Glitter Girl

Rock star eddie, you're his drummer. One of his songs requires moans in the background. He wants it live. Wear special panties during show, boom live moans or if that's too much maybe just has you in the sound booth since he doesn't want some random chick's moans, the grand finale is the sound of you coming during the climax of the song 👀

Glitter Girl

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Based on Glitter Girl by Dixie Dragster (Eddie's song in the fic)

A/N: I was editing this and I was like ugh this is ass, but then I got to the smut and I was like okay this is good actually lmao. This is my attempt at not answering a request with an overarching storyline like I did here, but this still ended up being about 4.6k Thank you for the request it was very slutty, perfect for rockstar!eddie.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ mdni!!! unprotected sex, PiV sex, masturbation (fem), voyeurism, ass slapping, cum eating, oral sex kinda (fem rec), cum swapping lol, kinda dirty talk, edging, talk of fingering, audio recording sex, some feelings

My asks are open, come talk to me about Eddie!!!

Masterlist

You came into the studio looking for Eddie, finding him next to the band’s producer, Jared, at the soundboard.

Gareth had left a message on your machine saying Eddie needed some more backing vocals for the new song. The song was a little different from what the band had done before—more eccentric, more glam-rock—but Eddie said it would be a blast to perform live so you didn’t mind, always up for making the shows more electric.

Eddie told you he wrote the song in two hours after the insane New Year’s Eve bash the band threw at a club. You remember bits and pieces of the party—glitter falling at midnight, spitting a shot of vodka into Eddie’s mouth, making Gareth give you a lap dance, watching Jeff motorboat a bottle girl. Definitely one for the books.

But as daybreak neared and guests began drunkenly shuffling home, the night became a little clearer in your memory—leaving you and Eddie covered in glitter and confetti, giggling about how he’d be finding that shit in his hair forever. Three days later, he played the song for you and the rest of the band.

You laid down the drums for the song last Friday and your vocals the following Monday. Eddie had told the band it was a wrap, but it seems he’s changed his mind—deciding something was missing, rendering the song incomplete in his eyes.

Music is the only thing he’s ever been picky about, the one area where his usual chaos shifts into precision. It’s like he develops a Type-A personality just for that.

When he hears the door open, Eddie looks up to see you walking in, tattered jean shorts and an old band tee hanging loose on your body. He waves you into the room, ushering you over to the soundboard with him and Jared.

“Hey! Glad you got my message, sorry about the game of telephone. Apparently there’s no landline in this fucking place.” He exclaims, throwing a pointed look at Jared—like the poor guy owns the building and has a say in its architectural decisions.

You huff at his attitude, tilting your head, giving him a reprimanding, deadpan stare. Eddie loves to give the guy a hard time, much to your chagrin. It’s only because Jared’s genuinely the nicest person all of you know, especially in the LA music scene.

“No problem, although I am confused because I thought we finished everything.”

You watch as Jared starts fiddling with some buttons, getting the sound booth ready.

“Yeah, okay. See, I thought it was good–great even!” He obfuscates, “But then I had this idea…and now I wanna see how it’ll sound, and you’re the only girl…”

Your brows furrow as a confused smile overtakes your face. It sounded like he said a whole lot of nothing just now, and what does being the only girl in the band have to do with anything?

“What are you talking about?”

“Okay, force my hand,” he groans dramatically. “I think some moans would sound really fucking cool on the R–O–C–K part.”

He says it so fast, you have to take a moment to replay what you heard in your head to understand. Nervous for what you’ll say, he’s shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and eyeing you intently. You hesitate, gauging whether he’s serious or not, but he doesn’t back track.

“Alright, I mean–,” you gesture to him, deferring, “you’re the musical genius.”

It’ll be a little weird moaning in a sound booth by yourself, having poor, innocent Jared monitoring the levels and Eddie coaching you, but if it’ll make the song even cooler—you’re in.

Eddie appears shocked at your deference, he really thought he’d have to run down the list he made of why it would be sick as fuck. He’s suddenly feeling very thankful to not only have a talented female drummer, but one who appreciates his artistry as much as you.

“Really?”

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah, if you think it’ll sound cool. I trust you.” The last part is so simple but it makes him grin, excited that you’re down for this.

“Yes! Thank you!” Rushing to hug you, he lifts you off your feet in a bone crushing embrace.

When he sets you back down, you’re laughing at the child-like giddiness written all over his face. Jared lets you know the booth is ready for you, heading in there you stand behind the microphone, placing the headphones over your ears so you can hear the backing track and cues.

Jared counts you in over the master microphone, hearing the metronome. you nod your head to the beat, keeping time. When the part approaches, you stand up straight, breathily moaning the letters, spelling out ‘ROCK.’

Once you’ve done it, Jared cuts the music, turning on the soundboard mic for Eddie to give notes. You watch through the glass window as he leans down, sounding less than satisfied. “Okay…that was good, um–let’s take it from the top, okay? Gimme a little more oomf.”

Nodding your head—only slightly understanding what he means—you begin keeping time with the metronome again. You do it about three more times for him before Eddie starts running his hands through the roots of his hair, clearly frustrated at your inability to portray the tone he’s looking for.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to do differently.” You don’t mean to be so difficult, honestly not comprehending what’s off about your performance. And he’s not being very helpful with his notes, you’re pretty sure you’re all out of ‘oomf.’ You’re certain the last two renditions are as oomf-y as he’s going to get from you.

He shakes his head, curling his lips into his mouth, “No, it’s–uh, hold on.”

The sound from outside the booth cuts out, you watch as Eddie leans down to Jared telling him something. The guy looks at him, appearing to ask him something before Eddie nods his head, then the guy stands up and leaves. You frown at the sudden exit, Eddie sits down into the command chair, clicking the microphone back on and leaning in.

“Okay, so I asked Jared to take five. We’re gonna try this again, but—hear me out—do you think you could–,” he hesitates, working through how to make his request. “How about this, what if you—okay, this is gonna sound insane–”

Losing your patience, you speak up, “Eddie, just spit it out!”

“What about if you touched yourself? While you–you know, did the vocals…,” his words come out stilted, eyes squinting like he’s expecting you to blow up at him for his outrageous request.

Instead, you just laugh. He’s got to be joking, that’d be insane! Your eyes widen when he doesn’t laugh with you—just curling his lips inward again.

“Eddie, you can’t be serious…,” you shake your head incredulously. “Just get a porn star, or something, if you want real moans.”

He clearly rejects that sentiment, shaking his head and holding his hands out in front of him like he’s presenting at a business meeting, “No, I don’t want just any girl on this track! Plus, there’s like legal shit I don’t even wanna touch with a ten foot pole.”

Scoffing, your jaw agape, “What, and I’m easier?”

Frantically shaking his head, placating hands held out in front of him, “No! Of course not!” His voice lowers to a nervous mutter, but it still comes through loud and clear in your headphones, “I just think the muse should be on the track, that’s all.”

Your brows draw together, jerking your head back in confusion. “You wrote this song–about me?” He’s never written a song about anybody other than random hookups. Most of his songwriting is inspired by life stuff anyway. Not even his best friends got songs written for them, but he wrote this for you—about you?

When you think about the lyrics, your face heats up—to be seen in that way, to be romanticized like that…You had no idea he felt…things…for you. But now the way he stuck to your side at the party makes sense.

Usually, he’s all over the groupies and the women throwing themselves at him, he’s a gluttonous guy—he likes to have them all. But that party was notably different, he even took you to breakfast after the wild night, making you laugh as he shook more glitter from his hair into the pancakes he ordered.

Eddie shrugs, very clearly trying to seem passive, “Well, yeah, you’re my glitter girl.” He voices the nickname like it’s obvious, like it’s an endearment—he did put ‘my’ in front of it.

Huffing out a fond laugh, smile growing on your soft lips, you nod, “Fine. But you can’t watch, okay, perv?”

You tease him, but the thought of him watching is far too overwhelming for you. You just found out he feels a certain way for you. Unsure if it’s just fondness, care, like—love, even? No, that’d be preposterous. He’s your friend! Lead singer of one of the top bands right now, and you’re his drummer! You’re just like one of the guys—at least that’s what Gareth always says.

Now you’re not sure what you are—to him, at least. But you know you couldn’t handle him watching you do something so intimate.

He nods his head vigorously, “Yeah, of course! How about this, I’ll turn around and you–do your thing.”

Nodding at his earnest face, you move to unbutton your shorts. Shaking your head in disbelief that this is happening, you watch as he turns around.

“Although, to be clear—I do still need to listen to make sure I–,” he pauses, unable to choose better wording, “like–what I hear, I guess. Sorry.”

You huff, rolling your eyes at his poor choice of wording. “Yes, Eddie, I know. Don’t look!”

Raising his hands in surrender as his back is turned, “Let me know when you want me to start the track.” He wants to give you enough time to work yourself up—for lack of better words.

Taking a deep breath, shaking the nerves out of your body, you reach into your panties. It isn’t the best angle with you standing so you quickly turn around, pulling the stool up to the mic, adjusting the equipment to your new height as you sit on the edge of the wooden seat. Propping your foot on the rung of the stool, you spread your thighs, reaching back into your panties to gather the wetness at your hole.

Thankfully, Eddie is hot enough to get you going any time you see him—his long, dark curly hair, obsidian eyes, the contrast of black tattoos on pale white skin. Today, he’s wearing an old Dio band tee he cut into a muscle shirt and a pair of ripped black jeans.

Every time he leaned over the soundboard—reaching to fiddle with some controls—the gaping armholes of his shirt gave you a perfect view of his biceps, his body. It had you pressing your thighs together. Yeah, you’re good to go just looking at him.

Spreading the wetness across your folds as much as you can in the confines of your shorts, you bring your soaked fingers to your clit, catching the little nub just right, making your breath hitch. When your breath turns shallow and you’re biting your lip to withhold moans, you look up to see a hunched over Eddie through the glass. He looks like he’s straining, turned around with clenched fists, gnawing on the white knuckles.

“I’m ready.” He jumps into action at your breathy comment, reaching behind him for the button, starting the metronome track.

His strained posture doesn’t unfurl, in fact it looks like he gets even more stiff as you do the part. Circling your clit for maximum pleasure, you moan out the letters, stopping completely with shallow breaths as you wait for his notes.

Leaving your shorts unbuttoned, you remove your fingers, resting your arm on your thighs as Eddie turns around with a hand over his eyes.

“I’m decent,” you breathe, letting him know he doesn’t have to feel around the soundboard blindly to shut the track off.

Letting his hand fall, blown eyes take you in as he clears his throat, pressing the ‘on’ button for the microphone. “T–That was–good, uh, yeah, good,” clearing his throat again. “I think–okay you’re gonna hate me for this—and I swear, I’m not doing it on purpose—but when I was blind, I accidentally pressed the wrong button, so I recorded none of that.”

He bares his teeth in nervous expectation for your anger, but you just let out a shaky sigh, rolling your eyes. Par for the course with Eddie.

“Okay, fine. Just–start recording, then close your eyes this time, okay?”

“Yes. Yeah, I’ll do that, I’m sorry!”

Since you’re already worked up, you tell him to go ahead and start the track right off the bat. Precisely following your directions, he starts the track, quickly hits record, and swivels his chair to face the couch against the wall.

You do exactly the same thing as last time—running your index and middle finger through your folds before bringing it to your throbbing clit. You’re working yourself close to the edge, but never surpassing it as you moan the lines.

The notes you receive from him make you want to strangle him, he looks awfully jumpy, continuously letting his hand fall into his lap below the soundboard where you can’t see it. “That was good,” he says lightly, like it’s a consolation compliment.

The frustration of touching yourself with no orgasm at the end is getting to you, you grit out an annoyed, “Eddie!”

“I’m sorry! There’s something off about it! You know? Like it’s too–I don’t know…,” he stops to think as you huff your chest, imagining exactly how you’d run out of this booth and strangle the singer. “It’s missing that oomf,” he repeats, as if that perfectly describes why your performance is not hitting.

Oh, you’re going to kill him. You’re going to skin the fucker alive. “You said that already!”

“Wait! I think I know what it is,” your eyes widen as he pauses, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

“Please, feel free to share with the class,” you bite, thoroughly annoyed at this point.

“How exactly are you touching yourself?” He asks the question so casually like he’s asking you which football team you’re supporting in this year’s Super Bowl, like he’s an engineer trying to figure out the faulty cog in the machine.

You throw your head back, eyes on a god you know isn’t watching, praying for enough strength to spare your bandmate from your fiery fury. You laugh—sharp, incredulous. “Oh, we’re doing this?” Resigning yourself to the present situation, you answer without shame—your frustration is far too overpowering. “Okay, I’m rubbing my clit.”

He shakes his head, unruly curls shimmying with the gesture, “No, see I want like–a thrusting oomf, you know?” He’s wagging his finger like he just cracked the case, grinning, “See, I knew something was missing!”

“Okay, well, I’m not gonna finger myself for you, Eddie.” You’ve given him enough, plus you know from experience—your own fingers are not going to give him the ‘oomf’ he’s looking for.

Eddie pouts at your rejection, jaw on the floor like an indignant child being told ‘no.’

“Why not?” He’s practically whining and you tilt your head at him in disbelief that this is the ‘man’ so many women drop their panties for.

“Because! Why don’t you do it,” you argue.

His pout is gone as he shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head, “Okay.”

“Wha–,” you’re thrown off by his response, but you watch him hit record and you hear the metronome start in your ears as he joins you in the booth, unbuttoning his jeans.

“I didn’t mean–what the hell are you doing?” You look at him like he’s lost his mind—because, honestly, he has. What exactly is he doing here? Freeing one ear from the headphones, you wait for his—sure to be interesting—explanation.

“You want me to do it,” it’s half–question, half him telling you what he got from that exchange.

Shaking your head, lips parted in awe at his absurdity, “No! I mean like–you do the moans yourself if you’re gonna be so picky about it!”

Disappointment clear on his face, he leaves his jeans unbuttoned, “Well, nobody wants that!”

Laughing at his absurd comment—you, you want that—you shake your head, “I don’t think me fingering myself is really gonna sound good–”

“I beg to differ,” he snorts, eyes shooting to your wet fingers.

Giving him a reprimanding look, you add, “You know what I mean.”

“Okay, but what if…I did help you,” he implores, it’s like he’s bargaining for your pussy.

“Eddie, you can’t be serious,” smiling at him, waiting for him to crack, but all you see is wide, earnest eyes. “You really want this?”

You’re mainly asking about how badly he wants the song to reflect his vision, but you realize the question takes on a whole new meaning with what’s on the table.

Nodding his head frantically, “Yes, it means a lot to me!”

Sighing at his genuine desire to make the song he wants, you let out a subtle nod. “Fine,” you pause as he pumps his fist in victory, “But don’t be weird about it.” He immediately collects himself, bringing his energy from ‘kid who just won a sweepstakes to Disney’ to ‘solemn mourner.’ It makes you crack a smile.

You can hear the metronome of the song repeating in your ear, you watch his quickly widening eyes as you shimmy your shorts down. A raised eyebrow alerts him he should be doing the same, you put the second pair of headphones onto his hair, flattening a line into his poofy hair. He starts removing his black jeans as you turn and adjust the microphone even lower, nearly at the level of the wooden stool.

When you turn back around, you see his hard cock, standing at attention, his shirt still on—same as you, not bothering to remove the article of clothing because that’d require removing the headphones, which was too much work at the moment. His eyes are lust blown as he looks down at your half-naked body, shallow breaths moving his chest.

“Cute,” you quip at his stiff cock, admiring the jump you get for the compliment. He’s not the first naked man you’ve seen and knowing him—his ego is already enormous. He doesn’t need to get another worshipping compliment on how pretty and big his dick is, he has the groupies for that. You always try to keep him in check, this’ll be no different.

Clearly, you had him remove his pants for more than just fingering, but he wants to make sure. “So you don’t want me to finger you?”

Snorting, you shake your head, “No, if you want this to sound good, it’s gotta be the real deal.” You’ve built up enough frustration that you’re giving him creative directions now, if he’s intertwining music and pleasure—he knows music, and you know your own pleasure. “And you get one take, got it, rockstar?”

Eddie sucks in a breath at the title, nodding his head, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. And it’s recording?”

Another nod.

You smirk at his uncharacteristic silence, turning around to rest your elbows on the seat of the stool, making sure the mic stand is right in front of your face.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the view of you bent over, chest down, ass up—presenting your pretty pussy to him—has his dick jumping, twitching with need. He moves forward, caressing the junction of your hip, squeezing the fat of your ass.

You can’t help but hum at the feel of cold metal rings on his large hands, you’re so worked up you’re practically dripping for him.

He gathers himself enough to remind you the metronome is repeating, meaning you need to pay attention for the cue to the letters.

“Just fuck me already,” you’re almost whine, rolling your hips to jut your pussy out more.

“Holy shit,” he groans, grasping his cock and rubbing it up and down your wet folds. He nearly curses at the way your lips almost suck him into your greedy hole, the way you’re pulsing, trying to lure him into your warm, wet heat.

He teases just a little more, gathering as much of your wetness onto his cock as he can. When you whine, wiggling your hips back, trying to catch the head and slide him in—he decides to put you out of your misery.

With a strong grip on your hips, Eddie thrusts in harshly, fully sinking his cock into your tight cunt. The sudden intrusion has a cross between a moan and squeal erupting from your throat, you thought he’d go slow—boy, were you wrong. He has to take a minute to steady his breathing, wishing away the impending orgasm. His body is curling over you, chest moving with stuttering breaths.

You’re so aware of his pelvis and thighs against your ass, how snug his cock is in your hole. Relishing the feeling of him balls deep inside you, you feel so full. He’s so thick, it’s driving you up the wall. Your pussy is gripping him like any moment he’ll pull out and leave you gaping.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he huffs. “Holy shit–best fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.” He’s babbling, gone completely out of his mind at the way your walls squeeze his poor cock in a vice grip. You mewl and whine at the compliment, so turned on from all the edging, you just want him to start moving already.

“Move–please, move! Fuck, Eddie,” you draw out his name, sounding pitiful and fucked out already.

He starts thrusting at a bruising pace, you feel every ridge and vein, you’re not even trying to temper your moans. Barely hearing yourself over the metronome anyway, you let him know just how good you feel.

Eddie reaches up, shoving one earphone off so he can hear your noises. All the moaning, mewling, and whining only spur him on. He’s breaking a sweat railing into your cunt, relishing the sound of skin slapping.

You hear the song start over again, knowing the cue is coming up, you try to draw your brain back from your needy pussy long enough to moan the letters. Apparently, you didn’t sound desperate enough because Eddie slaps your ass, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from your throat.

“Again,” he grits, reaching around to messily rub your clit through your shared juices.

The song is short so when it loops back around, you’re at the very precipice of an orgasm.

“Please–Eddie, please let me cum! Oh god, I need it, please!”

He groans when your walls suffocate his cock, needy and pulsing, on the very edge of the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Be good, and I’ll let you,” he grunts, slapping your ass to cue you in. When you open your mouth to moan out the letters he starts vigorously yanking your body back onto his dick, meeting his already jarring thrusts. Ever the musician, he times each shove of his hips with the ticking metronome.

His hard cock knocks the air out of you as you moan every letter, sounding fucked out and desperate by the time you spell ‘ROCK’ fully.

Once you know you’ve done your part, you wail out in pleasure, “Oh god!”

Slapping your ass particularly hard, he urges you to cum, “Cum for me, baby. Lemme feel that fucking pussy choke my cock, give it to me, honey.”

The slap sent you over the edge and his words had you floating among the stars. You’re crying out in pleasure, absolutely beside yourself. Barely aware of the loss of rhythm, he shutters and jerks, drawing your attention with an urgent, “Where do you want me, baby?”

Feeling full and needy, you whine, “Inside! Please, Eddie, gimme your cum–I wan’ it so fuckin’ bad!”

He stutters out a string of curses, pumping rope after rope of warm cum into your greedy cunt. Slowing to a stop, he hunches over you. You can feel his hot breath against your shoulder blades, the softs wisps of his hair tickling your back.

Resting your chest on the stool, you let your mind come back down to earth. He moves to pull out but you reach behind to grab his hips, holding him to you.

“Hold on–jus’…wanna feel you still.” You’re exhausted, voice sounding utterly spent.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out in disbelief, thanking whatever is out there that he got to experience what he’s dreamed about for so long. Not to mention, the way you don’t want his cock to leave your pulsing pussy. He shudders as your walls twitch with aftershocks.

Eventually, he has to pull out, his soft cock no longer able to stay in. His heart rams against his ribcage at the soft whine you let out as he pulls out, he’d keep you stuffed forever if he could.

You don’t move, even though you’re free to. Staying bent over the stool, your pussy still captivating him as he looks down to see his load slowly inching out of your hole. Admiring the way the cum moves like molasses in the hot summer, he thinks about how many songs he could write just about the view of your gaping hole—still spread open from his girthy cock.

Since you don’t seem to be moving anytime soon—just resting on the stool, relishing his attention—he kneels down, spreading your ass cheeks. Leaning in to lick up the cum dribbling out of your hole, he makes sure to thrust his languid tongue in, scooping out the delicious, tangy combination of juices. A loud moan escapes your scratchy throat, not expecting such raunchy affection after everything that just transpired.

Once he gathers the juices, letting them pool on his tongue, he stands up. Reaching around your neck to pull you up, your back to his front, feeling his now half-hard cock against your ass, he spreads his hand on your jaw, effectively pushing your head to the side. He wraps his free hand around your pelvis as he thrusts his tongues into your open, panting mouth. You moan at the feeling of him swapping spit and the mix of cum into your waiting mouth. Messily kissing you, his tongue dominates your mouth, not letting your head go as he grinds against your ass.

When he pulls away leaving you breathless, you eagerly lick your lips, swallowing all the swapped spit and cum, humming at the taste. He lets you turn around in his hold—facing him, moving both hands to rest on your cheeks, leaning in for another firm kiss. Your eyes are lust blown, he’s panting, bobbing his head closer for another kiss. The kiss you’re wanting doesn’t come, though. Instead, he plants a sweet, chaste, smooch to the corner of your mouth.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You huff out a laugh, eyes squinting with giddy humor at the backwards order of events. “Yeah.”

He grins at your hazy eyes, kissing you again.

Pulling away, your eyebrows knit with concern, “I think we just accidentally made an audio sex tape.”

“A sex mixtape,” he quips, unworried.

“Poor Jared, he’s gonna have to isolate my vocals over all the ass clapping,” you giggle.

“Eh, that perv will love it.”

A/N: Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed it! Especially comments because they let me know I’m doing things right!!! Because right now I’m going a little coocoo crazy, judging my writing probably too harshly. Idk, y’all tell me what you think

Tags

stranger things fic rec eddie munson eddie munson x reader eddie munson smut eddie munson x you eddie munson fanfic eddie munson x y/n eddie munson x female reader eddie munson x fem!reader fluff

Groundhog Day

Hey. Could You Please Do A Winchester!sister Reader Fic Like The Mystery Spot Episode Where Dean Dies

Note: Once again apologising for my lateness but here we are! I actually also wrote this yesterday but I thought it was only fitting to release this on a Tuesday.

warnings: death *and lots of it, It's mystery spot*, grief kinda, time loops, swearing.

Word count: 3.5k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother who was surprisingly already up and raring to go, having made his bed which he was now perching on as he laced together his boots. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.”

“Dude.” Sam blinked, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Asia?”

“Come on. You love this song and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and if i hear it again, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once.

Dean took a break from trying his shoes to reach over and turn the dial on the radio. The song blasted louder from the speakers. He raised his voice with a grin “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Sam let out a light chuckle, still bleary with sleep as you sighed and sat up. Dean was still grinning at you before he began to mouth along to the words of the song. You shook your head at him before hauling yourself up and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Dean had decided that he was going to be annoying today. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go on the hunt and he was trying to delay it or something or if it was simply because he was being Dean. You decided on the latter because his keenness to be up and ready this morning was unusual. It started with the gurgling when he was brushing his teeth. Then, just as the three of you were about to leave, despite being up before either of you he had forgotten his pistol leaving you and your other brother standing impatiently by the door while he rooted around the motel room for it. He was irritating in the car too and you were itching to jump out of the Impala, praying for the day to end.

The diner was hardly busy when Dean pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars belonging to passers by occupying the spaces. After securing your pistol in the pocket of your jacket the three of you headed inside. You decided to stick close to Sam; you had an odd feeling about this hunt and weren’t entirely sure what it was but something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Your brothers entered one of the booths and you slid down beside Dean who let out a content sigh as he scanned the menu.

“Hey, tuesday. Pig in a poke.” he read, gesturing to the sign.

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

The eldest brother opened his mouth to answer only to fall short of his words. Sam gave him a smug look and then pair fell into some sort of childish bickering that you weren’t really paying attention to. You were too busy scanning every inch of the room still unable to shake that uneasy feeling from your mind. Something just wasn’t right. Everything seems so…perfect. It made your skin crawl and you bit your lip.

“Hey.” Sam nudged you under the table with his knee, he had noted the way that you had gone silent and that you were fiddling with your hands restlessly. He knew almost straight away that something was up. You twisted to face him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. yeah.” You muttered. “Sorry.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when the waitress came over and distracted your brother's attention away from you. You hated the way that they stared when they were concerned about you. The three of you rattled off your orders before Dean leaned back in the chair, stretching his arm back behind you to lounge about as you all discussed the plan, only interrupted once by the waitress bringing your food and accidentally spilling a bottle of hot sauce which tumbled to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

The rest of the day passed by quickly after that.

You did not like the look of the so-called ‘mystery spot’. It was all overly commercialised, filled to the brim with strange and amusing objects that stuck out at odd angles or were glued to the ceiling. The darkness of the room mixed with the obscurity of the place made it come across as quite disorientating. You supposed that was the point. Your strange feeling from this morning was still lingering. You and Dean moved around with flashlights as Sam waved around the EMF. But it was silent.

“Find anything?” You asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean said rather loudly. He was still set on the idea that this hunt was a complete waste of time and had decided to make it everyone else's problem.

“Uh… yeah.” Sam shrugged until you gave him a look and he dropped his shoulders. “No.”

It wasn’t long after you set off to explore again that Dean’s gun was being cocked. Somehow someone had managed to catch you off guard, causing the three of you to whip around alarmed when his shaky voice boomed through the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demanded. The man was small and scrawny and would normally be no match against Winchesters, but he was wielding a gun that he didn’t seem to know how to use and his unstable finger was hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

“Woah. We can explain.” Dean started, raising his gun in surrender and gesturing for the two of you to follow suit.

The man moved his weapon uncertainly. “You robbing me?”

“No.” You told him. “Nobody’s robbing you, calm down.”

Dean began to lower his gun, but this only wound the man up more.

“Don’t move!” He demanded. “Don’t!”

“I’m just putting the gun down.” Dean tried to reassure him, but the man was having none of it.

He raised his gun, but before he fired he spotted you moving out of the corner of his eye.

Sam, as worrying of a brother as ever, gestured with a tilt of his head for you to move toward him. He knew that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but it made him feel ten times better to know that you were hidden behind his lumbering frame, especially given the recent circumstances that had resulted in so much loss between the three of you. Your movement however, combined with Dean’s haste to put down his gun startled the man and with a fast flick of his arm he had pulled the trigger.

No one had any time to think before your pained scream filled the room. It was quick and short as the bullet lodged itself within your chest and you collapsed to the ground, writhing with an agony so intense that it made white spots dance in your vision like little stars.

“Y/N!” Sam cried out, moving quickly to bridge the short distance to your side where you lay in pain on the cold ground. Sam slid an arm around your back as your other brother dropped to his knees next to you, hovering his hand over your chest where blood had already begun to pool through and seep into your shirt. He was frozen with terror unsure what to do at the sight of your pained expression or the way that your hands clutched feebly at the hem of Sammy’s jacket.

“Call 911.” Sam demanded, turning to face the man who stood there white as a sheet.

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“Now!” Dean yelled.

You whimpered at the yelling. It cuts through your already pounding head adding to the concoction of your agony. You couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t feel anything besides the burning fire in your chest that spread through your lungs like a disease. Your head lolled back against Sam’s arm as you began to taste metallic copper in your mouth, slowly drowning on your own blood that had filled your lungs.

“No. No” Sam said as you writhed in his arms, glancing up bleary eyed at him. Dean pressed down firmly on the wound, and it hurt more than anything but you couldn’t bring yourself to even whine at the contact.

“Come on sweetheart.” Dean pleaded. “Not like this.”

You could see his lips moving but it sounded like he was underwater as your body began to grow numb and your vision slowly faded. You tried to blink away the spots that consumed your vision, but it was no use and your eyes ended up fluttering shut just as your ragged breaths slowed before stopping altogether until you lay morbid limp in your big brother's arms.

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother. He had been here before. He realised suddenly, but this time his older brother was not lacing his boots. Instead he was stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the space beside Sam. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep. Sam stared at you, startled. He could have sworn that just a moment ago you were-

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean said, with much less enthusiasm as he had before. His little brother furrowed his brows.

“Dean…?”

“I know. Is it just me or are you getting a serious sense of deja-vu?”

He nodded in agreement.

The Winchesters shared a look. Man, something strange was happening and whatever it was, you clearly weren’t feeling the same thing they were.

The diner was exactly the same as it had been the last time the two brothers were here. You were still looking around with the same uncertainty as you were before and you even ordered the same thing as you did before and so did Dean. Tuesday’s special. Pig in a poke.

“It’s tuesday?” He said uncertainly to himself.

You stared at him blankly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah.”

Sam eyed you strangely and you raised a brow.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” He replied, leaning across the table. “Are you?”

Narrowing your eyes at the pair of boys you asked. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember any of this?” Sam asked you

“Remember what?”

“This. Today. Like it’s happened before.” Dean.

“You mean like Deja Vu?” You frowned.

“No like it’s really happened before.” Sam stressed. “If it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Deja Vu.”

“No. Forget about that. Its-

The conversation was once again cut off by the waitress who was delivering the food. And once again she sent the hot sauce toppling. But this time, Sam caught it before it could hit the ground.

You gave him a charismatic grin. “Nice reflexes.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that.

Your brothers were trying to explain the situation to you, while theorising themselves. It was safe to say that at first you were completely lost, but were halfway to believing them when it happened.

The car came from nowhere, speeding around the corner. It collided harshly with your unsuspecting body sending you skidding across the asphalt. By the time your brothers had reached you, a trail of blood trickled down your face from the wounds that were opened as your skin ran across the floor. Dean nearly choked on the sight of your pained and bloodied face as he reached you but you were dead before he had even lifted you into his arms.

And then, there it was again. That wretched song, screaming from the radio.

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room and muttered one single phrase.

“Son of a bitch.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that. In fact, it never seemed to end.

Sam was getting angry now. No. That's not really the right word to describe it. He was frustrated. Tired. Scared. Dean was angry. And growing impatient. But both of them could not bear to live another tuesday. They couldn’t bear to see you fine one second and then dying the next. They had lived through at least a hundred tuesdays, had scanned every inch of the diner, the town, the mystery spot, they had followed the people from the diner and had even tried to keep you in the motel room but no matter how hard they tried they were forced to watch you die again.

The worst part was that you were clueless. Sam and Dean had to re-explain the ordeal to you everytime they woke up to that stupid song again, leaving you back at square one. They had lived through the day so many times that it had gotten to the point where they could both predict your sentences word for word and while it freaked you out, their patience was wearing thin.

Until finally, something changed. Dean had asked the woman he kept bumping into to see her flyer. They finally had a lead. So, the next time Tuesday morning rolled around, they felt hopeful as they filed off the information to you.

“When’d you get time to do all that research?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

Dean did not have the energy to answer, so he just stood, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

That was when Sam spotted it. The sticky, pink syrup sat in the dispenser next to the half eaten pancake. He frowned, stopping suddenly. When you noticed his absence you turned and asked him what was wrong.

Sam watched the man leave through the slats in the blinds. “That guy has maple syrup for the last 100 tuesdays, now all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?

“It’s a free country, Sammy. A man can’t choose his own syrup now? What have we become?”

“Not in this diner.” Sam shook his head. “Not today.”

“Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. “ Dean told you. “Except us.”

The two brothers nearly lost their shit when they woke up again, but by the time they had suffered through the morning routine and had reached the diner they had come up with a plan.

There were no conversations during breakfast. The pair left you to ponder over your own thoughts after mentioning the idea of a time loop. Any of your questions went unanswered as they stared down the man, jumping into action when he rose, pushing the stool out with an ear splitting squeal and making his way to the parking lot.

Dean gripped the man firmly, forcing him against the fence by the scruff of his neck and silencing his protests. “We know who you are. Or should I say what?”

You watched very confused from the side.

“Oh my god-” the man begged, wide eyed. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Uh, Boys-”

“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam seethed.

“What?!”

“It’s your M.O that gave you away.” He continued. “Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay! Just put the stake down!” He pleaded, side eyeing the weapon that Sam pressed to his neck. Sam refused to move.

“Sammy, maybe you should-”

“No!” He yelled at you. The tone of his voice was so unexpected for Sam that you recoiled. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops- In fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god.”

“You’d have to be a trickster.” Dean spat.

“Misters…” The man pleaded shakily with tears in his eyes “My name is Ed Coleman. My wife’s name is Amelia- I’ve got two kids! For crying out loud I sell ad space!”

“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are!” Sam shouted into his face.

“We’ve killed one of your kind before.”

There was a heavy paused before the grey hair and wrinkles on the man before you morphed into the all familiar face of the trickster you and your brothers had run into not too long ago.

He smirked and your brothers’ faces dropped. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why her!?” Sam pressed, digging the stake into his neck.

“You’re kidding?” The trickster replied “You all tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make you three suffer.”

“So this is funny to you? Killing her over and over again?” Dean gritted his teeth.

“One- yes, it is fun. And two -this is so not about killing Y/N. This joke is on you two. I mean… come on. How great has it been to watch you to see her being torn apart again and again. Watching your sister die everyday. Forever.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The trickster smiled. “How long will it take you to realise you can’t save your sister, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah? We kill you, this ends now.” Sam growled.

“Woah. Okay, look. I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be wednesday. I swear.”

“You're lying. “

He shrugged. “If I am, you know where to find me.”

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time-”

Sam couldn’t contain the gasp that fell from his lips. “It’s wednesday!”

“Yeah…?” You said from across the room where you were rummaging though your bag. “Which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that crap off, would you?” you asked him.

“No. Leave it on.” Dean interjected. He agreed with Sam. If he heard Asia one more time he was going to kill himself. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

“...No. Jesus, how many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Dean sighed. “Wait..what do you remember.”

“I remember you two being pretty whacked out yesterday. And then i remember running into the trickster. S’bout it really.”

“Right. Whatever. Lets get out of here.” Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

“What? No breakfast?” You asked, slightly upset that you were going to miss out on the diner food you had quite enjoyed yesterday.

“No breakfast.”

Sam and Dean were still inside when they heard it. The unmistakable pop of a gun being fired. You were outside loading the last of your things into Baby and-

Sam's heart sank.

“Y/N!” He cried, dropping what he was doing and racing down the stairs towards you.

The offender fled the moment the gunshot had sounded and your two brothers could see him rounding the corner, but their concern was on you, sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood.

They shook you, crying out your name but you didn’t move. Your heart had stopped beating.

“No. This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, only to nearly cry when he opened them again and you were still lying lifelessly in his brothers clutch. “We’re supposed to wake up.”

And then, he began to cry.

Part 2 may be coming…I’ll add it to my to do list

498 notes View Post

the-avengers-not-the-nazis

6 months ago

100% agree with this

i was thinking abt this for a while

Tags

the lost boys alex winter kiefer sutherland the lost boys 1987 david the lost boys dwayne the lost boys brooke mccarter billy wirth david tlb the lost boys david the lost boys dwayne dwayne tlb

422 notes View Post

the-avengers-not-the-nazis

4 months ago

NSFW Alphabet: Poly!Lost Boys + Michael Edition

A/N: Version including Star

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

• David is an inherently selfish person. He's used to sharing with the boys, but he still wants your attention. He won't admit this though, he'll just stare daggers at you until you cuddle up to him of your own free will. He'll rub his hand up and down your arm with a smug little smirk while he lights up a cigarette because he got his way.

• Dwayne is a very tactile person so he's the most likely to clean you up afterward (with what little they have in the cave) and cuddle up to your thighs and rest his head down there while you comb your fingers through his hair. He just really loves touching you. He's also the most emotionally intelligent one in the group, so he knows it's nice to be taken care of after.

• Michael is not as likely as Dwayne to clean you up. Occasionally, though, he will feel inclined to lick wipe cum off of you, especially if it's his or Dwayne's. Other than that, he'll cuddle up to the side of you that David isn't occupying and shoot the shit with Marko. Most likely to fall asleep out of all the boys.

• As much as Paul loves you and loves being close to you, he's lighting up a joint after. He's just filled with so much energy after sex, he'll probably blast some music on the speakers they stole bought and jump around the room. Will probably go hunting.

• When Marko isn't flirting with chatting up Michael, he's being a general nuisance. Poking and prodding at places he knows you're ticklish at, pressing on hickies and bruises he left behind to see you jump, and nipping at any of your exposed skin. It's his way of subtly checking on you, making sure they weren't too rough with you. He figures if you can yell at him, then you can't be too hurt. Undoubtedly will be roped into going hunting with Paul.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

• David likes his brain. Cliche? Maybe, but it's true. His intellect, mixed with his intimidating, yet, seductive, blue eyes, got him whatever he wanted when he was human, and it goes double for his undead life.

Loves your neck. He loves how your pulse jumps under his hand when he squeezes it, he loves how soft it feels under his lips when he marks you up, and he particularly loves to feed from there.

• Dwayne likes his chest and stomach, but mostly because of how much you like them. Believe it or not, he does in fact own shirts, but with abs like his, why would he bother wearing one?

He wants to say he loves all of you equally, but he knows that a glimpse of your thighs at any time will give him a semi. Favorite spot to feed from you.

• Michael is partial to his arms and back. He'd die if anyone said this about him, but Michael is a total gym rat. He likes knowing even without the vampire strength, he'd be able to carry you around with no problem. He'll try to subtly flex in front of you in his little cropped muscle shirts, so please tell him how strong you think he is.

He's definitely the most sentimental of the boys, since he's still half-human, and he's always wanted that teenage relationship you see in movies. As such, he loves your hands. They're smaller than his and they feel like they fit perfectly together. He loves to hold them in public, he loves to play with them when you're sitting next to him/on his lap, and he loves how they look wrapped around his dick.

• Paul loves his hair. Though it technically isn't a body part, he puts so much effort into taking care of it that it's practically an extension of himself. He really loves when you pull on it.

Boob man, boob man! We got ourselves a boob man, people! Big or small. He's looking at them, he's grabbing them, and he's most definitely sucking on them. If and when his clingy ass cuddles up to you, his head is homing in on them like a missile.

• Marko likes his hands. They're long and dexterous. He actually sewed each of those patches onto his jacket and if you just so happen to find a random patch sewed into your clothing, you know who to blame. His hands are also skilled at other things that involve far less clothing.

He loves your ass! He keeps his hands in your back pocket when you're out in public and loves to see you jump when he squeezes your ass through your jeans. In fact, whenever you wear a skirt, he does everything in his power to get you to bend over and whenever he gets a peek, he thinks maybe there is a God.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

• David is cumming in your mouth or on you. If he's in a good mood, he might ask you where you want it. It's more than likely going on your face though.

• Dwayne always prefers cumming deep inside you because it feels intimate, he's real soft like that. And even though he knows he can't get you pregnant, it doesn't mean he can't try. Also, it's less of a clean-up.

• Michael can't cum inside you since you're both technically human. He doesn't really have a preference, so it's really up to you.

• Paul is gross. He loves making a mess, so cumming on you is his second favorite part of having sex with you. 9 times out of 10 will be aiming for your tits.

• Marko likes to cum on your ass or back because he's a feral animal. He'll wipe it off, at least. Probably with your clothes.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

• David plans on turning you eventually. He's allowing you to enjoy your humanity for now and giving you the illusion of choice. But just know, somewhere over the horizon, the change is coming. You somehow got him to care about you, and he's not letting you get away anytime soon. The other guys know (other than Michael) and maybe they'll feel a little guilty for deceiving you, but they're still just as selfishly sadistic as David. You might hate them for it, but they'll have the rest of eternity to make it up to you.

• Dwayne is into seeing you choke on him, more so than David even. It's not even an ego thing, he just loves your reaction and how hard you're trying to please him. No joke, the freakiest one in the group.

• Michael so desperately wants you to ride his face, but he doesn't know how to broach the topic and he doesn't want to just ask you. His pride won't let him. Needless to say, he's very jealous of how confident the other guys are.

• Paul really, really, really wants to drink your blood when your high to see if he'll get high from it. Not a dirty secret, but an odd one nonetheless.

• Marko has stolen multiple pairs of your panties. How he managed to get them is a secret to everyone but him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

• Hmm...it depends on what you count as experience. Though he's a total pretty boy, Michael, at most, has experience kissing and heavy petting. He's made out with people before, but he was always too awkward to seal the deal.

• The other boys came from time periods where casual sex was frowned upon. Less so for men, but still frowned upon. I can see Paul and Marko sleeping with their prey before eating them, but David and Dwayne don't like to play with their food. So the two of them don't have much experience, but David has enough confidence in what he's doing that he seems like a natural and Dwayne is very intuitive and can read your body.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

• David likes when you ride him. He'll sit back, maybe smoke a cigarette, while you work for him. But don't be mistaken, he's still in control. He also likes making you grind on his thigh while he sits back and watches. Something about seeing you so needy for him that you'll hump his leg like a dog, makes him feel powerful.

• Dwayne loves any position where he's close to you and can kiss you, missionary in particular. He can leave marks all over you and you him, he can see all the expressions he brings out of you, and he especially loves how your thighs feel wrapped around his waist.

• Michael likes when you ride him for the complete opposite reason as David. He acts all nonchalant when he asks you, but it's really because he likes being under you. He's in the perfect position to grab your hips and help you ride him, but if you just so happen to slap him around, well, who is he to stop you?

• Paul, like most teenage boys, wants to impress his girlfriend (who just so happens to be you). What better way to impress you than to take you flying! Knowing Paul and his libido, this leads to sky sex baby! Something about the adrenaline of doing something dangerous and possibly being spotted is addicting for you both. Let's just hope he doesn't get too distracted. Falling from that height is definitely gonna ruin the mood.

• Marko's favorite is doggy, surprise surprise. He'll absolutely try to talk you into anal. Whether you do or not is a different story. He's also partial to you sitting on his lap, your back to his chest.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

• David will only laugh during sex if he's laughing at you. If somebody embarrassed themselves in some way, it is guaranteed to get a condescending chuckle out of him.

• Dwayne isn't really a goofy person in general and he takes your pleasure very seriously. At most, you'll get a smirk or a smile out of him.

• Michael definitely isn't going out of his way to make you laugh while he's 7 and a half inches deep in you, but he's not opposed to laughing if something funny happens.

• Paul is the one everyone is laughing at. Very likely to say something while he's dirty talking that'll make you pause before bursting into laughter. Especially if he's high.

• Marko is very giggly in any given situation, and he makes a habit of never taking himself or others too seriously.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

• David has never touched a razor in his life. It's the 80s baby, the bush is in fashion! Not that he cares; he just doesn't care enough to shave. He is, as we all know, a bottle blond, but he isn't manic enough to dye his pubic hair. Vampire or not, there are just some lines he will not cross. He will, however, have you help dye his happy trail from brown to bleach blond. It's your favorite day of the month because he walks around shirtless after with his jeans slung very, very low to let the dye set.

• Speaking of happy trails, Dwayne's is on full display considering his total lack of a shirt and it. Is. Perfect. It's a perfect smattering of dark hair leading from his navel to his crotch that makes you want to follow it with your tongue. Could be convinced to trim his pubic hair if you complain enough, but he isn't gonna like it.

• Michael has a bush because he does care that it's in fashion. He's still susceptible to the latest fads and the world is still riding that "all-natural" wave from the 70s. His pubic hair is a little darker than the hair on the rest of his body and it's just as curled as the hair on his head. Can be peer pressured into shaving it.

• Paul doesn't grow much hair to begin with, which is surprising considering how long and thick the hair on his head is. Unlike David, Paul is a natural blond and what little pubic hair he has lays flat. He'll shave it into shapes occasionally, but it itches every time it grows back.

• Marko's hair is thick and coily. Not curly, coily. It's dark blond, not that you ever see it since he prefers to have it shaved. One time, Paul convinced him to let him wax him; never again.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

• David is not romantic in the traditional sense, but you'll never doubt how he feels about you. He's not gonna worship you and kiss the ground you walk on, he's not Michael for God's sake, but there's a certain possessive quality to the sex you have.

• Intimacy is Dwayne's forte. But don't assume that means he's a prude, far from it. Sure, he'll take his time to kiss you from head to toe before he even takes his pants off, but he'll also finger you on the Ferris wheel. The duality of man.

• Michael...hmm. Michael has an odd balance with intimacy. On one hand, he really does want to make your time together romantic and affectionate, on the other, he just gets so caught up and drunk in you that he can never wait long before he dives in.

• Paul wouldn't know intimacy if it grabbed him by the dick. He still loves you, of course, and the sex is great, but that's not his MO. He's kind of blind to romance.

• Marko is surprisingly intimate. Sometimes, he'll stay behind in the cave while the others go hunting so you and him can have some alone time.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

• Of course, Michael has done it before. He's a boy teeming with hormones. But once you started dating, it sort of became obsolete. Sure, if the mood strikes and you're nowhere in sight, he'll do what must be done, but he definitely doesn't prefer it.

• I can't imagine the other boys masturbating. Like, legitimately. If they get horny, they'll just have sex. Easy.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

• They're all voyeurs. They'd have to be in a relationship with this many people. But David likes watching the most. He likes to sit back in his chair with a cigarette and watch you all together before he joins in. He's technically the leader so it's like you're all putting on a show for him. Choking? Definitely choking and he does it in public too. He'll grab your neck and use his forefinger to turn your chin towards him to kiss you. Feeling your walls clench around him as he tightens his grip is heaven-sent.

• Dwayne has a thing for your smell. Not like your perfume or anything, but your natural musk. He buries his nose in your hair when he hugs you. He even prefers it if you don't shave your pubic hair. Of course, he's not gonna tell you that. But the way he ruts his hips into the bed when his nose is buried in your pussy, definitely hints at it. Somnophilia on a lesser level. There's something about how much you trust him that gets him going.

• Michael has a mommy kink? More likely than you think. He'll probably only call you that during the daytime when the other guys are asleep. It happened for the first time while you were riding him and you wrapped your hand around his throat. Maybe you were trying to stop him from moaning so loud in your house full of people or maybe it was just unconscious on your part, either way, he couldn't stop it from slipping out. Please don't tell the guys.

• Paul likes roleplay to an extent. Think less doctor and patient and more rockstar and his groupie. It'll be very giggly and very unserious, but you'll both have fun. Surprisingly, paul thinks it's hot when you cry. Unsurprisingly, he also thinks it's hot when you're angry.

• Marko is an exhibitionist. Keeping it within the group is one thing, but Marco likes to push it to another level. I'm talking about places where you two will definitely get caught. You'd be surprised how often someone might walk upon you two and get off on peeping on you. Rest assured they're Marko's next meal. And when all of you are on the boardwalk, he'll take your hand in his and drag you off with a pep in his step to desecrate another fair ride. You two have done horrible things in the Tunnel of Love.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

• Oh, anywhere and everywhere, baby! If there's a will, there's a way and there's definitely a will. In the cave, on the beach, in a booth at a diner they're definitely getting banned from, etc. The list goes on! Hell, they'd do it on the boardwalk if it didn't mean a permanent ban.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

• It would be easier just to name what doesn't turn them on. Like, clowns. Clowns don't turn them on.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

• As a general rule of thumb for all of them, no to anything that'll leave you in more pain than pleasure. No ageplay either.

• David is against any degrading that insults his intelligence. Calling him a slut or a whore is one thing, calling him stupid is another. He won't drink from you during sex because he knows how easy it is to get carried away when pleasure is involved. It'll be a pain if he killed you too soon.

• Dwayne is not a big fan of any of the nasty bodily fluids. He may be a sex fiend, but he's not an animal. He's also wholeheartedly against degrading. He's more of a soft dom/service top, and he called you a slut once or something equally as demeaning, but his heart wasn't in it. He doesn't want to unintentionally make you insecure about anything.

• Michael isn't into angry sex. It's very rare when you're mad at him, even rarer for him to be mad at you. If you're both mad at each other, it's over something serious and sex would be the last thing on his mind. He's all for makeup sex though.

• Paul's not super into power roles during sex. Nobody in charge, nobody calling the shots, just vibes.

• Marko wouldn't call you mommy or any title. He doesn't want you calling him anything along those lines either. He just can't take it seriously. Calling him Daddy is a quick ticket to getting laughed at.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

• David prefers receiving. The asshole he is sees blowjobs as a treat for you. It's not something you're doing for him, but something he's allowing you to do. He'll sit back in his weird little wheelchair thrown as you kneel in front of him and he expects a 'please' and 'thank you'. Not opposed to giving as long as you beg for it.

• If Dwayne had to pick a place to die for the second time, it would be between your thighs. If you offer it, he won't turn it down. He loves seeing you between his thighs after all, but there's something about feeling your soft thighs twitching and squeezing the sides of his head. He's obsessed with the way you sound when he has his mouth on you, the way you smell, and the way you shake. It's almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

• Michael gives as much as he gets. Whenever you go down on him, he has to return the favor. He's literally singing your praises when you go down on him, but he really, really wishes you would sit on his face. The idea of you grinding on his tongue and using him for your pleasure makes his hands sweat and his knees weak.

• Paul will give you the sloppiest head. He'd have smoked something beforehand, where he gets the weed is one of the 8th wonders of the world. Pushing your legs over his shoulders, gripping handfuls of your thighs, moaning into you. Literally just pussy drunk. Dear God, pull his hair and lead him where you want him. Legitimately could cum in his pants. Moans like a whore when you give him head.

• Marko much prefers skipping to the main course. He's not opposed to giving or receiving, but those are just appetizers. If he wanted to get his dick wet, he'd much rather do it inside of your pussy. He also has the overwhelming urge to talk, which kind of takes away from him going down on you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

• None of them have a set pace. It depends on the mood you caught them in and where you are.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

• With this many insatiable partners, quickies are a staple of your relationship and they happen often. They're typically initiated by Paul and Marko, but the others aren't above pulling you into a semi-secluded alleyway either.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

• Do the guys who hung from the bottom of a train track as a train rode by above them while they hooted and hollered (sans Michael, who was scared shitless) take risks?

• In all seriousness, they're all down to experiment. You don't become a vampire by sticking to the same old shit. They'll try anything you want as long as it doesn't put you in immediate danger (it's best not to tell them about Paul's favorite past time in the sky). Remember: safe, sane, and consensual. While safety and sanity are relative among them, consent is not. Consent is a 6 way street for you guys. So if you're game, they are too.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

• They can go for however many rounds you're up for. Individually, I'd say keep going until your legs go numb. But with all of them at the same time, keep it at a 2 round maximum. You're only human after all. For now.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

• Nope. Maybe there's a sex shop somewhere in California, but with this many partners, none of you need any.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

• We don't even need to talk about David. You know and I know that he's a total tease. In fact, the only reason his photo isn't in the dictionary next to the word tease is because vampires don't show up in pictures. His teasing is mostly private.

• Dwayne is an intentional tease and an accidental tease. He'll take his time with the foreplay, nipping at your bare skin before kissing the rest of your body, but he won't touch you where you want him to unless you ask him. He'll say, "Speak up. I can't hear you if you're mumbling." Knowing damn well he heard you with his advanced hearing. But sometimes he'll hold your hips still against his while you sit on his lap in public, or trail his hands over your bare thighs without any sexual thoughts behind his actions.

• Michael is under no illusions that he's a tease. He won't even attempt it because he knows it'll be turned on him. In fact, YOU tease him. All you have to do is grab his chin and pull him into a kiss and he's following you around the boardwalk like a puppy. Hugging you from behind and pressing his hard-on into your back.

• Paul likes to think he's a tease, and it's really adorable that he tries. He'll start off real strong but he's easily swayed by your pleas and his own overwhelming need, and soon enough he'll end up begging you.

• Marko, like David, is a big tease, but, like, in the most literal sense. Poking and prodding at you, pulling you into a hug from behind before biting at your neck, pinching your ass to make you jump, etc etc. Just real gremlin shit. He's the schoolboy and you're his crush, get ready to have your pigtails tugged. Doesn't matter if you're in private or in public, he's an equal opportunity tease, baby!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

• David is mostly quiet. Mostly because he's so focused on the sounds you make and the best way to get more out of you. But partially because he thinks being silent during sex fits his image. He'll occasionally let out a grunt or a curse.

• Dwayne is louder than expected. He isn't screaming, sadly, but his moans are deep and unrestrained. He knows how much you like to hear him, so he won't hold himself back.

• At the beginning of your giant relationship, Michael still holds onto that toxic idea that moaning makes him less masculine. But Dwayne isn't afraid to moan and he's the most manliest man Michael knows. So he drops that trait pretty fast. Is very loud and will get you caught in public.

• When Paul moans, they're very soft, pretty things—just like the rest of him. A lot of "Fuck, babe." And "Just like that."

• Marko is more of a huffer. He'll show his pleasure through panting with a few scattered moans thrown in. Don't be surprised if he giggles every now and then.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

• Contrary to popular belief, David is willing to let you take control; if you think you can handle him, that is. The biggest brat. You'll really have to tighten the metaphorical leash on him. He expects you to slap him around, choke him a little, scratch him up. If you aren't rough with him, you're getting absolutely no respect and he will make fun of you. What's the point of letting you be in charge if you're too afraid to. Take. Charge.

• Dwayne wishes he could marry you. He's not exactly a traditionalist, but seeing how much love you give him and the boys every day, and how much they love you in turn, can make a man sentimental. And you know what they say: every girl dreams of her wedding day, and every boy dreams of his wedding night. In this case, Dwayne dreams of both.

• Michael is very grateful that he can bring you home to meet his mom. She's been nagging him about not having a girlfriend for years (little does she know there are also 4 boyfriends). And you guys get along, which is a huge plus!

• When his scruff starts leaning towards a beard, Paul lets you shave it for him. Since he can't exactly see himself in the mirror, you're a pretty good solution. And it's not like any cuts you leave behind will last long.

• Marko is convinced you have a favorite among them, no matter how much you insist you don't. He'll do little competitions and ask you who kisses the best and who's the funniest and who makes you cum the hardest. He's honestly fine with not being the favorite. As long as he isn't your least favorite.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

• Dwayne is the biggest (a surprise to no one) at a whopping 8 and a half inches. He's thick too; all in all, pretty proportional. Definitely something to write home about.

• David is close behind with a nice 8 inches. The tip flushes a soft red, becoming darker the longer he's hard.

• Michael is just about 7 and a half inches. A little left-leaning, with a thin vein along the bottom.

• Paul and Marko are both between 6.5 and 7 inches, but Marko is a little thicker. The only word that comes to mind for Paul is pretty, just like the rest of him.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

• They're all eighteen and nineteen-year-old vampires (and half vampires), you do the math. Your own libido skyrockets to keep up with theirs.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

• If it's at night, then Michael could be persuaded to take a nap with you afterward. But the rest, not at all. Remember: they're vampires. If it's closer to sunrise, then they're all likely just to sleep with you.

Tags

the lost boys michael emerson david the lost boys paul the lost boys dwayne the lost boys david x reader dwayne x reader poly!lost boys poly!lost boys x reader michael emerson x reader

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

3 weeks ago

Morning with your captain 💙

Tags

one piece buggy the clown op buggy captain buggy buggy one piece one piece buggy buggy x reader buggy fanart

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

1 month ago

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist

1. F$ck The Mar*nes.

2. What does a songbird do?

3. At least a balloon or two.

4. Standards, darlings. Standards.

5. One pansy on the plate.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Tags

female reader one piece fanfiction one piece x reader x fem!reader op x reader sirencore one piece x you one piece imagine one piece x y/n siren reader

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

5 months ago

LIVE ACTION ONE PIECE HEADCANON

Poly! Straw Hats x reader basically. These are just an idea for smth bigger.

I imagine being a part of the Straw Hats is difficult for the heart. Especially when they are all ATTRACTIVE.

Luffy

You will just be sitting there trying to snack on a tangerine just for Luffy to come up in front of you flashing the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. You will mention the fact that there are literal plants on board growing them and he will hit you with a:

"Yeah, but yours looks so much better."

How would you possibly be able to deny your adorable captain? You were going to hand the orange to him, but he ends up laying down on your lap. Eyes closed, mouth wide open waiting for you to feed it to him. This happens a lot and at the end he always pats your head or just stays there chilling.

Sanji

You wanted to help Sanji in the kitchen since you have always been interested in his work. You are trying your best to pay attention, but it is really hard to when he is staring over your shoulder whispering directions in your ear.

Every time you mess something up his hands come to your arms and gentle move them the correct way.

"There you go. Yeah, just like that, beautiful."

Nami

It is rare for Nami to make you feel this way since unlike the others she gives space, but when it is just girls being girls and she is running her hands through your hair helping you wash it, while scratching to make your scalp feel better. Your heart pounds.

She even helps you braid your hair (she learnt it from the Fishman). It would be very intimate and while you are trying not to explode, she will be just talking about her day and how one of the boys annoyed her.

Usopp

Usopp is an incredible storyteller he always has a group gathered around interested in a good Pirate's life. It's not how cute he is when telling the stories that ends up pulling at your heart strings. It is the he talks about you during the stories.

His use of words such as: beautiful, strong, smart, kind.

That just end up making the crowd fantasize about being friends with you and how cool you must be in battle. It is like Usopp's way of praising you.

Zoro

For Zoro I would like to imagine that in the live action they kept his goofy ass personality. You would be looking over a document or map making sure everything is still in check only for his big body to block the sunlight. He would be bending down looking over your shoulder and pointing to stuff on it asking questions in your ear.

He has no sense of personal space. He just never really sees anything wrong with any of his behavior.

Pulling you towards him by your waist, dropping an arm around your shoulder, moving you out of the way by effortlessly lifting you up by the hips, using your body to lean against when he is sitting. It is too much for your heart to handle.

Tags

one piece roronoa zoro sanji one piece live action monkey d. luffy one piece luffy usopp god usopp one piece x reader one piece sanji

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

5 months ago

keishin finally (finally) gets you into bed with him—well, onto couch with him, in his little one-room apartment in the back of sakanoshita mart—and he thinks all his prayers have finally been answered. thinks he's found some sort of cosmic apology for every misfortune he's ever suffered in how soft your lips are against his and how sweet you taste.

he knows he doesn't deserve this; that he hasn't done anything in his unremarkable life to merit how good you feel underneath his hands, or how dizzying those little noises you're making when he touches you are. but, against all odds, you're really here, you really want him, and he's determined not to fuck this up.

"keishin."

every time you say his name he feels like he's hearing it for the first time. like he's being blessed by it. it takes him a moment to process the way you've called for his attention as he suckles a little bruise against your throat, using every modicum of will he has left in him to pull away and meet your gaze.

you look so good underneath him on his ugly, ancient couch that it makes him ache. your lips glossy and swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded and yearning. you reach up and touch his cheek, and he can't tell if your hand is cool or his face is burning.

"do you have a condom?"

and all at once keishin comes crashing—violently, disastrously, crushingly—back to earth.

he blinks at you, wide-eyed, in the wake of your question. you seem to understand his answer even though he can't bring himself to say it.

"are there any in the shop?" you ask him, optimistic and gentle, with an encouraging smile.

keishin perks up—visibly brightening at your moment of genius—but as quickly as the hope uplifts him, he's deflating again. he pinches his bottom lip between his teeth.

"we're out right now," he murmurs sheepishly, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

he only keeps a couple of boxes of condoms behind the counter at a time, since so few people ever come in asking for them. last week takinoue had showed up half-hammered two hours after closing, and banged on the shop door until keishin grumpily answered it. his drunk friend went on to explain that he'd gone out drinking with his colleague from work and she'd invited him home with her, but he desperately needed condoms. keishin chucked the last box at his stupid face, and yusuke swore up and down their next night out drinking would be his treat before skittering off into the night again with a grin from ear to ear.

he was going to kill yusuke with his bare hands the next time he saw him.

"keishin, it's okay," you say with a light laugh at the positively crestfallen look on his face. "we don't have to—"

"no!" keishin interrupts you before you can say the words he just cant bear to hear. not right now. not from you.

even if you promise him that this could happen again another time—that you don't have to go all the way tonight, that there will be other opportunities—he has no way of knowing if that's true. no way of guaranteeing it.

he's got a taste for you now. he knows what you sound like. he knows how you feel.

and he refuses to let this opportunity pass him by.

keishin pulls himself upright so quickly from where he'd been hovering overtop of you on his lumpy sofa that he almost gives himself whiplash. he stumbles up to his feet, brushing his bleached hair back from his eyes—he's not sure where or when he'd lost his hairband, but the strands are hanging freely now and falling into his gaze. he grabs his jacket from the floor where he'd hastily shucked it when the two of you stumbled through the door in the throes of passion.

"I'm just gonna run to shimada mart!" he says to you as he stuffs his arms ungracefully into the sleeves of his jacket, his words so frantic they're almost bleeding together. "it's only about 10 minutes away, if you just wait right here—"

"keishin."

"shouldn't be longer than 25 minutes! 20, even! i might even be able to get macchan to drive me back if—"

"keishin, wait."

your laughter makes him stop dead in his tracks, halfway to the door. he's only got one slide on his foot, the other still sock-clad, and in his haste he realizes he'd grabbed his television remote instead of his cellphone to shove into his coat pocket.

you've caught him by the sleeve of his jacket, holding the material pinched between your thumb and forefinger as you stare up at him from the sofa with the sweetest smile on your face. he's frozen as he peers down at you, his lips parted, his dick still half-hard in his jeans.

"don't go," you say to him, tugging him back towards you by your grip on his cuff. he moves easily, gravitating back into your orbit in spite of how gentle the actual pull had been.

"b-but,"—keishin casts a forlorn glance back in the direction of his apartment door—"what about the condoms?"

his voice cracks a little on the question and he has genuinely never wished so ardently for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

you release his sleeve in favour of twining your fingers with his now that he's near to you again, your soft hand slipping easily into his own. that same dull ache in the pit of his core (and between his legs) throbs again as you blink up at him.

"i've been trying to tell you," you begin, a bit exasperated but not without its own fondness. you hesitate a little, looking away shyly before adding, "we don't... need one."

keishin thinks he might die.

really, genuinely die.

he wonders if maybe this is what the old man felt like when he almost keeled over from that heart attack last year, because keishin's pulse is pounding so violently in his head he feels like his vision is going a bit spotty around the edges—like when you stand up too fast after a night of drinking.

he's brought back to the moment as your hand squeezes his own—a gentle, questioning gesture.

your lashes flutter as you blink up at him, your head tilting slightly to the side. you smile a little at the dumbfounded look on his face.

"...if that's okay with you?"

(keishin pays for takinoue's drinks for the next six months, but never explains why.)

Tags

writing hq drabble ukai keishin x reader ukai x reader hq writing

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

5 months ago

silly shuggynanigans collection

Tags

one piece buggy the clown monkey d. luffy boa hancock red haired shanks shanks shuggy benn beckman yasopp lucky roux

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis

8 months ago

“horror Movies Of The 1980s Exist At The Glorious Watershed When Special Visual Effects Finally Catch

“horror movies of the 1980s exist at the glorious watershed when special visual effects finally catch up with the gory imaginings of horror fans and movie makers. technical advances in special effects (animatronics, liquid and foam latex) meant the human frame could be distorted to grotesque new dimensions on screen. 1980s horror movies delivered the full colour close-up, look-no-strings-attached, special effect in a way that previous practitioners of the art could only dream about. everything lurking in the shadows in older horror movies was now dragged into the garish light of day. the monsters were finally out of the closet.”

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