stomach, sending shivers through your whole body. "We can do this-" His hand slipped into your underwear, teasing you. "-whenever we want."

You tilted your head back, leaning it against his shoulder as he nibbled your neck, and you hummed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get his fingers exactly where you needed them. He clicked his tongue before he dug his teeth into your neck, a moan escaping your mouth as his fingers teased your entrance.

His hard cock was pressed against your back, and as he played and teased you, you reached around and grabbed his cock. He rutted against your hand, moaning into your neck as you stroked the long length, the action making him push two fingers inside you. They moved inside you, matching the pace of your hand on his cock; when you slowed down, he did, and when you quickened the pace, he did too.

Jey upped the ante, his thumb flicking over your clit, making your hips buck, your grip on his cock tightening, making it twitch. Jey groaned into your shoulder, and when you ran your thumb over his tip, he pulled away from your hand. "Nah, you're gonna make me cum." He mumbled into your shoulder. He kissed your skin again, before pulling his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper pathetically. You watched as he slipped off the bed and pushed you backwards on the bed before getting on his knees. "Gotta remind you what you'll be missin' if you leave without me." He smirked, burying his head in between your legs.

You moaned loudly as he flattened his tongue against your cunt, slowly licking every part of you. He quickened the pace, and just as you arched your hips, he pinned them against the bed, while pushing two fingers inside you, his tongue flicking and sucking your clit. This was euphoric, you writhed underneath him as he drove you wild. Jey knew exactly what he was doing and his plan was working, you knew that he could ask you for anything right now -doing that thing with his tongue- you'd say yes to anything and everything.

"So wet for me." He muttered against you, nibbling the inside of your thigh as he fucked you with his fingers. All you could do was gasp and moan as he didn't give you a moment to breathe, sucking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. You tried to hold out, to delay your orgasm, but it wasn't long before you let yourself go, bundling the sheets in your hands as your thighs gripped his head.

Jey pulled back and crawled up your body, his thick, hard cock grazing your cunt, making your body twitch. He grinned down at you, his beard glistening with your juices, his dark eyes full of lust and you pulled him down by the chain around his neck for a kiss, your tongues dancing with each other as you ran your hands down his toned back. He rubbed his cock against your cunt, and you bucked your hips against him. "Fuck me, Jey." You managed to gasp, and he grinned at you, his eyes darkening more. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning with you as your cunt tightened around him.

Your moans were lost in Jeys mouth as your bodies rocked together, your kisses getting rougher and more passionate. His free hand playing with your breasts, switching between them, refusing to let your hands free. "Such a good girl, takin' my cock like this." He grunted and you threw your head back as he attacked your neck once again. Your orgasm was bubbling up inside you, your legs beginning to shake as he fucked you harder and deeper, his own orgasm imminent. He brought his lips back to yours, the kiss slower, but not less passionate, and when he let go of your hands to grip your hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

"Shit, baby, I'm so close." He groaned, burying his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts getting harder. You rolled your hips making his cock twitch inside you, and in all the bliss and passion as your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, three words slipped out of your mouth.

"Come with me." You whispered, nibbling his earlobe. "So close." He repeated, and you grabbed his head, making him look at you.

"No Jey, come with me." You said, and he looked in your eyes, he flashed you that beautiful smile -one that could light up a starless night sky. You nodded, and he kissed you, just as his own orgasm hit, and he thrusted into you a few more times, his moans being caught by your mouth.

He dropped onto you; his body like a welcome weighted blanket, and you wrapped your arms around him as he lay on your chest. "Did ya mean it?" He asked quietly. You ran your fingers through his hair, and thought about what you said. You hadn't meant to say it, especially in that moment, it had just slipped out. You also hadn't meant to confirm it was in fact, what you meant. But you meant it with your whole heart, and you knew as soon as Jey voiced it as an option, you knew you couldn't leave him behind again.

"I mean it, Jey. I've never meant anything more."

#jey uso #jey uso fic #jey uso x reader #jey uso x you #the bloodline #the usos #smut #smut writing #my writing*

[weebsinstash]

Now Im interested on the "What if the 3 Vs passed Reader around like a blunt"

I kind of meant it in like a "what if you were some weird shared friend/pet" but I've seen people HC that the 3Vs are poly, although we've never seen any canon confirmation of this and on the Instas it was always Vox who was Val's explicit partner

Although to be nasty I feel like Velvette would be fucked up enough to watch Reader get railed by Val and Vox. Like in some party scenario where you're with all 3 in their house and Valentino dopes you up or something, she's just like, recording you getting spitroasted on her phone

I usually imagine these sorts of scenarios as Reader meeting Val and then slowly drawing the attention of the others, although Vox really has grown on me and I hope we see more of him these last two episodes. Anyways i'm starting to like the idea of Reader meeting Vox first. Like can you imagine you get hired on as a coder or a programmer or a product developer, and he's patrolling the facilities or checking in on a specific project and that's when you meet. He either notices the quality of your work or your manager brings it up to him, or there's some massive metaphorical fire you put out (like that woman who saved toy story 2 from being completely erased because she had all the files backed up, something like that)

You and Vox get to talking, getting along, having similar tastes. He starts giving you different projects, ones he thinks are better suited to your skills (and also put you in closer proximity to him). Fucking liar is arranging shit like company calendars or company events where there are photoshoots JUST so he has an excuse to pose with you for a photo. I mean, it makes sense right? Why would you question your boss wanting to take a celebratory photo at the release of a huge product launch? And you're happy and feeling so respected and successful and being friendlier with him the more you settle into Hell and feel safer, and then I imagine Vox's way of being "obvious" is that he's like, easily nervous or a nervous laugher , I dunno. It's all preference but I like yandere/antagonists who keep their cool a little bit but then it's also cute when they fawn over you 🥰 like the people who know him see the way he laughs around you and they Instantly Know

But then, maybe Val is perceptive enough to notice, "hey why does my man keep taking photos with this one specific person". Like maybe Vox is trying to be slick with it and all the photos are group shots but Val notices that every single photo has you in it and some of the photos are for really minor events he knows Vox wouldn't normally care about. Vox slips up one day when you and him are "sharing a car to go to a company event" which totally isn't like a catered dinner that there are only going to be SO many people at, TOTALLY NOT an incognito date that you're complerely unaware of the intentions behind, and Vox has to stop in back home to grab something, or you get pulled inside for a moment just to wait, he's gotta grab a laptop or a flash drive and, suddenly here's Velvette, "Vox I'm borrowing your nerdy employee, I'm short someone and I need a model for something" and you're getting dragged away

Vox is freaking out thinking you got swiped by Val and he's zipping through the electrical lines in the house (the electro-teleportation shit really is SUCH a game changer), and he finds you trying on things with Velvette, "oh my gosh I've never worn something this nice before, thank you for giving me the opportunity to try it on ^^" and Velvette is so pompous that any praise goes right to her head, and now Vox gets to see you all styled in... whatever. Velvette waves a finger, "now you two match!" as she puts you in an outfit with Vox's aesthetic and color scheme, and she's doing it to tease the both of you but she IMMEDIATELY notices "oh hey Vox what's that look on your face >:3c does someone have a crush?"

SHE would be the fucking gossip who would tell Val honestly. Actually new headcanon lmao: the Vs rarely want to share you but will rat each other out for "having you" in a heart beat. Velvette and Vox hide you from Val, but any of them will gladly steal you from the other lmao. God, a yandere Vox who's lucid and tryna keep his behaviors under wraps, keep it to pictures, stalking and looking from afar, and then you have the other two Vs like SHOVING YOU at him as like, a joke to watch him squirm and blush. They'd be randomly bringing you along just to tease him and watch him sweat. Valentino hits Vox up for a date or a night out and the tv demon shows up and you're there too lmao

I feel like these three are the worst because they all have the capacity to be obsessed with your appearance. Velvette is an influencer, Vox is a TV mogul and tech CEO, and Valentino... obviously we don't need to comment on his penchant for having arm candy. All of them are obsessed with their appearance and their brand and one of them is literally a tailor with magical clothes changing powers. You could have something like the other two Vs show up while you're serving Val drinks and Velvette cocks her brow, "hey, why doesn't this one have a proper uniform?" And she just starts zapping you into different varying levels of exposed outfits that match the other employees at the strip club and Val's aesthetic just for kicks as the big man himself oogles you like a pervert and his boyfriend is pretending he's not interested but, his screen is totally turning red

Tbh I'm suddenly thinking of like, imagine thinking "your body is safe" because Val has never come onto you and, you aren't sleeping with anyone and, you get upset one night and do some self harming behaviors. Velvette or Valentino comes and demands you try something on or you get nonconsensually zapped into something and there are cuts hidden on your body. Velvette is furious because this affects how you look in her clothes and what she can dress you up in, Vox is you know concerned because idk I imagine he knows what it's like to be horribly insecure and feel like you aren't good enough, and Valentino probably loves having you constantly half naked and the self harm scabs? Not hot, babe. Obviously they're all upset over you hurting yourself but, these are occasional feelings on top of that

Ugh I dunno just. They all have power and influence and money and they're all crazy and I'm over here kicking my feet and twirling my hair with thoughts of being objectified in allllll the fun ways

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere stuff #sinprompts