#stingray leather

[sunnetherlands]

[jrenardleather]

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[lovebugism]

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face. 

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand. 

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands. 

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch. 

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later. 

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown. 

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her. 

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices. 

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh. 

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life. 

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking. 

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go. 

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place. 

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year. 

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

[ms--lobotomy]

“Yeet a plunger at Horus’s head. 100 points if you get it to stick on first try. The prize is my respect.”

Get bent bald boy

Summary: You attempt to earn Sanguinius's respect.

Word Count: 717

Content Warnings: dumbassery, 40kness,

Image Credit: @squishyowl

Your legs swung off the table, over the wooden floor as you looked at him incredulously. "What?" you asked, tilting your head. He wasn't in his regular armor; he had on a golden robe with a leather bag. "What are you--why points?" Your mouth hung open slightly as you looked up at him and he smirked down at you, his mouth revealing sharp fangs. "Where am I going to find a toilet plunger, anyways?"

Sanguinius reached into his bag. Out came a toilet plunger, just small enough for you to hold. He knelt down and handed it to you, and you loosely wrapped your hands around it before looking back up at him.

"Horus will be here any minute," he whispered. "You're going to need to find a good hiding place. I can distract him, if you want."

"Why am I doing this?" you asked, running your thumb up and down what little of the shaft you could.

"Don't you want 100 points?" he responded.

"100 points for what?"

"..."

"Fine."

You looked around the room for a place to hide, and found a nice little bookshelf. The manuscripts in High Gothic were pretty, and you almost felt bad about using the bookshelf for such a prank. But you swallowed your pride and you looked back at Sanguinius, nodding sagely.

"I'll wait here," you said.

"Good," he replied before he heard a knock at the door. He made a motion, ushering you behind the bookshelf before he turned around and walked forwards. You shrunk behind the books, your eyes peeping through an opening as you held the plunger like a gun.

Horus walked through the door, his steps rumbling the ground underneath you. He wasn't in his armor either, instead opting for a simple linen shirt and leather pants. He smiled at Sanguinius, and Sanguinius fluffed his wings up. Sanguinius made eye contact with you and raised his eyebrows before turning back to Horus.

"Ah, Horus, it's lovely to see you today..."

You watched the two talk at each other about some sort of offensive, where Horus put a little device down on the table and the hologram of a planet showed up. Your muscles tensed. You never liked talk of planetary offenses or whatnot, your job was to document the goings-on of everyday life. Humanize them, a little bit. It was hard when they were talking about planets you'd never heard of, spoke in princely tongues you'd never heard, or even breathed while being 10 feet tall.

You gripped the plunger in your hands. That was all the more reason to lob it at Horus's bald head.

You crept to the side of the bookshelf, careful not to make a sound. Your feet slid against the ground as if to avoid stingrays. The two of them were still entrenched in conversation. Perfect. Horus was facing away from you now, and Sanguinius was at the other side of the table, able to see you but focusing on Horus.

You slid, and slid, before you heard a creak from under you. The floorboard was loose. As soon as Horus turned his head to look, you leapt out from behind the bookshelf, toilet plunger in hand.

"GET BENT, BALD BOY!" you shouted at the top of your lungs as you threw the plunger. It sailed past his head, onto the wall behind Sanguinius, who had begun to let out a belly laugh.

"Wh-" started Horus, looking around before he caught sight of you.

Sanguinius looked at you, merriment in his eyes. "He's such a big target! How could you have missed him?" he asked, leaning onto the table for support.

"I don't know!" you exclaimed as Horus reached over the table and yanked the plunger off of the wall. Some of the paint came off with it, leaving chips where it was.

"Nice throw," he commented, sticking his lower lip out a little as he nodded. "Shame it didn't land on my head."

"You don't need to rub it in..." you mumbled, your hand moving to your upper arm and rubbing slowly.

"Eh, there's always next time," Sanguinius smiled, taking the plunger from Horus's hand and sticking it on his forehead. "You look like a unicorn like this!" he exclaimed as Horus turned back to him.

"I should boil you."

Tag List: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

alright let’s go over the junior year clues we got in the rick perry documentary thing (disclaimer: i’ve definitely missed stuff, but i think i got the big things, feel free to reblog and add with stuff that i missed though)

[at the bottom of this post I've typed out the decipherable words that plan out some combats and NPCs from Rick's screen. it's the most interesting thing but it's super long so it's at the bottom under a cut]

We get a blurry look at some minis. I’m seeing at least the PC’s minis, as well as what looks like Baxter the Gryphon.

There’s some major shots of this battle. Includes a Baby mini, the Hangvan with some kind of laser canon on top, a stingray-esque monster that is likely Night Yorb (see below), something that looks like maybe an ice elemental or the crystal (see below), and some large bugs and shirtless people. Clearly set in the Red Wastes. Detailed info of the planning for this battle below.

One of the shots had reference boards in the background. One is clearly for the Hangvan (see earlier screencaps), but the other is unclear. It looks like it includes some sort of tennis or tennis-adjacent sport.

Confirmation that Mordred Manor is a set piece.

Finally, one shot showed Rick’s computer screen with some critical info about planning. I’ve put what I’ve been able to decipher below the screencaps. and under a cut, as it’s very long.

EP. 701 DEFEATING NIGHT YORB CHASE (RED WASTES) Hangvan, Night Yorb is giant flying Manta Ray thing? Rainbow road, being chased by night yorb while trying to throw crystal into portal. Crazy gun on rough [roof] that gorgug made, I can’t get a lock on it. Just need one last final thing to defeat night yorb. Red wastes, chasing the night yorb around, flying bats teleporting onto rough [roof] of van, NPC allies, Balthazar, two other cars they are in contact with, tiefling bakers or sidekicks are reveals Stormchaser twister, trying to get a lock onto it, Night Yorb is escaping the world. Maybe night yorb gets away, why didn [didn’t] you get it? And Balthazar died? Murph invented the Night Yorb. Don’t fuck with the Night Yorb. Exploded out of riz’s chest, needs to be dumb as hell. it’s the jabberwocky, it burbled, hugely terrifying, Horrifying cursed thing. Unending night for two months. Dragon sized, bigger than the Hang Van, 30’ wingspan Stars and moon. While the night yorb flies it is night and not day. Not malevolent force, but everything on earth will die Have giant ghost busters canon, Honey I shrunk the kids cannon Driver, mechanic, gunner, navigator (using SW 5e mechanics) Hang Man - Fabian motorcycle Tether is attached to night yorb, either magic or harpoon Night Yorb could out pace them. Could smash van. Cultist of the night yorb appearing on the road, mad max style ”The night yorb is our god” Red Wastes Cultists: Riding skeleton horses, classic fantasy cultists, Manta ray night yorb masks Sword and Sorcery vibes, MUSCELY, oiled, black leather, rings Shadow of Night Yorb Tether must be reeled in over 4 rounds Success Meter - 4 rounds or it escapes Pop up cultists in the middle of the road 4 maps Straight away, gully bridge crossing, rap popping up, giant portal It’s going to another world but if it gets away thats just as bad Ayada [Ayda?] thing built in. Chekov’s gun. Gun has cool helix of energy that is getting cranked in. Gun is on the back and on the hood is a binding circle that Adaine does. Cultists are making the portal. YORBIES if they catch it, it gets bound into the paint of their van Gun is gorgug’s stuff and circle is adaine 6 cultist perusing them, 4 or 5 at the portal, 1 or 2 back up Single person traps, Vulture with cactus MINIS: Night Yorb - Giant shadowy manta ray, inky black dripping, made of liquid, different underbelly, deep indigo or bone white. Made of shadows, dripping aberration, flat plane, long tail, two weird eyes coming off front on stalks. Second set of PCs TERRAIN: Red Wastes! NOTES: favorite crazy dnd monsters, beholder, [unclear word, bu…ette] Fungal Black light portal battle! Dr. Strange battle set, pseudo pods of elder pod night yorb, day glow run fragments, purple stone castle night yorb temple, floor is octopus made of shadows. Starting mid battle. [blank sections] PROJECTION: Counter here of some kind?

POTENTIAL LOCATIONS Basrar’s icecream shop? Mordred Manor Seacaster Manor [crossed out] Strong Tower Luxury Apartments SAT Prep class [screen cuts off]

EP. 704 DENTENTION [detention] STEALTH CHASE SEQUENCE/ QUIET LIBRARY/ Aguefort chase sequence? Combine sets interrupted by having to make it past a hall monitor Underwater? Books suspended floating, everything is affected by water Don’t wake daddy? Start in Library to get to Aguefort’s office Hallway Classroom Bathroom Lockerroom [blank sections] DYNAMIC ELEMENT: Water

CONCEPTS Dicks! SPIRITUAL GUARDIANS - Full service on minis, summons, etc Psycadelic fungal giant, black light, trippy, beautiful Revisiting old set [screen cuts off]

[fyi everything past this point was very blurry, so I could only decipher pieces here and there]

EP. 706 OUTDOOR CONCERT COACHELLA Music feature? Flaming [?], giant [?] [???] Fig and Gorgug on stage [???] Lighting effects, [???] Floating stage or something [???] Demons? PROJECTION: Lasers?

NPCS/ VILLAINS/ MONSTERS/ ETC. PORTER CLIFFBREAKER is secret servant of nightmare king tactical battlefield combat that [?] 2-3 times larger than PCs LED buried inside him [???] Porter was [???] basketball player [screen cuts off]

[the rest was too blurry to make out anything other than a blank section titled ROLE PLAY/ NEUTRAL BOARD and a section that seems to be for EP. 708 and says EXTRA with some blurry words after it]

[hornedstorys]

Bayverse Crosshairs x Reader – Flirty – light NSFW

Warnings: Crosshairs is just a rascal ;), slight nsfw due to dirty talk, but really nothing blatant.

Content: Crosshair flirts with you

You sat bored in your father's garage and watched as he poured the last of his money into even more junk. You rolled your eyes, but at the same time you felt sorry for him. You visited your father from time to time, you actually had your own apartment, but at the moment you were on vacation and you wanted to enjoy it here.

Of course, mainly because the Transformer boys were here, all of them you liked very much. One in particular.

As if you had spoken of the devil, you heard the engine scream of a jade-green Chevrolet Corvette Stingray 14 from outside.

He was probably here to get on your father's nerves. Crosshairs loved to annoy him because he always knew everything better when it came to wrenching, but so did your father.

"Hello (Y/n)," he greeted you and you could see the mischief in his eyes. You grinned. "Hello Crosshairs, what brings you here?" You asked and the big Transformer sat down, at least where there was still room. His glowing eyes watched you.

"I got a scrape, right here," he pointed to a spot under his eye. You raised an eyebrow. Crosshairs had a temper, but he was also a bit vain and he always took good care of his paint when he was in car shape. You sighed, "Let me see it."

"Thanks babygirl," he breathed and you blushed, but skillfully ignored it. Cade didn't, however, and he cast a warning sideways glance at the tall green, who only raised his arms defensively.

Carefully you settled on Crosshair's hand and he lifted you to eye level. He actually had a small scrape there in that spot, but nothing that couldn't be mended.

"Mama, you look really good today," the Transformer said and you laughed out.

"Very funny. I'm covered in oil and grease, that's anything but pretty." Crosshairs' bright eyes lit up at that statement.

"It glides much better with oil," you nearly choked on your spit and your eyes narrowed to keep your emotions in check.

"The color of your eyes matches my inner leather perfectly," he winked at you and suddenly he closed his large hand around your body and you were trapped in his grip, but he was gentle and you felt how nervous you were getting.

"Don't let my dad hear you say that," you warn him, but that only challenged Crosshairs more.

"Remember my name, little one. Because you'll be shouting it later," oh my, can he please stop? It really made you blush, you wriggled in his hand and your palms got sweaty.

"Am I making you nervous, babygirl?" He mocked and you knew he was absolutely right. It made you very nervous and it wasn't just the pick-up lines.

"Mhm look at you," he purred. "So many curves and me with no brakes,' he cooed and got closer to your face, you put your hands in front of your face and you heard him chuckle deeply.

"Your clothes would look better on the floor," he whispers close to your ear and you squealed.

"Stop bothering my daughter!" Growled Cade and Crosshairs just scoffed at him. There was no way he was going to stop. You were the most adorable, human being in this world and beyond. And he loved to make you blush, these were the days when he wished so much to be human just so he could see your blush even better every time he was the one embarrassing himself. He would do so many bad things to you if he could. He would make you scream his name until you could never forget it. He wouldn't keep his carnal hands off you.

"Come (Y/n), a little joyride, just the two of us," he growled, glancing furtively at Cade for a moment, just to see how upset he was with the way he was treating his daughter. You lost your voice a long time ago and before you could say anything, Crosshairs had transformed and his seatbelt tightened around your upper body, especially your breasts.

"A little careful Crosshairs," you pleaded with him, ignoring the fact that he had turned on the heated seats. With screeching tires, he left his father in the smoke and drove out of the barn. Cade had tried to throw a screwdriver at him, but it narrowly missed the Transformers.

[loptrcoptr]

Samegawa and Mizu’s sword

okay I’ve been writing blue eye samurai fanfiction (please help me what the fuck I don’t know who I am anymore) and the problem with medievalists is that some of us tend to also be big on early-modern everything as well. Which means I cannot keep myself from doing research for a damn cartoon fanfic because the call of Edo period Japan is entirely too strong. Which means I had to look up shit about swords just now because I do not know a goddamn thing about swords except I do know that boning someone on the floor of a traditional blacksmith’s forge is not actually super enjoyable, but that is neither here nor there

And I have learned many things about swords, most importantly: why the fuck the hilt of Mizu’s sword looks Like That

If you are like me, you were maybe thinking “bubbles? It’s a bubble design??” But it is not that and is so much better than that

Many katana are made with a special covering layer for the tsuka, the sword hilt. Samegawa/samekawa is ray skin— yes, as in stingrays— or shark skin wrapped around the tsuka. Often it is covered up by tuska-ito, the woven cloth or leather that you see on most katana or wakizashi (big sword n lil sword). Here you can see Samegawa has been used on the sword’s sheath /saya and you can kind of see it peeking through the tsuka-ito (not a great pic sorry).

The samegawa lends grip to the hilt, and it seems like there’s variation in style preference for completely-even-looking Samegawa, some kind of polished flat kind (first image), or this kind which I think looks even cooler:

Is that not sick as hell?? The uneven bits?? It’s like looking at a stick made of individual little pearls, so cool. (That might actually be synthetic samegawa but I don’t know the difference so)

so the bubble effect on Mizu’s sword is actually stingray skin, have fun picturing Mizu fishing for, gutting, and drying out a manta ray, the end

[lavendersartistry]

Jellyfish Grotto

Space Riders AU - @onyxonline Eve Ewe - @lavendersartistry

This is a angst/wholesome fic for onyxonline's Space Riders AU! This is mainly centered on the headcanoned friendship between DogDay and my OC Eve Ewe! Please check Onyx out, their work is super cool!

IN MY LIL GOOBER BRAIN AND MY PARTICIPATION, THEY ARE FRIENDS YOUR HONOR- Now onto the fic✨✨

The gardens of the palace seemed so silent since the last visit of schooling children touring the home of the soon-to-be queen. It was nice to have the planet still lively after the loss of their late royals from the war, despite the princesses going different paths to keep their home afloat.

Eve could only glance back at the throne room from the gardens, resting under the star wisteria as she quietly read. She couldn't get the memories from her head about the war. It felt like only yesterday that it was announced by the council that her coronation would be near.

If only she could have saved-

"Princess? Are you alright?"

Eve suddenly flinched at the sound of someone calling for her and quickly turned her head. She sighed, noticing it was only her friend DogDay.

"I'm alright. And please, we went over this. You can call me Eve or Evie, friends don't have to be formal."

The captain scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and sat next to the princess. To him, it felt like not too long ago when they first met each other. And befriending a princess, a almost queen, felt too much of a dream to the sunshine critter.

"I know, but I can't really help it. You're becoming big top while I'm just a captain. Besides, I don't think the council or your guard would like it if I just called you that."

Eve stifled a laugh and closed her book, leaning her back to the trunk of the tree.

Ever since she was 5, the council was harsh on her. From lady etiquette to lessons on all preparation for becoming queen of her planet, Eve never truly got to enjoy the life of a normal person. To meet friends, to find love.

Just being happy.

"Those old birds would have the stingrays after you if that happened. But don't worry about Bolt, he's just protective."

DogDay rolled his eyes yet smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. He looked up to the stars, suddenly frowning at the forcefield that clouded the clear sight of the twinkling lights.

He knew that it was necessary, after the war. And with the Prototype out creating chaos, it was definitely needed. But he couldn't shake away the feeling from when Bolt informed him about Eve's dream that one night.

It was a vision, a written destiny almost. And the sunny hound couldn't let that fate take away his friend.

"So what were you reading? Seemed a bit uneventful."

Eve looked back at her book and grazed her hand at the leather covering.

The book was about the biology of the planet's most docile creature: Astral Jellyfish. It was a favorite of Eve's and it was a pleasant memory to see a very large one for the first time.

"The astral jellyfish. You know, my favorite creature in all my planet?"

"You mean the one creature that stung me?"

Eve burst out laughing at his comment while DogDay lightly glared at her.

"It's not funny!"

"It's actually a little funny!"

DogDay huffed and crossed his arms in protest to her laughing but he couldn't help but let a little smile appear on his face to see her laugh and be happy for once.

Eve quickly calmed herself and smiled back.

"You should give them another try. Maybe this time, you won't startle it and it'll let you pet it."

The captain groaned again and stood up.

"How long will you remind me of that?"

"Till you're a veteran."

"Great..."

The hound was being sarcastic. As long as something made the princess smile despite the rough times, that was enough for him.

The two kept conversing in the silence in the gardens: talking about the crew's wacky moments during missions, meeting the mysterious "Angel", Eve's stressful schedules, and other things.

Unbeknownst to them, the astral jellyfish had already welcomed themselves in mindlessly. A few rested near Eve while others floated around DogDay and some pestered him.

Eve could only hold back a laugh as the captain tried shooing away the creatures.

"Still not a fan of them?"

"The day I pet them is when I let CatNap drive the ship for a mission."

[deuces-sunglasses]

Zosan Au- Pearl Divers

(Request from @sampaisleyriot, I strayed from your idea a little bit sorry 😭)

• The Going Merry crew consisted of Luffy- the Captain, Nami- the navigator and Usopp- the mechanist and “protector”.

• Luffy had also found two pearl divers, named Zoro and Sanji. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to get along much.

• “I want to offer one of you a six month contract. So, you’ll have to compete to show me which one of you I should choose.” Hearing this, they both eyed up their opposition, scoffed and agreed to the challenge.

• Sanji flirts with Nami as she steers them across the ocean. Zoro rolls his eyes and settles into a nap despite the noisy engine.

• Luffy soon calls for the anchor to be set down as he peers off the edge of the bow, which had a strange goat head on it.

• As Sanji gets into his white diving costume, Zoro opts only for a tiny pair of shorts which causes the blond’s breath to be caught in his throat.

• “You ready to watch a professional, cook?” Zoro taunts as he pulls on his leather finger guards and slides on his nose clip.

• Sanji cackles at his voice change due to the nose clip and replies, “We’ll see whether you’ve got any brains under that moss.”

• Usopp lets out a cough and hands them their rope baskets for collecting oysters and stone weights for bringing them to the sea bed.

• Then they both dive in and their competitive nature grows. Zoro’s advantage lies in his upper body strength, while Sanji’s toned legs make him glide quickly through the water.

• Despite the opportunity at stake, they aren’t stupid and regularly check that the other hasn't somehow drowned.

• On one of his trips to the surface, Sanji spots Usopp fishing on the port side. He’s about to offer to make Nami a refreshing drink when Luffy yells affectionately-

• “Sanji! Get back to work!”

• They take a couple of longer breaks, where they enjoy dates and coffee. Sanji smacks Zoro’s hand away from the Saké in the cooler.

• Zoro likes how the saltwater makes Sanji’s hair frizzy and curly.

• As the sun goes down, they both shuck their own oysters and let Nami count them. Zoro cuts the fish caught by Usopp for Sanji to cook. Luffy happily chatters.

• “Even! You got an equally small amount of pearls, but at least we can keep the meat to eat,” proclaims Nami.

• “Nami-Swan, how would you like a pearl necklace? I think-“

• “Luffy, you don’t want a pervert on your crew do you? You should just make your decision now.” Zoro fires out.

• “I am simply appreciating her beauty. You don’t get to insult me while you’re happily eating my cooking!” Sanji retorts.

• Over the next couple of days, they continue this routine. The crew becomes increasingly close and comfortable with each other.

• Sanji comments how Zoro’s body is exposed to stingrays and Zoro replies that he doesn’t need to worry about his body.

• When Luffy accidentally falls into the ocean, Sanji jumps in and saves him.

• At one point, they both spot the same oyster. Glancing over to one another, they make angry eye contact and immediately race towards it.

• Zoro reaches it first and swoops it up, only for Sanji to kick him and take it from his basket. The mosshead wraps his arms around his waist and drags him down. Sanji kicks free and swims to the surface, with Zoro’s hand on his oyster.

• They gasp for air as Nami reprimands them for their stupid antics. In the evening, they discover that the oyster was pearl-less anyway.

• When it’s finally time for Luffy to sign one of them on, both are on edge. This contract is a dream come true.

• “I won’t make you wait any longer. I’m signing you both on! Welcome to the Straw hat crew!”

• Zoro’s eyebrows rise and Sanji’s furrow.

• “We’re not actually calling ourselves that, are we?” says Nami.

• “Alright! I won’t ever actually have to go pearl diving then? Because I might have slightly lied when I was listing my skills.” Usopp scratches the back of his neck with a grin.

• “Guess you’re stuck with me, Marimo.” Sanji sings as he shakes Luffy’s hand.

• “I’ll pick up the slack whenever your little arms get tired, bastard.” Zoro gets an immediate kick to the face.

• A few months later, after they get together, they definitely try an underwater kiss and it is awful.

• Zoro gives Sanji pearl cufflinks as a gift at some point.

[crypt-void]

A list of my nonhuman/regression gear but it slowly turns less and less stereotypical:

1. My masks and tails. I love making masks and currently have 2 that I kept for myself. I also have a crow one I bought. I have 3 tails; wolf, coyote, and raccoon. Most I got from a renfaire I work at sometimes but I got the raccoon one from my partner because she's the best :3

2. Collars. Nuff said. Very dog. Very good.

3. Paw gloves and fingerless gloves :p

4. Chewtoys. I like biting stuff.

5. Stuffies. Specifically my raccoon and frog ones. All my stingray ones, too.

6. Small paw print blanket. Very soft. Good thing to just hold. Also my big knitted blanket. Good texture

7. My journal. Nice leather journal, my brother got me that I just fill with random thoughts and recipes. Helps me feel more creaturey.

8. Trinket shelf. I love trinkets and cool rocks. I also got a lot of bones.

9. Sticks. I have sticks everywhere from walks.

10. Paper crown and flower crown. Feels creaturey.

11. Compass necklace. There's a lot of misc. jewelry I consider gear but this one stands out.

12. My converse. All my converse. They feel like paws. I will only ever wear converse or my docs. My main 3 shoes are my glow in the dark bug converse, black converse with doodles all on em, and my brown converse specifically decorated with therian stuff.

13. My jacket and shirts. My green jacket is hgh. Me. It's me. I love that jacket. My color is green and it makes me feel like I'm me again. Its very soft too. Also, a shirt my girlfriend made me that has cut off sleeves and a bleached ribcage design that's really cool. Also have two sweaters that are very crittery and my Gorillaz shirt with their first album cover on it.

14. Anything minecraft related. I have a lot of minecraft stuff. One because I really like to play the game but also cuz it's home and I miss it.

Anyways, gear can be whatever. Have fun. (Also please talk to me about your gear that other people wouldn't really consider gear I love hearing about it.)

[a-forbidden-detective]

RKDD Character Profiles, part 2

Winter Moriarty

Height: 169 cm

Weight: 53 kg

Birthday: July 25

Blood type: O

Likes: Motorcycle, leather jackets

Dislikes: skirts

Milo Moriarty

Height: 178 cm

Weight: 63 kg

Birthday: March 13

Blood type: O

Likes: Bears

Dislikes: grey

Fin Fennec

Height: 160 cm

Weight: 48 kg

Birthday: October 19

Blood type: A

Likes: closed rooms, building blocks, apples

Dislikes: Anchovies

Shachi

Height: 177 cm

Weight: 62 kg

Birthday: November 27

Blood type: O

Likes: Fin, punk rock, candy

Dislikes: RON

Elmer Stingray

Height: 180 cm

Weight: 65 kg

Birthday: April 15

Blood type: AB

Likes: wine, soccer

Dislikes: one-day trips

~~

There they are. The rest of the characters for the first book. Kei and co. will probably appear later.

First part is here.

(Heya @davishater get your Winter!)

(Kudos to the RKDD fandom on Twitter / X)

[pixelmensupremacy]

you've brought me back into my leon phase and like omg I have a thing for characters that get protective of reader.

so imagine reader is in danger, and he has to save them but just reader came so close to dying he was just freaked out. and maybe that night he was so worried about them they end up having soft sex bc just he wants to be close to them :(( bc he just couldn't handle the fear of almost losing them and he needs reader to know how much he cares :((

A/N:Welcome back to the Leon phase, dear! It took me a while to get to your request for multiple reasons don't mean to complain but I had quiet a shitty weak and I'm not very pleased with how this turned out, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! <3

Word count: 2.2k

WARNINGS: GN!reader, canon typical violence, angsty, smut, MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, a bit of cock warming, fluffy

“(Y/N)!” Leon shouted their name in utter horror as dozens of courtiers rushed into the maze of emerald bushes, covering the grounds of the gloomy castle garden. A puff of air escaped past their lips in the form of a tired sigh; scanning their surroundings they weren’t so astonished by the seemingly endless flow of cultists pooling out from every possible direction, forming a raven cloud that rapidly grew and moved at a fast pace.

“Watch my back, would you?” (Y/N)’s fiery gaze met his fearful one for a split second. They held their gun in the air and headed for the snowy, marble stairs, distancing themselves from the wave of hostiles. Cold sweat broke out on his skin, causing shivers to run down his spine caused by the fearsome scene, unfolding right before his eyes; yet he didn’t allow himself to fall a victim to the fear, nestling deeply within his heart, but rather he took it upon himself to do everything in his power to prevent his fears into becoming a sorrowful reality. The leather of his fingerless gloves tightened as he took a hold of the stingray, a spark was set ablaze in the icy blue of his one open eye, watching through the scope of the rifle, whilst his index finger was patiently resting on the trigger, awaiting the prefect moment to pull.

Bangs echoed across the space, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the thick vegetation; a thud resonated near them, blood splattered on their cheek. For a split moment, they glanced at the direction the abrupt sound cane from, noting the lifeless body of an enemy they hadn’t noticed; a knowing smile curled the corners of their lips, before they went on with firing at the incoming courtiers. Crimson creek flowed down the bright white marble along with numerous raven hills of dead bodies; eerie silence fell upon the darkened garden as the life it had inhabited was now gone except for the two agents, who finally reunited.

“I thought I was gonna lose you there for a second.” Leon spoke in all seriousness, whilst he pushed at the tall mahogany doors, a piercing creak resonated across the space.

“Like hell I would. You wouldn’t make it even a day without me.” (Y/N) returned playfully, in attempt to reassure him and mostly themselves. Warm light hit their faces as they were met with the sight of a spacious, luxurious room; the two looked around the space for any traces of their subject- baby eagle- but to no avail. An exceptionally comfy looking couch fell in their field of vision, tempting them to check if it truly was as comfortable as it looked. Throwing themselves atop the furniture, they bounced a little; the cushions dipped underneath their weight, hugging their tired form in a warming embrace. They trailed their fingertips along the golden embroidery of the couch, admiring the contrast between the shiny threat and the deep color beneath. Having inspected the perimeter of the fancy room, Leon sat on the armrest and glanced down at his partner. His icy blues lingered on their resting form, cherishing their presence beside him as the recent events resurfaced in his mind, reminding him just how precious every moment with them truly was. His heart clenched just at thought of them gone. (Y/N) noticed the thoughtful look on his face that deepened the forming creases on his forehead.

“What’s bothering that pretty head of yours?” They rose their eyebrow at him; their palms rested underneath their head as they closely watched him in anticipation. Leon only let out a sigh; his mouth fell open, yet the words dried in his throat as if there was lump that obstructed his speech. His glassy eyes fell somewhere in the distance, purposefully avoiding their curious gaze.

“A lot of things.” His voice was low, quiet, hesitant, barely above a whisper; he lowered his head, causing the golden strings of hair to fall in his face akin to a shiny curtain that hid the distress weaving in his features.

“What things?” They sat up and their palm rested atop of his, their gentle touch anchored him to the present moment, away from the darkest corners of his anxious mind. Reluctantly, he met their gaze; a tear ran down his cheek, leaving behind a trail that glistened under the warm candle light.

“Oh, Leon.” They cupped his face, the pad of their thumb brushed away the creeks of crystal-clear tears, streaming down his face; their heart ached at the sight of him so deeply distressed. Pulling away, they patted the space beside them and gave him a gentle smile. Without a second thought, he obliged and sat next to them with his arms tightly wrapping around their waist and his head resting on their chest; (Y/N)’s fingers weaved in his blond locks, gently massaging and scratching his scalp, whilst their other hand kneaded the muscle of his toned, yet tense shoulders. The melody of their heartbeat putted him at ease and the warmth of their hug aided in the softening of his stiffened body- he felt at peace.

“I-“ His speech was interrupted by a hiccup as another wave of sorrowful, hot tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” He pulled away slightly, so he was facing them.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” They forced a smile to comply with the silly joke that most likely did just as poorly to assure him as it did to them, yet he smiled back with tears still running down his face. Reassuringly, they kissed his cheek then his lips, the salty taste spread on their taste buds; he kissed them back in a needy manner as if they would disappear into thin air if he didn’t cling to them. Slowly, his hands slid down from their waist to their hips, where his fingers dug into the soft flesh. (Y/N)’s hands held his head, keeping him in place as they pulled away to catch their breath; their hazy eyes glanced at his darkened, lustful ones, the soft blue of his that they so much adored was barely visible as his pupils were blown wide, a spark was set ablaze in the raven pits of his intense gaze. Subconsciously, they darted their tongue across their parted lips; that single motion of theirs provoked a need within Leon, one that was the only cure to the chaos in his head, and the only person able to cure him was (Y/N).

Greedily, his soft lips latched onto theirs, silencing the yelp caused by the sudden force of his arms that brought them atop of him. Immediately, their hands rested on his toned chest, sensing his erratic heartbeat just by placing their palm flat on his pec; their noses brushed against one another as their gazes were locked together, their hot breaths collided and crashed in each other’s faces. A gasp escaped past (Y/N)’s hips as Leon rutted his hips against theirs; their head fell back as they rolled against the growing bulge, forming in his pants. With the help of his strong grip on them, they set a steady pace that was equally pleasurable for the both of them. The sweet friction tingled their senses, setting the fire of desire ablaze within their core; underneath them, Leon had calmed down, the streams of tears had dried and instead on their place was a pinkish hue that tinted his sides, his soft lips were parted, allowing for the air to easily flow in his lungs as his chest rose and fell with each deep breath. Heat set their pelvis on fire that slowly burned them from the inside out; they whined at sensation of Leon’s hardened cock rubbing against them, yet that was no way near enough for them, nor for him.

Gently, he laid them on the cushions and hovered above them; he took off his shirt, then he unbuckled his belt, allowing for his trousers to pool around his knees, whilst his boxers were still on. (Y/N)’s clothes followed the fate of his shirt- disregarded on the cold floor, where they would sit forgotten for the time being of the short-lived moment of pleasure the two of them would share. Leon’s eyes were focused on theirs, noting every tiny change on their face as his hand slithered down to their crotch; their eyes rolled to the back of their head as his fingers caressed their needy hole. A string of saliva fell down his plump lips and down to their entrance, where his finger pads generously coated their hole with the warm liquid; the calloused skin of his fingers rubbed against the delicate skin of their hole. Gradually, he applied pressure, slowly inserting his digit into them, whilst his gaze closely watched their expressions. A groan ripped past their lips at the burning sensation of his finger thrusting into their folds; with each motion of his hand, the uncomfortable sensation faded as a pleasurable sensation took its place. A gasp drowned in their throat once he added another finger in, spreading them out in preparation. Delight tingled their senses as his fingers hit their sweet spot that had them seeing stars, yet that pleasure was short-lived for Leon pulled away, depriving them of that sweet sensation that had them on cloud nine.

“Leon, please..” They whined desperately as the abrupt emptiness left them on the edge; a smug grin curled the corners of his lips at the sight of them flustered and needy for his touch- it had his heart melting.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. Imma show you how much I appreciate you.” A heartfelt expression was written on his face, indicating the genuineness of his words and (Y/N) didn’t doubt any of the words he said.

“It’s gonna hurt a little.” He whispered in their ear as he lined up with their lubricated entrance; (Y/N) nodded eagerly, anticipating the sensation they sought after. Planting delicate kisses on their face, he gently pushed in just the tip; they groaned, their nails dug into his fair skin as a piercing, burning sensation intensified in their pelvis. Abruptly, he stopped and glanced in their direction, his wary gaze searched theirs; silently, they nodded, urging him to keep going- and so he did. Carefully, his hips rolled against theirs, fully pushing into them up to the hilt; their eyes sealed shut, tears formed in the corners of their eyes at the intense sensation of his cock slowly spreading them out. He backed out in a wary manner all the while he searched their face for any signs of discomfort; he leaned in their ear and planted a kiss on their earlobe.

“Are you good?” His voice rumbled in their ear, sending chills down their spine; they nodded and whispered pleading words in his ear. He chuckled and obliged, pushing back into them; gradually, he picked his pace, thrusting into them at a steady rhythm. (Y/N)’s moans grew louder and more consistent the closer they got to their peak; their body had melted, their muscles were softened at the pleasant sensation tingling their entire body. Leon couldn’t help but moan too as their folds hugged him so deliciously and each of their sweet sound rang in his ears akin to a rhythmic melody unlike any other, prettier and merrier than any other song he has ever heard. Their legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him deeper within them, their arms were latched onto his shoulders; their bodies were pressed against one another almost merging into one. Their skins glistened under the light as sweat coated their bare bodies; Leon’s bangs stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat rolled down his arms, his muscles tensed.

Their moans frequented, his name rolled down their lips repeatedly along with unintelligible words that were muffled by the sounds of skin slapping skin as well as the quiet creaks of the couch beneath them, echoing across the room; grunts ripped past his lips as the pleasure was gradually building up within him. Haze took over the two of them as the strong sensations had their minds blank as all and any types of thoughts were far from them, for the only though occurring was the one of how good the other made them feel.

“Leon, I’m close.” They screamed out as the knot that had formed in their belly was on the brim of unraveling; Leon kept thrusting into them as his arms wrapped around their body, bringing their hips flush against his hips and their chest close to his, where their racing hearts were only separated by their skins.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m close too.” His voice was shaky and breathy; their body jolted, their back arched as electric shockwaves tingled their entire form, a loud scream ripped through their throat. Their folds twitched, unintentionally clenching around his sensitive dick; the sensation was all that he needed to let loose and cum in them, coating them with his hot load though he kept thrusting as he rode out their highs. A mixture of tears and sweat covered (Y/N)’s flustered face, their half-lidded eyes lovingly gazed at Leon, who crashed above them with his head buried in the crook of their neck and with his dick still deep within them. They wrapped their arms around him, their plump lips pressed against the crown of his head.

“I love you.” They spoke, their voice hoarse, yet gentle; his baby blue eyes glanced at them, coming in contact with their (E/C) ones.

“I love you more.” They cracked a smile, which in return caused him to chuckle.

[jrenardleather]

#Stingray leather #Cardholder. • #ForSale #handmade #HandStitched #SaddleStitch #SaddleStitched #HandsNotMachines #AmericanMade #Etsy #Shopify #EtsySeller #Leather #Leathercraft #LeatherSmith #NewLevel #Veteran #RetiredVeteran #Veterans #VeteranOwned #VeteranMade #VeteranOwnedBusiness #Retired #YouKnowYouWantThis https://www.instagram.com/p/CkQ1boQOpZI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mecthology]

El Cuero from South America.

El Cuero, meaning "the hide" or "leather," resembles a primitive stingray with wide pectoral fins and a barb-less, whip-like tail. Its eyes are on stalks, and it boasts an extendable mouth akin to a sturgeon. Witnesses describe razor-sharp claws along its fringes, used to secure prey, and there are even suggestions that it utilizes hunting knives from previous victims as weapons. El Cuero's size ranges from 2 to 5 feet across, weighing approximately 65 pounds.

According to South American natives, El Cuero is dubbed the "aquatic tiger" due to its reputation as a voracious predator. Similar to a crocodile, the creature is said to surge out of the lake, overpowering its prey, often humans. It allegedly employs a proboscis to puncture the skin and extract internal organs and blood. El Cuero is said to seize individuals and animals while they bathe or cross the water, employing an irresistible contraction by folding upon itself. Using its claws, it wraps its prey, drags it to the bottom, and consumes it. The creature is described as incredibly strong, with the ability to drag a horse into the water. Despite its strength, there are claims of hunting methods involving nooses or throwing cactus chunks into the water, causing El Cuero to pierce itself.

Countless, albeit controversial, human attacks have been reported. In one account, a woman washing clothes by the lakeside claimed that El Cuero surged from the water like a crocodile, swiftly engulfing her sleeping baby. The creature then disappeared into the water as rapidly as it had emerged.

Follow @mecthology for more horrors.

Pic credit: Paranormal Strange Wiki.

Source: Encyclopaedia of Crytozoology; Cryptidwiki.

[eclairfair98]

Pensacola’s far more crowded than the little Pete’s seen of Lemoore. Definitely more crowded than his own hometown in Texas. And somehow, it feels like a real city, a blare of noise overwhelming him at every turn.

Even the streets seem different. Much wider than he’s used to. Smoothly paved, crisscrossing everywhere. Pete watches the cars bolting past: a Corvette Stingray, an Aston Martin Vantage, a Chevy Camaro. Their windows gleaming golden under the bright winter sun.

Buildings with glass windows reach towards the tall blue skies, laced only by a few wispy clouds hovering in the distance.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. There’s too many streets, too many cars, too many sounds: the music twisting out of radios, the voices talking intently at one another, all blurring together into one.

There’s too many people. Men in sharp suits carrying leather briefcases. Women wearing dark sunglasses and rustling skirts.

All important-looking people, who walk past him quickly. As if on urgent business.

And all of a sudden Pete finds himself wishing that he was wearing something better than the sweatshirt and trousers he’d taken to borrowing from Tom’s wardrobe, once his own clothes stopped fitting him. That he was a couple of inches taller. That he had shinier hair and prettier teeth.

He finds himself wishing that he didn’t feel like a stranger in his own body, most of the time.

“You don’t know, Pete,” his mother had once told him, turning her tired gaze to the window. Her small pale hand tapping the space above her heart. “What it feels like. In here. You just don’t know.”

At the time, he’d wished he could know. What it felt like. What was in her heart. Wished he could erase the sadness lining her delicate face. Bleeding into her pretty eyes.

But maybe, Pete’d been better off not knowing, after all.

He blinks up at the sky, at the blanket of blue tingeing his sight. Thinks about pretty things. About how they don’t last in this world.

A stray cat with big green eyes slinks by. Pauses. Looks up at Pete expectantly. He leans over the swell of his abdomen to pet the soft spot between her ears. Feels the smile tingling at the corner of his mouth when she runs her prickly tongue over his fingertips. Nuzzles her little pink nose into the curve of his palm.

“Hey… you hungry? Let’s see if we can find you some food.”

The feeling inside of him doesn’t linger.

It floats away. Becomes smaller and smaller and then disappears, as the syrupy-sweet warmth of the afternoon settles back into his limbs.

The cat slips away from under his heat-stained palms. Tail swishing in the air as she darts down the sidewalk.

And Pete finds himself stumbling after her, socked feet slipping on the smooth soles of his worn-down shoes.

Warmth tightens in his chest as he runs down the paved concrete. Heat clinging to the afternoon air like crystallized salt. Washing everything with it’s golden touch.

It’s easy like this. To imagine that if he lifted his legs just a little higher, his whole body would float amongst the clouds.

Pete passes a group of little girls skipping rope. An old man with a newspaper tucked under his arm, who smiles at him when he races past. A boy about his age with a pile of heavy books in his hands, probably on his way home from the library.

He sees streets lined with shops selling flowers and pastries and suits and toys. Smells salt and smoke and the bewildering scents of the dozens of people around him.

Sweet notes of someone’s joy mingling in with the sharp bursts of someone else’s nervousness. Excitement and anticipation and worry and relief, all overwhelming him, all at once.

He turns an abrupt corner, his ears buzzing, pulse fluttering in his mouth, eyes darting from one unfamiliar end of the block to the other, when he sees a little kid crouched down on the crosswalk.

It’s an empty road and the few pedestrians who are rushing by, either don’t notice or don’t care to see the boy.

“H-hey,” Pete calls out, voice hoarse, color high in his cheeks. Each breath coming in heavier than the last as he looks up at the crosswalk signal. Sees the neon green numbers blinking down at him. Indicating he has plenty of time to get to the child. To bring him back to the sidewalk. “Are you alright?”

His feet feel swollen inside his sneakers. Protesting every step he takes down the pristine white lines marking the hot concrete, like thick stripes of mint candy.

There’s a sharp stitch in his side from all the running he wasn’t supposed to do. His doctor’s disapproving face growing bigger and bigger in front of his eyes, as the thick humid air makes a wheezing sound at the back of his throat.

Pete presses a shaky palm to the curve of his belly. Feels a furtive kick against his heat-stained fingers, the smallest outline of a foot.

Remembers the softness melting in Tom’s steady blue gaze. The careful press of calloused fingers against the stretched pink of his skin. The barely-contained wonder. The tender press of a mouth against the ever-growing swell of his abdomen. Against the curve of his lips.

I love you.

The wind rises, blows the shorter uneven bits of his hair outta his blurry eyes.

There’s a voice in his head. A voice that sounds remarkably like Tom’s. Telling him to stop. To turn around. To call for help.

The whites in his vision dance in a frenzy.

But he’s almost there. The boy is right there. Pete’s tired but he can’t stop now.

Big brown eyes blink up at him slowly. He can’t be older than five, maybe six. Pete wonders where his parents are.

Are you all alone?

The child doesn’t respond. Pete touches his lips — closed — doesn’t know whether he’s spoken aloud.

He notices the thick glasses lying in a crunched heap on the ground. The dark red blood plastered on skinned knees.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pete tries again, kneeling down as deftly as his body will allow, breathing around the heat crumbling his larynx. Like it’s coming apart and sticking together all at once. “Why don’t we get off this road? And then, you can take me to your parents.”

“I’m B-Bernie, and I w-want my dad.”

The boy is scared. It’s thick in his scent, in the quiver in his chin, in the wetness pooling in his eyes. And it’s an awful feeling. Seeing a child so little, so scared. But it distracts Pete from the heat, the unsteady beat of his heart, the prickly discomfort creeping up his arms and legs.

If he can focus on Bernie’s fear, maybe he can drown out his own.

“Hey Bernie, I’m Pete. And I also want to find your father. Why don’t we go look for him together, huh?”

Bernie sniffles as he holds out his arms. Presses closer, the tip of his damp nose tickling Pete’s ear as he hiccups, “You’re s-scared… I can smell it. Please don’t be scared. After we find my dad, he’ll help us find your dad too.”

A wet laugh punches its way out of his aching chest as he hoists the boy up on his hip. Gently wipes the trails of dust and tears off his round cheeks. “Sure, kid. We’ll do that. Now let’s get off this road, okay?”

Bernie tugs on the sleeves of his shirt, hands stronger than they look. Burrows his wet face into the curve of his neck. Whispers a quiet thank you.

The signal tells him he has another forty-five seconds to get off the crosswalk.

Deck the halls blares out from the open window of a toy store.

The baby inside of him kicks hard, sending little shocks of pain down his spine.

And in the end, it’s far too late by the time he sees the speeding car peeling down the street.

His voice is silent, nowhere in his throat as his whole body curls around the boy in his arms. Around the little life in his belly.

Heaven and earth tumble, he grasps for the wind, and the streets fall away.

And then, there’s the sky — the fluffy white clouds like rabbits dancing across its spotless blue expanse.

He imagines reaching for them, swirling them around a stick, catching sunlight in each pristine wisp. Making tiny little rainbows all of his own.

Pete raises his hand to reach for the light, it feels sticky and warm.

Deafening wails threaten to pierce his eardrums.

Bernie.

There’s a sharp blinding pain in his chest, as though there’s a knife scraping the inside of his esophagus with every wheeze of air struggling to make its way to his lungs, but he can’t focus on that right now because: Where is Bernie?

Distantly, Pete realizes that the screams are coming from above him. That there’s little hands pressed against his chest, a torso huddled against his belly. That the hot tears rolling down his cheeks aren’t his own.

Are you hurt? Please, don’t be hurt. Don’t cry. Please.

The world seems only half real through the inky blackness seeping into his vision. Like a reflection of a reflection. Like something out of a story told long ago. Nearly-forgotten. Moulded by time into something else entirely.

At a glance, Bernie looks mercifully unharmed: moving all of his limbs, his scent untainted by the bitter notes of pain.

Dirt smears his forehead in a wide arc. Pete reaches out a hand to wipe his face, belatedly sees the bright crimson smeared across his own palm.

It dawns on him ever so slowly. As though the whole world has frozen around him. As though time’s come to a complete standstill. Like one of those films on tape that you can pause with the press of your finger.

Bernie’s screaming at the sight of blood. Pete’s blood. That’s soaking right through his clothes. That’s pooling around him.

And all of a sudden, he feels cold. Very cold.

Panicked voices surround him. Suffocating in their proximity. Someone tries to lift Bernie off of him, but the boy refuses to let go, holding onto his neck with a strength that can only be fueled by adrenaline.

There’s a cacophony of sirens in the distance, but Pete can’t move, he can barely breathe.

It’s like being choked by a noose steadily tightening around his neck. He wants to comfort Bernie, to ask for help — Tom, he needs Tom — he can’t stay here — the baby —

He places a weak hand on the swell of his belly, hoping for a kick, a movement, a flutter, anything.

His baby is frighteningly still as the last vestiges of consciousness leave his body, and there’s nothing between the sky and the ground but endless black.

[bullet-prooflove]

Clean: Trey Cahill x Reader

Tagging: @@mariashane @kj77 @tiredmarshmellowuwu @choppedgalaxynerd @herwordslikebutterflywings @flopiboni @words-and-seeds @aiko24k @@kane-nero-6 @wabi-sabi1090 @kmc1989

Trey used to traffic drugs. His dealer used to give him ten grand to transport a few bricks of coke over the border into Arizona under the guise of delivering one of the classic cars he’d been restoring to a buyer.

It was usually a five hour trip to the stash house. He’d drop off the merchandise, take his cut and then get high in a shitty roadside motel. He’d stay there for days until he was right again to drive the five hours back to Vegas.

He doesn’t do that crap anymore, he hasn’t since Folsom got him into rehab two years ago. That’s when he got serious about restoration, started turning a profit on the garage, building a client base. He may not ask where all of his spare parts come from for the sake of plausible deniability but the heavy stuff, he’s out of it.

If he gets caught it’s not just his life he fucks up, it’s yours too. You’re already getting shit for dating a former criminal, you will never admit it to him but Folsom had filled Trey in after the scuffle with the defence attorney. That stuff, it reflects badly on you, it puts you under scrutiny.

He’s kept his nose clean since then. He’s stopped going to the bars with all the shady shit going on, lost contact with the people who could suck him back into that life, tossed his burner phones. He’s gone completely legit.

He has his head tucked under the bonnet of a 1969 Chevy Corvette when Killian turns up at the garage. There’s a problem with the starter, he’s still trying to figure it out when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him. He knows it’s Killian, even before he glances over his shoulder. He’s been trying to get a hold of him for days now, putting the word out through the people they used to have in common for Trey to get in touch because he needs the cars to move product.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” Killian says as Trey straightens up and turns to face him.

He’s leaning against the hood of a Stingray Trey’s been tuning up, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks more haggard than the last time Trey saw him. Dipping into his own supply, Trey thinks.

“That’s not my life anymore.” Trey tells him as he picks up the rag from his work bench and uses it to clean the grease from his hands. “I thought you would have got the message when I stopped buying drugs from you.”

“Hm.” Killian says as he holds up a baggie of coke between two fingers. “So I assume you don’t want this.”

This is how it starts, he remembers. A freebie, a little fun, before he knows it he’s five grand in the hole, doing ‘jobs’ to pay off his debt.

“Do you think I’m really that weak?” Trey laughs, crossing his arms over his chest trying to ignore the twitch in his fingers. “That I’m going to jump back into bed with you because you offer me a bump.”

“I think if I leave this here.” Killian says setting the baggie down on the workbench alongside Trey. “I’ll be getting a call from you in a couple of hours’ time for a little more.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Trey bites back and Killian gives him that smile, the one that sets Trey’s teeth on edge.

“Once an addict…” Killian says, pushing the baggie towards him.  “…always an addict.”

It’s a few hours later that you turn up at the garage. The lights are still on despite the late hour. Part of you is worried and the other part pissed because Trey was supposed to meet you for dinner tonight at that little Chinese place you both like. You’d sat there for an hour before you realised he wasn’t coming. He hasn’t been picking up his calls or his texts.

When you step inside you find him hunched over the workbench with his head in his hands. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he flinches at the sensation before he turns his head to look at you. His eyes are red rimmed, the vibrant blue shining through the frustrated tears as the muscle in his jaw clenches.

“Trey.” You say softly and he takes a sharp inhale of breath before he tilts his head towards something on the workbench.

“I need you to get rid of it.” He says, his voice pained as you follow his gaze to the baggie of coke. “If I touch it…”

He trails off because he doesn’t need to say anything else.

Two years sobriety, everything he’s worked for, it’ll be gone and he can’t go back to that place, not when he’s come so far. But the thing is he can’t seem to help himself. His mouth is dry, his fingers itch, he can feel himself giving in and he’s powerless to stop it.

You pick up the baggie and tuck it into your pocket. The relief is visible, Trey exhales for the first time in what seems like hours, the tension seems to flood out of his body as he uses the back of his hand to wipe across his eyes.

“I need to know what happened tonight.” You say quietly. “How this ended up here.”

If it were anyone else including Folsom he’d lie, say one of his customers dropped it because he wouldn’t want them to know about all the bad shit he’s done in the past. But it’s you and he’s always been honest with you and that’s not about to change today.

He tells you everything, from the product he used to move for Killian, to the nights he spent high as kite. You listen quietly, your hand holding his and he’s grateful for that because being here with you, it keeps him anchored, it reminds him that he’s more than just his addiction.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says quietly as he clasps your hand to his cheek. “Really I don’t.”

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