#hook and loop tape

[angryisokay]

Hey. Do you like patches but you also like being able to customize and rearrange on a whim too?

Get yourself some loop fabric. Sew it to your jacket or bag or whatever you're sticking patches on. Get hook backed patches. Or buy some hook sided fabric and glue/sew it to your existing patches. There's hook sided fabric with adhesive backing too.

Now you can have patches and move them around to add new ones or reflect different moods.

[consult2bond]

Unleash the Power of Customization with Consult2Bond's Hook & Loop Tapes! 💥 From high-tack adhesion to clean removal options, we've got your fastening needs covered.

[sophiewuu]

1. Sew on hook and loop strap, non adhesive back. 2. Longer durable use. Can use into clothes,bags, windows curtains and handbags, tents, parachutes, sofa sets, shoes etc. 3. Can replace the zipper, snap button, and connecting material 4. There are many widths, you can choose which suit for your requirement. 5. Can be cut to any length or shape, can be sewn, stapled, or glued to most materials. 6. No MOQ requirement 7. Reusable use More details click: https://singmoontech.com/hook_loop_tape #hookandlooptape #hooklooptape #garment #shoes #clothes

[bruciemilf]

We as a society need to take advantage of Bruce’s movie trauma more.

First of all, not only is he incredibly apprehensive about cinemas, he’d also be way too busy with Batman and single mom-ing to stay in the cinematic pop culture loop?

I wanna see Bruce who only ever watches recorded Gray Ghost tapes. Name any movie post 2001. He hasn’t watched one.

When the Batkids enter the picture, they hold a contest on who can inflict the hardest psychological damage. Tim tries hooking him on Mean Girls but Bruce is too scared of Regina.

Steph: Okay so, it’s her wedding day and she strategically invites all three of her mother’s exes to find out who her biological father is, but! They all just end up adopting her instead!

Bruce: [Quiet but excited clapping]

Dick shows him Twilight. The resemblance between him and Robert Pattinson freaks him out.

[nooralibdaa]

Noor Al Ibdaa Self Adhesive Dots Hook Loop Tapes in black are the perfect solution for a wide range of applications. With their self-adhesive feature, these hook and loop tapes are incredibly easy to use. Whether you need to secure items in place, organize cables, or even create DIY projects, these tapes have got you covered. The black color adds a sleek and professional look to any project, making them ideal for both personal and professional use. Noor Al Ibdaa Self Adhesive Dots Hook Loop Tapes provide a strong and reliable hold, ensuring that your items stay in place securely. With their versatility and simplicity, these tapes are a must-have for anyone looking for a convenient and efficient fastening solution. Experience the ease and reliability of Noor Al Ibdaa Self Adhesive Dots Hook Loop Tapes, and discover a world of possibilities for all your fastening needs.

[virginsexgod69]

❝ Video Star — ✩❞

pairing (Season 7) Negan Smith x f!Reader

cw smut, unprotected p in v, slight humiliation, pussy slapping, bow jobs, name calling/ pet names, sex tapes, porn photography?

summary You and Negan have some fun with a digital camera you found on a run.

note ahh this is my first time writing for negan, so i hope it's okay... jdm is just tooo fine. i have wild thoughts whenever he's on screen 🫦

1.5k words

...

"Smile!" you said before snapping the photo, taking Dwight off guard. The picture was blurry and unfocused and due to the flash, he was squinting and not even looking at the camera.

"The hell?" he questioned looking at you crazy. "It's a camera, duh. Found it on a run," you explained. He walked off in an annoyed huff leaving you wondering what crawled up his ass and died. You continued walking about the sanctuary taking pictures of unsuspecting people.

"Laura! Say cheese," you prompted the blonde woman as she approached you. She rolled her eyes and held her hand up to the camera, affectively ruining the picture.

"Negan wants to see you," she said. You turned off the camera and looped the strap around your wrist before heading toward his room. What is was he wanted, you had no clue. Your relationship with the man in charge was an odd one. Toeing the line between wife and solider, you had no clue where you stood. Sometimes he sent you on runs, other times he spoiled you with little treats so you wouldn't have to spend any of your points. Once, when he called you in to have a glass of 30 year old scotch with him, the two of you ended up fucking in a drunken haze which lead to regular hookups. You knocked on the door once you arrived and waited patiently for him to let you in, wondering what he wanted and hoping it was to hook up.

He opened the door, revealing him leaning against the door frame in his white t-shirt with Lucille in hand. You stood there nervously, not knowing what to say or what mood to expect from him.

"You just gonna stand there lookin' stupid or you gonna come in?" He asked. He had such a way with words. You stepped into the large room and let him lead you to the couch by the small of your back. You sat in the chair facing the couch he took a seat in.

"Got a little somethin' for ya," he said with a wolfish grin on his face. You relaxed a little as he seemed fairly happy.

"What is it?" you asked, excitement lacing your voice. He reached behind his back and tossed a ball of white fabric at you. You held it up and revealed it was a sheer, lace babydoll dress. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized that he expected you to put it on.

"Um...could you look away while I change," you asked shyly.

"I've seen you naked, been inside you, but you don't want me to see you change?" he mocked.

"Neeegaan," you whined. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, but covered his eyes with his hand nonetheless. You made quick work of stripping off your clothes, including you underwear, and put on the sheer number. It was a bit small. It struggled to contain your breasts and stopped at your mid-upper thigh, but to Negan, it added to your sex appeal.

"Goddamn, baby. You look fuckin' hot!" He said as he admired you. It was so sheer it barely left anything to the imagination and the lacy parts made you look angelic.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased with newfound confidence brought on by Negan's words. Then you remembered your digital camera. "Here." You tossed the camera to him. He caught it and smirked when he realized what it was. A lustful look washed over his eyes as he turned the device on.

"On your knees," he ordered using his leader voice. You quickly and eagerly obeyed him, which only made his dick harden in his pants. He walked over to you and grabbed you jaw in a large hand, tilting it up to look at him before snapping a picture.

"Just look at you. My pretty little doll." And that's exactly what you felt like. His pretty little doll. His to dress and pose and fuck however he wants. It made you wet, giving him full control over you like this.

"Take those panties off." Your body was hot with lust and shame as you slid the moistening garment off your body.

"Get on all fours." You did so and he manually readjusted you to how he wanted. Your ass in the air and back arched with your chin rested on your arms crossed beneath you. The skirt of the dress slid up your body, exposing you to the cool air of the room. Negan snapped a few pictures of your face before moving behind you. You squeaked in shock when you felt his finger slide up and down your slit.

"Damn. So wet and I barely touched you." The humiliation of him taking pictures of your bare pussy only made you wetter. You got on your knees again and turned to face Negan.

"Let's make a sex tape," you suggested as you fiddled with his belt. His signature grin blossomed on his face and he looked down at you with lust filled, hazel eyes.

"Fuck yeah!" He started recording once you got his belt off and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. It sprang up, hitting his abdomen and revealing veins you could only see when he was erect. You took him in your hands, licking the precum off his sensitive tip before taking it in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it while slowly stroking the rest with your hands.

"Quit your goddamn teasing and suck my dick," he impatiently demanded. You looked up into the camera with mischief laden eyes as you took the rest of him into your warm mouth, earning a guttural moan from the man. Your pussy fluttered at the sound. Eager to hear it again, you stopped teasing and picked up the pace. But it must not have been enough since Negan grabbed into your hair and began fucking your face at his own rapid pace, ignoring the way you gagged around his large member and the tears streaming down your pretty face.

"That's it. Takin' me so good doll." Your cunt throbbed at the praise. He was getting close, you could tell by the way he twitched inside your mouth. He groaned as he emptied his white hot load down your throat.

"You did so good baby," he praised as he wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. He helped you up off the floor before pushing you onto his bed.

"Show me that pretty little cunt of yours." He spread open your legs and zoomed the camera in on your soaked pussy. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, as well. He delivered a rough slap to your pussy, forcing a moan out of you.

"You like it when I hit you, huh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he did it again.

"Please Negan! Need you so bad," you begged from beneath him. He ignored your pleas and directed the camera to your breasts, which were barely contained by the babydoll. He pulled them out with little effort. He gave you the camera to hold while he focused his attention to them.

"Such pretty tits," he complimented before nipping your nipple. You squealed in shock and pleasure. He had never done that before, but you liked it. With a flattened tongue, he licked the nipple he bit, soothing it before taking it into his mouth. The scratch of his beard felt so good on your sensitive, bare breasts. He rolled the nipple that wasn't in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, causing you to squirm.

"Need you inside," you slurred. Negan pulled away from you r breast with a pop and took the camera back from you.He zoomed in on his own hard-again dick as he lined it up with your sopping hole. You were so wet he slid in effortlessly. You moaned in ecstasy as he finally put out that fire that was burning in you. He didn't hesitate as he started thrusting into you at a merciless pace. The leader couldn't decide if he wanted to focus the camera on the way your cunt swallowed him hole, the outline of his dick protruding through your stomach, your tits as they bounced in unison with his rapid thrusts, or your eyes rolling back in the head of your fucked out face. He zoomed out, capturing the beauty of it all.

"Such a good little fucktoy for me," he admonished. His words brought you closer to the edge as your walls clamped down on his cock.

"Negan 'm gnna," your own moan cut off your nonsensical, fucked babbles.

"So drunk on my cock," he grunted as he filled you with his seed, not waiting for you to reach your own peak. But he didn't have to since you came right after, arching off the bed. He pulled out and zoomed the camera in on your abused cunt. His cum slowly leaked out of your hole and onto the dark bed spread. That was the perfect place to end the video, he decided.

"Hot damn. Were you a porn star before the world went to shit?"

...

not proofread, sorry! thanks for reading! <3

i uploaded this from my phone, so sorry if it's a bit of a mess.

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing 1890s Day Dress in Doll Scale

I went slightly overboard with this second historical doll project. Here's my first one. The style is from around 1897 and more of a middle class style. As with my first doll outfit, I tried to stick to historical methods as much as possible, but the scale forced me to do some deviations. I hand-sew everything though sewing machine was already widely used, because in this scale it's easier to control the stitch, there's not that much to sew anyway and also I just really like hand-sewing. Here's all the items I made. As said, I went a little overboard. One thing that's missing is the corset cover, but the layers of fabric were creating enough bulk on the waist as is so I decided to not make one.

This time I decided to try repainting the face. I don't have any doll customization materials, so I used acrylics. After couple of attempts I got decent results. Acrylics can't make as smooth and delicate finish as pastels, pencils and gouache, which can be used on vinyl with basing sprays, and I'm not experienced with painting small details on 3D objects, so it's a bit smudged at points, especially with the other eye. I aimed for 1890s very neutral make up and the type of expression that was popular in fashion plates and other illustrations.

Undergarments

Combinations and stockings

The combinations are split crotch as they were in the period. They are from thin cotton voile I have a lot of and is very appropriate. I didn't have really tiny enough lace for this, so it's kinda bulky, but I think it's okay enough. The stockings are cotton knit, which fits well. The garters are not actually necessary for this doll since her legs are rubbery.

Corset

I made the corset from a firm-ish linen and satin rayon pretending to be silk as the fashion fabric. The stitching of the boning channels is not super neat, this fabric is very unforgiving, I didn't have exactly matching thread and the scale made it very difficult. I of course didn't have tiny busk, so I used small hooks, sewed thread loops for them and used narrow metal wire for the edges. I think it looks surprisingly right on the outside. I used the same wire as the boning to reinforce the lacing on the back. I didn't actually use boning elsewhere but the tightly packed linen edges in the boning channels kinda work like lighter boning. I think it keeps the shape pretty ways even with just that. I stitched cotton tape inside to shape the corset further. I also didn't have tiny metal eyelets so I hand-sewed the lacing holes.

Bustle pad

The bustle pad is from linen and stuffed with tiny cabbage.

Petticoat

The petticoat is from the same cotton as the combinations.

Outer wear

Skirt

The fabric is cotton half-panama. It's pretty thin, but firm. I would have liked to use a woven wool, but I didn't have any that's thin enough to work in this scale. I think this cotton looks close enough in this scale to a wool with a tight weave, so I'm imagining it's that. My problem was that the cotton was white, but I wanted light brown. I wasn't going to buy any fabric for this, so I did the reasonable thing and dyed it with red onion peals (I've been doing natural dye experiments so this worked well for me).

Shirtwaist

The shirtwaist is from the same cotton as the undergarments. Yes, I dyed it too. I didn't have thin enough cotton in a color that would fit with the skirt and the purple bow, so I dyed it light blue with fabric color. Since I already went the trouble of dyeing I decided I might as well make a small flower print to it since that was popular in the era. I didn't want it to jump out too much but the lighting makes it even less visible. I made it with a white fabric pen. The collar and cuffs are reinforced with linen. I also sewed small stick-like beads to the cuffs on both sides, so one acts as a button (I sewed a buttonhole too) and the other makes it look like they are cufflinks. The bow is from the same fabric as the corset and the belt is sewn from the same cotton as the shirtwaist. The buckle is from a barbie belt.

Waistcoat

The waistcoat is from the same fabric as the skirt, thought the lapels and the back are from another satin rayon. I tailored the front panels and the lapels by stitching the linen interlining with tailor's stitches (I don't remember if that's the correct word in English) into shape. There is some wonkiness on one side of the hemline for some reason.

Boots

I made the slightly insane decision to make the shoes fully from leather, like they would have been in the period. I had an old broken leather wallet I had saved in case I needed some leather scarps. It has fairly thin leather, so it was workable here. It's light brown though, so I used black shoe polish to darken it. I wanted black or very dark brown shoes. I stacked the heels from glue and leather pieces and carved them into the right shape and sewed the shoe itself to leather shaped as the sole and glued it to the heeled and shaped sole. After I had shaped the shoes and the heels as much as I could I painted the heels black.

[evera-era]

pretty on camera.

ellie williams x afab!reader

warnings: tlou!au, slight coercion, dirty talk, oral e!receiving, fingering, spanking, ellie is kinda rough, sex tape !!

a/n: writer’s block has been pretty horrible so i’m sorry for the delay on this </3 not proofread (yet… will do later)

You hear Ellie’s footsteps behind you. She enters the bedroom you’re in, giving a small sigh. The two of you were currently on patrol, scouting a cabin. This route typically didn’t give you any problems; it could be a bit of a drag.

“Everything good?” You ask, opening up a desk drawer.

“Yeah, it’s all clear.” She replies. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” You mumble. “Fuckin’ around a little.”

She scoffs, smirking. “Don’t let Maria find out.”

You picked up a small glass marble sitting in the corner of the drawer. You roll it between your fingers.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” You add.

Ellie shrugs, watching you. You set the marble down and look over at the bed. You pause for a second before getting on your knees to check underneath it.

“Depends,” She replies, shifting her weight on her feet. “What’s in it for me?”

“We bein’ PG?” You ask her.

You can hear Ellie emit a small chuckle from above. During your search, your eyes catch onto a bulky, grey object. Upon further inspection, it appears to be a camcorder. You furrow your brows in disbelief.

“No fucking way.” You say under your breath. You grab it and pull it out to examine it. You push yourself up from the ground, opting to sit crisscrossed instead.

At first sight, the camcorder was dusty, but in relatively good condition. You were hesitant about whether it had any battery left, and if the battery would even work. But it was worth a shot.

“Check this out,” You say, chucking the camera at Ellie. She catches it in a swift movement.

“A camera?” She comments. “Wouldn’t be the first we found.”

“But it could be the first that works,” You reply. “C’mon, let’s try and turn it on.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, thoroughly believing the attempt would be futile. But she does what you say.

When a small flash of green blinks on one of the buttons, her eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” She mumbles.

“I told you!” You exclaim, getting back onto your feet. You join her and peer over her shoulder.

The quality isn’t the best, but it’s working. Ellie navigates the menu to see if there’s any memory on it. A small video plays, only for a few seconds, of a black screen.

“That’s it?” You question. “Anything else?”

She frowns, scrolling through but ultimately getting nowhere. “If that’s the case, there’s a shitton of storage left.”

You look at Ellie from the corner of your eye. She squints at you.

“What?”

You straighten your back, looking away in a dramatic fashion. “Nothing… totally nothing.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously — what?”

You look up at her with a sly grin. She blankly stares, then shakes her head.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to!” She hisses. “You’re such a fucking whore, I swear.”

You giggle at her reaction before sighing exasperatedly. “Okay, okay. Fine. Don’t make a porno with me, it’s fine.”

You begin heading for the door before Ellie clears her throat. You turn to look over at her.

She looks up at you through her lashes. “I mean… I didn’t say that I wouldn’t.”

The only thing that can be heard is the faint ticking from the face on your watch. You raise your eyebrows at the auburn-haired girl.

“Are you saying you will?”

She stumbles on her words. “I— Shouldn’t we at least wait ‘til we get back to Jackson?”

“Technically, we should.” You smirk. “But should we?”

Ellie’s face flushes. You walk up to her, taking her hands in yours as she watches you closely.

“C’mon.” You whisper, hooking your finger through her belt loop. “You’re not even the slightest bit curious to see what it’s like to fuck me on camera?”

Her face reddens even deeper as she looks over at the wall. When her eyes meet yours again, she gives you a stern look.

“If we get in trouble, it’s on you.”

“So… is that a yes?” You say. Ellie bites down on her lip, nodding.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You get on your knees, quickly pushing your hair back and out of your face.

“Don’t worry, Els. I’ll make it up to you real soon.”

“You fuckin’ better,” She whispers.

As you unbutton her pants, Ellie struggles to get the camera on the right setting. It’s hard for her to think straight.

“How the fuck do I even work this thing?”

“You were doing it just fine a moment ago,” You comment.

“Yeah, well… wasn’t bout to get laid a moment ago. Mind’s foggy.” She huffs. “Ah, there we go.”

She wipes the lens on the bottom of her shirt before pressing record. You look up at her, smiling.

“Wanna tell them what we’re doing, Els?” You ask coyly, looking between her and the camera.

“T-Them?” She stutters. “Wait, we’re sharing this?”

“No,” You giggle. “Well, unless you want to.”

Ellie’s silent, distracted by your actions. You place a small peck above her pantyline. “C’mon, babe.”

“Okay, okay,” She sighs. “Uh… this is Ellie and Y/N. About to�� fuck… on morning patrol. Totally not my idea to do this on the job, by the way.”

You flick her thigh.

“Ouch!” She whines. “Gosh. As you can see… my girlfriend is very, very naughty.”

“Mm, how so?” You press, tugging down on her underwear.

“Do I have to narrate everything?” She moans. “I… I can’t think straight like this.”

“You’re so cute,” You comment. “Alright, fine. Just hold the camera still.”

Ellie does as you say, stabilizing the camera with one hand and placing the other behind your head. Her fingers entangle themselves in your hair as you take the first lick, running your tongue up her folds.

“Mm,” You breathe against her skin. “For someone with no intentions of doing this, you sure are wet…”

“Shut up,” She groans, tightening her grip on your hair. “Not my fault. Your ass was basically swallowing your jeans.”

You hum in delight, dragging your tongue back and forth along her slit. She folds her bottom lip under her teeth, hands slightly shaking from anticipation.

You bring your eyes back up to the camera as you engulf her clit into your mouth. She hisses, her mouth watering, desperately trying to hold onto the camera when all she wants to do is pull you up and bend you over.

“Fuck,” She grunts, dropping her other hand from your hair and bringing it around to cup your face. You moan against her touch, continuing to lick and suck on her swollen bud.

“Shit,” She murmurs. “Fuck yeah, right there.”

She watches you closely through the lens, becoming wetter at the mere sight of you on a pixelated screen.

You’re such a slut for doing this, she thinks. Making her film you while you pleasure her, while you worship her cunt. For encapsulating this moment into a camera you found mere minutes ago. And on patrol, no less.

“Taste so good, Els.” You mumble after pulling away to catch your breath. “So sweet.”

“Yeah?” She purrs. “Stick your tongue out, lemme see.”

You obey her command, and she has to stop herself from letting her eyes roll into the back of her head.

It was so slutty, the way her juices coated your tongue in a translucent shimmer. Her green eyes bore into yours as she puts her thumb in your mouth, watching as you lick and suck on it.

The sensation alone sends zaps right to her cunt, which was practically dripping. You brought your hand out to it and delicately spread her pussy lips apart.

“Such a good girl for me,” She murmurs, watching you intently. You look up innocently at her as you insert one finger, then two.

Ellie groans in response, clenching onto the camera as her pussy clenches onto your fingers.

“So tight,” You whisper, taking a second to let her warm up to the feeling before pushing deeper inside. “And warm.”

After a few strokes back and forth, you began picking up the pace. She was squelching around your fingers — filthy, she thinks, such a filthy sound — and she was nearly seeing stars.

“Goddamn,” She mutters, tempted to grind against your touch, but opting to capture you in your essence instead. She brings the camera down a little more, so it’s lined up perfectly. You take notice; looking at the lens while you begin sucking on her cunt yet again, your fingers still pumping.

Ellie wants to speak, but can’t even form coherent words. Instead, she drawls into guttural, breathy moans as she copes with the stimulation. She was practically losing her mind from this, and eventually, her steady hold on the camera dwindles.

“Baby,” She winces, looking down at you. “Babe— fuck— I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You nod your head, lips still attached to her cunt as you continue fingering her harshly. She sighs, throwing her head back.

“God, fuck,” She hisses. “Just like that, princess. Fuck! Make me fuckin’ cum.”

It was hard to hear the obscenities she was grunting out when she was so wet, but you moaned against her nonetheless. It wasn’t often you got to see Ellie let herself go; seeing her get to that point was almost rewarding.

The orgasm that ripples through her body is strong. Her mouth is agape, eyes clenched tight as she comes undone. The look on her face is almost painful, but you know it’s not — it just took a lot out of her.

When she comes down from her high, she blinks a few times, trying to combat her blurry vision. She pants, palms clammy around the camcorder as she looks at you. You were wiping your mouth off and sucking your fingers clean.

“How was it?” You asked innocently. Her gaze becomes concentrated, like a switch, and she tilts her head towards the bed.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” She huffs. “Your turn.”

You become slightly shy at the proposal. “What? B-But—“

“No but’s,” She replies. “C’mon, ass up.”

You blush. You had assumed that once you got her off, she’d be ready to go back to Jackson, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

So you do as she says, peeling your pants off before climbing onto the bed on all fours.

“What, you don’t have anything else to say?” She asks, switching the camera to her other hand. She places a hard slap on your ass, and you moan.

“Hard to speak when you’re the receiver, huh?”

You bite your lip as she aims the camera to get a full view of your ass. Her thumb pushes into you easily, thanks to the accumulation of slick that gathered at your core. Your cheeks warm at her movements.

“C’mon, baby.” She says. “Tell them what I’m doing.”

“We— We’re—“

Another slap, right on your ass.

“Speak up.”

“I— Ellie’s touching me,” You murmur.

“How?” She whispers. “How am I touching you?”

“Fingering me…” You add. “Ellie’s fingering my pussy.”

“And what a sweet fuckin’ pussy you have.” She grunts. “Turn over, lay on your back.”

Once your back hits the bed, Ellie straddles you almost immediately. You’re met with the camera lens once again.

“Look at that face,” She smirks. “So fuckin’ hot.”

She pushes her index and middle finger inside of you, making sure to catch what she’s doing on film. Meanwhile, outside of the frame, you’re scrunching your eyebrows up in pleasure.

Ellie was ruthless. She knew your hot spots, and practically abused that knowledge. She knew how to make you cum, and how to make you cum quick. You were kneading at your tits in an attempt to absolve the overstimulation.

“E-Els,” You whine, grinding up against her hand.

She doesn’t say anything, so set on the way your pussy looks around your fingers. You mewl.

“Ellie,” You moan.

“Hm?” She says, looking up at you. “What, gonna cum already?”

You nod, teary-eyed, toes clenching at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the camera and say it.” She whispers.

“G-Gonna—“

“Who?” She cuts you off. “C’mon, use your words… who’s makin’ you cum?”

“You, Ellie,” You breathe out, using your hands to pull at the bedsheets behind your head. “Ellie’s gonna, fuck, Ellie’s makin’ me cum.”

“Atta girl,” She murmurs. “Good girl.”

You moan, rocking your hips gently in an attempt to gain more friction against her hand. Your orgasm comes rather quickly, and has you whining and pulsing hard around her fingers.

Ellie makes sure to catch your o-face on camera; if by some miracle this camera turns on again later, she would need that content for lonely nights.

“There you go,” She says quietly, taking one last full-view shot of your body before shutting the camera off. She tosses it over into the pillows and leans down into you.

“My god,” You moan as Ellie presses several kisses against your breasts. She looks up at you, placing a final kiss against your lips, making you smile.

“See?” You whisper after a moment. “I told you it’d be fun.”

She nods meekly, raising her eyebrows. “I… didn’t think I’d enjoy it that much. Was definitely worth it.”

You look up at the ceiling as she rolls over to the side. She begins pulling her clothes on.

“Babe?” She says, looking over at you.

“I know I kinda fucked the shit outta you just now, but we should really head back. Y’know, if we don’t wanna get our asses chewed.”

You groan in response. She chuckles.

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you five minutes to get cleaned up. Meet me out front, okay?”

You grin, rubbing your eyes. “Okay.”

Ellie leaves a few seconds later. And when you go to reach for the camera, you realize she took it, with the rest of her belongings.

[hysteria-things]

can u do bf chris hc ?? 😝

BF!CHRIS HEADCANNONS

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: there is a SFW and NSFW section

SFW!

spoils the fuck out of you with no shame, even when you say it’s unnecessary.

one time you were gushing over a stuffed animal you saw in a store, so the next day he went back to get it for you. he also got flowers and your favorite snacks to add onto your gift.

“chris. this is so unnecessary.”

“what? am i not allowed to treat my girl?”

touches you at all times, his hand either around your waist or as subtle as his pointer finger hooking onto your belt loops on your jeans when you guys are walking together.

will immediately notice if something’s bugging you or if you’re upset.

even after a rough day at work, you’ll still hang out with your boyfriend. you’re visibly exhausted, not wanting to be around other people but it’ll make you feel bad for chris. he’ll greet you at the door, but pause to study you.

“are you okay?”

“yes! i’m fine.”

he can tell you’re lying, but you try to walk away as he softly grabs wrist. he tilts his head with concern.

“woah, woah, y/n. what’s wrong? tell me.”

he’ll let you rant to him for as long as you need, listening intently the whole time.

in some cases you’ll break down, and he’ll try his best to comfort you as much as he can.

NSFW!

literally will wreck you unless you say otherwise LOL

idc what you guys say he’s a sex tape guy

something about hearing your moans and whimpers through his phone turns. him. the. fuck. on. he loves watching how he fucks you.

another thing he’ll do is take photos, either during or post-sex.

he can be possessive, not in a toxic way, but if you let a guy flirt with you right in front of him he’ll have no issue putting you in your place. (you’re too oblivious to realize the guy is flirting, but he will always know)

chris’ dick is stuffed in your mouth, his hand gripping your head as he guides you on his shaft. your makeup is smudged, the straps on your dress now fallen off your shoulders. once the guy walked away, chris dragged you to the bathroom. the echoes of your slurps and gags bounce off the walls.

“i wonder if that dude can hear you choking on my cock. i’m sure he won’t talk to you again when you walk out with my cum dripping down your chin.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, light bondage, alcohol, misogyny/chauvinism

fem reader

You didn't know such a normal guy could turn out to be so insane. 

But thinking about it, you realized his actions had always seemed a bit too timed. As though he’d practiced – the awkward smile, the sorry laugh, the small apologies, even the blush, and those giddy puppy eyes – creating the perfect disarming cute goof you’d never possibly find threatening even in the slightest despite him being a tank of a man.

He'd been so sweet – so boyfriendly and kind. 

His behavior was just disturbing now. Acting normal with you – ignoring how he’d tied your wrists up too tight...

The room was dim – moody, with the movie playing loud in front. He had his heavy arm resting around your shoulders with your body placed snugly into his side ��� uncomfortably so. He’d duct-taped your mouth shut a while ago after he’d grown tired of your crying – having stuffed one of his socks in there first.

He gripped a sixth or seventh beercan in his other hand, the one not currently squeezing your upper arm – letting it rest on the dungaree of his thigh, making a dark blue ring where the dewdrops had slid down.

Something happened in the movie you were too tense and panicked to watch, but either way, whatever it was, it seemed to make him lose interest – scoffing out a gruff “Puh-” before raising his beer to his lips, chugging the rest of it down before slamming it to the ground.

“This movie is fucking boring-”

You flinched and would probably have screamed too if you could – all your nerves making you feel sick, close to giving out at the sound of the crash. Your eyes peeled with terror and tears, watching the empty can slowly roll around to a stop on the wooden floors.

He groaned, using his free hand to grab his groin – giving it a tug and shake, manspreading a little wider than what he was already.

Then, he lazily flipped the tail of his belt out of the loops, popping the buckle with a clatter of metals.

You wanted to whine or will yourself to move, but you knew it would only end in more bruises – so instead, all you dared do was breathe a little faster through your nose.

The hand kept at your arm brushed past your shoulder to cup your head, messaging your scalp in big fingers – with such pressure, it made your entire head bobble on your neck. The other hand undid his button and unzipped his fly – then moved to hook the rope tying your wrists together, pulling them to the bulge for you to finish the job.

You didn't refuse, wishing to keep him calm – so you dipped past the band of his boxers with shaking hands, put trembling fingers around his thickened shaft, and gently pulled him out.

He gave a rusty sigh, releasing a damp and sour breath of beer that clouded your head.

Grimacing at the stench, you nearly made the mistake of coughing as your fingers enveloped his fat erection in both hands – intertwined with each other neatly down along his shaft.

He jerked his hip, prompting you to start – stroking up slowly and down again, rubbing over forked veins plump with blood, making him stiffen harder in your grip – soon so hard it stood on its own in your hands, pilling with precum getting caught on your digits.

He pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin upon your cheek – watching your small hands work his cock – your skin so smooth and good compared to his, caressing him so tenderly in such a sweet and loving way.

You listened to his heart hammer on your ear, pressed tight against the tough muscles of his torso with his prickly chin stubble digging into the soft side of your face. The whole position was awkward, but you kept your hands going – rubbing him like you knew he liked until his hands gripped your arm and pulled you off, planting both paws on your hips as he lifted you onto his lap – your thighs spread to straddle him.

He'd been keeping you in just a silk babydoll – one he could easily lift for his pleasure. Gruff fingers rubbed the glassy texture of it before slipping beneath the light thing – gliding up your thighs to hold you by the fat of your ass.

He pulled you forward – tight – close enough for him to lick your collar and bite onto the strap on your shoulder – pulling it aside for him to suck your sweet little nipple into his mouth.

Your nails pressed smiles into your palms, looking down at him suckling new blotches into your sensitive skin as he rolled your nip between his teeth teasingly with a lusty growl – his hand making moves beneath the skirt of your nightie, grabbing his shaft and pushing it immaturely against your unprepped pussylips – forcing a kiss to your taut entrance before further driving himself inside you.

You couldn’t help the sounds now – whining out a pained moan into your gag as you doubled over against his chest, soon sobbing on his shoulder as he nudged himself nice and deep against your womb – fitting snuggly in your tight-knit walls.

He paid your wails no mind. Squeezing the soft flesh of your butt in his hand, with the other coming to join the action once more – digging his fingers into the supple flesh and making you rock back and forth on his lap – feeling as though he was ripping your hole apart.

“It’ feel better if you just got wet like you used to-” He said casually – fucking your dry cunt like he did your dry palms earlier. You don’t think it bothers him at all as long as it’s tight.

But soon, the slick started to form anyway, like it always did whether you wanted it or not – a protective maneuver your body conditions itself with to make the assault feel somewhat less miserable.

“There you go- now you’ll feel good, so stop your crying.” He cooed, raising a hand from beneath the tent of your dress, wrapping it in the hair at the back of your skull, forming a fistful of it – pulling you from his chest to lash your neck full of new lovebites.

He started making you hop now instead of riding – aiding you by the hand lifting your ass and the other pulling your hair. He jerked his own hips to meet you, slamming your poor cervix like a punching bag – he knows that’s how he makes your pussy cry boohoo, soaking his cock with pleasant warmth. 

A moan springs from your throat each time it runs you through – feeling it kick you in the stomach each time you slapped down on his lap – and soon you gushed in spite of it, abruptly halting your tempo before squirting violently – quaking in spasms, tits doing spins with him buried up to the hilt.

“That’s it- that’s my little whore-” He purred with a rumble in his chest, humming at the feel of your tight cunt fluttering from orgasm as you leaked sweet pussyjuice on his jeans. “Now, that’ll never get boring.”

He unraveled the fist in your hair and began petting your back, letting you slump back against his chest as he kept doing slow lifts with his hips to squeeze into you despite being swallowed down to the base – leaving your cunt now would just be a waste of a nice throttle.

“Since your mouth’s in a timeout, I think this pussy’s the winner of today’s load- fuck knows you deserve it after that.” He continued in a strained voice – the length of his cock desperately curling to make space for its whole length, stretching your gummy walls until they stung from the workout, making you buck your hips in revolt.

But he only took it as an eager approval of his comment. Leaving his prints on your ass with how hard he clawed his hand into it while his other arm hugged you tightly to his chest – keeping you seated and himself bottomed out as his cock sprung within in you, busting out thick hot ropes of cum deep inside the comfort of your tight cunt.

He held you there long enough to make the ache of it mellow out into a numb tickle – feeling just the warmth as he finally slumped out.

Face dewy, still with a taped x marking your lips. The pain had made you nearly chew right through the sock stuffed in your mouth, but now you just sucked on it – jaw lax from exhaustion where your head felt heavy, resting on his shoulder. 

He panted for a few minutes, sweaty hands rubbing circles into your equally slippery skin until announcing, “It’s almost dinnertime, huh?”

Your eyes kept blinking softly, feeling the slow trickle of cum leave your cunt along with wetness of your own, seeping out onto the softening cock keeping warm between your thighs.

You barely even jolt when his hand comes down on your ass in one of his kinder slaps.

“How ‘bout we untie those hands again so you can shimmy this little ass into the kitchen, hm? I’m starving.”

BNHA – Kirishima, Hawks, Bakugou, Natsuo, Dabi, Mirio, FatGum

JJK – Naoya

HQ – Ukai, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa

[jamieontheroof]

Random things I noticed while playing What Remains Of Edith Finch

There was a poster of the cannery that Lewis worked at on the boat.

2. Edith Jr wears what appears to be an engagement on a necklace. Whether this is her ring or her mothers is not mentioned.

3. At the start of the game, Milton's missing posters are EVERYWHERE. There is even a giant pile of them in a nearby lake.

4. The dragon slide that crushed and killed Sven is still outside.

5. As you walk toward the house, the music gets louder.

6. The swing that Calvin flew off decades ago is still looped around the branch.

7. There was a spare peep hole in the garage that didn't have any names or dates on it.

8. At multiple points throughout the game you can hear a train in the background, despite the fact that the train tracks are clearly destroyed.

9. There are multiple pots throughout the Finch house that looks like they have eyes.

10. One of the books the Finches possessed was 'King in Yellow', a book known for making anyone who read it insane.

11. The house sounds alive, or like there are people constantly moving around it.

12. Walters bedroom is painted with both ocean and train designs. One of the paintings is the old house that Odin tried to bring to America.

13. There are drag marks on the ground of Walters bedroom (most likely made when his drawers were taken out of his room.)

14. The entrance to the tunnels is hidden by a book called 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a classic sci-fi story about a sea monster.

15. Molly's room is filled entirely with animal books.

16. There is a jelly fish on Molly's bed (possible connection to the monster??).

17. Molly has a chalkboard in her bedroom where she is a princess in an underwater castle and Sven is about to get attacked by a sea monster (slightly resembling the dragon slide).

18. As shark!Molly starts falling down the cliff, she passes a road where headlights are briefly scene.

19. When the monster gets back to Molly's room, the window that cat!Molly jumped through is still open.

20. There are still Christmas decorations in Molly's room.

21. The curse is 500 years old. That is a lot of dead people.

22. In Odin's viewfinder, it states "His [Odin's] daughter, Edie, is already dreaming of new Finch house" showing that even though her own father died not even a week ago, Edie has already moved on.

23. The house is filled head to toe with books about death, including two that Odin wrote.

24. Sven's shrine does not have a log painting like the rest of the family. His portrait is painted on a simple canvas.

25. Edie has a number of strange tapes in her room including one titled "conspiracy now".

26. The toys from Gregory's final bath are still in the bathroom.

27. There is an old bottle of alcohol in the bathroom bin.

28. A lot of Sam's photos are based on Calvin (a swing, astronauts).

29. All of Milton's drawings are based on the death. (Molly = cat, Barbara = pumpkin)

30. There are cigarettes and gin on Sam's side of the room he shared with Calvin.

31. Calvin already had bruises, Band-Aids and a cast on his leg when he died.

32. Sam blames himself for challenging Calvin.

33. In the story, Calvin doesn't fall. He keeps flying.

34. Barbara's birthday cake is still in her room.

35. Barbara is holding crutches in her portrait.

36. There are totem-esc styles statues of both Calvin and Molly

37. Barbara's outfit is over the railing.

This is the same way the Hook-Man falls

38. "Performance of her life" can also mean that it is the performance she is known for.

39. There are spare portrait logs in the basement.

40. There is a fake window in the basement.

41. Edie's grave is finished despite her dying and then nobody else going to the house.

42. There is no grave for Milton.

43. Lewis' grave has a crown on it.

44. There are times wear it seems like you can hear sobbing (this one may just be me).

45. There is a box of Kay's old stuff in Sam's bedroom.

46. Odin has a park named after him.

47. This isn't a fact but I think this may be one of the funniest photos of the game (LIKE SIR? YOUR DAUGHTER IS SOBBING!).

48. Both Calvin and Dawn are on Sam's shrine.

49. Gus has a skateboard over his name.

50. Gregory has the soap bottle from his final bath in his shrine.

51. The music cuts out when Gregory isn't moving.

52. Same also blames himself for Gregory.

53. Gus never met his step mother.

54. Gus was crushed by the (totem) statues of his deceased relatives.

55. Dawn's light switch is the only one on

56. Most of the rules are about past deaths. (No playing outside without permission : Calvin, No answering door for strangers : Barbara, No messes after dark : Molly (???)).

57. Milton's garden has a castle (reference to the Unfinished Swan)

58. There is a small Sanjay shrine in the classroom

59. Edith JR did an assignment on her family history.

60. Lewis drew on his desk.

61. There is no death date for Milton on his peephole.

62. Edith JR wrote Milton's death date as 2003 (the year he disappeared).

63. The door from the flip book is in Milton's room.

64. Lewis' dream Palace is decorated with fish.

65. The gnomes scattered around the house are outside the original house in Edie's story.

66. The credits roll in reverse order.

AND THAT'S IT!! I had a few others I thought didn't need to go in.

[justanotherdiaperedguy]

This morning’s diaper. Incontrol BeDry Nights. Honestly it’s a really good diaper. I don’t usually like hook and loop tapes but these ones actually hold up super well in my experience.

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

A/N Not so hot and heavy this chapter but I'm cooking up something for chapter four if you hang in there...

You were actually at band practice to enjoy some music and read a book on the bleachers while you waited for Robin. The two of you had a date for fries and the local bookstore afterwards but you let the onlookers believe you were there for Eddie.

"We can meet at your place or the public library, your choice," you whispered to Eddie as you twirled some of his hair around your finger.

Eddie had his hands on your hips with his fingertips hooked around your belt loops.

"Whoa not my place," he said a little frantic.

"Library it is," you declared and kissed the lock of hair twined around your finger.

Eddie made an unusual face that worried you.

"Yeah the thing is, we can't. I've got a lifetime ban there."

"How'd that happen?"

"There are a lot of details but it all boils down to a first edition Hemmingway and chocolate pudding."

You had several questions but thought it better to move along. Rehearsal would start in a minute and you needed a location for tomorrow's tutoring.

"Having guests is difficult for me," you explained a little cagey, "and the school wont let us use a room after hours because of our past shenanigans. So it'll have to be your place."

Eddie relented reluctantly and you pecked each other on the lips before he took his place in the band.

The next day you parked your rusty Mustang outside Eddie's trailer making a worrisome noise until you turned the ancient engine off.

You had just spent the past hour with Max shooting the breeze after delivering a batch of meals for her freezer.

When her Mum's roster fell on night shifts you provided a regular meal service so Max didn't eat from tins all week and feel crappy at school from all the chemical additives she ingested.

She rolled her eyes at the elaborate dishes your dad had portioned into tupperware but she was yet to complain about how they tasted.

Eddie heard you pull up and opened the trailer door for you.

"Where's your oven? This sucker needs to heat for ninety minutes," you said holding up a casserole dish with both hands.

"You brought your dinner?" Eddie asked as you passed him.

"Our dinner," you corrected and turned around trying to find the oven in the submarine sized kitchen. "Dad always cooks my student and I a meal when I do afterhours tutoring. I hope you like cassoulet."

Eddie lived on a steady diet of ham sandwiches and tinned spaghetti so he honestly couldn't say if he liked cassoulet or not. You weren't listening for an answer anyway as you were trying to open the oven door with your elbow.

"Guess your old man likes to cook," Eddie remarked as you slipped the dish in and set the temperature.

"He earned two Michelin stars before he gave it up," you answered then looked at him expectantly. "Where are we doing it? The bedroom? Or is the couch better?"

"Sorry?"

"Study," you clarified. "Do you have a desk in your room?"

"Oh right. No. Not the bedroom. I made room on the table."

You were oblivious to the blush rising on Eddie's cheeks as you returned to the living room and claimed a seat. The table was covered by towers of paraphernalia save for a corner Eddie had cleared for the session.

"I'll need a cup of tea and grab yourself some water," you called to Eddie who busied himself looking for a clean mug.

He gave one next to the kettle a suspicious sniff then ran it under some hot water hastily.

Sometimes the guys dropped by to rock out to metal tapes or watch a horror movie but Eddie had never entertained female company at home and it had him on edge.

'Hang on she's not your girlfriend,' he reminded himself as he opened all the jars in the pantry trying to locate a teabag.

That felt weird to think since he'd been making out with you publicly for weeks now. You'd seen him in his underwear and he'd had his hands all over your arse in the janitor's closet. Neither of you held back when you kissed either, your authenticity had earned you a few jeers about swapping mono.

Still, it was all a ruse to protect their business interests, no feelings to hurt.

Right?

The milk had gone bad and you declined sugar so you accepted your beverage as it was and opened a lunchbox of chopped fruit when Eddie sat with his water.

"Natural sugar for the brain," you explained as he looked baffled then you turned away from his smile.

There was something about that smile that made you giddy and invited you be playful.

It was probably the reason you never felt nervous kissing Eddie in front of a crowd. You knew he would never take advantage of you, there was a genuineness to him you trusted.

'Don't' your better judgement warned and you reverted to professionalism.

"Ok let's start with what's most urgent," you ordered. "What's due this week?"

Eddie handed you some crumpled sheets of paper which you flattened against the tabletop smoothing out the creases. He then pulled a math book out of his bag and opened it to a marked page.

You looked over the questions and nodded after a second of processing.

"Write the answers you get on some paper while I go over this then we'll take a look together. See where you're running into trouble."

Eddie "Yes Mamed" and followed your instructions faithfully. You noticed he wasn't shooting quips today or teasing so you suspected he felt embarrassed.

The humbleness of the trailer didn't bother you, your Dad had rented some awful apartments over the years and your current house was hardly The Ritz.

Nor were you gloating over Eddie's aptitude level. You breezed through your classes because of how puzzles deconstructed and realigned in your brain which you knew was rare. Plenty of people had commented about your neurotypical cognition when you had triumphed in no win chess matches.

That didn't give you an ego though, being smart didn't make you superior. You had more failings than you could count - your sporting efforts were laughable, your temper was always running hot and your domestic duties were never going to make you a housewife.

Meanwhile Eddie was creative in ways you'd never be, plucking new riffs from the air and bringing them alive on his guitar. He could write a D&D campaign with the skill of a fantasy novelist and his physical humour was hilarious.

Also the little sketches he'd done in the margins of his essay were quite good.

'Stop thinking about Eddie,' your better judgement piped but again and you concentrated on covering Eddie's handwriting in red pen.

You worked for a solid ninety minutes and found that most of what Eddie did was correct, he just had things around the wrong way.

He made some astute points in his essay but there was no structure to the piece and math he understood, he was just working it out backwards.

You supposed that was why his music was so original, a linear mind rarely came up with anything extraordinary.

The phone rang breaking the silence and you were glad for the disruption. There was something about being in Eddie Munson's private space that had you thinking fond thoughts.

Distractingly fond thoughts.

"Let me grab that," Eddie said and got up.

"Go for it," you said and went to the kitchen to refill your tea. You could hear Eddie on the phone as you searched for a fresh teabag.

"This is he, yes, yes. Sorry what did you say? How much? From where? You're sure? As in five two zeros? Right, thanks, bye."

You headed back to the table but froze when you saw Eddie. He was frowning, something you'd never seen him do and his hands were on his hips.

"That was the bank telling me the cheque you deposited into my account cleared," he said slowly after clearing his throat.

"Oh good," you replied cautiously waiting for the guillotine blade to fall.

Your casualness snapped his thin restraint and Eddie threw his hands into the air in an angry fit.

"Where the hell did you get five hundred dollars?!" he bellowed.

You relaxed knowing there was no emergency and walked back to your seat. If Eddie was going to be dramatic you'd rather take it sitting down.

"It's your ten percent just like I promised," you explained calmly and pulled his essay rewrite closer to read.

"You won five hundred bucks playing chess?" Eddie was flummoxed and couldn't comprehend your coolness.

He wasn't sure what had him wound up more, the amount of money he now possessed or how unperturbed you were about parting with it.

His bank account had never been so far in credit or his lunchbox full of crumpled dollars. His only investments were the guitar hanging on his bedroom wall and the jacket on his back but now he was loaded because you'd made a handshake deal with him behind school.

"Oh, your math is worse than I thought," you said with worry. "When you want to know a total amount of a percentage you write down the-"

"I know how percentages work!" Eddie bellowed. "When you said ten percent last week I though it would be about forty bucks or a couple of chocolate bars!"

"That was your assumption," you replied with an indifferent shrug. His hysterics were starting to bore you.

"Do they really give out five grand at high school chess comps?"

Eddie had heard of people living off games but they were usually card shark cocaine addicts or Russians with Einstein intellects. If someone sponsored D&D he could make a million as Dungeon Master but unfortunately he'd picked a game under persecution by the Christian middle class.

"No I was at the Michigan State Tournament," you said slowly to keep him placated. "I did mention Detroit to you remember?"

That's right, you'd needed the ten bucks for a bus ticket to a chess competition. It then dawned on Eddie he was talking to a state champion and he had to sit down.

"Shit girl," he puffed as he dropped in his chair like he'd just finished a marathon. "I didn't know you were that good."

"I do ok."

"A bit more than ok!"

"Yeah but no one likes a wanker."

Eddie silently agreed with that summation and finished his water before slamming it on the table like a beer pint on a bar.

"I can't accept the money," he declared in a seldom used serious voice. "It's too much."

The writing paper you were reading slowly lowered and Eddie could see your dangerous eyes staring at him lethally. It reminded him of a cowboy's eyes glaring down a gun barrel in a High Noon duel.

There'd be no arguing with whatever you said next.

"Don't start that shit. The deal was ten percent and you got ten percent. Buy some new music equipment, plant more marijuana or blow it all on D&D I really don't care. It's your money Eddie."

It was pretty rare that Eddie didn't get his own way. His band and Hellfire Club heeded his commands like loyal underlings and most adults simply gave him what he wanted to make him go away or stop talking.

Wayne had raised him on a loose leash because Eddie had always respected him enough not to abuse that liberty.

Thinking of Wayne, he'd have to keep the money a secret as he was already suspicious of where the weed cash was coming from.

Eddie hated to admit it but you had him pinned like one of your chess pieces. You wouldn't take the money back and he couldn't tell anyone who might have the influence to overrule your decision.

Zugzwang.

The one chess expression he knew. No matter which move he made it would be a bad one so he had to make the least bad decision he could.

"All right Grandmaster," he resigned himself to defeat sulkily and flopped in his chair. "What will you do with the rest of it? College fund?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Just curious." Eddie was a little taken aback by your snappish answer. "It's pretty cool that you beat a couple hundred people in another state. Most chess players are old dudes but you kicked their arses in a cute skirt. You should be proud of yourself."

Proud.

You'd never been proud of your chess abilities as you'd been warned too many times about the folly of pride. It always cometh before the fall.

You loved chess, the strategy, the cunning, the limitations and the possibilities all in sixty-four squares. Every time you played you discovered something new about the game or your opponent.

You hated the pressure of needing to win prize money though. It was like Van Gough pouring his heart into a painting then having to sell it for a pittance to keep him from begging.

Nothing destroyed your passion faster than making it lucrative.

Eddie's eyes were still on you and you could see his concern. It made you regret arguing and admitted he deserved some honesty. In the short time you'd known him he hadn't lied to you once.

"Some of what you've heard about my Dad is true, he has mental health problems," you began and picked up your mug so your fingers wouldn't fidget. "Very severe bi-polar."

"That's..." Eddie's uncertain expression told you an explanation was needed.

"They used to call it manic depressive. It's when you can't control your emotions so you can shoot up to an amazing mood only to crash into depression without warning. So he can come across as a little intense or strange which unsettles people. Hence all the stories."

Eddie nodded but didn't interrupt because he could tell you were struggling and had heard about your Dad's oddities to follow the story.

He'd never seen you vulnerable and realised you must trust him to talk about this. The two of you had done a lot of kissing but hardly any talking.

"I had to stay in boarding school a long time because he was never well enough to be responsible. He'd do ok for a time with his therapy and medication only to crash out and wind up back in the psych ward. Then last year his social worker said he was steady enough for me to come home."

Eddie didn't interrupt so you continued.

"However no one is keen to employ a man who's spent half his adult life in mental hospitals and Dad can't cope with anything stressful."

"So the prize money-" Eddie began.

"It takes more than a disability cheque and my two side gigs to cover everything. Chess keeps Dad's meds stocked, the rent paid and the bills in the black."

"That's a lot."

"That's just family."

The oven suddenly dinged and you felt a rush of relief. Literally saved by the bell.

Eddie followed you into the kitchen and together you assembled dinner. Eddie usually ate straight from the tin or without cutlery so it took him a minute to find everything.

Sitting back at the table together Eddie felt a sensation of surrealism. He and Wayne usually crossed like ships in the night with Eddie's days at school and Wayne's night shifts so they only ate together on weekends.

Even then it was usually on the couch and only if neither of them had plans. So using the dining table for its intended purpose and eating French food was not something he had anticipated for the evening.

"I've been getting a lot of company around the Coke machine lately," you attempted dinner conversation and Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Cheerleaders and Party Girls asking just how many tattoos you have under that Hellfire shirt and if you have a penis piercing."

"What did you say?" Eddie asked with a half smile.

It was good to see you perking back up after that heavy confession.

"That my lips are sealed but what you did to me on the pool table at The Hideaway last week left me gasping," you said in a sultry voice and added a little gasp for dramatic effect.

Eddie laughed a little as he chewed his dinner. For someone who liked a game so clinical you had quite the sordid imagination.

"You gotta go easier on the risqué stories sweetheart," he said and scooped up another fork of food. "If you give me a Cassanova reputation I'll disappoint the frustrated housewives of Hawkins when I'm cleaning their pools next year."

"You wont be servicing housewives in your future," you assured him. "You'll be a million miles from Hawkins tearing it up on stage at a Swedish Death Metal festival knee deep in Nordic babes."

"You really think so?"

Eddie had never discussed his music ambitions with you but you'd seen his enthusiasm at band practice. You'd seen his frustration too, having to keep to the dull notes of patriotic school pep songs instead of making that guitar roar.

"You've got just as much chance as anybody but not if you stay in this town," you said rationally. "Get your diploma and board a bus to LA or New York where there's actually a music scene. People around here are still playing The Doobie Brothers and The Beatles on vinyl."

"True," Eddie agreed.

Moving out of Hawkins had long been the dream but he'd never had any idea how to go about it. Wayne had gotten stuck here and his father had become a criminal.

Starting fresh successfully required cash and education neither of which he'd had much of.

Until now.

Later when you'd finished dinner Eddie shelled out some tens for your time and you made sure to remember the casserole dish when gathering your things. Dad was very particular about his cookware.

Eddie walked you to your car and unlocked it so you could pile your bags and dirty dish into the passenger side.

"Thanks for tonight," Eddie said as you took the keys back. "I think this helped."

"That's ok," you said dismissively. "Let me know when you need another session and I'll make time."

"I mean for everything tonight. It was really great."

The outdoor light on the trailer didn't cast enough light to see Eddie's face but his tone lacked its usual amusement and sureness.

Like you, it wasn't easy for Eddie to show vulnerability.

Theatrics and showmanship were how Eddie protected himself just as you used stinging insults and wit. Right now you weren't sure how to answer as a factious remark would be a barb on Eddie's exposed nerves.

"I'm glad. I had a good time too," was the first honest thing that came to mind.

Eddie kissed you then. Not one of his exhibition kisses but a gentle one that lingered on your cheek for a second then flew away.

"Oh, um," you would have been less surprised if he'd shoved you aside and stolen the Mustang.

Luckily in the dark Eddie couldn't see you blush. You hadn't received a kiss so sweet and chaste since a chess club boy has kissed you when you were twelve.

"Goodnight Eddie," you blurted and jumped in the car. It spluttered into life and you stomped the clutch to throw the gearstick in reverse.

Eddie looked started in the headlights for a second then you swung the wheel around and shot out the trailer park well over the five mile limit and didn't slow until you saw the lights of town.

Eddie Munson had changed tactics on you and your pieces were exposed to attack.

It was time to put your defences back up.

[nooralibdaa]

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[disappearinginq]

I'm calling this Febuwhump Day 3 prompt fulfillment (read: I need validation) because it was, conveniently, written yesterday. Prompt: Pinned Down.

It's long, so it's going underneath the cut:

“What is that?” River pushed himself further away from the man, eyeing the hypodermic in Frank’s hand, but there was nowhere to go. Not with his hands cuffed behind him, looped around the headboard of the bed frame, or his feet bound together with thick rounds of duct tape.

Frank sat down on the frame next to him, almost gentle in his movements, his face solemn and somewhat wistful, and he reached a hand over to pat River’s thigh, and for a disturbing moment, Frank seemed almost human.

Except for the part where he still had a needle in his hand, staring at it in a way that made River’s heart rate spike, the sudden wave of nausea threatening making him swallow convulsively.

When he was first dropped at his granddad’s house, Rose had a dog, Errol, an ancient terrier mix who much preferred a childless household, his quiet days filled with napping in the sun on his favorite spot on the carpet or making the rounds through Rose’s gardens - more out of habit than chasing vermin. But River had never been allowed a pet before. Isobel hardly wanted him around, never mind an extra mouth that couldn’t be left alone to figure out a cereal box while she was gone for hours or days at a time. He adored the cranky animal, enduring several nips to fingers to be able to stroke the wiry hair, even when prudence said he should leave Errol well enough alone. He liked to think he eventually appealed to Errol’s better half by sneaking him scraps from the table despite multiple warnings from his grandparents, and eventually, he and the dog were rarely apart. It wasn’t like Rose or David knew anyone with young children, or perhaps they did, and didn’t want to explain how River came to be dumped in the garden like a stray animal, so Errol was the only one around for River to play with. Even if that play was mostly reading in the garden under the shade of the trees while Errol stretched out beside him on his back, feet in the air, snoring loud enough to scare away birds.

But Errol was already old by the time River showed up. They had exactly one summer and three months together until two days before Christmas, Rose called the vet because Errol couldn’t stand anymore, and would only lay on his pillow near the fire, shaking and whining from pain.

Rose stayed with Errol while David ushered River upstairs, perhaps more to do with giving Rose a chance to say goodbye to her companion of 16 years, than sparing River the harsh realities of death and dying.

The last thing River saw before his granddad gently pushed him out of view of the parlor was the vet holding up a hypodermic that looks suspiciously like the one in Frank’s, and his expression was disturbingly similar to David’s when he’d sat with River on his bed, explaining as best he could that what they were doing for Errol was for the best, a kindness and a mercy borne from love for the old dog. He’d patted River’s leg ruefully, and sat with him in silence while River cried for the only friend he had.

River did not like the parallels.

“You are making this very difficult, son,” Frank sighed. “Pups are easier to train - that’s why you get them when they’re young. Once they’re eight months, a year - you have to break them down, start from scratch. Get rid of all the bad habits they’ve picked up before they came to you.”

River didn’t think it wise to point out what a load of shit that was, and more importantly, he was not a dog he was a person, not when Frank was still staring at the needle in his hand like maybe, maybe he wouldn’t have to use it.

“I should’ve come for you earlier. I see that now. If I’d known Isobel was going to dump you anyways, I would’ve just picked you up from your grandfather’s before he could really get his hooks into you. You and I - we could’ve made a real difference. I’ve been unreasonable, expecting too much of you too soon. I see that now. I’m not too big a man to admit my mistakes. But I am willing to try and correct them. You have potential. So much potential. But you’ve too many bad habits getting in your way. Habits that need to be broken.”

River twisted his hands against the cuffs, feeling the scabbed over skin break and bleed anew as he quietly tried to pull the unyielding metal over bone and tendon.

Frank sniffed, and clapped a hand on River’s knee, at first like someone might clap someone on the back in congratulations, but then his grip tightened, fingers digging painfully into already bruised skin in warning that River had better stop fidgeting while Frank was talking to him, or this almost civil conversation was going to get much worse, very quickly.

“But what defines a man, son, is how he learns from his mistakes. How he takes his weaknesses and makes them his strengths. Understand?”

River shook his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I do. I do, son. Because you’ve made me,” Frank said, turning to face River, offering a small smile that held no warmth. “Don’t worry. It’ll just put you to sleep.”

That was what the vet told Errol.

“You don’t have to do this, Frank - you don’t…” River shoved himself as far back as he could manage, but it was useless. He could go nowhere.

Frank’s hand came up, vicious and quick and slammed River’s head back into the wall before shoving him violently against the bedsprings, Frank’s meaty hand pressing down on the side of River’s face with such brutal force River could feel the metal biting in his other cheek even as his vision reeled from the blow.

“I don’t want to go to sleep!” It was embarrassing, to have to beg, to be a fully grown man with MI5 training, pinned down like some kind of animal, but River didn’t care. He could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t budge, not with Frank’s weight pressing down on him, the awkward angle he forced River’s neck into feeling like at any moment, it would snap. “Don’t do this, Frank - sir - Dad,” he said the word in desperation, without thought, grasping at straws for anything that would keep his own father from putting him down like a misbehaving pet.

The needle sunk into his neck, and River closed his eyes, maybe in denial but mostly so that Frank couldn’t see the tears as whatever was in the hypodermic was injected, freezing cold but somehow burning all the way, and River knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, he wasn’t getting out of this.

Patrice stood in the corner, eyes cast down, arms folded across his chest, as unmoving as a statue, his warning that River had no idea what Frank was capable of echoing in his head.

River expected Frank to leave once he’d injected the drug, but he didn’t, and that was worse. He didn’t let up his bruising grip until River felt his muscles start to relax, and his vision swam dangerously. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing became shallow, his stomach rolling violently. When Frank finally lifted his hand, River tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t move, even as the metal dug painfully into his cheek and he could feel blood starting to well in the shallow cuts.

Frank’s hand came down, and River couldn’t flinch away from the expected slap, but instead, Frank’s hand brushed his hair away from his face, running a calloused thumb across River’s dampened cheek as River fought against the encroaching darkness, terrified that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again.

He was going to die here.

“There’s a good boy,” Frank soothed, shushing him gently. “Good boy.”

River had never considered how much he hated that phrase. Hated it to his very bones, and felt a surge of rage so strong it momentarily beat back the black tide of unconsciousness that was dragging him down, and stupidly, foolishly, thought of the Slow Horses, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lamb warned him not to comply in advance.

It took every ounce of will that remained for him to force out the words, “They’ll find me.”

“He will look for you,” Frank agreed, his voice echoing distantly, “endlessly. But he’ll never find you. You’ll just be another ghost to haunt him.”

And River knew no more.

[writeaboutit]

Replacements and Twinkling Lights

A firefighter Abby x Reader christmas special

Heyyyyy, how yall doin’? So i know i said i would have this up on Christmas eve and it’s now the 30th but it’s the holidays i can’t be held accountable for any promises made✋🤚 that being said it’s here now so enjoy!!

Warnings: none, yall know by now-just fluff

You were going back and forth for months over what to get Abby for Christmas. You loved your wife but when it came to any holiday consisting of gift-giving…you loathed her.

She was absolutely impossible with a capital I to shop for. The woman never wanted anything, and if by chance she did yearn for something she fucking bought it. 

For weeks you would ask, “Baby, I need ideas, what do you want for Christmas?” 

And she would, not surprisingly and wholly unhelpfully answer, “Baby your love is the best gift I could ask for.” 

You just roll your eyes. God, she was a sentimental one. Sure, the statement was nice and, despite how much you didn’t want to admit it, made your heart melt into a gooey puddle at your feet, but it was nowhere near helpful in the instance of gift giving. 

You loved her every day, Christmas would be no different. No, you needed something physical to get her. Your love language was gift-giving. Usually, this was your superpower; giving the perfect gift, specially curated for each receiver. Your wife was different. You wanted it to be perfect, to be flawless. 

A week before christmas the idea struck you. Abby came home complaining that she had lost one of her favorite earrings at work. She took them off, expecting a day of saving lives and fighting fires, which she got, but somewhere in the mess she lost her left earring.

At first you planned to go back to the jewelry shop and see if you could get a new, replacement pair for her. You still planned to do this but on top of that you figured you could tap into your creative side and sew her a little pouch to keep her jewelry safe at work.

It was perfect, you when to the jewelry store and lucky you that had another pair, step one was a success.

Then you went to the local fabric store and picked up a small square of plane black fabric.

You went back and forth on what pattern fabric you wanted but ultimately decided to go with black and then to embroider a cute design on the front.

It turned out so cute. the little pouch had a loop so she could hook it onto her keychain, a snap button closer, and your wedding date with flowers embroidered on the front.

You hoped she would like it.

As you both sat on the couch christmas morning, your legs thrown over Abby’s lap, the fire place roaring, and Alice curled up under the coffee table, you watched your wife grab the small box containing her present.

You knew she’d like the replacement earrings, but you weren’t sure how she would react to the pouch. Sure it would be useful but she hadn’t really expressed the need for one, you just kinda assumed.

Suddenly you felt slightly insecure about the gift. What if she thought it was tacky? Maybe you shouldn’t have embroidered the wedding date.

You held you breath as she unwrapped the paper oh so carefully, she was one of those people who peeled the tape back rather than ripping.

The second ticked by achingly as she inspected the pouch, reading the words, flipping it over, bringing it closer to her eyes.

You couldn’t take it anymore, “Look inside.”

She opened the button and peeked in. A smile broke out on her face as she pulled the earrings out.

“Is this a replacement for the ones I lost?” she held up the little bag containing the jewelry.

“Yeah, do you like it?” your voice was bordering on meek.

“Like it? Baby I love it!” She pulled you into her side, tackling you with a bear hug.

You huffed a sigh of relief and sank into her hug a smile of your own slipping out.

“Did you make this?” She held up the little pouch.

“Yeah,” You look up at her, resting your chin on the edge of her shoulder.

“Are you serious? How could I not love it?” she lets out a soft chuckle and places a light kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly all your worries melted away.

“Okay, okay, what’s my gift?” you sat up onto your knees beside her like an excitable german shepherd.

She laughed, laying back and dragging you with her. You ended you slumped on her chest, your legs in between hers.

“Paitensce is a virtue my love,” her hands rubbed up and down your back, “well your main gift is coming later tonight,” she raise her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but secretly a little flame flickered in the pit of your stomach.

“Must you always cheapen the moment Abby Anderson?” you teased.

“When it comes to you wife? Yes, absolutely,” she punctuated the statement with a soft smack on your bum.

You gasped, “Abby Anderson there are children in the room!”

Your wife just looked at you with a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. You pointed to your dog who was still snuggled tightly into the same spot she had been all morning.

Abby just hmm’d, “Your other present, however, is just under the tree there,” she pointed and you spotted a small bag resting under a low hanging branch.

You stared for a moment and then turned back and nuzzled back into Abby’s chest.

She chuckled, “What you don’t want your last present? It’s the best one.” she whispered that last bit in an enticing way.

“No, not yet. I just wanna stay here for a little while,” you sighed

“Okay baby.” You couldn’t see her face but you knew she was smiling, could hear it in her voice.

what did we think? I did write this on a long haul flight at 2am my time so take that as you will. I’ll fix the mistakes as i find them trust, i just wanted to get this out before the new year. Okay bye bye 👋🏼