everyone wants to be fucked by tom riddle until that man has you pinned underneath him while fucking you so deep you’re feeling him in your stomach and he’s gripping you so tight you’re sure your skin is going to turn purple but he doesn’t even notice because he’s so fucking lost in the warmth of your cunt that he’s got his head buried in your neck and he’s growling something in parseltongue that makes you think hes trying to conjure the basilisk itself, singlehandedly ignoring every whimper and whine that effortlessly makes it past your lips as he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder because salazar fucking sakes you just feel so fucking good he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides breed you as many fucking times as he can and mark you in every possible way he can think of.
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WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CELIA IS THE SAME CELIA FROM TMA??
THE CELIA THAT THOUGHT MELANIE AND GEORGIE COULD SAVE THE WORLD?!
THE SAME CELIA WHO USED TO BE LYNNE HAMMOND AND CONTACTED THE INSTITUTE?
THE SAME CELIA VOICED BY LOWRI ANN DAVIES
THE FACT THAT NOBODY IS MENTIONING THIS IS MAKING ME FEEL INSANE
LIKE DR DAVID IS TELLING ME ITS ALL IN MY HEAD
MAYBE THE REAL CELIA WAS THE FRIENDS WE MADE ALONG THE WAY
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eddie isn't sure when steve becomes a synonym for safe. isn't sure how someone he actively avoided in crowded hallways morphs into a pair of eyes he seeks out when things are too much. isn't sure what it is about steve harrington that has him gravitating towards a once was king. it just suddenly is.
steve's a steady hand on his shoulder, a gentle nudge with the toe of his shoe to get him up and moving. he's a barely there smile reassuring him that things are okay, will be okay, could be okay if they keep trying to get to whatever okay could be.
steve's there for all of them, he always has been. he's the one that every single one of their ragtag bunch runs to in their own ways because steve's strong in his own way and can take away bits of their pain and fear and hide it behind his armor so it can't hurt them anymore.
but he's different for eddie. he's more quiet, more sturdy. what would be smiles for el and a crass joke for dustin and a carefully crafted hug for robin is soft silence for eddie. maybe it's because he's the tiniest bit younger than eddie, maybe it's because he's newer, maybe it's because he put eddie back together with strong hands and an even stronger will and saw the quivering underbelly that he hides away from everyone with wide grins and overwhelming flair.
everyone except steve, apparently.
whatever it is, eddie searches for it with every chance he can. he slides closer to steve when crowds get too loud looking between their feet to make sure he isn't too close but can still feel the heat radiating off of his bare arms. he looks up to see steve's eyes on him when eddie's gone quiet, throwing him a small smile and hoping it catches. he holds onto steve's quiet acceptance of a shitty mixtape in the car when eddie needs loud, needs angry, because he feels loud, feels angry.
but then it changes.
whatever they used to be isn't a factor anymore. whatever they used to be starts to bleed into steve's fingertips against bare skin, feeling his heartbeat through paper thin veins like he's trying to remind himself that eddie made it. that he himself made sure that eddie made it.
eddie does know when that change happens, though. knows when they go from never touching to always touching. knows when it changes from the steve and eddie that are two separate thoughts to the steveandeddie that can only ever be said within the same breath.
it's just that he was so tired and steve was sitting on his ratty little twin bed in his ratty big city apartment and steve was safe. steve meant safe. steve was the hands that held him together in a nightmare world and the air in his lungs when he couldn't breathe on his own.
so it all seemed to make sense for him to crawl onto the bed, rucking up the well worn quilt that he stole from wayne under his bony knees, and settle his head onto the legs that carried him out of the upside down into a world where steve was a security blanket in and of himself.
and as eddie stared up at the ceiling with his curls draped over steve's lap, he felt when it all clicked. felt the thighs he was laying on tense and then fall, felt the hand holding crumpled magazine pages come to rest gently on his chest, palm covering his racing heart. but most of all he felt when steve looked at him, gaze landing on his face and covering him like a balm over a burn.
he looked back, because eddie always looks when steve needs him, and quickly realized he was steve's safe, too. eddie might not be sure when steve becomes a synonym for safe, but that doesn't matter. not anymore. not when eddie can be that for him, too. not when he can learn what steve needs and when he needs it. he's a joke when steve's mind starts spiraling. he's the loud of a shitty mixtape to make him smile as he sings off key when they drive. he's a hand in his hair, pulling him in to rest against his chest when there's bats and russian doctors and max's broken body clouding his vision.
eddie still crawls into his lap when he feels that bone tiredness pulling at his limbs. steve still shoves his face into eddie's chest when he has to clear away the ghosts hiding in his eyes. they still let their fingertips brush over pulse points when they need little reminders. and when they need to be wrapped up by each other, held together with hands that are gentle and unspoken promises, eddie knows they'll both go with open arms.
because they make each other feel loved, make each other feel real, make each other feel safe.
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simon coming up behind you as you’re standing in your shared closet, looking through your clothes, contemplating what to wear for the day. only wearing a bra and panties, your skin on full display for him. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him, pressing his growing bulge against your ass.
“well good morning to you, too,” you laugh but it gets cut short when his large hand pushes on your back, making you bend over slightly. it makes your insides tingle, suddenly aware of a throb in your pussy.
he doesn’t say anything, only humming in response as he continues to grind against you. his hands hold your hips, controlling them as he moves them back and forth with his own thrusts. his boxers seem too tight for him, his tip leaking precum into the fabric.
then suddenly, he pulls away, kissing your shoulder and then leaving you stunned and extremely horny. “g’na have a smoke lovie, you comin?” simon asks nonchalantly, like he wasn’t just fucking you through your clothes.
needless to say, he doesn’t get halfway through his cigarette before your needy hands are tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, way too eager to wait any longer.
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HI I still need help with moving funds! So I'm going to do something silly!
I'm going to play the We Heart Katamari Rerolled "roll up 1 million roses" level on stream until I get all 1 million roses or I meet my fundraiser goal starting Oct 13th at 3PM PST/6PM EST!
Note, speedruns of this level take between 16-19 hours. So, come join me yeah? I'll have friends coming in and out to help me on this Endeavor.
>>KOFI LINK WHERE I'M COLLECTING DONATIONS<<
>twitch link<
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Quick PSA about asexuals because woohoo stuff happened 😁
ASEXUALS ARE NOT ALL THE SAME.
I can't believe it's 2024 and some people still don't get this.
Asexuals can have sex and still be asexual. Asexuals can be sex repulsed and still be asexual. Asexuals can make sex jokes and still be asexual. Asexuals can be aromantic and still be asexual. Asexuals can be alloromantic and still be asexual. It's not just sex and romance repulsed. It's a spectrum. Ok thanks for reading my Ted talk for a second, hope you have a great rest of your day <3
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