#Rockstar Mag

[whiskeyswifty]

ok this is so specific but do you remember the post of a photoshoot taylor did in 2012/2013, I think, where she's wearing dark red lipstick and a black top and her hair is done up and she does her suprised o face???? I'm obsessed with this photoshoot but can't find these photos anywhere 😭😭

I thiiiiink I know what you’re thinking of, and it’s this Love Magazine photo shoot from 2009? She’s worn dark lipstick so few times and this is the only one that comes to minds so I hope I’m right!

[eastsidemags]

Tee Franklin / Shauna Grant My Little Pony Signing

ATTENTION! THIS IS AN ALL (PONY) AGES SIGNING ALERT!

Legendary writer Tee Franklin (Bingo Love, Harley Quinn Animated Series comics) is coming back to East Side Mags this July to sign her debut MY LITTLE PONY issue - #14 - featuring her very own pony named VIOLETTE RAINBOW!

We’ve also got rockstar artist Shauna Grant (Mimi & the Cutie Catastophe, Adventure Time) who’s responsible for the interior art along with the artwork for the main cover!

About the issue:

Everypony meet Izzy’s most favorite crafting protégé: Violette Rainbow! Violette is super excited to see Maretime Bay, have a traditional Unicorn sleepover with her favorite fillysitter, and meet the famous Sunny Starscout. But she is feeling self-conscious about her spotty coat because it’s caused by vitiligo. It’s up to Izzy to help Violette see the beauty in her unique sparkle!

Don’t miss this FIRST APPEARANCE of a BRAND NEW PONY! Get your hands on a fresh copy, get it signed by BOTH creators and let’s have some pony-fun!

***PLEASE NOTE: FOR THE DURATION OF THE SIGNING, FACE MASKS WILL BE REQUIRED***

[lilaceas]

[aquarines]

bailey for wonderland mag is very rockstar lestat's daughter claudia coded

[choke-me-joey]

Matching Tattoos

Eddie Munson x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, DO NOT GIVE ANYONE OR YOURSELF TATTOOS AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO TO A PROFESSIONAL THIS IS FICTION AND A VERY UNHYGIENIC SITUATION FOR NEW TATTOOS, blowjobs, gagging, swallowing, friends to lovers, Eddie is so fucking sweet, porn with some plot followed by fluff.

Part 2

"Isn't she pretty?" Eddie grins, producing the homemade tattoo gun from under his bed. Pretty was a very strong word. More like a clump of sketchy looking metal held together with even sketchier looking screws and rubber bands.

You scoff. "If you think she's pretty I'm seriously starting to question your taste, Munson. Going from Chrissy Cunningham to this? That's quite a decline."

Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You're never going to drop that are you? Chrissy was a 5 minute crush, besides, she's been dating that douchebag Jason Carver for ages now." Eddie waves his hand to signify his distate. "Anyway, nowadays my taste is more...refined, thank you very much. Hence why I am going through the world's longest dry spell at the moment. Now shut up, and get on the bed. We're doing this." He buzzes the tattoo gun for extra effect.

"Yessir." Giving him a cheeky salute, you lie down on Eddie's bed as he messes around with the ink, and something crinkles beneath you. Your brow furrows as you dig underneath you, and you pull out a dog eared magazine. You flick through the pages, your cheeks flushing. "Jesus, Eddie, resorting to porno mags? You really are suffering." You throw the crusty magazine at him, laughing. Eddie quickly kicks it under his bed.

"What? I got needs, Y/N, and its not exactly like there's a line of babes wanting to fuck the town freak."

"Not even with the whole struggling rockstar vibe you've got going on?" You cock your eyebrow, shooting him a smirk.

"Right? I should be drowning in pussy," he grins, and you roll your eyes. "Still want it on your hip, right?"

"As long as it can be covered by a bathing suit so my parents don't murder me, have at it."

Eddie gulps as you unbutton your jeans, shimmying your hips out of them and exposing your simple black panties to him. You then roll your shirt up your stomach and tie it in a knot to prevent it from getting in his way.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen you like this before, he'd seen you in a bathing suit hundreds of times but this....this was different. This was you, half naked, on his bed. You that Eddie had been harbouring a crush on for a good year or so now, hence the dry spell. He didn't want anyone else, he wanted you, his best friend, his partner in crime, his girl. Nobody in this deadbeat town even came close, not anymore.

He was ashamed to even admit that the magazine you'd fished out from his bed was merely a distraction tool. So many nights he'd fucked his fist thinking of you, the way your body glistened in the sun that time when you sunbathed out the back of his trailer in that black bikini, the way your breasts threatened to spill out of the cups and your ass peeked out from the bottoms that left very little to the imagination.

He had to get you out of his head. It was sick, it was wrong, you were his best friend. His beautiful, funny, smart, sexy as hell best friend. If he had to beat off to some random chick in a disgustingly cheap porno magazine just to stop him thinking about you, so be it.

But honestly, when you'd asked him to give you a tattoo on your hip, the magazines just weren't doing it anymore.

Eddie cleared his throat. "You sure about this Y/N?"

"Eddie, shut up and ink me already," you smile, playfully nudging him with your foot. "You drew it up, yeah?"

"One bat comin' at ya," Eddie grins, showing you the little stencil he'd drawn. It was an exact copy of the largest bat out of the swarm on his arm. "You know we can never not be friends after this right? Matching tattoos is a pretty big commitment."

"Until death do us part." You teased.

"I fuckin' do," Eddie kissed your hand, making you snort. Your friendship had always been like this, flirty to the point where people were always wondering if you were together or not. But that's all it ever was, all bark and no bite per say. "Can you move your, uh, your-"

"Panties, Eddie? For someone who used the phrase 'drowning in pussy' earlier I refuse to believe 'panties' gets you all flustered." You tease, pushing down your panties and exposing your skin to him.

Eddie can feel his palms sweating as your panties slip dangerously low, almost exposing that dip between your legs. His mouth is as dry as the fucking desert when he catches a glimpse of your smooth, soft skin. God, he wants to put his mouth there. He wants to put his mouth all over you actually. He coughs once more.

"Right, let's do this, pretty girl." He carefully cleans the area you want tattooed with some antiseptic liquid before laying the stencil down, carefully pulling it away to reveal the outline on your skin. "Looks metal, babe, you ready?"

You nod, clutching his comforter in one hand as he brings the needle to your skin and the buzzing starts. You bite your lip as you feel the needle meet your flesh, a searing burning pain but not too unbearable.

As he drags the needle across your soft skin, Eddie is sweating. He's so close to a part of you he desperately wants to explore, to kiss and lick and make you scream his name until you're sobbing in ecstasy. But he can't. Why would someone like you ever be interested in the town freak? The nerdy metalhead that spends his free time planning extensive D&D campaigns, or playing in shitty dive bars to a crowd of not even 10 people didn't compare to the jocks who went to endless parties, or did something better than spending their spring break in their trailer getting high and watching horror movies.

"Whatcha thinking about, handsome?" Your sweet, sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up at you. God, you look like a fucking angel right now, all draped across his bed with your hair over his pillow. He knows he'll be able to smell the shampoo you use on that later.

Eddie, always one to almost never lose his cool, shoots you a cheeky grin.

"Thinkin' about how I could tattoo my name on you, pretty Make sure everyone knows who's girl you are."

"Everyone already knows, I've only got eyes for you, dungeon master."

Fuck, he wishes you wouldn't call him that. Not like this anyway. Not with this amount clothes on. Or not on.

"Less of the dirty talk, you. I'm trying to concentrate here." He growls, wiping the residual ink off your skin, refilling and continuing his work. You try to ignore the throbbing in your panties and how good his hands feel on your bare skin.

-

35 minutes later, it's Eddie's turn. After cleaning and covering your new artwork, you get yourself dressed (much to Eddie's disappointment) and turn to him with a wicked grin.

"Pants off, Munson."

"Yes, ma'am." Copying your salute from earlier, he unbuckles his handcuff belt and undoes his jeans, shimmying out of them and tossing them somewhere in his room. He also pulls off his Hellfire shirt. You raise an eyebrow. "What? Can't risk anything happening to it, I gotta wait another week before I can get more!"

"Alright, nerd, lie down." You smile, rummaging around in your bag for the little design you'd drawn up for him. You pass the small design of the devil from the Hellfire logo to him and he grins.

"That's metal."

"So metal that nobody is gonna see it unless they're going down on you."

"Yeah, but we'll know it's there. It'll be like our dirty little secret, Y/N."

"Hot," you laugh as Eddie lies down, putting his arms behind his head. He tilts his head down towards his hips.

"Get to work, missy."

You'd been practising on that gross fake skin stuff in preparation for this, but nothing could have prepared you for touching Eddie...here. His skin was so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. A mix of his old cologne he'd gotten from you last Christmas, smoke and a hint of sweat. It was so Eddie, it made your heart flutter and somewhere else flutter too.

You think Eddie takes the needle like a champ, but when you look up at him about 20 minutes later, his eyes are screwed shut.

"Hurt that much?" You grin and he shakes his head, eyes still closed.

"Nah, babe, honestly, I'm...fine." He hesitates. You stop for a second, tilting your head to the side in question. You go to wipe off some of the excess ink and your arm brushes over his boxers accidentally.

Oh.

"Eddie, are you-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't talk about it." Eddie chokes out, his cheeks flushing. His loose plaid boxers had done a good job of hiding his semi, but when you'd brushed against it, it was game over.

Eddie was hard.

"I-is this like a normal reaction to getting tattooed, or...?" You stutter, your mouth feeling dryer than fucking Gandhi's flip flop.

Eddie sighs, throwing an arm over his face.

"No, it's a normal reaction to a very, very pretty girl hovering near my dick, babe." He says in a small voice. Your cheeks flush as you place the tattoo gun down on his bedside table.

"O-oh. Well, do you want me t-to stop? Or I could help with...I could help you with that?"

Eddie groans behind his arm.

"Babe, don't tease me like that, that's just cruel. 'Sides, wouldn't you feel...weird jerking me off?"

Your mind had not gone to jerking him off. In fact, it had gone a step further.

"Oh, I-I wasn't...I was gonna, um-"

"Blow me?!" Eddie throws his arm off of his face and stares at you, and you pretend you don't notice his cock jumping in his boxers. "You, my super hot best friend Y/N, are seriously offering to suck my dick right now?!"

"I-I’m sorry-"

"Sorry?! What the fuck are you sorry for?! Making all my wet dreams come true?!"

You giggle. "Eddie, shut up."

"No, I'm serious, Y/N, you've been in here-" he sits up and taps the side of his head "-doing some nasty shit for so fucking long. Why do you think I'm jacking off to shitty porno mags instead of chasing pussy?"

You're silent, a slow smile spreading across your face as your hand creeps over his crotch, gently palming at his cock which jumps in your hand.

"Well, lucky for you, dungeon master, you've also been the star of my wet dreams."

Eddie falls back onto his pillows with a groan. "Fuck, I can't believe this is actually fucking happening."

"Tell me what you want to do to me, Eds." Your voice is low and sultry as you give him a squeeze. He looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. You tug at his boxers, giving him a questioning look. He grabs your wrist.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Cos if it's a choice between getting off, or keeping you as my best friend, I'd rather keep you babe. Blue balls and all."

You smile softly; Eddie was too sweet for his own good. It was one of the things you loved most about him.

"What about if you get to get off and still keep me?" You say, pushing his hand away and slowly pulling his boxers down. His cock springs out, slapping against his lower stomach. He was long and thick, uncut with an upwards curve that the very sighmade your pussy clench. You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Holy shit, Eds."

"Good 'holy shit', or bad 'holy shit'?" Eddie's cheeks are flushed as he smirks.

"You know the answer to that." You wrap your hand around his cock, making him hiss as you stroke the silky skin. You pull the foreskin down to expose his angry looking, reddish purple mushroom head, and a drop of precum blurts out. You continue to stroke him, eyes fixed on his face.

"Fuck, stop looking at me like that," Eddie groans, his cock twitching in your hand. "'S too much."

"Like what?" You smirk, straddling his thighs. He can't answer you, any sort of answer immediately wiped from his brain as you lower your mouth to the head of his cock and lick, tasting him for the first time. His hips buck, forcing more of his cock into your mouth, making you gag out of surprise.

"Shit, sorry, sorry," Eddie gasps. "Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, don't be surprised if I come like, super quick, okay? Been thinking about this for so fucking long you have no idea. And you look....God, you looking so fucking beautiful right now."

You shoot him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cock before taking him into your mouth properly, swallowing as much of him down as you can.

Eddie's hand comes to your hair, gently stroking it as you bob your head up and down. The flavour of him blooms over your tongue and makes you hum in appreciation.

"Fuck, babe, your mouth...shit, it's so fucking good, taking my cock so well..."

You pull up and suckle the head, flicking your tongue over the slit. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You smirk, pulling back and pursing your lips, allowing a glob of spit to fall from your mouth onto the head, dribbling down the shaft. Eddie falls back onto the pillows. "That's it, you've killed me, you're blowing a dead man, baby."

"A dead man who's gonna come in my mouth, right?" You mumble, jerking him quickly, your spit allowing your hand to slide over his shaft with ease. Eddie keens, his teeth gritted.

"You can't say shit like that, angel, I'm about ready to blow as it is."

"Do it, I want it." You reply, taking his cock into the warmth of your mouth once more. You allow him to fuck your face, both hands now resting on the back of your head as you swallowed around him.

"Shit, fuck, oh my fucking god, baby, Y/N, I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna come so fucking hard in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah? God, you're such a good girl, so good f'me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!"

Eddie comes with a broken moan, his hips thrusting upwards and his hands holding you in place as his cock pumps rope after rope of cum down your throat. You moan, relishing the taste of him, which makes Eddie shudder at the overstimulation. You swallow everything he gives you. "Fuck, sweetheart, can you show me?"

You begrudgingly take your mouth off of his cock and open your mouth, tilting your head back slightly and sticking your tongue out to show him that you had indeed swallowed his cum. "Holy shit. I'm gonna get hard again." He groans, his chest heaving and his cock twitching slightly. You giggle and place a kiss to it, and Eddie grabs you, pulling you on top of him, careful to avoid the new ink. "I can kiss you, right?"

"I think we're past that, Eddie" You smile and squeak in surprise as he pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a hasty kiss. It's a chaste kiss, experimental and you break away briefly. His eyes lock with yours, as if he was trying to search them to see if this was okay. "It's okay, Eds" you whisper, nodding gently. His eyes dart to your mouth and back up to your eyes.

"Do I get to keep you?" He whispers, his fingers softly stroking your cheek. You brush your nose against his.

"You get to keep me."

[oneforthemunny]

Blurb or one shot idea Idk I you have seen those TikTok’s when the wife will send her bridesmaids to give sexy or boudoir polaroids to the husband on their wedding but I feel like on nepobaby would do that to rockstar!eddie during their wedding and just watching him lose his mind and want the wedding to end as fast as possible

this is so funny to me because i could totally see it. specifically at the second wedding in vegas with their friends.

it's really just a big party with this one because, half their rowdier friends weren't invited to the first wedding because nb parent's wouldn't allow it. they had "an image and standard to uphold" and it would be tainted by those "hooligans" showing up lol. so this was a chance for them to get to come and celebrate and it's less pressure. the first one, eddie and nb enjoyed but not really because they were so pressured to be perfect and it was so controlled by her parents, that's why the second one was done.

this one was so much more chill, casual really- well, as casual as vegas can be lol. a lot of drinking, a lot of drugs, just a fun fun time.

somewhere after the ceremony but before they disappeared (read light my morning sky for more lol) nb had got the idea to do something scandalous as a wedding gift. maybe it was bc of the way eddie reacted to their music vide where she was naked (read girls on film for more) or because he used to hang out with a lot of playboy girls... and she saw the copious amounts of dirty mags at wayne's trailer back in indiana, but she decided to do her own dirty little photo shoot. well... sorta, it was her and farrah with a polaroid camera and a dream lol. sure, eddie had a ton of nudes of hers anyway, his own little stash, but she thought this would be better. plus, it had her in her wedding garter from before, with 'mrs. munson' stitched in red on the white lace. and that's all she was wearing lol.

farrah casually dropped it off while eddie's smoking a cigar with his friends. he barely registers the photo until he sees nb's nipples on the first one and is like hold on-

they definitely leave after that. go to their private room while their friends keep partying. eddie keeps it in his safe after that. it might be his favorite gift from her ever lol.

[spookysteddie]

Text Me The Details

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: gossip magazines, reader being horny on a live stream, cocky!Eddie, drinking, drugs mention

a/n: I kinda want this to be a series? So expect a part two at some point. But yeah this isn't an original idea so, credit to literally everyone who's done this before me. I gave reader a last name because if I have to write y/l/n one more time I'll sob. ANYWAY I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you like this!

WC: 1.2k

...

You are never drinking again. Ever.

Your management would agree after what happened last night. You didn’t mean to spill the secret you’d been keeping. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, however, you had an image to keep up. The party girl, the kind one, the one with lots of friends, the girl who had good grades in college, the one who always donated most of her fortune to various organizations. 

Now, every tabloid was writing articles about your celebrity crush. 

Party girl and influencer drunkenly admits she’d love to sleep with lead singer of Corroded Coffin Eddie Munson. Sources have said they’ve been together for a while but decided to keep it under wraps. 

The dating portion of that article wasn’t true and you silently vow to figure out who the fuck these ‘sources’ were. However, you admitting to wanting to fuck Eddie… did happen. You have no one to blame but yourself. 

Now, there are three reasons why you’re so stressed about this. First, even though you party all the time, you were good. You know, like only went out on the weekends, did every single assignment, tutored people on the side, was probably the most unproblematic influencer out there. Second, the last thing you wanted was Eddie Munsons attention. You had this thing where you didn’t want the people you were fans of to perceive you. 

Theoretically you knew they did, most of them followed you on social media. But there was a difference between being a fan of someone, and them semi-knowing you vs your actual crush who you own a poster or two of? That makes you want to throw up and pass out at the same time. 

But, finally, the third reason this stressed you out was because Eddie and his crew were not good. You know like, partied every single day, smoked a lot of weed and snorted coke off of his groupies and fans. It was all over the tabloids and the band has even posted about it a time or two. You didn’t do that. And if the tabloids caught you doing that, you’d lose everything you worked towards.

“So this is how we’re going to fix it,” Case, your manager, says from where she’s standing next to the fireplace in your apartment. “You’re gonna go back on live and say it was an accident.” 

You look up from the article you were reading, eyes finding his. “That is the worst idea ever. I was tipsy not black out drunk. No one will ever believe that was an accident.” You huff, locking your phone, “and I have tickets to their show next week.” 

You loved your team, but sometimes they made the most insane comments on how to fix the unfixable. 

You stand, pacing the room, “he isn’t one to read gossip magazines. And-and I’m not on the same level as his band. They’re A listers and I’m C list at best.” 

Your manager and publicist look like fish after what you said. Anna, your publicist speaks first, “I swear to god if you ever say that again I am uppin your therapy appointments. You hear me?” 

You huff, sitting back down on the couch, “I’m not kidding though. I’m not giving up this ticket. It’s one of the few things I’m looking forward to.” 

Case answers after rubbing her temples, “you better pray this blows over without him seeing it. You may party but his partying is a whole other level.” 

… 

The call came two days later, an unknown number popping up on your phone. 

You knew, you knew before you even accepted the call who’d be on the other end of the line. 

It felt like it started in slow motion, first came the gossip mags with the original story. Then came Eddie following you on instagram. He’d like a few photos and stories you put up. Then came his interview. The interview where he said, “of course I know who she is. I’m flattered really. I hear she’s a sweet girl.” 

Now, your phone is buzzing in your hand and you can’t bring yourself to answer the phone. 

“Yes just a fucking person. Just like you’re a person. Answer the phone.” You look down at the phone and are thankful it’s just you in your house. You tap the answer button, a fake smile on your face, as you put the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” you use your best interview voice, the one Anna has drilled into you. 

You can hear him breathe in before letting it out, long and slow, it’s clear he took a drag of his cigarette. Is he nervous too? There’s no way. Eddie always seemed to be this cool and calm guy, never afraid of anything or anyone. He gets into more fights in a week than you have in your entire 25 years of existence. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Asher.” You can hear the grin in his voice and it sends a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s Eddie.” 

He didn’t have to introduce himself to you, you’d be able to pick out his voice in a crowded room. But only because you’ve listened to his music so often… only reason. 

“Oh! Hi! I’m s-surprised to hear from you.” You cringe at the stutter that came out of you. You had more than enough practice dealing with any situation thrown at you. From the funny to the uncomfortable to the scary. You were trained for this and you were fucking it up. “How can I help you?” 

“The band and I will be in town next friday, we’re playing a show.” You know where this is going and it makes your heart beat faster, so fast you’re scared it’ll burst. “I was wonderin’ if you were goin’?”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I am, actually. Me and a few of my friends actually.” You rub your hands down your sweatpants, nerves making them sweat. 

“Oh! Well that is fantastic,” his tone is chipper as hell and you know he’s high. On what, you have no idea. “I was thinkin’ that maybe ya friends and you’d wanna join us backstage. VIP area for the show? What cha think?” 

All of sudden you forget how the english language works, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. This is what you’ve been wanting for so long. Well, in your dreams of course. But looking at it from a business perspective, it could bring his fans to your page and your fans to his page. It was kind of a win win. Well, win win lose because then Corroded coffin knows who the actual fuck you are and you arent just some fan. And that, terrified you,  

“Heeeeeeello? Are you there?” 

His voice breaks through your clogged mind, forcing you to respond. 

“Hi, sorry. I’m here! I um I got distracted. But, yeah that sounds great, actually. We-we’d love that.” 

“Good! I will have my people call your people, yeah?” 

“O-or you can just send me the information,” you say it before thinking and now you really want to punch yourself. 

He chuckles to himself, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll text you the information. See you next friday.” 

He hangs up before you can say another fucking stupid thing. You press the phone into your hands, foot bouncing on the floor with nerves. You can think of seven different ways that conversation could’ve (and should’ve) happened. One of which was with your entire team, another being with your friends, another being with your parents. Not alone to make a fool out of yourself. Your management team was really going to kill you.

[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 3/4

Hello! We're almost done with this lovely story just one more to go.

It's chapters like this that make me wish I was a better artist so I could draw Steve's wedding clothes. But alas, I'm not so I can only hope I described it well enough.

The wedding/bonding ceremony of the century. Steve and Eddie being absolutely gooey for each other and their shared rut/heat. And with the heat comes sexy times so mature fun ahead.

Part 1 Part 2

****

Steve and Eddie’s bonding and wedding ceremony was the event of the decade everyone from royalty to who’s who in film, music, and sports all wanted an invite.

A world famous rockstar bonding to a wealthy and glamorous former escort?

Yeah, everyone wanted a piece of that action, but sadly they were all out of luck. It was an intimate affair where only their closest friends and in Eddie’s case family were invited to attend.

Jim and Joyce Hopper stood in for Steve’s parents (he didn’t even bother to invite the Harringtons) and Wayne stood in for Eddie’s.

All of Steve’s friends were there. Nancy and Jonathan’s younger brothers, Mike and Will. Lucas and Max were there, of course. With Erica in tow. Dustin, too. Nikita was there, too. Steve insisting on it after their lunch together. She had brought her boyfriend, a beta actor who looked at her like she was the sun.

Steve was happy for her.

Robin was his maid of honor with Jeff as Eddie’s best man. Chrissy and Elinor rounding out Steve’s side of the aisle and Gareth and Brian rounding out Eddie’s.

Everyone had been expecting Steve to wear a dress being an omega. But Steve surprised them all. He wore white, skin tight pants that had a poofy train attached at the waist, a white lace bodice with a sweetheart neckline. It was daring and provocative. Steve loved it.

Eddie was standing at the end of the aisle in a leather jacket over a white button up that was only buttoned up halfway. His skin tight pants were tucked into leather boots. He had on all his chains and leather bands and bracelets.

His groomsmen were all dressed similarly, but Steve’s bridesmaids were all in silver sheath gowns. Well except Robin. She was a grey suit that was like Steve’s white suit but without the train, and with a black bodice instead of grey.

The fashion mags would have been scandalized for sure, but Steve refused to conform for anyone. He had spent too long under societal pressures and wasn’t going to let society dictate what he wore to his ceremony.

Jim walked Steve down the aisle and handed him off to Eddie.

The officiant gave the usual spiel on the importance of the bond and how like marriage it is a commitment not to be taken lightly, then he veered off script a little as spoke of Eddie and Steve.

“Never before have I seen a couple so deeply and categorically in love with each other as these two people,” he said. “In their case the bond isn’t just a next step. It’s the next step. The only step left in their journey together.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other so fondly that the crowd all cooed.

A single tear slipped down Eddie’s cheek and Steve gently wiped it away.

“Do you, Edward Nicholas Munson take Steven Aaron Harrington to have and to hold through bond and matrimony, sickness and health, hardship and success?”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hands. “I do.”

“And do you Steve Aaron Harrington take Edward Nicholas Munson,” he said turning to the omega, “to support and sustain through all that life may take you both?”

“I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you as husbands and bondmates. You may kiss each other.”

Steve and Eddie leaned in for a chaste but deep kiss.

A cheer went up and Steve and Eddie parted with great reluctance.

White and black confetti went up as they walked back down the aisle arm in arm, their groomsmen and bridesmaids falling in behind them.

****

Once they got to the reception Robin helped Steve remove the train from the back of his suit so that he could move around more freely and put on a tuxedo jacket over the top of the bodice to match Robin’s suit.

Everyone came up and congratulated them. They cut the cake, they had their first dance.

The one thing they didn’t do was the tossing of bouquet and garter. Steve’s outfit precluded a garter and he didn’t want to lose his bouquet that way.

The food was good, the alcohol flowed freely, and everyone had a good time.

It wouldn’t be until after their honeymoon that Steve would learn that his parents had tried to crash the reception, but security had handled it so well, that no one had known until after the event.

Steve and Eddie had planned everything down to the minutest detail. Including having their wedding and honeymoon before their shared heat and rut.

They had actually wanted to enjoy themselves and not be mindless fuck machines.

They opted to spend three days at a lovely castle nestled in the Scottish Highlands and then two days on Welsh beaches.

When they came home, they had found that Robin and Jeff had made sure they had everything they needed for their fuck fest as Jeff kept calling it. Robin called it their reat. An unholy combination of rut and heat.

Steve hated it.

So of course Robin refused to call it anything else.

Steve’s nest had been painstakingly been put in Eddie’s bedroom, new items being added from Elinor, Chrissy, and Jim and Joyce Hopper. Eddie’s comfort items had already been integrated before the wedding.

Steve collapsed happily into the folds of his nest without even so much as taking off his shoes.

Eddie snorted and swatted playfully at Steve’s ass. “At least take off your shoes, you brat.”

Steve chuckled and rolled over to do just that. Then he removed all of his clothes. Just shucked everything off.

Eddie was about to say something snarky when Steve’s scent reached his nose.

His spicy chocolate scent had become sweeter and spicier then it normally was.

He reached between Steve’s legs and found that, yup, his husband was slick and open.

Steve threw his head back and moaned. Eddie licked his lips and manhandled his omega further up onto the bed.

“You already starting without me, sweetheart?” he growled into Steve’s ear.

“Hit the lights, baby,” Steve groaned in response. If his heat had come early then Eddie’s rut would no doubt be right behind.

Eddie lowered the lights and closed the drapes, then got undressed. As soon as he crawled onto the bed, he could feel his skin tighten and heat up. A sure sign his body was reacting to the omega in front of him.

“I need you so bad, Eddie...” Steve groaned, his back arching off the bed.

Eddie spread Steve’s legs and settled between them. He rubbed his hands soothingly over Steve’s sides and thighs until his body relaxed enough for Eddie to line up and pressed in.

The omega cried out in utter bliss as his alpha’s cock slid all the way in. Steve jack knifed off the bed as pleasure hit him.

Eddie rubbed his hands over Steve’s abs and stomach. “Is it too much, baby?”

Steve wanted to immediately answer no, to shake his head, to demand Eddie to just fucking move! But he forced himself to actually take stock of what his body needed in that moment. Just like he would force an alpha in their rut to do the same.

He let out a shuddering breath and then another.

“I never knew it could feel like this,” he huffed, more than a little breathless. “I know why us escorts aren’t allowed to spend our heats with alphas, but holy fuck I was not prepared by how intense it actually is.”

Eddie continued to brush his fingers lightly over Steve’s overheated skin in soothing circles. He was glad his rut hadn’t hit yet, so that he could be present for his omega’s first heat with him, instead being overtaken by lust.

“I’m going to start slow, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “I promise it’ll get better once I get moving.”

Steve gulped but nodded.

“Uh-uh,” Eddie said wagging his finger. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, honey. Please move. I need it. I need you!” he blurted, before he arched his back again as pleasure hit him with another wave.

“I’ve got you.”

Eddie started with small, easy movements because while Steve was used to normal and rut sex, heat sex was not in his wheelhouse as it were. Once Steve got used to the smaller movements, Eddie ramped it up to longer and faster thrusts.

“Oh, Eds...” Steve moaned as the friction began to build up heat in his lower abdomen.

“You feeling good?” Eddie asked, reaching out to cup his cheek gently.

All Steve could answer in response was to turn his head and kiss Eddie’s palm.

Eddie melted from the sheer tenderness of it all. He had a lot of sex. Had even done so with a couple of alphas in his early days when he was experimenting with his sexuality before he decided it was men first gender and omega second gender for him. Betas, too, he supposed. But definitely not alphas.

But in all those encounters, he had never felt this warmth between his partner and him.

It was something he didn’t realize he craved before Steve. That love and connection. And holy fuck did he get it from Steve in spades. Even when Steve was still working as an escort, he never let Eddie think for a moment that he wasn’t completely and totally in love him.

Flowers waiting from him in his dressing room after a concert. Food delivered to his hotel room when he was just too tired to go out. Little text messages with just heart or a kiss.

Eddie devoured the attention like a man, starving.

And now with this beautiful creature below him, soaking up his touch and reveling in the pleasure Eddie was giving him?

He was in paradise. Heaven. Nirvana. Elysium. Didn’t matter what you called it, Eddie was there with this ethereal being who was begging for his knot.

Just pleasure bubbling out of those perfect lips.

And who was Eddie to deny this man anything? He buried himself deep into Steve, his knot blooming just past the opening, locking them together. Suddenly he was coming and coming. It felt like it wasn’t going to stop.

But it did and Eddie was spent. Not just sexually, but physically exhausted too. He laid down on Steve and just murmured inanities into his omega’s ear.

Steve wrapped his arms around him and caressed his back and hair, telling him what a good strong alpha he was. Eddie’s inner alpha purred. It rumbled deep and happy.

Steve’s omega chirped back, sated and serene.

****

It would be several days before they were both aware at the same time. It was then when Eddie decided to do the bite.

They both had about a day left in their cycles and there was no better time for it.

Steve got down on all fours, presenting his ass to Eddie in the most delicious way imaginable. Eddie lined himself up and gently slid in as he had the first time, but now Steve was ready for the wave of pleasure that took over him the second Eddie entered his body.

Despite all the sex they had had over the week, Eddie knew he wasn’t going to last long. He gingerly pulled Steve up so their bodies were flush against each other.

“You ready, Stevie?” he asked into the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve nodded, all ready breathless from the pleasure sending wave after wave through his skin.

“Okay, baby,” Eddie murmured. “It might sting for the first little bit, but your endorphins will quickly override the pain and it’ll feel like you’re high.”

“Oh god,” Steve huffed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s–”

He was stopped short by Eddie starting his thrusting. He had one hand on Steve’s hip and the other arm draped over his shoulders to keep them as close to each other as possible.

The knot formed quickly and too soon Eddie was filling up his pretty, little omega’s cunt. Steve’s head dropped from the sheer instinct and Eddie bit down on Steve’s soul patch as the area was called. It would send the bonding chemical right to Steve’s brain, and his blood mingling with the saliva in Eddie’s mouth would when swallowed would bind Eddie to Steve. It takes longer for the alpha to bond to omega as it has farther to go, but it would be as strong for either one of them.

Some alphas had tried to cheat the system so that omega would be bonded to them, but they could fool around with other omegas by not being bonded to the one they bit, by trying not to swallow. There were even some sketchy products that came out in the early 1960s that claimed to prevent the blood and saliva from being swallowed. But the claims were bogus because there would always be some remnant left on the teeth or under the tongue and all it would take would a swipe of the tongue and a swallow and they were bonded anyway.

Eddie licked up the blood on the back of Steve’s neck, his saliva during knotting producing a healing component to close the wound. As the process neared the end, Steve gasped and suddenly he was coming too.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “You did so well. I love you so much.”

Steve came again, his body shaking with the strength of his bond to Eddie. He could feel it alter his brain chemicals. Eddie lowered him onto the other side of the bed so as to not have him face plant into his own cum.

Eddie cleaned Steve up and then when he was able to stand, cleared off the bed and put down clean sheets. One of the few times they’d been able to do that over the course of their cycle.

Once done they laid down on the bed and cuddled.

“How do you feel, baby?” Eddie asked, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Those faux bonds are fucking liars, love,” Steve growled. “I thought this would be just more intense versions of that. But no. This is real in every way I never thought possible. Everything is brighter and clearer. I feel like I’m floating and I don’t want to ever come down.”

Eddie chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “So good then?”

“Fucking fantastic!” Steve chirped.

Suddenly Eddie had a lap full of horny omega and he couldn’t be happier.

“Hey, babe,” he murmured sweetly. “You ready to go again?”

Steve responded by grounding their cocks together. Eddie threw back his head with a high pitched whine.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he gasped. “Just like that.”

****

The next morning they woke up both heads clear of their cycle and wrapped up in each other’s arms.

They showered and ate and puttered around their kitchen, cleaning up after themselves.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Eddie asked as Steve made a list of food they would need to replenish.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck where there would be a bond mark showing the world that he was taken if he ever wanted to cut his hair. The mark was warm to the touch and he traced each indent of Eddie’s teeth.

“I feel good,” he murmured. “Safe. Contented.”

Eddie smiled up at him with that closed lip smile he only ever bestowed on his omega.

“Everything you ever hoped for?”

“Everything and more.”

****

Part 4

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666

@carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch

@yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child

@nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13

@demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

[strangetheedreamer]

beneath the willow tree

pairing: jake kiszka x gn! reader

summary: you’ve been in love with Jake Kiszka for as long as you can remember, the only question is: does he feel the same?

a/n: this is a short lil blurb based off of a real dream that i had, if you find it as devastating as I did- well blame my subconscious not me :)

there are no warnings for this lil

blurb, it’s actually all fluff!

Some would ask how long you have been in love with Jake Kiszka.

You would argue that the easier question to answer would be was there ever a time that you weren’t? Because the answer to that question is simple: no.

You met Jake Kiszka when you were nine and he was eleven at the neighborhood playground. Specifically? It was a hot summer afternoon in August and you were with your friend Maddie trying to see who could jump the farthest off the swings. A dangerous game, but you were old enough to be without parental supervision and drunk with the power of it. It was the most fun you’d had all summer until you landed too hard off a jump and your ankle rolled painfully as soon as you hit the mulch. You had cried out and fallen to the ground, clutching your wounded ankle and trying to blink back the tears that were blurring your vision.

Then, an angel appeared.

You had looked up at the sound of your name from your slowly swelling ankle to meet warm brown eyes and though you were arguably too young for love at first sight or to even know anything about it, your heart had plummeted into your stomach the moment you met those eyes and the boy attached to them. He’d asked if you were okay and all you could manage in return was a wordless sob, your ankle pulsing with pain now. That fateful afternoon, Jake Kiszka had slung your arm around his skinny shoulders and helped you limp the two blocks home while his brother wheeled your bike behind you.

You were hopelessly gone from that afternoon onward.

The strings of your fates seemed to be irreversibly tangled. Small neighborhoods are just like that perhaps, the community close knit enough that it would make sense for you to be at the same summer barbeques and new years parties as you got older. But the hopeless romantic in you dreamed that it was because Jake Kiszka was your destiny. It was the worst of schoolchildren crushes. You doodled yours and Jake’s names in hearts in all your school notebooks in middle school. And in high school you could be found hiding under the bleachers at every soccer game or gazing across the chemistry lab, moony eyed, at who you were sure was your future husband.

The crush inevitably faded to background noise when you both graduated and left your hometown, him to follow his dreams of being a rockstar and you to attend college. But, you never quite got over him. It seemed you couldn’t help but compare every boy you let take you out to him. Sure, maybe the boy bought you a nice dinner or an ice cream, but did he dissect the frog in Biology so you didn’t have to? Sure the boy had pretty eyes or soft lips, but could they even compare to the ones you’d dreamed of for so long? It was torture, honestly. And very annoying.

It didn’t help that Jake’s dreams had come true. You would never forget the moment you were perusing the magazines at a bookstore and saw him on the cover of a guitar mag, looking just as beautiful as you remembered- maybe even more so. It filled your heart up to the brim that it had worked out for him, but a certain sadness clawed at your chest too. At that point, you were just a waitress in Nashville working two jobs to try and afford graduate school. Maybe your fates were so tangled together after all.

Then, Josh Kiszka sat down at the cafe you served at in the mornings and your whole world turned on its axis. He’d recognized you immediately, crowing your name and leaping up from his chair to embrace you. God, he hadn’t changed a bit. He still radiated warmth and kindness and pure, unadulterated joy. Josh had always been the sun to Jake’s moon. And it seemed they hadn’t grown out of that comparison.

“Hey! It’s my birthday this Saturday, I’m having a little celebration! You should come, I think the other guys would love to see you. Sam always had a bit of a crush on you, you know.” He’d left you those words, a kiss on the cheek, and with his address scribbled onto a napkin and pressed into your palm.

You debated all week if you should go. Josh had seemed so happy to see you, had told you that you were like a little slice of home. But you were nervous. You hadn’t seen Jake not on your phone or laptop screen in years. What if he didn’t remember you? Or worse: what if he didn’t care to?

In the end, you decided to go. And you walked up to Josh’s house out in the country with as few expectations as possible.

Nothing could have prepared you to see Jake in person again. He did a double take across the backyard when Josh led you out to it and from the moment your eyes met his again for the first time in what felt like eons, you audibly let out an “Oh no.” Because his eyes were the same. Even after all these years and all this time, those brown eyes were still the same. And you felt your heart plummet into your stomach again- just like it had when you were nine.

You were twenty five years old. And in a heartbeat, you were nine again.

And that’s how it felt every time you saw Jake after that. Like you were a moonstruck child who didn’t even know what love was yet.

Josh and Sam and Danny invited you into their lives like it was nothing and you found that each of them had grown into kind, lovely young men. But with Jake? Oh, it was perfect. He was everything you ever wanted. When you went out to dinner together and it began to rain, he’d give you his jacket to hold over your head while he brought the car around to you. He made you a playlist full of songs that reminded him of you or that he thought you’d like. You cooked together, giggling and dancing around one of your kitchens. He calls you “Bugs”, just like he did in high school after you saved a lady bug from a cruel classmate’s shoe. All of this and yet…

It was starting to break your heart. Eventually, you decided it was time.

Sitting in your best dress in Josh’s lovely backyard at his beautiful outdoor wedding, looking at Jake in his suit with his hair actually brushed you decided it was time.

The reception was small and lovely, but it still felt suffocating as you watched Jake twirl a girl around the makeshift dance floor. You felt a presence next to you and when you glanced over you found it was Josh, “I’m really glad you came,” he tells you, nudging your shoulder with his and you smile at him.

“Thank you for inviting me. What a beautiful night for this.” You try, but you can’t keep the melancholy out of your voice and you can’t pull your gaze from where Jake dips the girl down toward the floor and she throws back her head and laughs.

“You look lovely.” Josh’s words barely resonate and you shrug, shaking your head listlessly. Not to the only one that matters. Josh nudges you again, gently, his words just as soft, “He thinks so too.”

You grit your teeth, irritation and frustration bubbling in your stomach, and you shake your head again, “Don’t do that. Don’t say that.”

“You know, I always say that where this is love we must live on,” Josh ventures softly and you smile at the words, remembering watching the performance where he said them on your laptop in your college dorm room, desperate for even the slightest tidbit of Jake.

“And where this is not love, we must provide it,” You finish and you see him smile out of the corner of your eye. You’re a little confused as to the direction of this conversation and you’re about to ask what he’s talking about when he speaks again.

“Luckily, there is already love here.” And when you pivot to face him fully, he’s gone, leaving you with his confusing words.

Needing a moment to yourself, you retreat to your favorite piece of Josh’s property. A spot with a massive, beautiful weeping willow tree and a tire swing slung on one of the low branches. You’re sitting on the swing, staring at your hands when a branch breaks and a voice pulls your attention away from your hangnail.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Jake comes to a stop a few feet in front of you and stuffs his hands in his pockets, smiles softly. You can’t return his smile though and his brows furrow, he takes another step toward you. “What is it, bugs? Where’s that pretty smile I love so much?”

You know he doesn’t mean to make you cry, but tears well up at the corners of your downturned eyes anyway. How can he say everything right and it still not be enough? “Just needed a minute, I guess.” Your words are a whisper and even you can hear them break in the middle. You let the tire swing turn so you’re not facing him, not wanting him to see the tears that have begun to streak down your face.

He doesn’t give that easily unfortunately, you hear the leaves and the twigs crunch under his feet as he comes around so you’re facing each other again, this time kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his. “Why the tears, bugs? What happened?”

You shake your head, but the words come out before you can stop them, “Do you remember when we were little and I rolled my ankle? And you walked me home?” You glance up at him after they’ve come out and his brows furrow in confusion, his lips parting.

“Do I remember when we met? Of course I do, bugs. You were trying not to cry just like you are right now. Tell me what’s wrong, please. Tell me so I can fix it.” His words only make it worse and you try to spin away from him again, but he holds the tire in his hand to stop the movement. You can feel his searching gaze on yours, hear the soft desperation in his voice when he whispers, “Bugs?”

“I have loved you ever since I’ve known you, Jake. Loved you so much it hurts. And I just don’t think I can do it anymore.” Your words are barely a whisper again, but you’re proud to hear that they don’t tremble or shake. They’re strong. And now they’re out there, with nothing for you to do but wait.

Jake is silent for several moments, long enough that you chance a glance up at him. His hands stay wrapped around yours and he’s watching you like he’s seeing you for the first time, “Oh bugs…” You turn your head, desperately afraid that he’s about to split your heart right down the middle when he speaks again, his words soft but full of feeling, “I’ve loved you from the moment you wouldn’t let James Booker crush that ladybug. I loved you then and every moment since. And I love you right now, sitting on this swing in front of me with tears in your eyes because you’re afraid I don’t feel for you exactly what you feel for me.”

You gasp softly, your head swinging back to face him. You search his eyes, desperate to see if he’s messing with you. Then you sob once and throw your arms around him, falling from the swing to kneel in front of him just as he had kneeled to confess to you. You hear him whisper your name, your real name, into your hair and you pull back just enough to press your lips to his, kissing him after more than fifteen years of loving him.

And finally, when the time comes, your notebook doodles and your teenage dreams come true. Jake Kiszka is yours, til death do you part.

[skullsmuldon]

I hear so many different things about the Birthday posts. what has Monique’s Hbd post to do with Gillian’s and David’s rolling stone mag photos? I’m super confused 😵‍💫 it feels like it is some kind of “pick your fighter” situation 🫣 P.S. without seeing the posts the choice is always Gillian in that fight 🤭

Yeah it’s confusing when you don’t see the pics or any stuff without. And you can’t really get to your own opinion without seeing it for yourself. Imo after all the years MP is not able to post a normal picture and not be cringe. It might always feel like an invasion of privacy coming from her because of what we all know she did for years. I for one at this point just look at it as a very sad situation for her because her whole identity is based on being with a senior citizen wannabe rockstar who is barley able to acknowledge her in front of others.

So go choose your fighter beneath 😅😂

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dave mustaine x spoiled!reader | word count: 997

✦ summary: You always loved your boyfriend's beautiful hair, so he finally lets you braid it for the first time.

✦ on this fic: dave mustaine x reader, +18, romance, fluff, smut mentioned/implied, age gap (r is in their middle twenties, dave is around his 40s)

✦ a/n: This idea just popped randomly in my head and I just had to write about it. It's shorter than the fics I usually post here, but I intend to make this a series where you can read all of the fics together or read them as one shots as well, so prompts and suggestions for future parts are more than welcome! Hope you guys like it 🖤

You had always been crazy about your boyfriend's hair. Those long, silky, ginger locks of his were the first thing that caught your eye when you first met, and they'd been driving you wild ever since. No surprises how you loved playing with it in the morning, him hugging you with his face buried in your chest. Or how you loved giving his scalp a gentle rub while zoning out to TV together, his head chilling on your lap until he crashed (being a rockstar takes it out of you, right?). And, let's not forget about running your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss as he took his sweet time fucking you before bed. He would even let you wash it for him sometimes when you were both soaking in the tub, you sitting on his lap with your legs around his waist — and yeah, that also sometimes ended up with you two fucking, but who's complaining?

"Come on, babe? Just this once!" you pleaded, cozied up in your boyfriend's lap, perched on one of his legs. His sturdy hand gripped your waist, keeping you grounded. He arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, and you threw in a pout for good measure. "I swear you'll look so damn good. Pretty please?"

You'd been on a mission to get Dave to let you braid his hair for the past couple of days. Ever since you both watched a movie about Vikings, you got hooked on those rugged, long-haired warriors and couldn't shake the idea of trying one of their styles on him. You even hit up the bookstore for a couple of hair styling mags to up your game, but Dave wasn't exactly jumping on the excitement train.

"Why don't you rock the braids on your own hair? It'd look pretty damn awesome," he suggested, genuine affection lacing his words, even though you could tell he was just trying to throw you off your mission.

"Not the same thing! My hair's not as cool as yours," you pouted, giving him those puppy eyes. "Plus, I'm curious how you'd rock it. Pretty, pretty please?"

Dave chuckled, catching your chin in his hand and planting a sweet kiss on your lips. In his eyes, you were downright adorable, even if you got a bit bratty when things didn't go your way. He figured he was to blame for spoiling you rotten. He looked into your eyes, seeing frustration and maybe a hint of tears welling up, and sighed. He knew he needed to have that chat with you again – the one about how you couldn’t always get everything you wanted from him. Yet, he also knew you'd forget about it sooner than later. Well, that could wait for another time. He didn't mind bending over backward to make you happy. It was what made him happiest, giving you whatever you wanted, however you wanted it, as far as he could swing it.

"Alright, dove. I'll give it a shot, but just this once. Deal?" he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, and you lit up like a Christmas tree. He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, then leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, "But you owe me a reward later, with that pretty mouth of yours."

"Okay, okay, thank you!" you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck and almost toppling over from his lap. You knew exactly what he meant by a reward, but you didn’t care — you, too, actually loved giving him whatever he wanted, however he wanted it.

You dashed off to your room, grabbing the magazines, combs, and hair products in a hurry. Dave patiently waited on the couch, and his eyes softened with the most tender smile when you returned, hands full of your tools and the biggest, happiest grin on your face.

You dumped the stuff on the couch, standing in front of him, humming with joy as you grabbed a strand of his hair, doing your best to follow the instructions in the magazine you'd left open on the seat. Dave rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs making soothing circles on your soft skin while a small smile played on his lips.

Braiding his hair turned out to be a breeze; it was really soft, and you had a blast doing it. You went for a simple braid, starting from above his left ear and trailing a bit towards the back of his head before cascading down to the ends of his hair.

"So? How's the new look?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Excitedly, you snatched your small, round pink face mirror and handed it over. He studied himself, raising an eyebrow. You held your breath, waiting for his verdict. Was he into it? Did he think it suited him?

"Does it look that awful?" you inquired, a small, nervous chuckle slipping out when he stayed silent for a good minute. He lifted his eyes to you, a surprised expression on his face.

"Oh, no, babe, it looks awesome!" he reassured you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. It's killer!" He checked himself out in the mirror again. "I look cooler than I thought, actually. Wanna do this again for my next gig?"

"Are you for real?" you giggled. He nodded, pulling you into a hug.

"Totally. I reckon I'd look pretty damn cool, don't you think?"

"Oh, you'd look so, so handsome!" you exclaimed, planting a kiss on his lips while genuine laughter bubbled up. "Thank you, babe, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome, my sweetest," he whispered, giving your mouth another peck before moving to your cheek and then to your neck. You sighed happily, feeling your skin warm when his smile brushed against it. He kissed you once more, drawing you even closer in his embrace before whispering, "Now… How about that reward we talked about?"

[pikslasrce]

highlights from androgyny (2005) an indie doc on placebo (paraphrased bc i have shit memory)

"when you look at brian you dont think 'oh hes a student oh his mum is going to give him a sweater for christmas' you look at him and you think hes so short but he is rockstar material" - their old producer or something

brian wearing frilly victorian blouses with a leather coat in pre-placebo london days

brian writing directing and performing in an autobiographical play in uni where he was (if his professors recall correctly) a transgender man brian molko transmasc icon Confirmed

in that same play he strips naked (being the only one to actually do so despite many students threatening to do the same)

a gay magazine journalist calling brett anderson and david bowie fake bisexuals but saying that brian seemed like the real deal because he was interesting

a LOT of bowie slander (primarily from the gay mag journalist)

steves former bandmate seeing him at the set of velvet goldmine and thinking hes a prostitute before realizing it was him 😭

the weirdest least placebo looking title card youve ever seen with the worst music over it. #graphicdesignismypassion

their biographer saying that theyll only get the respect from the uk media they deserve if they break up or if one of them dies (BOOO)

[sentientsky]

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Nina asked. “The poor guy probably just wants his space.” 

The other woman turned to look at her from up on the staircase. Maggie pushed a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear. “I mean,” she began, one foot positioned on the next step up. “We already have this.” She raised a travel cup of espresso in the air. “And after all, I think he could use some cheering up. It’s been like two months, right?” 

Maggie sighed resignedly and followed her up the stairs. “Okay, if you say so…”

They walked for a couple moments before coming to a stop in front of an apartment. All the other doors on the floor were painted a pleasant blue, she noted. This one, however, was a deep, rich black. Of course. 

From underneath the door, the women could hear music, something familiar and with a steady beat. Maggie raised her hand and knocked. 

Still, the music played on. And still no one answered the door. 

“He’s obviously busy, Mags,” Nina muttered. It didn’t escape her notice that the other woman flushed pale pink at the sound of the nickname. Nina’s heart spasmed a bit in response, and she had to force herself to focus. 

“I just—let me try once more, and then—” Maggie knocked again. 

A beat. 

Nina was ready to ask if they could leave when the lock on the door clicked open of its own accord. Well, alrighty then. They exchanged a look, and then Nina pushed open the door. 

Immediately, the onslaught of angsty pop music poured through the threshold. Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone,” Nina noted. She herself had played the same song more than once as a young adult, often in the throes of a breakup. 

The apartment itself was in complete disarray; papers and knickknacks strewn everywhere. Plants drooped sadly on the edges of the room. In the corner, a pile of CDs had been toppled over. Eccles cakes and half-chewed scones littered the floor. 

There, in the middle of the living room (which certainly looked lived in, Nina noted), Crowley was sat on the floor, legs all akimbo and arms thrown across the seat of a rather uncomfortable looking sofa. 

Maggie stiffened at the sight of him, holding the coffee cup between both hands now. The poor demon was dressed in boxer shorts and an ancient Queen t-shirt. His hair was bedraggled, brushing against his shoulders in loose scarlet waves. Juxtaposed to the devilishly cool “burnt out middle-aged rockstar” persona he embodied most  of the time, this new appearance came across as particularly disheveled. 

Nina hesitated, then took a step forward. The music still thrummed in her ears. “Crowley?” she asked, injecting as much kindness as she could into one little word. 

Head lolling, the demon looked up at the two women before him. For once, he wasn’t wearing his characteristic glasses. Maggie made a little sound of surprise at the sight of the demon’s golden snake eyes. They were a rich yellow—the same colour as Mr. Fell’s walls, Nina silently noted. It seemed Crowley hadn’t slept in a century, (did demons even need to sleep?) his undereyes tinged a pale purple. 

“Crowley?” Nina called out again. Maggie moved to stand beside her, leaning down closer to the demon’s level. 

Without warning, Crowley’s eyes began to flood with tears and he crumpled into himself. Oh. Oh no. They’d made it worse, they’d certainly made it worse. Nina had said that coming here was a bad idea. 

“That’s what Aziraphale used to call me!” he keened. His boxer shorts had ‘XO Gossip Girl’ emblazoned down the side. 

“I mean, that’s your na—” Nina began, but then reconsidered and dropped into a crouch to pat the demon’s shoulder, voice hushed and soothing. “There, there. I know. It’s going to be alright.” 

Maggie crouched beside her, and tried to offer Crowley the drink in her hand. He looked up for a moment, and there was a moment of recognition, his eyes scanning the takeaway cup. And then he burst into fresh tears once again. 

“That’s what I ordered the last—” he made a little hiccuping sound. “Ordered the last time he and I went to your café,” he wailed. The poor thing was inconsolable; Nina’s heart ached for him. In between ragged sobs, Crowley  extended his arm under the couch. There, it seemed, he had found a slightly droopy crepe that was…just shoved under the sofa. No plate, no nothing. Just crepe to floor. What the fuck. Don’t eat it, please don’t eat it, Nina chanted in her head. 

He ate it, of course, still crying. 

Kelly Clarkson finished singing, and the track switched. Now, a more upbeat tune rose through the apartment. 

It’s Britney, bitch. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you eat anything—” Maggie began, reaching down to pick up a crumpled twinkie wrapper from the floor. And then, without warning, Crowley brought a napkin to his mouth and spat out a congealed mass of saliva and half-chewed dough. He sniffed pathetically and bundled it into a tight ball in his hand before tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Oh…” Maggie murmured, placing the wrapper back where she had found it. “Oh no.” 

Crowley looked up at the two of them with ragged eyes, glinting pale gold in the dim light of his flat. “Don’t even like the taste. But he likes ‘em, so…Who else is gonna eat’em, anyway? While he’s gone, you know? ‘S up to me” He sniffed again, wiping his nose with his sleeve. 

“Are you—” Maggie began, and her worried eyes flickered to Nina. “Are you drunk, Crow—Anthony? Have you been drinking?”

“And wha makes you think that?” he muttered. Nina cast her eyes around the room. Wine bottles littered the floor. The counters. One sat on the pedestal of a statue of an angel and a demon…were they supposed to be fighting, or…?? 

When she turned back to face him, he was drinking out of a curly straw. His cup read ‘MAMA NEEDS SOME WINE’. She sighed, and reached to ease it out of his hand. He pulled it out of her reach immediately, a disgruntled look clear across his face.

“Nooo, Az—Azira—a stupid angel gave this to me,” he all but hissed. “‘S vintage. 2004.”

The track changed again. Something slower, with a steady piano backing. 

My lover’s got humour.

She’s the giggle at a funeral…

At this, tears began to form afresh in the corners of the demon’s eyes. Nina stood up, looking for the source of the music. She’d had her fair share of sad music wallowing, but this was becoming unhealthy, surely. Over in the corner, a fairly recent sound system stood sentinel. She pressed ‘pause’ and ejected the disk. “What’s with this music?” she called across the room. 

In sloping handwriting, the CD read ‘bad bitches cry perpendicular to the floor’. Oookay then. 

“‘S a playlist I made. But everything I play in that godforsaken thing,” he motioned to the stereo system, “eventually turns into music by this one Irish fellow.” 

Nina wrinkled her brow in confusion. 

“Jus’ like the Bentley. But more straightforward, I suppose.” He took another sip from his drink, and the two women watched on as dark red liquid carried up through the loops of the straw.

“This isn’t healthy,” Maggie began. “I know it’s hard, and it’s okay to be sad. But we can try baby steps, right? D’you fancy coming down to the café with us? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? Get some natural light?” 

Crowley scrunched his nose and spat a piece of red hair out of his mouth. “M’ fine, really. Never been better. More independent, less—” he waved his free hand around vaguely, “mmgh…yeah, I got nothin’” He toasted them with his ridiculous white suburban mom cup. 

“You’re crying right now. And how long have you been wearing that shirt?” Nina asked. The thing looked lived in. By a family of possums. 

He looked down, squinting at wine stains that speckled the collar. “This is my best shirt.” He looked back up at them. “And ‘m fiiiine.” He reached one gangly arm across the length of the sofa and pulled out a pair of circular sunglasses. Putting them on, he peered up at Nina and Maggie. “See? Can’t even see the tears.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. 

“Oh, hon. That’s not…” Maggie began.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Nina murmured. “Do you…” she looked around the room. Was that one of Mr. Fell’s sweaters hung over a chair? What had happened in that fucking bookshop? “Do you want to talk about it?” she finished. 

Three hours later, Nina realized her assistant’s shift was nearly finished. From what she understood, Mr. Fell had left (his husband? Boyfriend? Wife? Immortal life partner?) Crowley for a business promotion somewhere far away. Crowley, for his part, was perched on the edge of the couch, wrapped up in the angel’s sweater. He sniffled, and pressed on: 

“...And then it was 1967 and I was in my Beatles phase of course, because who wasn’t, honestly. And the bastard shows up in my car out of nowhere with a thermos. So I’m freaking out a little bit—in a very cool, suave kind of way, of course—cause this is one of the first times we’ve seen each other since the magic show,” he turned, looking between Maggie and Nina. “I told you about the magic show, yes?”

“Yes, you did,” Maggie muttered. 

“Several times. The one where he told you to shoot him in the face,” Nina interjected.

“Well,” he waved his hand around. “I didn’t actually shoot him. Scared the fuck outta me, but—oh, I still have the photograph, you wanna see?” He moved to stand up then. 

Maggie motioned for him to sit back down. “That’s alright. We’ll see it later—”

And he was off again, “So anyway it was 1967 and he’s in my car and he’s got a thermos and I’m all like ‘Are we gonna drink soup together? Is that tea? Cocoa?’ but noooo, he gives it to me and it’s fucking holy water. And he tells me he doesn’t want me risking myself. And—” his voice grew louder, more emphatic, “And he says ‘don’t go unscrewing the cap’. And by this point my stomach’s all in wobbly-wibbly fluttery knots and ‘m asking myself ‘what the bloody hell are we’ and I hate it ‘cause I’m a demon, right? And angels aren’t supposed to make you feel all—” he made a ‘pbttt’ sound and mimed a butterfly with his hands. Nina and Maggie exchanged a look. “Yeah. And then he says we should go on a picnic someday. Or to the Ritz or something. I’m losing my mind at this point, because is he asking me on a date? ‘M I out of my gourd? So, like any normal, reasonable person, I say I’ll drive him wherever he wants because then that means more time together which means more time to figure out this fluttery feeling or whatever. And guess what he says.” He looked at the two women seated on chairs in front of him.  “Go on, guess.” 

Maggie shrugged. “Sorry, no idea.” Nina shook her head.

“He says,” he leant forward on the couch. “He says ‘You go too fast for me, Crowley.” The poor demon let out an anguished groan and his head fell into his hands. Maggie reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. 

[It went on like this for some time. They eventually got him to go to the park where he inadvertently began a duck cult; that is, a cult whose members consisted solely of ducks. Not a cult of humans dedicated to worshipping ducks. That would be stupid.]

this silly little crack fic is brought to you by me and my good omens brainrot (neil im in your walls). if u want to read my more serious stuff, you can find me furiously scribbling away in this corner of the internet: x

(side note: this particular story was inspired by a hilarious post from @miss-americanbi)

[shineyfroggo]

Transferring some mood boards and fun facts over from ask 🥰

# Gilbert Morace | unclaimed demigod | Oblivion (by @weisesfrettchen , @skotophobia & Aleviana)

- Er wollte immer schon ein Haustier haben, aber seine Großmutter war immer strenger dagegen. Deswegen hat Darius ihm vor ein paar Jahren "Sir Rock-a-lot" geschenkt. Gilberts eigener Pet Rock. Gilbert liebt Sir Rock-a-lot sehr und er ist sein kleiner Rockstar, der ihn überall hin begleitet.

- Seine Love Language ist (neben Beleidigungen gegenüber seiner besten Freundin) "Food giving", da man sich sicher sein kann, dass sein erster instinkt, wenn er sieht, dass es seinen Freunden schlecht geht, darin besteht sich in die Küche zu stellen und ihnen etwas zu backen, zu kochen oder sie mit ihren Lieblingssüßigkeiten zu zuschmeißen. In der Hinsicht kommt die Grandma in ihm durch.

- seine Vorliebe mit Escrima Sticks zu kämpfen ist einer der eigentlichen Hauptgründe weswegen seine beste Freundin angefangen hat ihn "Dick" zu nennen. Angelehnt a Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing. Erst danach weil er ein Arsch ist.

# Gwendolyn “Quiny” Reece | Gryffindor chaser | fearless (by whelve)

- Quiny ist die jüngste von drei Geschwistern, welche allesamt nach Persönlichkeiten aus der Artussage benannt wurden. Aber das passiert nun mal wenn man einem Literatuprofessor und einer Anwältin mit Vorliebe für Mythologien freie Hand bei den Namen ihrer Kinder gibt. Sie hatte die Ehre mit Gwendolyn während ihre Geschwistern einmal Gwain und Nimue abbekommen haben.

- Als Kinder hat ihr älterer Bruder Gwain immer versucht ihr weis zu machen, dass sie eigentlich ein Wechselbalg/Changeling wäre und dass das Feenvolk Quiny im Krankenhaus ausgetauscht hatte. Deswegen hat sie seiner Meinung nach einen so scheiß Charakter und ist ein kleiner Trash-Goblin (daher auch der Spitzname).

- Es gibt eigentlich kaum noch Leute, die sich daran erinnern, dass Quinys Vorname eigentlich “Gwendolyn" ist, da so gut wie niemand diesen Namen nutzt. Schon bevor sie nach Hogwarts gegangen ist hat sie penible genau darauf geachtet, dass man sie nur Quiny nennt, da sie ihren Vornamen nicht gerade sehr mag. Man kann es so zu sagen als Mandela Effekt bezeichnen, dass viele glauben dass ihr Vorname Quin wäre.

# Theodore Lacroix - no-maj himbo with a brain- behind your back (by @freeserenemind )

- Er besitzt ein Haushuhn namens Steve... Steve ist böse und attackiert alles was sich ihr in den Weg stellt. Alles außer Theo, weshalb dieser nicht versteht wieso jeder Steve "Dämonen Huhn" nennt. Keiner weiß woher Steve kommt oder woher Theo diese Ausgeburt der Hölle her hat. Er ist nur eines Tages mit einem Mörder Kater und diesem Huhn im Arm mitten in einer Gasse aufgewacht -> Side fact Steve ist ein Überbleibsel aus meiner ersten DSA campaign welches ich weiter am Leben erhalten wollte. Ihre Schwester Chicken Nugget hatte den cut leider nicht geschafft

- Er und seine WG besitzen neben Steve eine Husky Hündin namens Pennywise aka “Penny" und einen Rottweiler Rüden namens Alfred, benannt nach Alfred Pennyworth. Alle drei Tiere wurden von Theo benannt und schlafen meist bei ihm im Bett.

- Seine besten Freunde haben ihm den Spitznamen "Dora the Explorer" gegeben weil Theo ziemlich oblivious sein kann und hin und wieder einmal die offensichtliche Dinge nicht erkennen kann. Sie fanden die Idee sehr witzig. Theo leider nicht, aber er kann nicht abstreiten dass sie definitiv recht haben.

[faunandfloraas]

hii do you collect albums/pocas/magazines/etc? and if you do, what + for which group(s)?

(ik the obv answer is skz but tbh i don’t collect for one of my ult groups bc i just don’t like the album packaging and think it doesn’t display well so you never know </3)

Kinda? Not religiously but I did get a few of the older albums + rockstar for christmas/my bday last/this year so I have the photocards from them! I think I have about 6 of the albums? So I have those photocards and things :) as for magazines I have Chan's NYLON mag because I did really love it lol

I was going to get Seungmin's elle mag but it sold out </3 I have a bad affection for print media so it's probably good those 2 don't get many shoots lol

I haven't actually bought any other groups albums but the next time I get albums from Korea (prices work out WAY cheaper than to buy them anywhere in aus lol) I'm def gonna pick up nmixx's new album and maybe btob's lil keychain one... maybe... as a bday present in a few months lol But outside kpop as a teenager I was super obsessed with the all girl teenage rock band The Runaways and I have a bunch of their Japanese magazines that are a3 sized, vinyl including live recording bootlegs and picture disks and stuff- pretty much the only things I ever got for my bday between ages 13 and 18 were old runaways/Joan jett memorabilia- it was all cheap at the time but after the movie about them came out the prices went up so I guess teenage me got in at the right time.

As for photocards I have only bought one off ebay....

Him.... bc he's funny... but I do very much have a couple blonde seungmullet PC's in my watch list lol Won't buy em nc they're too expensive but they're in there. Also his boom fluffy hat ATE one's call to me so bad but they're too spensie as well </3 so yeah that's about the crux of it :)

[oneforthemunny]

I was watching some porn (surprise lmao) and the girl had a lush toy that was being vibrated to some Metallica. Made me think of eddie lmak

"surprised lmao" that's so real.

rockstar!eddie has one in his sex dungeon. finds it in some porno mag or at a store and thinks it's so fucking cool. he'd use his own songs tho (bc like it's rockstar!eddie?? boost his ego yes) and tie nb and use it on her. his ego is thru the fucking roof after that one lol.