#something DUMB AND STUPID

[usedtobecooler]

thinking about rockstar eddie signing reader's tits

warnings: reader with a vagina, piv sex, explicit content.

he’d be so smug about it too, groaning just quietly enough for you to catch it as your fingers tuck under the material of your low cut shirt to pull it further apart, expose your tits even further. you push them together with the heels of your hands to make them even more enticing, still gleaming with sweat from the exertion of bouncing around during the set.

“do you mind if i…?” he asks, smirking, eyes dark and glistening with mischief as he asks without truly asking. you nod, a flirty smile gracing your face as he touches calloused fingertips to the soft swell of your breast, stretching the skin ever so slightly as the dark sharpie dances along your heated flesh. you stifle a moan by biting your glossed bottom lip, when he swipes his fingers into the dip of your cleavage ever so gently as he pulls away.

you share a knowing look between each other, and he nods over to his security in the corner. an invitation. you nod again, batting your eyelashes. he gives his attention to the others around you as you’re whisked from the crowd silently, knocking shoulders with a burly man who guides you towards the tour bus.

you’re barely in the bus two minutes before eddie’s appearing and slamming the door shut, backing you into the lounge with heavy hands on your hips and slick lips on your neck, nipping and biting and claiming. branding.

“you’re gonna smudge the fuckin’ signature,” you gasp as he buries his face into your cleavage, sitting down and hauling you into his lap, the barely there cloth of your underwear doing nothing to help conceal the wetness of your core along the thick, rough seam of his jeans.

“fuck the stupid signature,” he groans, harsh hands tugging at your shirt until it’s ripping, falling from your frame and exposing your bare tits, “think my teeth marks on your pretty neck are consolation enough.”

you moan, fingertips burying in the loose curls that have fallen out of the messy bun that looks a little worse for wear on the crown of his head. you tug and pull until he’s grunting, punching his hips up into your cunt and your thighs instinctively try to clench, obstructed by his own spread legs in between.

your hands roam unashamedly, pulling up his shirt and running along sweat-sticky skin, mapping out every inch of him. you feel like this is a dream, the hottest one you’ve ever had as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, mean teeth clamping down until you’re whining and rutting your pussy down onto him, begging without opening your mouth.

“you want it, huh?” he asks, mouth popping off of your nipple, tip of his tongue flicking out. he looks almost innocent, those deep, dark eyes wide and searching, “you on birth control?”

you nod your head so fast you swear it makes you dizzy, “the pill, religiously for five years now,” you admit, rocking your hips again until you’re choking another pretty moan from him.

it happens in a flash. you share a look and then suddenly you’re tearing at each others clothes, your fingers working fast to unzip his pants, get a look at and a feel for what’s underneath, barely hiding even through the starchy jeans.

he’s fucking big. huge, even. has your cunt clenching before he even runs the sticky tip along your dripping core.

and he’s so nonchalant with it. lazily leaning back against the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head and the other grabbing his shit loosely as you sit up on your knees, sink down on it until you’re whimpering and dragging your nails along the softness of his pale stomach.

he snaps his hips up to meet your bouncing, the curved head of his cock running along your spot just right, enough to have you moaning open mouthed and gasping into the dense, humid air.

he’s a talker, talks you through it all — “can’t believe you’re takin’ me so easily, baby. pussy’s stretching like it was made f’me,” he watches as you sink up and down, creamy release coating his shaft and dripping down onto his mons, creating a tacky mess. the noises are fucking filthy.

it’s like an out of body experience, wanting to be so fucking good for him. wanting to show him how girls can fuck when they want it so fucking bad.

his calloused thumb dips under the hood of your cunt, finds your clit like he just knew it was there all along, and he cackles when you whine and cry his name, bucking your hips into the touch, “you’re so sensitive, you gonna cum already?” he taunts, eyes flickering up to yours, though he’s blurry in your fucking vision as your eyes half-lid and prick with tears at the edges.

“eddie,” you beg, unsure if you’re begging him to keep going or fucking stop or something else, your bouncing stuttering as the heat blooms in your core, winding up tight, “oh shit, fuck—!”

you cum with a squeak, eyes rolling back into your skull as you clench sporadically around his cock, enough to have him finally putting his fucking hands on your hips, bouncing you himself as you lose it, body tending and going lax just as fast.

“that’s it, sweetheart. fuckin’ cum for me, shit,” he grunts, pulling you in with a firm arm around your back, “grippin’ me like a vice, sweetest little pussy i’ve ever had — fuck babyyy.”

his moans are like music to your ears, his hand gripping at your waist and tugging you down as his cock pulses inside of you, cum painting your fluttering walls, milking him for all he’s worth.

it’s quick, the way he grabs you a fresh shirt from the small bundle of merch on the table to your side, an apologetic, sheepish smile on his features as you slide up and off of his spent length, a hiss escaping you both.

you know what this was as well as he does. not a single regret as you stand up on wobbly legs, his cum already threatening to spill from you and drip down the insides of your thighs.

“we’ve gotta go, sweetheart,” he’s soft spoken as he hands you the shirt, which you take gratefully. he pulls up his pants, tucking himself away — it’s so mundane, a simple task, but you can’t look away, thinking with your pussy as you watch him handle himself.

“thanks for the good time, rockstar,” you’re a little louder as you speak, a dopey little smile taking over as you slip the shirt on, “you lived up to the hype.”

eddie smirks, standing up from the seat and backing you towards the door, so close that you’re almost touching chests, as he leans behind you to open the door, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, “don’t be a stranger, sweetheart. i’m back in a few weeks — make sure to get ol’ ricky here’s number, i’ll set tickets back for you.”

your heart flutters, against your fucking will, “aren’t you sweet. guess i’ll see you soon then, eddie.”

you do see him again. and again after that. and maybe even a third time…

[pat-lechem]

[kaitobromota]

[Blows the dust off this blog] Long time no see...

Back in the Danganronpa pits... have some silly doodles for an...AU? or like, slight canon divergence/missing scene? I got to chapter 5 in my THH replay and was thinking about the part where these four are alone in the gym dismantling Monokuma all night.

I know realistically it's supposed to be because they were paranoid and extra careful about taking it slow so nothing went wrong... but like... their alibi is from 10pm to 7am? In my heart of hearts it actually took the whole night because they kept getting distracted and chit-chatting and got into a bunch of shenanigans once the actual dismantling part was done. Like Byakuya says they went to the bathroom in pairs?? Not to mention you'd totally expect him to make a comment about how insufferable it was being stuck together for like nine hours. And Hina says they played rock paper scissors to decide who brought back breakfast???

You can't tell me they didn't bond at least a little bit. A friend pointed out it'd have the vibes of a 4am discord call and that's exactly it. Emotional confessions about personal fears and insecurities to dumb physiological debates that become inside jokes forever. Etc.

[tolicandco]

at this point this will become an arthur fan account

[glitchy-anime-fan]

Athena when Odysseus doesn’t listen to her and something goes wrong:

(Mattei Athena at Louvre. Roman copy from the 1st century BC/AD after a Greek original of the 4th century BC attributed to Cephisodotos or Euphranor.)

[utilitycaster]

I really do dunk on villain stans a lot but the thing is like. I genuinely do not care on any sort of moral level if you love a villain, or villains generally. They are pretend. The murder and the war crimes aren't real. Do whatever.

The issue is that like, this is a person the narrative is telling you to root against, and that it's okay because they are pretend. That doesn't mean they can't have sympathetic qualities but it does mean that as a rule the story is telling you "hey, here are the heroes who oppose this person, cheer for them" and also "you should boo and hiss when this motherfucker comes on stage" and a lot of people who like villains will look at everyone else and go "why the FUCK are you booing and hissing don't you see they have TRAUMA" instead of acknowledging the big "TIME TO BOO AND HISS" signs being thrown out by the story and saying "bring it on."

And I suppose you can argue that this is an overly simplistic way of looking at it, but if we're dealing with a story with at least some reasonably clearly delineated heroes and villains you're not intelligent for trying to pretend it's more complicated than it is. I'm not talking about the gray areas of antagonist who could be persuaded otherwise, nor antihero but straight up "this is the bad guy, we all but have arrows pointing at them saying it". Like, really, a lot of people who stan villains don't seem to do it for the love of the game, which I would respect, but because of a sour grapes situation with the heroes, or because they're in their edgy "subversion automatically means you're the smarter one" phase.

Anyway my point is I don't care if you woobify a villain for any sort of moral reasons but I do think that if you do so, you're a coward and not terribly good at understanding stories. I also don't care from any sort of moral standpoint if you enthusiastically cheer on the villain, but if you act confused or mad that most people aren't with you on that, I think you're an idiot and not terribly good at understanding stories.

[bad-wolf-circe]

actually i'm anti aesthetic. actually i don't believe in living my life according to the mandate of the same 500 pinterest images. actually i think my life has some meaning, some shades of color to it, outside of a set of rules and stereotypes that are presented to me in a tidy little package. actually, maybe i'm the ugly color gradient and that means there is nuance to the way i live. actually, i don't want to JUST be a witch, or a clean girl, or a mythic bitch, or the feminine mystique, or a coastal grandmother, or a cottagecore lover of women, or punk, or rock, or death metal, or goth. actually being a girl hasn't been anything like what's been shown to me -- and so i will be a girl on my own terms. actually i think being a girl has been nothing like the movies or the moodboards. actually FUCK your moodboards and your makeup too. actually i'm nothingandeverythingcore. actually im alive im alive im alive and that requires no aestheticization. it requires no sanitization of existence. actually life is most beautiful when it is diverse. actually i will try everything and know everything and nothing will stop me; my life will be varied and beautiful and messy and chaotic and occasionally organized and exactly the way it ought to be, you FUCKERS.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[kayak-lmao]

frank dying in glue trap

idk

[satanstrousers]

Having lived through the nightmare that was the Dragon Age fandom and the discourse around like... every single NPC, its pretty incredible to be playing Baldurs Gate now and coming on here and just... enjoying the content? It feels exactly the same but like no one's sending paragraph long anon hate about you liking a certain character I swear you can literally feel the user base of this website maturing.

[iarrelm]

An early morning conversation about tea got a little out of hand

[wonderinc-sonic]

Thank-you doodles for Donations

-Edit! Updating the pictures again for some different styles and characters! Also to feature some of my favourite stupid doodles-

If you happen to be making a donation to any charitable cause helping get food, water and medical aid into Palestine right now - send me a screenshot of a receipt with a request (separate messages if you want for privacy) and I can offer you... a crummy doodle to say thanks for donating?

Details under cut 🤷

I'll do my earnest best to do whatever you asked for, excluding anything nsfw or anything ship-ish where any party is, like, a kid, but including any O.C.s providing you send me a link to a reference, description or a picrew.

I'm a beginner and I have a full time job, so I'm not making promises for the quality - you can see from the collage above what we're working with here! However, I have no pride and there is no prompt too silly for me to attempt.

No minimum and no scaling complexity for increased donation - I'm doing this to celebrate your generosity, it's not a commission!

Can be anonymous, or private-message respond, I really don't mind.

Any verifiable charity donation is fine - I encourage you to donate through the channels that maximise the effect of your money. For example, some places of work have donation-match schemes for selected charities, and depending on your country of origin you may be able to deduct tax on your donations to particular organisations, which might help you donate. We're all working with what we've got in a cost of living crisis - definitely worth seeing if you can make your donations go a bit further with government topups!

Everything feels really quite hopeless right now, I'm doing this selfishly because I want to see donations happening and to gas them up a bit.

Oh! And if you have a pet, my birthday is April 29th. I'd love to see them just being themselves. That's what I'm asking for on the day from everyone else.

[unlawfulchaos]

[I choose to believe the Ice went back with Mav and they taught at Top Gun together after the Layton mission]

Maverick: Hello, welcome to your first lesson at Top Gun.

Maverick: Today we will be talking about... uh...

Iceman, whispering: Building loyalty.

Maverick: Killing royalty.

[shallowseeker]

My fave thing about Jack on rewatch was realizing how internally unlike Sam he is, despite the symbolic, structural blocks of being a “gifted kid.” Emotionally? Nah.

Not if you’re paying attention.

I feel like @dawg-motif really helped me puzzle that out re: Jack’s valuation of blunt honesty and need for space and processing. And after that, it’s like Jack’s entire arc clicked into place for my brain.

There is such a temptation in fandom to assume he’s a copy-pasta of Sam because of his “doomed child” motif, or that he’s like Cas because of his literal-mindedness and sass. But emotionally? Not even close.

Or worse, there can be as assumption that his “performing!Jack” is how how he actually feels about things... Falling for Jack’s sunshiney ditzy act is like falling for Dean’s mythical Marlboro man act.

[pallanophblargh]

You know what the worst feeling I've been having lately is? Wanting more than anything to get back into Actual Art again but finding a sudden anxiety that stops me. Even if I'm still as capable as I was, it's the mental block. It's why I've all but kept commissions closed for this whole time: this overwhelming fear of letting people down. Especially in times as troubled as these, where money is tight, and patience is thin. I've always been blessed with such patient and considerate commissioners, but I would hate to test people because of my malfunctioning brat of a brain.

I just wish it came to me as easily as it did before the massive burnout/medication. But it's up to me to come up with my own motivation. And it's ME.

Anyway. Thanks as always for sticking around despite... all of this. I'll get back on the horse soon.