#and the faded baggy jeans!

[waitmyturtles]

[ares857]

internet finds

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[lilgynt]

i bought whole set of lip stains it works so fuckin well i never feel this confident in a red. FUCK

[secretromanticsstuff]

this time period feels swagless.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Three sets of digital drawings of Alice Dyer from The Magnus Protocol in different outfits on a brown background. She is a thin white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair with faded pink tips, crooked teeth, and pink painted nails, and she is always wearing pink cat-eye glasses, two pairs of silver earrings and silver snakebites, with a varying third ear piercing as well.

The first image features three pajama outfits.

The first is a baby pink cami, dusty pink shorts, and burgundy slippers, in which she also has her hair tied in a bun with a burgundy colored scrunchie. She is standing hunched and yawning.

The second is a dusty pink cami, gray PJ bottoms with pink stars and moons, a dark blue robe, and burgundy slippers. In that one, her hair is down and extra shaggy, and she is scratching her side, lifting her shirt a bit.

The third has her with nicely curled hair, wearing a baby pink satin robe, a black cami, and burgundy stockings, slippers, and matching makeup. She is standing coyly lifting her robe slightly with one leg lifted and a hand to her mouth.

The second image features three work outfits.

The first is of her in a pink and gray flannel shirt, dark blue hoodie, patchwork flannel maxi skirt, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a gold and red braided bracelet and a pink one. She is standing in profile, smiling with her hands behind her back.

The second outfit is a blue, pink, and brown flannel shirt over a grey undershirt, a pair of ripped blue jeans, a brown and pink flannel tied around her waist, brown socks, dusty pink converse, pink bracelet, and a dark blue hoodie draped over her shoulder. She is standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding her hoodie, and she is smiling as thought talking.

The third outfit is a burgundy blouse, long navy skirt, brown belt, and burgundy shoes. Her hair is also done in nice curls and she is wearing soft burgundy makeup. She is smiling awkwardly and shrugging.

The third image features casual outfits.

The first is a soft pink tank top with a navy bra peeking underneath, a frilly brown maxi skirt, pink slip-ons, and a grey and brown flannel purse. She is also wearing the three bracelets previously shown with, and pink donut earrings. She is smiling with her hands behind her.

The second outfit is a burgundy bra, baggy brown and grey flannel hanging off her shoulder, a pink and brown flannel tied around her waist, a navy knee-length skirt, white crew socks, and dusty pink converse. She is also wearing a grey bracelet, a pink beaded bracelet, tooth earrings, and navy eyeshadow and burgundy lipstick. She is standing leaning to the side with one hand on her knee, smiling and holding up a peace-sign with her other hand near her face.

The last outfit is a dusty pink crop-top with a boat on it, dark blue hoodie, a short burgundy-plaid skirt, shredded navy tights, gray knee-high socks with burgundy stripes at the top, and dusty pink converse. She also has her usual bracelets as well as shark earrings and smeared burgundy lipstick. She is jumping up, smiling and shouting, with one hand punching into the air.

end ID]

~~~~

ALICE OUTFITS <3 these were soooo fun to do omg. i have my own favorites out of these, please tell me yours!! i'm really happy with how they all turned out <3

[sayoneee]

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike). 

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,�� you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you. 

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat). 

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand. 

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?” 

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?” 

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs. 

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer. 

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes. 

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy. 

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you. 

percy laughs — a green light. 

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt. 

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar. 

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up. 

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him. 

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms. 

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus). 

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

[strangerstilinski]

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; it’s been a long couple of months, and after a particularly rough night, your ex boyfriend finds his way straight back to you.

warnings; no use of y/n, post s4, exes-to-lovers, description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lil bit of cockwarming

word count; ~5k

a/n; i meant for this to be a quick little hurt/comfort thing but then my mind kind of ran wild and it turned into.. this. but i think i really like how it turned out sooo, y'know.. leave a comment/tag/reblog if you enjoy!

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

You're not entirely certain who you were expecting to find on the other side of your door at two in the morning, and maybe you should've given the possibilities a bit more thought before unlocking the door and swinging it open wide, effectively exposing yourself to whatever may be waiting on the other side — but you don't. And it's with a sleep-slowed brain, a baggy tshirt resting high on your naked thighs, and bare feet that drag lazy across cold floorboards, that you find yourself staring at your ex boyfriend.

Steve Harrington.

He's standing in front of you looking a little nervous, a little lost, and a whole lot like he's just come from some sort of brawl. The sudden brightness of the hallway lights outside of your apartment makes your eyes ache and you're squinting, one hand coming up to block a bit of the light just as your heart drops as you take him in.

His hair is a little longer than when you last saw him, impossible for him to keep from flopping down over his forehead while the ends curl at the nape of his neck, light shining down on the strands and streaking golden through the locks that you'd run your hands through once upon a time. But you're hardly able to process or file away those small changes when your gaze begins frantically to absorb the more important and wildly more alarming details in his appearance.

The light wash of his jeans is covered in splotches of denim slightly darker than the rest where something's been spilled down his leg, streaks of dirt rubbed into the knees like he'd fallen down, and blood — there are crimson drops of it splattered along the fabric at his thigh, likely his, likely from the split lip he's sporting, or perhaps from his bruising nose.. When those red smears crusted beneath his nostrils had been fresh and wet and had clearly dripped down past his chin and onto the collar of his shirt, which also seems to be stained in an array of red-splotched fabric.

“Fuck. Steve, what-” Your voice shakes through the sleepy rasp in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at the familiarity of it all — the scene in front of you sending that achingly familiar trickle of fear and worry and panic all racing down your spine.

“I- Hey, sweetheart.” His own voice cracks a little like his throat's been scraped raw from shouting. He's got his hands tucked away in his back pockets like he might be able to make himself small enough that you won't start yelling, his eyes sad and a little pleading as he gives you a weak smile. He lets out a small hiss of a wince when the motion pulls at the slow drying scab on his lower lip.

“Stevie..” The nickname slips out before you can swallow it down.

You think that you might be in shock, if the adrenaline shooting through your veins is anything to go by. It's making it a little difficult to think clearly as you stumble through the doorway, hands coming into contact with his chest as you brace yourself. Your thumbs find those drops of blood that are still drying into the fabric of his shirt, shaking fingers dragging over the freckles on the side of his throat on their way to his jaw.

You have to fight the instinct to linger on those faded scars encircling his neck, have to fight to push back the memories of the night that things between you had finally fallen apart — when all of Steve's half-truths and secrets and outright lies had finally pushed you to your breaking point. The night of the earthquake. When he'd shown up on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, just like this, looking like he'd been to hell and back, in search of comfort and someone to patch him up but apparently not looking to give out any explanations for the state he'd come to you in. Not for the marks on his neck, and certainly not for the horrifying chunks of flesh that had been torn from his stomach and sides.

The fear you'd felt that night coils in your gut again. It's the very same fear that you'd endured eight months before the end, when Steve had gone awol for forty-eight hours only to find you the evening of the mall fire. That time, his left eye had been nearly swollen shut, body littered in bruises in varying shades of black and purple. You'd sat with him in the bathtub with your limbs carefully wrapped around him for hours, until the water had gone ice cold, and even after that he'd been glued to your side until morning. You'd both burrowed beneath a pile of blankets despite the summer heat, legs tangled and sweaty bodies clinging to one another. Even though you couldn't begin to understand how the fire could have been the cause of his turmoil, of his injuries, you'd still held him tight, one hand tangled in his damp hair at all times while he'd clutched onto you like you were his lifeline. The hours it had taken for the tremble in his hands to fade had nearly broken your heart.

It's all a little too much, the position that you've suddenly been thrust back into.

“Wh-? What the hell happened?” You question hoarsely.

Why you bother to ask now, you're not entirely sure. You're certainly not expecting him to give you any answers, but as your thumb pushes gently into the swelling softness of his busted lip, the fingers of your opposite hand brushing the hair back from his blood-spattered forehead, Steve sighs.

“It's not.. I was at the bar. Got into a fight.” He admits with another wince as your thumb skates up the bridge of his nose.

“Got into a fight or started a fight?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking slow between his; they're tired and bloodshot, his lashes clumped together like maybe he'd been crying, caramel swirling in the pretty brown depths that you'd been steadfastly avoiding thinking about these last few months.

A huff crackles as he tries to push a sigh from his blood-clogged nose, his hands finally leaving his pockets to hang awkwardly at his sides while he gives a small shrug, “..’was stupid.” He says in lue of a direct answer.

“I'm sure it was,” You grumble under your breath, swallowing your instincts and forcing yourself to take a small step back, your hands falling away so you can hug your arms across your own chest with a sigh, “What're you doing here, Steve?”

“I didn't know where to.. I..” The words don't seem to come and he falters, shrinking in on himself further, “I don't know.” He admits after a moment.

Your eyes close as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you, “I can't-”

“Please,” Steve nearly whispers the word and when you meet his eyes again, his gaze is a little watery, “I know you don't want to see me. I know you're still mad. And.. You have every right to be, okay? But-”

“But what?” You plead weakly, fingers digging a little meanly into your own arms.

“I just..” He struggles for a moment, hands raking through his hair and ruffling it into further disarray, “I just needed.. I..”

The fissure in your heart cracks wide, the slow healing wound tearing open to expose this gaping thing that feels a little like it might be enough to shatter your soul. Even while the more sensible parts of your brain scream at you to shut the door in his face, you find yourself taking his hand in yours, swollen and blood crusted knuckles under your thumb as you pull him into the dark apartment and close the door behind you.

You push him to sit down on the couch, a wordless order for him to stay put implied in the sidelong glance that you shoot him before turning away to move down the hall and grab your first aid kit and a wet cloth from the bathroom. When you return, Steve hasn't moved an inch, just as miserable and small-looking as you'd left him a few moments before. He's got his fingers tucked into the crook of space behind his knees, the tall streetlight across the road allowing stripes of light to cut across his hunched form, late night shadows eating up everything else.

The coffee table is nudged closer to the sofa with your foot as you sit down in front of him, your bare knees brushing filthy denim when you scoot to the edge of the table and bring the cloth up to his blood-spattered cheek. You're gentle with it, wiping at same spots a few times with the lightest pressure you can manage as the mess proceeds to smear, red-tinged streaks of water against his skin lessening with each careful swipe. Once his face is clean, you move on to the knuckles of his right hand, pulling it from where he has it tucked beneath his thigh to softly wash away the crusted blood from his split and bruising skin.

You work silently for a few minutes. The soiled cloth is dropped against the coffee table with a wet slap and you immediately turn to find the alcohol and cotton balls in the messy basket you keep stored beneath your bathroom sink.

You've just begun to open the package of cotton when Steve says your name, nothing more than a hoarse whisper to break the heavy silence.

When you meet his eyes, the desperation you find there has you faltering for a moment. The warmth that seeps into your skin from each point of contact between you suddenly seems so much stronger. Heat and nerves creep up the back of your neck as you blink at him in question.

The backs of his damp knuckles drag up over your calf before pushing into the smooth skin on the outside of your thigh, his thumb pinching lightly at the doughy flesh there, “I.. Can you..” His hand unfurls and he lets his palm settle against you, his fingertips high enough to slip beneath the hem of your oversized shirt and brush the crook where your thigh meets your hip, “I just.. want..”

He seems incapable of finishing his thoughts, but he doesn't really need to because you know. With the way his free hand comes up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw to your chin before catching against your lower lip in that all too familiar way, you know what it is that he's asking for.

“Steve..” Your accompanying sigh comes out a little shaky as you exhale it over the pad of his finger, your lashes fluttering as something stirs in your gut in response to his soft touch, “I don't think that's a good-”

“Please.” He whispers again — and, how could you possibly deny him when he sounds so pitiful that it wrenches at your broken heart? While his brows are drawing together like he's already bracing himself for your rejection even as his eyes remain soft and pleading?

And when the hand on your thigh pushes up to slide over the bare skin at the base of your spine, when he applies the barest pressure to urge you toward him, when the fingers on your face slip behind your neck — you're climbing into his lap with little encouragement. Your shins push into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, hands finding the hem of his ruined shirt and guiding it up over his head in an easy movement that has his hair flopping down over his forehead again.

When your gaze drops, you allow yourself all of ten seconds to trail your fingers over the rough scars across his abdomen. The skin is a little puckered and pink, mottled in a way that it probably wouldn't be if he'd found himself at the hospital that night in late March instead of on your doorstep, but they've healed. It's a far cry from the jagged wounds that you'd tried to clean with blood-stained hands, through quiet sobs and glassy eyes. They'd been so deep, as if something had tried to carve out little bits and pieces of him over and over, like something had torn into him, like something had feasted on his flesh then and left behind nothing but the evidence of small, frighteningly sharp teeth.

Your choked questions ring in your ears even now, the way you'd begged for him to tell you what was going on, who kept hurting him like this — but as easily as your own voice echos in your memories, so does Steve's. You can still hear his agonized groans and cries of pain as you'd tended to his injuries, can still remember the sound of his desperate pleas for you to drop it, to just accept that he couldn't explain-

And you'd asked him then, if it was that he couldn't or that he wouldn't. The resulting silence from him had been answer enough.

Now, Steve seems to know exactly where your mind has gone and he covers your hands with his own, pressing your palms flat against the lingering marks on his skin.

“They're healed.” You state quietly through the emotion clogging your throat. The obviousness of the statement rings stupidly in your ears but you're not sure what else to say in the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse, “I had a pretty good nurse.. Cleaned me up real nice so that I didn't, I dunno, die from an infection or somethin'.”

A laugh pushes up from your throat that borders on a sob, “She sounds cool.” You manage, your thumbnail scraping lightly into the healed patch of skin under your hand.

“Oh, yeah, the coolest.” Steve tells you with the barest hint of a smile pulling at the unbruised side of his mouth. “You okay?” He asks quietly after another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine.” You tell him with a shake of your head.

“Sweetheart..” Steve starts slowly, “I want.. Shit, I- I want you so bad right now, but if you don't want this-” When his hands move to the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes meet yours in silent question, and your head is nodding a little wildly in approval before you can begin to think too hard about it.

His hands nearly burn with every brush against your bare skin as you strip one another down to nothing, his touch leaving behind invisible streaks of something heavy and terrifyingly melancholy, something that you're sure will linger painfully in your chest long after he's gone and left you with a broken heart and an ever growing list of unanswered questions.

“I still have to clean your cuts.” You tell him quietly.

Steve's eyes only rake over your naked body for a moment before his gaze settles back on yours, “Okay.”

You settle over his lap again and wet a cotton ball with alcohol, “It's gonna hurt.” You warn in a whisper.

“I know.” Steve returns just as softly.

Bracing one hand on the side of his neck, you dab featherlight over his split lip. Steve's jaw clenches at the sting as it seeps into the cut and you murmur a soft apology while you continue to clean the area with careful fingers.

Steve's hands settle on your hips and his eyes flick between yours as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you look up from his swollen lower lip, he gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Is this okay?” He asks, fingers digging into your flesh a little as he pulls your hips until your groins align nicely.

“Yeah.” You murmur, dabbing at the cut on his lip again just so that you have an excuse to look away from his eyes.

Your heartbeat ricochets against your ribs sharply as Steve guides you to grind slow over his lap, the warmth of him wedged between your spread folds. The way he manhandles you isn't rushed, the movement not nearly as desperate as you'd been expecting from his plea for intimacy. It's slow and quiet and filled with a weight that you wouldn't quite be able to explain if you tried.

It doesn't take long for his cock fatten up and grow stiff underneath you, his length and the patch of hair surrounding it both streaked with slick where your wet cunt has been dragging back and forth. You're both breathing a little heavy as you finish cleaning the cuts on his lip and the bridge of his nose, your faces close though neither one of you make any move to close the distance.

Steve curls an arm around the back of your thigh as he reaches around to guide himself toward your entrance. A breathy sound falls from your lips when you roll your hips back and feel his tip catch, just barely pushing in. He's as thick and warm and perfect as he's always been, and that hunger to have all of him spreads down the back of your tongue like warm honey, but the moment you spread your thighs a little farther to take more, Steve is stopping you.

“Wait, wait, wait. You.. Are you sure you're okay with this?” He asks suddenly. His fingers are digging into your hips, holding you in place to keep you from sinking farther down onto him as he awaits your response.

“Wh-?” Your jaw trembles with something like petulance, a little desperate yourself now that you can feel the fat head of his cock inside you, stretching you wide despite barely breaching your entrance, “You said that you-”

“I do. Fuck, I do, I just want to make sure you're sure.” He says it so soft, so earnest, and his concern has you feeling something resembling whiplash. The two of you haven't spoken in months, but he'd shown up at your front door in the middle of the night and practically begged for you; for your presence and your care and your body.

You want to feel angry with him. For looking out for your well-being now, for being Steve, for bringing up so many feelings that you'd tried so hard to bury, but he's looking up at you with imploring eyes — a gaze that says if you climbed off of his lap now, he wouldn't be upset with you, if anything, he'd be upset with himself and..

It has you reeling a little bit, that blooming affection crawling like rapidly expanding ivy inside your chest.

You brush that stubborn chunk of hair back and off of his forehead again, your fingers combing through to the back of his head until they can toy with the bits curling at the nape of his neck. Your mouth finds its way to the space between his brows, a shaky exhale masked by the kiss you press to his skin before dropping your foreheads together.

“I am. I'm sure.” You promise in a whisper.

When you sink down, both of you groan in synchrony, breathy and guttural. The stretch hurts more than you were expecting, but it's been months since you've done this, so you suppose that the sting from him filling you up is warranted. Your hips settle against his and his arms curl around your back to hold you in place, to hold you close. His chest is flush to yours, scattered hairs on his pecs pressed to your breasts, the tip of your nose still barely avoiding brushing against the bruised bridge of his own.

The sensation of being so full leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed, the intimacy of the moment suddenly too heavy. His breath mingling with your own and his soft hair tangled up around your fingers brings pinpricks of heat to your eyes that you stubbornly attempt to blink back.

“Hey.. Hey, honey,” Steve murmurs softly, one hand coming up to swipe a thumb along your watery lashline, “What's wrong? You okay? You hurting?”

Another strangled sounding scoff of a laugh tumbles from your lips, a weak sniffle as your fingers find their way to those smooth, faded lines along the front of his throat again, “I should be asking you that. You're the one who's had the shit beaten out of him tonight.”

“I'm fine. Two weeks n' I'll be good as new,” Steve assures you with carefully crafted nonchalance, his tear-stained thumb dragging back and forth along the apple of your cheek, “Now what's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”

“I just..” You huff out a sigh, rolling your hips experimentally to test the ache between your thighs, “I missed you. Fuck, I- I miss you so much, Steve.”

A few tears do manage to break through then, something about the way the patchy light coming in through the windows casts a glow over his battered face, the browns in his eyes shining golden in the dark.

“Me too, I miss you too,” He rasps desperately, “Shit, honey. If you think I don't miss you every goddamn second- You're everything. You're my everything.”

He's holding your face in both hands now, palms cradling your jaw so gently, arms trembling like he's trying to fight the urge to hold onto you tighter. His restraint and his words twist sharply in your gut, something akin to dread weaving its way inside of you.

“I'm scared,” You admit, voice quiet and buried beneath tears, “I'm so scared-”

“Scared?” Steve repeats, concern flashing in his eyes, “What're you afraid of?”

“Losing you.” You gasp.

“Sweetheart-”

Your chest is heaving a little with the labored breaths beginning to tumble past your lips, “I'm gonna lose you all over again, because I can't.. It- It is terrifying. To see you hurt and bleeding and not know why. To worry that the next time might be even worse than the last and have you keep skirting around the truth or outright lying-”

“Hey, hey. Honey, hey,” Steve gives your cheeks a soft shake under his hands and your gaze falls back to his, “I'm sorry-”

“Jesus christ.” You bemoan quietly as another tear falls, halfheartedly pushing at his arms to dislodge his hands.

“No, no, I mean it,” Steve pleads softly, “I'm so sorry I kept you in the dark, I just- Shit, it's so complicated, I-”

“Asshole.” The interruption comes out a grumble under your breath, and you're gearing up to climb off of his lap entirely when his weak chuckle meets your ears.

“I am,” He nods, brushing your hair back from your tear streaked face, “I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. I- I'll tell you everything, alright? I will. I will.”

“Promise?” You hate yourself for how small you sound, how unsure and broken.

“I promise.”

You crane your neck and tilt your head to brush your lips featherlight over his, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on the mess of purple and black and red along the bridge of his nose, your thumbs gravitating yet again to drag over those smooth, barely visible scars around his neck.

“Does your mouth hurt too much, or can I-?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking between his.

“'course you can,” His hand pushes into your hair behind your ear, cupping your head to guide you forward carefully, “C'mere.”

Your mouths come together with all of the gentleness you can manage and you leave one soft peck, then two, then three. You begin to work your hips over his all the while, and neither of you can hold back a keening noise of pleasure at the slow drag of his cock inside your warm walls.

You ease back from his mouth to drag the pads of your index and middle finger lightly over the bruises coloring his skin.

“Did.. Did you really get into a bar fight?” You can't help but ask, even as you're lifting up and dropping back down hard enough to have you both letting out a breathy whimper.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, his fingers trailing along your ribs and stomach like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every inch of your skin, “I.. It's possible I have some unresolved anger or something from- After everything that happened. Sometimes it kinda takes over, like tonight, and then I pick a fight I know I can't win, but.. 'm not lying to you anymore. I mean that.”

You nod and his arms curl around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Trapped in his embrace, you can't do much more than grind on him with slow swivels of your hips, the head of his cock rubbing at that spot on your inner wall that has your brows pulling together in pleasure.

He's so close like this. His chest hair drags against your bare breasts and your tummies are pressed together and the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own. You feel warm — in the physical sense, yes, but also in your stomach, in your bones, in your heart.

“I love you.” Steve says with emotion, like he's feels that warmth too.

Your eyes prickle a little traitorously, fingers toying with the soft ends of his hair, “I love you,” You manage in a choked gasp, “I love you.”

“Ho- Shit..” Steve groans, chin tipping up toward the ceiling for a moment as he throws his head back, “You feel so fuckin' good, honey.”

“Y'r cock feels good,” You pant in response, “So good. So big. I- Fuck.”

“So tight,” He mutters, sitting up a little straighter to meet every roll of your hips, “So perfect. 's like you were fucking made for me, you know that? Take me so well. You were made for this, for me-”

The way that your clit is rubbing against the thatch of hair on his pelvis has you a little dumb already, and his lust-fueled rambling only intensifies your budding orgasm, both of your thighs slick with how fucking good it feels to have him inside of you again. You nod in agreement to his words and manage to give a small whimper, but it seems that he's not done yet.

“-Missed this so much. Missed you, missed this.. Fuck. Honey, I love you. I love you. I-”

“Steve,” You whine, “Love you too.”

His tanned cheeks have gone a little pink beneath the dusting of bruises on his face, breathy groans fanning out past his busted lip. The pretty little noises of pleasure that he can't seem to hold back have you reeling, your gut twisting with heat at the sight of him, the sound of him.

“So goddamn wet for me, honey,” Steve grumbles, his voice catching in a way that has your cunt clenching down on him, “Listen to her. You hear that?”

You do. There's a lewd squelch emitting from the place where you're joined, the sound filling the otherwise quiet apartment every time that your hips roll at just the right angle. It happens again just then, his cock stretching your hole wide enough for the drag of slick and air to create a mildly embarrassing noise that has Steve giving another needy groan, his hips bucking up into yours.

“God, fuck, please tell me you're getting close,” He nearly whimpers, lifting up off of the couch to drive up into you again, “Please, I'm getting so close, babe. Need you to come.”

Euphoria licks up your spine in a white-hot flame, your weight bearing down that much harder to apply more pressure on your puffy clit. Sweat trickles down your spine, disappearing beneath Steve's forearms where they're looped tight around you.

“Mhm,” You hum, the sound catching in the back of your throat, “M'gonna come, Stevie. Y'r gonna make me come.”

Your hips roll a little faster and Steve continues to buck up into you, his cock pressing so, so nicely against the spot that has your brain whiting out a bit at the edges.

“Come on, sweet girl. Come for me,” Steve moans, warm breath fanning out over your lips, “Please, honey. Please come on my cock. Shit, I need it. Need you t' come, please.”

“I am, I am, I am,” You babble desperately, “M'gonna, fuck, fuck, 'm-”

The knot of pleasure in your gut twists sharply and you cry out, face burying in his neck with a whiny gasp as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cunt tightens and trembles around him and a deliciously choked sounding moan tears past Steve's lips as he finally lets his own release wash over him.

The warmth of his come coating your insides has you fluttering around him further, your hands grappling restlessly for any part of him to hold on to, his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. Breathy little whines and gasps and groans tumble from both of you as you ride it out, the trembling tenseness in your muscles releasing all at once as you go limp in his arms.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back to yourself a little, peppering a delicate kiss to that infuriating strip of scar tissue along his throat before you're pushing up with weak limbs to look at the man underneath you.

“Hey.” It comes out in a murmur, a breathless little thing that leaves you feeling kind of silly, but your brain hasn't yet recovered enough to work at its full-capacity.

Steve only grins, his lips curling to reveal perfect teeth, a pretty smile pulling at his busted and bruising lips. His eyes twinkle in the patchy darkness of your living room, a pretty mosaic of brown and gold and speckles of green catching in the light and forcing your heart rate to tick up in adoration.

“Hey, honey.” He returns sweetly, one arm uplooping from around your spine so he can reach up to push the sweaty flyaways back from your face.

You can't help but shift over him, sore legs flexing where they're spread over his hairy thighs, a trickle of warmth leaking out from where you're still joined and dripping down into the thick hair at the base of his cock. It feels dirty and intimate in the best way — his come mingled with your own, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, his wide palms rubbing softly from your hips to your spine and then back again.

“I kinda want to stay like this forever.”

Your whispered admission has his eyes crinkling softly and he drops his forehead to your chest, his breath fanning out over your breasts as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You won't hear any complaints from me.” Steve mumbles into your skin.

You never want to leave this moment. Your nose pushes into his hair and you pull in the familiar melding of scents, of expensive shampoo and hairspray and an underlying smell that's just Steve. You want to stay right here, in this perfectly imperfect bubble, but you feel Steve wince when he burrows his face into your chest just a little too hard and the serenity cracks.

“Steve?” You murmur softly, fingertips scraping gently against his scalp despite the nerves in your stomach.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You steel yourself with a deep breath, “You know I'd do anything to protect you, right? You.. You know that I'll do anything for you.. Know that.. That you can trust me?” It comes out in a rush, and your nerves increase tenfold when Steve pulls back to look at you, “..Right?”

“Honey,” The endearment comes out laced with something sweet and sticky that makes it sound an awful lot like an apology, “Of course I do.”

His eyes are so soft as they flick between your own, his hands smoothing up the length of your spine in a soothing drag of skin on skin. One hand leaves his hair only so that you can trace your thumb over those two wide freckles on the apple of his cheek, a self-deprecating sort of smile pulling at your lips.

“And.. And you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you?” You nearly whisper.

His mouth finds yours to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, “Yeah, honey. No more secrets. No more lies.”

“Promise?” You ask again, lips pulling into a smile where they're still brushing his own. Your faces are so close it's hard to focus on the way his eyes shine with adoration when he looks up at you, the bruises on the bridge of his nose blurring in the darkness.

“Promise.”

[ketaundkrawall]

Keta und Krawall ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: a stupid accident leads to something you didn’t expect to happen.

Warnings: 18+ but read at your own risk, smut (lmao), alcohol consumption (mentioned), drug use (don’t do that guys), oral (m! receiving), public shenanigans in a club toilet and I guess that’s it

WC: 1k

A/N: abow guys here we are this is my first EVER published work lmao so pls bear with me. This shits not proofread bc I’m lazy. Also pls bear with me bc English isn’t my first language 👹

18+ under the cut!

To say the music that was blasting through the speakers in club was loud would definitely be an understatement.

“Want another one?” Helen, your best friend, screams over the music.

A nod and she was gone, leaving you swinging your hips to the music alone.

Nights like these were your favorite. Sweaty bodies moving in sync together to the beats of the music, mixing with the feeling and the high of just being free.

The sudden feeling of wetness against your back pulled you straight back out of your little bubble into reality.

Turning around you were met with a pair of blue eyes, widened in shock. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You could barely hear him say a sorry, since the music was way too loud.

“Fuck!” Giving him one last glare, you stormed off into the restrooms of the small club you were at.

It was small and definitely looked like it had seen better days. But you didn’t care.

Taking off your soaked shirt you let out a deep sigh, leaking against the sink.

“Hey.”

Startled, you turned around to look at the source of the voice coming from somewhere.

The guy who just poured his whole drink over your outfit was standing there in the doorway, scratching the back of his head. His blonde hair was messy, hanging in his eyes.

Sweat was covering his face as he looked at you. “I’m sorry about- uh that.” He said, nodding at the shirt in your hands.

“Oh it’s fine.”

He could definitely hear the venom in your voice. “Can I make it up to you somehow?”

That was surprising. Eying the man up and down you couldn’t suppress a grunt forming on your red colored lips.

“You’re Joost Klein.” That wasn’t a question.

Joost let out a small chuckle. “Alive and breathing I guess. So? Can I?”

Nodding, you grinned at him. “Actually yeah. Got 5€?”

Taking a small baggy out of your back pocket you looked up at him.

“Uh yeah sure.” Joost did look kinda confused as he looked at the small baggy in your hands while handing you the bill.

“Ever took ketamine?” You asked as you poured out a line on sink.

Seeing his adam’s apple bop in nervousness you knew what answer was coming. “No.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to.” You said while sniffing the line, throwing your head back and closing your eyes before looking at him.

Holding the rolled bill out to him you grinned. “Unless you want to?”

And he didn’t need to be told twice. Laying out another line, you watched him sniff it.

Biting your lip as he threw his head back, exhaling softly.

The smile on your face didn’t fade as he looked into your eyes, making you both laugh.

When the laughing slowly started to bubble down, neither of you knew what was happening next.

Joosts hands were suddenly on your hips, pulling you into his lap while your mouths clashed together into a heating kiss.

Feeling his tongue on your chapped lips, you opened them, giving him permission to slip it inside, fighting for dominance with your tongue.

And then your brain stopped working.

His growing hard on was suddenly very prominent against your thigh, only being separated by your tights and his jeans.

Pulling away your eyes met his again, silently asking for permission.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “Go for it schatje (baby).”

Not breaking eye contact you got up from his lap and let yourself fall to your knees in front of him, pulling at his belt and opening it with shaky fingers.

Helping you, Joost opens the button of his jeans and pulls the down to his ankles along with his boxers, freeing his erection.

Your eyes widened in shock. How was that even supposed to fit in your mouth?

“Are you okay?” Joosts voice brings you back to earth.

God, you probably just looked like an idiot staring at his cock.

“O-oh yeah just- fuck!” You exclaimed. “Never had one this big.”

That made him chuckle. “Well then better go for it before someone comes in. Suck my dick bitch.”

Rolling your eyes you wrapped your hand around his shaft, pumping it slowly. Keeping what he just said were lyrics from one of his songs.

He looks even more angelic from the spot you are in right now. His hair still messy, eyes closed and head drawn back against the wall as you worked him in your hand.

Dipping your head down you finally worked up enough courage to take him in your mouth.

The taste of salty precum hit your taste buds instantly, making you moan out around him.

His hands are now both on your head, holding your hair out of your face into a messy ponytail.

“You like that don’t you? Sucking my cock in a bathroom where everyone could just walk in.”

And then he thrusted his hips upward, taking you aback and making you gag in surprise.

Joost slowly starts to fuck your throat. And you liked it.

He slowly gets faster, your hands gripping his thighs, eyes watering as he starts chasing his high.

Letting out a breathy moan, he looks down at you, watching his dick disappear between your lips.

Suddenly he pulls you off. Wrapping a hand around his thick shaft he strokes himself a few more times before spilling his seed all over your beautiful and fucked face. “Here it comes prinses (Princess).”

As the first drops of cum hit your cheek your lips turned into a smile.

Opening your mouth you try to catch some of it before he lets go of you, slumping back against the wall and covering his face.

“I usually don’t do this you know.” The embarrassment was visible in his voice.

Getting up, you take a wipe to clean yourself up. “Neither do I.”

Leaning against the sink again you watched him putting himself back into place. A soft sigh escaping your lips as you turn around to leave.

“Hey.” His voice is soft. “What’s your name?”

Stopping you turn around one last time “Y/N.”

And with that you leave him alone.

The sound of Keta und Krawall by Ikkimel is all you can hear again as you walk back into the club.

—

A/N: if you made it to the end, thank you. Hopefully there’s more to come 🥹

[zhounauts]

NOT WHAT SHE SEEMS pairing nrk x fmr warnings n/a wc 598 currently listening to lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

if someone had told riki that he'd be stumbling over his words and tripping on his feet because of yn, class 2-5's certified teacher's pet, he'd laugh.

riki had grown used to (and tired of) hearing your voice every class, ringing through the silence to answer every single question.

he hated the stupid way you'd correct anybody if they were wrong, and the way you'd always be the first person to raise their hand.

he hated you got special treatment from the teachers, and the way you would scold him for wearing his uniform wrong, having his airpods in, sleeping, not taking notes, and more. the list was endless.

he also hated how, despite that, you were still nice to everyone, and minus the scolding, you still treated him well.

right. and he hated how stupidly pretty you were.

but then summer break comes around, and riki doesn't have to see you again.

but he does. school was never his strong suit, but one thing he knew for sure, was that you of all people should not be here.

he expected that the next time he'd see you again would be back in classroom 2-5, your hair tied in it's usual pony tail, uniform flawless, and your hand up in the sky waiting to be called on.

his expectations are shattered.

because there you are, in the middle of the crowd of revving car engines, the screeching of tires, and the burning smell of gasoline.

you're laughing with a guy, twirling your hair, and being everything that you shouldn't be. your pony tail is gone, and so is your usually speck-free uniform.

he watches you, from his spot in the crowd, utterly flabbergasted. utterly drawn.

your goody-two shoes image is fading fast, and riki can't look away from you no matter how hard he tries. his heart stops when you make eye contact. and he knows you've seen him when your eyes open slightly, before they harden.

next thing he knows you're walking towards him, hips swaying in your baggy jeans and hair blowing in the night wind.

"yn?" thats the only thing riki can pathetically squeak out, his usual confidence gone with your appearance. you laugh.

"how's your summer vacation going?'

"uhm," riki stumbles, "good, nothing much. erm. how about you?"

"the usual," you answer, "i'm excited to head back soon," riki blinks.

"right." he says. you smile.

"i gotta go, see you," you turn without letting him answer, leaving riki flabbergasted for the nth time this day. he can't help but watch as you leave, his eyes unable to let you go until you disappear from view. and his mind doesn't let you go either, you're imprinted in it, and he's entranced.

the next time riki sees you it's class 2-5 again.

and you're back, with your ponytail and spotless uniform, traces of that august night completely gone. for some reason, he's rendered speechless again, standing at the entrance of the class with his eyes on you.

you're helping someone out with something as usual, and everything is seemingly normal. riki starts to think that what happened was a dream, especially when he walks past you, and you don't acknowledge him at all despite making eye contact.

but then in the middle of class, his eyes find you again, and there you are with the same smile you gave him that night.

and then you bring your finger to your mouth, shushing him along with the night where you were everything but what you seemed.

but he couldn't forget. not when you were so unforgettable.

© zhounauts 2024

[her-favorite]

THE EYES IN IOWA; LEE

LEE X F!(NON-EATER)READER

warnings: (very vague) references to cannibalism (it’s b&a, do i even need to add this?), honestly, this is more cute than anything else, so.. fluff!!

wc: 2667

a/n: lee is my fav timmy character so i get soo excited when i get a lee request 🤭 i hope you like this anon! i had sm fun writing this; i’d love some more lee stuff in my inbox!!

SYNOPSIS: You felt the eyes on you, but you forced yourself to brush it off. You came to realize that was hard to do when the eyes came to you.

-

You’ve always been a careful person.

You’ve always looked both ways before you crossed the street; you’ve always checked expiration dates before you bought certain foods; and you’ve always took in your surroundings when you left the house.

Which confused you why you couldn’t see the man following you.

As you stalked the aisles in the store, your eyes gazed by each product on the shelf, waiting to find the one you came here for. When nothing caught your eye, you sighed and began to walk away. As soon as you turned your head to glance back, your eyes caught on a figure a couple feet behind you. You turned back around before you could bump into someone, but the faded red curly hair quickly stuck out in your mind. As well as the baggy clothes and the ripped jeans. You couldn’t get much of a look at his face, but you did notice that his head was turned towards you.

Looking down at your shoes as you walked away, you tried not to let it get to you. Letting out a deep breath, you kept walking towards the exit.

Rounding a corner, you ignore the footsteps behind you and convince yourself they were anybody else’s. When dirty white shoes fill your eyesight, you had no choice but to look up.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering where the candy aisle was?” His voice was smooth, something you weren’t expecting to like. His red hair stuck out in front of the bright white walls behind him, his dirty sleeveless graphic tee hung loosely on his body, putting his arms on display. His baggy jeans hung around his thin waist, just barely giving you a peek of the black boxers that hid the v-line that began to start. The holes in the blue material were large around his knees, showcasing his pale skin.

“Uh, it’s right over.. there.” You turn around and point to the right. With your back facing him, you had no idea if he was listening to you, but you could only hope.

“Right, thanks.” He replies, his voice, against your better judgment, slightly soothing your worries. When you turned around to face him again, your eyes immediately met his. He was already staring at you. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.” The man moves slightly, switching his weight to his opposite foot.

You quickly shut down his strange start to a conversation, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen you around here.” You deny, ringing your hands together anxiously as you subtly try to find the exit.

He seemed to pick up on your demeanor as he licks his lips, taking a moment to watch you. “Alright, well, thanks for telling me where the aisle is,” He breaks the silence and points in the same direction you had minutes ago. You nod, deciding to break the staring contest you had with your shoes to meet his eyes. They were a deep green, captivating you instantly. In a certain light, you would’ve been fooled they were brown instead. “Catch you around?” He says, as if he’s genuinely hoping he’ll see you soon.

You nod again and give him a smile before walking around him, darting towards the exit. Once you leave the store, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Fresh air hits you as you walk through the parking lot, your mind racing.

Maybe you were just overthinking the entire situation. Maybe he wasn’t following you, maybe he just wanted to ask someone - who just so happened to be you - where the candy was in a store he was unfamiliar with. You forced yourself to go with that answer as you pulled the drivers side door shut, relaxing back in your seat. Before you could finish your deep breath, two knocks sounded from beside you.

Jumping up from your spot, you look to your left at your rolled up window. The same man from inside stood before you, his hand now lowering from the glass. His lips parted as he began to speak, but it was quickly muffled from the barrier between you both.

Against your better judgment, you rolled down the window, the summer breeze hitting you gently.

“Hey, sorry to bother again, but you dropped these while you were leaving.” The words left his mouth perfectly, almost as if he were rehearsing them beforehand. He brings his hand back up, your keys hanging on his pointer finger. You couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on his fingers, admiring the ink that stained his pale skin.

“Oh, thank you,” you reply. You realized that you hadn’t even looked for your keys when you entered your car, too busy thinking about the man that’s currently standing beside your car.

You started to reach out for them, when he suddenly pulled his hand away. “What’s your name?” You were caught off guard by his question, not expecting the words to leave him. You stared at him for a couple seconds before he continued, “I’m Lee.” He introduced himself, looking at you through your opened window, his eyes squinted slightly from the blinding sun.

You sigh lightly before replying, “Y/N.” You notice a small smirk form on his lips when you decide to answer him.

“Pretty.” Lee mumbles, taking a glance at the keys in his hands before looking back at you. “Actually,” he continues, bringing a hand up to his hair, brushing his fingers through it. “I was wondering if you could drive me somewhere, or even just take me with you. My car,” he turns and points to an old, blue pickup truck a couple feet away. “Broke down and I can’t call anyone or take it anywhere, so,” he purses his lips and shrugs loosely, his body language seeming to be very careless.

You noticed that he still held onto your keys as he explained his situation to you, no candy or anything in his hands or pockets. There wasn’t much harm he could do to you without a weapon, right?

Knowing you already lost the battle as soon as he stepped up to you in that store, you nod your head in agreement. “Yeah, sure. I can take you somewhere to get it towed if you’d like?” You offered, watching his reaction.

“Sounds great, thanks.” He smiles, showcasing his pearly whites. You silently admire the smile lines he has, adding to his already charismatic personality. He rounds the front of your car before hopping into the passenger seat, handing you your keys. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize I still had them.” Lee apologizes, watching you start the engine.

A minute or two pass by as you begin to pull out of the parking lot and turn on the radio. The soft hum of the music flows alongside the wind that passed through the car from the open windows. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun shining, birds singing and kids running around, chasing each other or playing on the playground. It was the perfect weather for a walk or a swim, something you now wish you had. As you slowly got lost in your thoughts, you watched the road ahead of you, not paying attention to the man beside you.

Lee never took his eyes off of you once, unless it was to turn if you took a glance at him. There was just something so intriguing about you to him, but he couldn’t place it. He has never spent more than five minutes looking for someone to fall victim to him before, but he’s spent two whole days on watching you. Had he not been a killer, he would’ve beat himself up for being so weird and stalking you the past 48 hours. But there’s not much else he can do that’s worse than what he’s doing now, he reminds himself.

As he observes the way your hands slide over the wheel; the way your eyebrows furrow when a car goes when it’s not supposed to; the way you relax back in your seat when you stop at a red light; or even just looking forward at the road, he realizes how beautiful you are. He can’t go through with this, he thinks. He can’t harm you, his body won’t let him. He knows your name now, he’s been in your car, in your head… he can’t hurt you.

Clearing his throat, he sits up and reaches over to turn the radio up. His washed out curls rest against the headrest as he closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze hit his skin.

You take a glance over at him, quickly memorizing the picture of him. His nose arches perfectly as his eyelashes lay softly, his hair blowing slightly from the air, the piercing in his ear shining from hitting the sun, and his Adam’s apple sticking out as his neck is pushed out from his position. You bring your eyes back to the road in front of you, thankful that no other cars were near. You let your tense shoulders start to calm as you slowly drift into the music playing, licking your lips as they started to dry from the wind.

“You’re really beautiful,” had the radio been up a notch higher, the words would’ve passed by you. You quickly look over at him, smiling softly and noticing that he was already looking at you. You quietly thank him, looking back at the street, a straight road in front of you for a couple minutes.

“You’re not too bad,” you reply, laughing slightly to show him not to take you too seriously. Your smile grew when you heard a chuckle escape his lips, a deep but comforting sound you’d like to hear more of. You felt a nudge to your thigh in response to your teasing reply, noticing the tatted hand of his move back into his lap.

“Thanks, ma.” Lee smiles, looking at you and then in front of him, watching the trees and houses go by. The name catches you off guard, but doesn’t upset you. If anything, you try not to smile wider at the unexpected endearment.

As you take a right, you notice a sign for a car shop coming up. You point to it, “do you wanna stop there and pick up your truck?” You spare a glance at him as he follows your finger, quickly reading the small letters on the even smaller sign.

“Nah, it’s fine. I can go back later and pick it up. She’ll still be there, I’m sure.” He chuckles softly and runs his fingers through his curls, picking out a knot or two.

“You sure?” You doublecheck but agree once he nods his head again, looking over at you to make eye contact. “Okay… do you want me to drop you off anywhere? Your house?” You look over at him, gazing into his eyes for any type of emotion.

“Uh, I don’t really have much besides my truck. Kinda been livin’ with her the past few months, taking drives everywhere and nowhere, ya know?” Lee rambles, leaning back in the seat, looking over at you to gage your reaction. You nod in understanding, taking a deep breath as you try and figure out what to say.

“You can.. stay at mine? I mean, I just moved in so there’s not much furniture, but,” you shrug, “i’m sure it’s better than sleeping in a car all the time.” You suggest kindly, looking over once before moving back to the road, nervous for his rejection.

Lee watches the way you avoid his eyes, taking in your body language. He wants to accept your offer more than anything, for more reasons than one. But, deep down, he knows he shouldn’t. The urge inside him was going to get stronger the more he stayed with you… but what’s wrong with being selfish for once in awhile? He couldn’t remember the last time he’s felt this normal, besides with his sister Kayla, which he now came to realize he should probably visit her soon.

“You sure? I snore.” He teases, smiling as he watches your lips curl up. If your smile was the last thing he ever saw, he could go peacefully.

“I’m sure. I’m a blanket hogger,” you grin, laughing softly as you tease him back. He playfully groans and throws himself back in his seat.

“Oh, great.” He states loudly, drawing in more laughs from you. Lee smiles fondly at your reaction to his jokes, silently hoping nothing will go wrong in the next couple hours. How could he have ever thought about using you for his insatiable desire? He was far too infatuated with you now.

-

Putting the car in park as you pull into your driveway, the sun begins to set. The sky was turning into a bluish-purple as the sun slowly hid itself away, the moon revealing as it moved higher in the sky.

You shut off your car as the radio cuts off and the engine stops. Your eyes meet Lee’s as he glances at you before opening his door. You copy his actions as you step out of the car, walking towards your front door. He follows you, his baggy jeans swaying against his legs. You unlock the door, opening it and stepping inside, leaving it open so he can join you.

“This is nice,” Lee says, gesturing to the room he was in. You laugh lightly at his words, turning back to look at him.

“I’m only halfway done with it, I still have a lot more in mind.” You reply, now looking around your living room, taking in the scarce amount of furniture and decor.

He shrugs, “it looks like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You smile, looking over at him. You both stood a couple feet away from each other, eyes locked. A smirk forms on Lee’s face at your words, dirty shoes making contact with your floor as he makes his way over to you.

“Then let me get to know you.” He whispered, looking down at you. He looks down at your lips before moving his gaze back up to your eyes, watching you repeat his actions. You meet him halfway as you lean towards him, closing your eyes as your lips connect with his. You feel his big hands curl around your hips, squeezing the skin. You subconsciously move closer to him, moving your hands to rest on his neck, your dominant one reaching up to brush your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You pull away when the air dissipates from your lungs, but not moving far away from him. Your breath hits his as his lips stay inches away from yours. You open your eyes slowly, looking up into his. The green hypnotizes you as you stare into them, your hand moving from his hair to the side of his face.

“Why did you pick me, Lee?” You whisper, gently bringing him down a bit so you could rest your forehead against his.

“What do you mean?” He asks, matching your volume. A soft hum of music starts to fill the air, the radio you kept in your house just now starting to play, despite it being a couple minutes from when you turned it on.

“Why did you ask me - out of everyone in that store - where the candy aisle was? I saw you before you walked up to me.” You confess, starting to sway your body lightly to the music. He follows with you, copying your movements. His hands start to slide under your shirt, resting gently against your bare waist.

“Don’t know,” he shrugs slightly, his voice still quiet. “I guess you just captivated me the moment I saw you.” Lee responds, his thumb starting to rub soothing circles against your skin.

“Yeah?” You whisper, softer than before.

“Yeah.” Lee confirms.

[gilbertscurls]

Everywhere ➵ Chris Sturniolo

The late afternoon sun bathed the street in a warm golden hue as you strolled toward the park, your thoughts drifting aimlessly. It had been one of those quiet days, the kind where time seemed to stretch out endlessly, leaving you too much space to think. You smiled to yourself, recalling the latest video Chris and his brothers had uploaded to their wildly popular YouTube channel.

Even though you’d known the trio for years—Chris, Nick, and Matt had been your friends since high school—it still amazed you to see how far they’d come. Their videos were blowing up, and the world was finally seeing what you’d known all along: the Sturniolo brothers were something special. But it wasn’t their success that had your head in the clouds today.

It was Chris.

He had always been the life of the group, the one who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. But somewhere along the way, the feeling you got when you were around him changed. It had become more intense, harder to ignore, and now… He was everywhere.

Every time you opened her phone, he was there—his smile, his laugh, his playful antics with Nick and Matt. Even when you weren’t scrolling through social media, something reminded you of him. A song on the radio, a phrase someone said in passing—everything seemed to lead back to Chris.

You reached the park and found your usual spot beneath a sprawling oak tree. Chris had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, just the two of you. It wasn’t unusual, but today, there was a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. You didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because of that stupid dream you’d had the other night, where he’d leaned in close, his hand brushing your cheek as he whispered your name. You had woken up in a daze, the feeling of his touch lingering even after you opened her eyes. Ever since then, you couldn’t shake the thought of what it would be like if Chris saw you the same way you saw him.

Before you could dive too deeply into your thoughts, you heard his voice.

“Hey!”

You turned and saw Chris jogging toward you, his face lit up in that familiar grin that always made your heart skip a beat. He wore a faded band tee and baggy jeans, his hair tousled from the wind, and as always, he looked effortlessly good. You waved as he approached, your pulse quickening.

"Hey," you greeted him as he flopped down on the grass beside you, his usual carefree energy radiating off him.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the world go by. Chris was always easy to be around—you never had to force conversation or feel like she needed to entertain you. He was like a constant presence, always there, even when words weren’t.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Chris said after a while, glancing over at you.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” He leaned back on his hands, his eyes studying you in that way that made it impossible for you to lie.

You bit her lip. “Just… Stuff.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Stuff, huh? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

You laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Fine. Thinking about you. Happy?”

His grin faltered for a split second, but it was so quick you almost missed it. He sat up straighter, his voice softer now. “Thinking about me? Why?”

You felt her cheeks heat up. “I don’t know. You’ve just been… Everywhere lately. On my phone, on my mind.” You forced a laugh, trying to downplay it. “It’s like I can’t escape you.”

Chris didn’t laugh like you thought he would. Instead, he stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure something out. The silence stretched between you, and for the first time, it felt a little heavy, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been thinking about us.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice low. “What about us?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable. This wasn’t how you had imagined this conversation going. You hadn’t planned on telling him, hadn’t even planned on confronting these feelings, but now that the moment was here, it felt impossible to hold back.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But lately, I just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Chris was silent for a moment, and for the first time, you noticed the shift in his expression. There was no teasing grin, no playful glint in his eyes. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft but steady, “I’ve been thinking about you too. For a long time.”

Your heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you recognized. “I mean… It’s not just you who’s been seeing me everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about you either. Every time we hang out, every time I see you, it’s like you’re all I can focus on. It’s driving me crazy.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to feel the same way.

“I thought I was imagining things,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I didn’t think you felt that way.”

Chris let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to hide it for months.”

The vulnerability in his voice was something you weren’t used to hearing from him. Chris was always so carefree, so lighthearted, but now there was a weight to his words that made your heart ache.

“So, what do we do?” you asked quietly, your eyes searching his.

He reached out, his hand finding yours, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade away—the noise of the city, the buzz of the world. It was just you, sitting under the oak tree, with years of friendship and something more finally coming to the surface.

“Maybe we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “And see what happens.”

You looked down at your hands, your thumb brushing against his. “What if it changes everything?”

Chris smiled, and this time, it wasn’t teasing. It was warm, genuine. “Maybe it will. But maybe that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of the moment hung between them, heavy with possibility and uncertainty. But as Chris leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss, all the fears, all the questions melted away.

In that moment, it didn’t matter what might change, what risks you were taking. All that mattered was the way he felt—everywhere.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

[deuynndoodles]

[ID: A colored, digital two page comic featuring Danny and Jazz from Danny Phantom. Danny wears a baggy hoodie over a shirt and jeans. Jazz wears a v-neck sweater and shorts.

Fentonworks, after curfew: Danny reaches for the doorknob to his bedroom, breathing out and gripping his shoulder.

"Where were you?" says Jazz, hands on her hips, making Danny jump. "Look, I know that Mom and Dad don't really care, but I do. You can trust me." She looks sad. "What's going on with you?"

"None of your business, Jazz." He looks irritated. He reaches for the doorknob again, muttering, "Just lemme sleep."

"Wait!" is written in all caps. Jazz reaches out, pulling at the hood of his jacket. Danny turns and raises his arm out of his hoodie, revealing an ectoplasmic injury. "Fuck off!" he yells.

Jazz pulls her hand away, startling backwards. Then, she looks sad as she says, "Oh, Danny…"

Fade out. They now stand in the Fentonworks bathroom, with Danny sitting on the toilet and Jazz hovering over him, cleaning a wound on his left shoulder. He's now in a binder and the original ectoplasmic wound has been treated. She scolds him and he grins nervously, curling in on himself. End ID.]

happy holidays @torscrawls !

[ares857]

internet find

If you want this project to continue, you can use the Paypal donation button on the web page of the blog. Any donation is welcome.

[blackdollette]

Hii Soo I'm not used to sending requests so I'm sorry if this is gonna be a little difficult or confusing. Have you heard that TikTok sound about how "she wanted five guys and I'm not talking about burgers" I was wondering if you could write something like that with 5 characters that Rory plays I don't mind who if you do decide to write it but I'm so sorry this message is so long

ohhh anon you're creative!

"you want more." | clyde, euronymous, jack, kappa, tyler

art deco. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35

female!reader x clyde + r!euro + jack + kappa + tyler

word count: 1.6k

contents: gangbang, unprotected p in v, anal, a little degradation, a little praise, blowjob, public sex, overstimulation, facial, creampies, a little aftercare

like a doll on display in the window of a toy store, you felt 5 pairs of predatory eyes lying on your almost bare figure as you sat on a scrawny little bed in a private room of your favourite nightclub. what a strange set of men. the thought ran through your mind as you stared up at them, studying the group. 

there was a drunk-eyed stoner dressed in baggy clothes that held a muscular figure, a dark-haired metalhead wearing a cropped shirt that showed off a toned torso, a normal-looking man who appeared more off-putting the longer you looked at him, a greasy hippie who was already greedily palming himself, and a short-haired man with a glowing, throbbing rod concealed in his jeans.

you shyly bit your lip, fidgeting with your thumbs as you thought about what was in store for you. this wasn’t what you initially expected during a night out at the club, but you couldn't deny the adrenaline rushing through your veins. you were wearing a pair of silk panties and thigh-high black socks. the first man to take note of your nervous disposition was the stoner, who reached out a hand to gently stroke your cheek with his thumb.

clyde’s gentle touch made you shiver. “well aren’t you just the cutest thing?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, making you suck on it. “i promise not to hurt you tonight, ‘kay?” while his words were meant to bring you comfort, you could only tremble as the four others clearly had intentions of doing the opposite. 

your eyes darted around, spotting the hippie whipping out his cannon. your pupils dilated as 12-inches of meat dangled in the corner of your eye. your clit throbbed at the thought of his pipe abusing your internal organs, beating them to a pulp. and you caught a glimpse of that dream in reality as he hopped on the bed, lifting up your ass and pressing his hips against you and letting you feel the sensation of his throbbing cock through the dampening fabric of your panties.

three belts clanged as they hit the ground in unison. the three others, euronymous, jack and tyler, took their positions on the bed with you, all five of them surrounding you. euronymous firmly grabs your jaw, making you look up at him. you couldn’t help but whimper quietly, from the sight of him and the feeling of kappa starting to toy with your pussy.

clyde rested back against the creaky bed’s headboard, pulling out his erection that was already smeared with precum. tyler sat next to him and as he pulled out his dick, your life momentarily flashed before your eyes. his shaft was unlike anyone else’s in the room. from the balls, it was a shimmery sapphire blue and it faded into a pretty purple at the tip (like this). it was so thick that you tried to wrap your hand around it, failing.

a harsh slap landed down on your ass, making yelp. jack’s hand left a sting as kappa cooed mockingly. “aw did that hurt, sugar?” euronymous tore your panties off of you, tossing the useless strip of fabric to the side as he massaged your hard clit with his thumb. you arched your back, stuffing your face into the mattress until a hand grabbed you by your hair.

“don’t hide that pretty mouth,” tyler grinned, “we’re gonna put you to good use, baby.” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, teasing your lips with the tip of his cock. you eagerly took it in, taking a second to adjust to his size. clyde let out a low groan, already bucking his hips slowly into your mouth.

tyler’s alien cock glowed with arousal as he watched your throat bulge from being filled up. you brought your hand to his dick, it being much colder than clyde’s. you lifted you mouth off of his, with lips being connected by strings of saliva as you slowly took tyler’s tentacle into your mouth. his hand found the back of your head, gently guiding it down. “yeah… nice and easy.”

then they all went at full force. euro, jack and kappa all slammed themselves into you simultaneously. tears flooded your eyes as you felt two cocks stretch out your pussy and one fill up your asshole. right from the jump, you were already gushing on all of them, the wetness of your cunt saturating their rods.

clyde and tyler took off the training wheels, now making you take both lengths into your little mouth at the same time. you struggled, but your sobs provided enough spit to help them go down easily. both men tossed their head back in unison from the feeling of their girths rubbing together.

though you couldn’t see, jack was taking care of your asshole while kappa and euro dealt with your painfully tight pussy. jack slowly massaged your sore hole as he slowly moved himself in and out of you. “does that hurt, sweetie?” his hand had a gentle grip of your waist and he gave it a little squeeze. both your holes clenched, and jack took this as a sign to be a little gentler with you.

“just give me a little kick if you can’t take it. but i know you can. such a good girl…” jack’s words turned your limbs into jelly. he cocked his head to the side slightly, dislodging a few locks from his bun as he pushed himself in your tight muscle, the vibrations of your groans running down tyler and clyde’s bodies.

kappa may have had the size, but euronymous was carrying the speed. he was twice, maybe three times as fast as everyone else one, your ass bouncing each time he slammed himself back into you. he muttered the dirtiest things of all, making a knot tie in your stomach. “goddamnit, you’re tight as a fuckin’ virgin. but we all know that’s not true, don’t we?” 

you felt your cheeks burn with humiliation, much to his dismay. you ground your hips against them, cum dripping down the inside of your thighs. you had already cum a few times, but how would they know? your mouth was completely stuffed, preventing you from getting a single word out.

clyde reached into the pocket of his cargos which were inches away from him on the bed. he took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag, eyes locked on you as your spit could his cock in a thin layer.

while clyde was calm and collected, tyler was completely losing it. his hips uncontrollably bucked into your mouth as he gripped the bedsheets so tight that his knuckles went pale. his cock was illuminated like a glowstick, throbbing and oozing as it began to drip with a neon green substance.

as the taste hit your tongue, you immediately felt like gagging. but once you got over the burning sizzle of his cum, it began to taste faintly like green apple bubble gum. you swallowed every last drop that he gave you, desperately deepthroating his length to get more of his solution. then the gates of hell broke loose. he couldn’t hold back anymore and he dumped a bucket load of bioluminescent cum into your digestive track.

it erupted out of him like lava, hot and sizzling as you coughed up green bubbles. clyde burst into a fit of laughter as he shoved himself back into you. “what a party trick, dude.” clyde grabbed a fistful of your hair, aggressively fucking your throat, completely losing control of himself.

you gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes as your lips swelled around him. he’d always been a sucker for “blowjob eyes”, so with a few more lazy thrusts he shot hot strings of his seed onto your face, painting on you like you were a pretty picture.

as you received your facial, kappa exclaimed out a string of curses, as you feel your pussy swell as it filled with cum. euronymous’ balls slapped against your clit as he pounded into you, his fingernails digging into your ass as he lost himself in this moment of pure bliss. as hit orgasm hit like a ton of bricks, he yanked himself out of you, pumping himself quickly as shooting his load all over your arched back.

jack took this opportunity to give it his all, now fucking you rapidly in the ass. you cried into the mattress, loads of cum squirting out of your swollen pussy as he destroyed your insides. “o-oh yeah… good fucking girl…” he reached a hand down and started rubbing messy circles on your puffy clit, making your ass clench as he reached his climax.

he groaned deeply, his body shaking enough the snap the elastic band holding his hair up, sending his full strands all over his face. he used you to milk every last drop out of himself before pulling out and examining your sore hole.

you were a total mess, tears running down your face as they all released you at once. you panted heavily, the room spinning as your eyes fluttered shut. your pussy throbbed from the overstimulation, your entire feeling satisfied despite how worn out you were. in this moment, you felt cold leather draping over your bare body, euronymous’ jacket. clyde lit the small candle on the bedside table with his lighter to keep you warm, jack took one of the hair ties on his wrist and pulled your hair out of your face, putting it into a pretty ponytail, tyler pulled a pink lollipop out of his pocket, putting it in your gentle grip. and kappa’s contribution was a soft kiss on the cheek.

they left you in the cool, drafty room, leaving you with an aching body but a very fulfilled heart.

(little drawing of the position yall are in.)

author's note: writing gangbangs is so hard but I love a challenge!

[onmyyan]

Kiss the goat

A/N: Horror isekai? Horror isekai, here's part one of the Scream chapters, unedited, hope you like cuz it was so much fun writing

Pairing: Yandere Poly Ghostface x reader

It was such an odd sensation, you don't think you'd ever truly get used to it, no matter how many times it washed over you.

It was always the same, tranquil lull, and it always started in your lower tummy, like this wave of ice cold water suddenly replaced all the blood in your veins.

Whenever you first 'woke up' somewhere new, that damn feeling was always the first thing you noticed, and the only warning you'd get.

This time though, something was different. There was this mix of fear, confusion, and awe tossed in with the lull because you clocked your location immediately.

Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum

For a moment all you could hear was the the blood pounding in your eardrums, slowly , as you forced yourself to breathe, the surrounding noises faded in, at first it was just the chatter of a busy school, then you noticed the shuffle of feet dragging on concrete, with your heart pounding furiously against your rib cage, you pinched your thigh through your baggy blue jeans and began walking, focusing on forcing your feet to move, rather than the millions of other thoughts buzzing through your skull. Why? Well because there you stood, dropped right before the soon-to-be infamous Woodsboro High.

As you walked amongst the crowd of people there were a few things you noticed immediately about yourself, at least this version of yourself, which seemed to change with every new plot you were forcibly thrown in.

The jeans you wore were loose fitting and well loved, small holes in the denim here and there  gave you a typical 90's degenerate vibe, the soft cotton of the band T-shirt you were in felt comfortable against your skin, around your waist hung a oversized burgundy flannel with accents of mustard yellow, the fabric looked old and smelled of weed, a sigh rolled through your chest at the familiar smell, it was a bittersweet reminder of your life before this insanity began.

Glancing down at your outfit made you breath out a sigh of relief, at least you dressed better in this one. In the small shirt pocket, you felt a book of matches, the scratchy texture of telling you what it was without needing to pull it out, good to know.

Shaking your head you try your best to look as bored and uninteresting as possible, you've found these things were best tackled from a stealthy perspective. As you finally enter the school, the second you step through the open doors, there's this intense, hair-raising feeling that washes over you, everything in your gut is saying run away, turn around, but you don't.

Instead, you swallow the fight-or-flight instincts and continue your pace as if you hadn't noticed the predatory stare on you. It didn't surprise you, after all, the self-proclaimed directors of this twisted movie were bound to notice a new player being introduced so suddenly, you just hadn't yet gotten used to the uneasy feeling of being in the presence of a murderer.

Or in this movies case, murderers.

The stares you received from the rest of the student body helped to distract you from the heavy stares burning into you, as you leisurely walked down the halls people either mean-mugged you or ignored you, it helped to get a better feel for the role you'd been assigned, depending on how well you played said role was going to determine whether or not you ended up on the kill count.

For now, you kept it pushing, your hands resting comfortably in the pockets of your jeans, your right hand, which you only now noticed was covered in rings, brushed against the cool touch of something small and metal, you quickly pulled out the object to reveal a switchblade, the handle a glossy white with a simple heart scratched into the surface, quickly you tucked it back where you'd found it.

The grin that had stretched across your face as you traversed the halls was downright wicked, in your mini search you'd also come across a crinkled class schedule and a pack of gum. Curious (e/c) eyes diligently scanned the face of every student that passed, searching for any clue as to when exactly you'd popped in, having a clear timeline in mind made these things run so much smoother.

Casey Beckem gave you that answer in the form of a cliché shoulder check as she rounded the corner. She made a point to dust off the area that had touched you, and her scoff of 'Watch it freak.' made a snort leave your nose, god you loved the 90s, even the bullying was better.

Considering she was still amongst the living, you gathered this was before the start of the movie, fantastic. You pushed forward, far too wrapped up in your building excitement to pay any mind to the very dangerous man you'd caught the sight of.

You found your first class a few minutes early, thankfully the school's layout wasn't too hard to navigate, you were intent on taking proper inventory and prepping as well as you could. The teacher took you in with a surprised noise, clearly judging your character on your appearance.

You'd gotten pretty good at handling your, particular situation, so good in fact you'd begun to relax a little. Taking a seat by the window in the back felt very final girl of you, the thought making you giggle to yourself. Whatever entity responsible for isekaing you into this movie flashed between a real asshole and a slightly smaller asshole with each reincarnation, this time it looked like they were feeling nice as you started with a weapon. 

Your inner workings were put on an abrupt pause as Randy Meeks burst in through the door earning a glare from the otherwise silent teacher. The bright-eyed male made a beeline for you, his expression was akin to a puppy who just had its bone taken away.

"What the Hell San Francisco? I spent the last 15 minutes running around like some mook looking for ya'." he paused to sit down at the desk directly on your right. "You ask a guy to show you around then ditch em'? Cruel, undeniably cruel." You learned pretty quickly to just roll with it whenever someone from Canon spoke to you.

"My bad Meeks, I'll make it up to you." At this, the energetic man rolled his eyes, now leaning even closer. "Oh yeah? Meaning what- you'll actually take me up on my offer instead of responding with that cold familiar brand of cynicism? C'mon, it'll be funnnn." He trailed off in a whine. "Whoever told you begging was an option for you lied." You laughed, shaking your head at the way he visibly deflated.

You kicked your faded black Converse all star's on the back of the seat before you, legs bouncing as you allowed yourself to ponder your answer, the nervous habit had developed sometime between this movie, and one of your earlier incarnations and subsequent deaths.

This was a little more complicated, see the omnipotent fuck who put you here liked to screw with you, very much into the concept of seeing you mix with whatever plot that laid before you, so much so that anytime you fought against whatever scenario you were thrust into in any way you died horribly. The first time you'd been plopped into a movie was the original My Bloody Valentine,- a chill ran through your body like a punch to the gut at the thought, yeah you'd come a long way since then in terms of working the system but nothing was set in stone.

You figured whatever this offer from Randy was, would no doubt tie you into the plot, knowing better than to fight the waves, you pretended to think about it before shrugging. "Sure. I'll bite." The simple statement had him shooting out of his chair to fist pump before quickly falling back in his seat.

"Yessss-okay it's super easy, I spend my time rewinding the utter garbage the general population consumes on a daily." He was practically buzzing in his seat as he spoke. "Once in a while, the boss leaves for an extra long lunch break and I get to watch whatever I want- Child's Play, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street- you name it I got it." The redhead spoke proudly, leaning back against his chair with a self-satisfied look.

"You should be a salesman Meeks." The male bristled beside you, a tinge of red on his cheeks. "Yeah yeah, whatever Frisco- don't come crying to me when you don't have anyone to sit with at lunch." He teased, leaning over his desk, you smile toying with the ring on your hand, popping your neck with a sigh you took a second before responding, "Oh god, how will I ever survive sitting alone, whatever will I do." you spoke in a dead tone making the male at your side pout.

"You're cold (L/n), couldn't even pretend to care about my threat huh?"

You looked over with a teasing grin, "Course' not- I'm not a liar Randy.", it was then and only then that you noticed the tall Blonde unashamedly staring you down from the door.

Stu Macher had made his appearance earlier than expected but you didn't sweat it, or the almost hungry look he was giving you. Nope, not sweating at all. Instead, you quickly averted your eyes, praying he hadn't caught your stare.

He had, naturally.

The taller male nearly took up the entire door frame, he looked a lot more intimidating in person. The playful look on his face was all the more haunting the more you thought about who he really was underneath it. What he was hours away from doing.

Randy, feeling the sudden rise in tension, refused to be left out, and tried to not so subtly block Stu's vision of you by standing up and not so casually sitting on his desk, his back to the future killer. "Anyway Frisco', I don't want you mixin' in with the wrong crowd okay?" He made a point to flick his eyes back towards the now pouting blonde, "Bad company makes for bad times. Just stick with me I'll show you the ropes." He made sure to mutter that last part, his expression drenched in fear for the briefest moment.

Before you could respond Stu had rather aggressively climbed his way over a few desks to plop into the seat in front of you.

His dimpled grin was rather infectious.

"Now that's no way to talk about your friends Randy." He almost seethed out his name making the shorter male curl in on himself like a rabbit, he turned to face you with flare.

"Hi, there hot stuff- Stu Macher, bad company." He took your hand in his much larger one, completely enveloping your own, the tension was broken by the comical handshake, how hard he shook it up and down dispelled all previous bad vibes, his devious little grin only grew at your response, "Hi Stu, I'm (Y/n). Worse company."

"So whatcha' running from in San Francisco? Girl's like you don't just show up outta nowhere for no reason." He didn't even try to hide the way he was checking you out, his half-lidded eyes eagerly drinking in every inch of the alluring stranger before him.

"Who says I'm running big guy? I might be the one doing the chasing." Maybe teasing a soon-to-be serial killer wasn't the smartest move, but you just couldn't help it, he leaned his head into his palm, the wide toothy grin promising nothing but trouble. "I think I like you- come sit with us at lunch."

"You askin' or telling?" You met his heated gaze with a cold indifference that only fueled the ever-growing fire burning in his belly. The larger male quickly fell to his knees from his seat on the chair, bringing his hands together in a dramatic motion, "Pretty pretty please hot new kid come sit with meee." The laugh tumbling past your lips was real, you quickly ushered him back to his seat, "As nice as ya look on your knees- this is embarrassing please get the hell up I'll sit with you."

He backed off with a victorious grin not knowing you'd just lied through your teeth, there was no way in hell you'd willingly put yourself in Billy's cross hairs, Stu was unavoidable apparently, but Billy? You'd hold out as long as you could, when lunch rolled around you managed to convince Randy to eat on the roof, and used the friendly conversation to get more information out of him.

It was during this conversation you discovered in this world, whoever you were, was Randy's new neighbor.

After the school bell had rung for the final time, you made a point to linger around Randy, usually, when you spawned in one of these things the plot was well into swing, but this time you were here early, and the change in routine felt all the more dangerous.

Thankfully, Randy came to your rescue, you tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear him say,

"-if you even want to that is- we'd mostly be watching the classics." He finished nervously glancing to and from, you managed to space back just in time to greet him with a half smile and a shrug. "Lead the way, Meeks."

"It's so cool how you live next door- when you told me at first I thought you were yankin' my chain." He said bouncing his way down the road.

Randy had stumbled home with sleep in his eye sometime around midnight, you weren't too worried for the guy as you knew they hadn't started their spree yet.

That was until the phone rang. 

For a moment all you did was stare. You knew who was on the other end it just didn't make any sense. 

Swallowing the thick ice cube of fear suddenly in your throat, you caught your breath as casually as you could.

As if on autopilot your hand scooped up the house phone, you surprised yourself with how calm your greeting was.

"Hello?.."

"Hey there sweet thing- you're up awful late aren't ya?" You tried to look as casual as you could, steadily making your way to every door, and securing each entrance, but it was hard to ignore the twinge of accusation in his tone.

"You're up too.." Was what you managed to get out, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Hm, that's fair. What were you up to? Have some fun with your boyfriend?" The last word sounded harder than the rest, with no humor in his tone, almost as if it was said through gritted teeth, like whoever spoke it spat the word out.

So he was definitely watching you, your mind racked with the best answer to keep Randy from harm's way.

"Just watching some scary movies with a friend- you like em'?" You asked leaning against the island in your kitchen. "Oh, honey- you've got no idea." Before you could respond he continued, "I will see you later gorgeous." and then he was gone

[bleuside97]

Redemption and Regression

paring: babydaddy!jungkook x exgirlfriend!reader

summary: even after five years there is not escaping of jeon jungkook.

warnings: reader has a four year old child, reader gets kidnapped by jjk, manhandling, harsh words, profanities, a bit of angst,

genre: yandere jungkook

"Hi mommy." A little voice called through the phone call. You hold the phone close to your ear. Relief filled your senses by hearing your son's voice. Looking both ways before crossing the empty street. "Hello mommy's baby." You replied to your son, U-Jin Y/L/N, smiling ear to ear. "How are you liking it at Grandma's house?" You asked the small boy. "I love it here, Grandma has lots of toys for me to play with and she cooked samgyupsal for dinner." You couldn't see him but you can tell that joy evident in his voice. In the background of the phone call the sound of toys clashing together. Clearly, submerged in his fun toys he stopped taking.

Your four year old baby, frequently stays at his grandparents house on nights you have to work overtime. This whole week has been filled with late shifts at the office. You are employed as a journalist, a struggling one if that, you are writing your newest article that could be your breakthrough. A female voice cuts in, "Y/n." "Hello Mom, thank you for taking U-Jin in again, I've been so busy at the office." Walking home from work alone in the dark of the night. Thankfully you're almost at home. Just a few more blocks from it. You walk through the patches of yellow lights given by the street lights, within every kilometer. A gust of wind flies past you and bites your nose and cheeks turning a bright rose color. Your cling onto your light jacket a little tighter with your free hand. It was cold but your pursed nonetheless pulling the hood over your head. Pushing your hands deeper into your jacket's pocket for warmth. You continue to walk to your destination.

"I can't neglect my responsibility as a Grandmother," She dismisses your gratitude, always selfless. You're grateful to have her in your life, the only person you trust right now. You smile gratefully, admitting, "I can't do this alone." Tears well up, clouding your vision. "I'm a struggling single mom, trying to keep my job." A compassionate sigh emanates from the other end of the phone. "Don't give up, Y/n. You've come so far from those so many years ago." Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face. The smile fades as you recall your life before five years ago. Swiftly changing the subject, you attempt to forget about it. "I'll pick up U-Jin tomorrow, it's my day off. See you then, please kiss U-Jin goodnight for me."

You conclude the call quick to tuck it in your purse. A shadow of a figure in the distance. A rather tall figure, with long brunette hair blowing in the wind. He wore a loose-fitting hoodie and baggy jeans. He walks, his gaze locked on the sidewalk ahead, his face obscured by a cap that renders him faceless in the dim light. In the midst of the crowded sidewalk, your shoulders accidentally collide. You're quick to offer an apology, but as you do, the faceless figure slowly turns to face you, and in that instant, you imprint a name on his featureless visage. A surge of instinctive fear jolts through your mind, urging your body into action. Your legs propel you into motion before rational thought can catch up.

In the darkness behind you, an iron grip suddenly clamps onto your arms, imprisoning them against your trembling frame. You instinctively struggle, desperately attempting to wriggle free from his unyielding hold, but he remains an immovable force. As fear courses through your veins, you open your mouth to scream, only to be violently yanked backward, stealing the very breath from your lungs and reducing your scream to a feeble gasp.

His fingers constrict around your waist and throat, the world narrowing to the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears and the veins throbbing visibly in your throat. Panic surges within you, tears welling up in your eyes. Amidst the chaotic moment, your vision is reduced to a blur of blinding car headlights, the whizzing of the street, and a fraction of a car door frame as you're forcibly thrust into the passenger-side seat. Desperation fuels your efforts as you claw your nails against his arm, a frantic struggle to break free.

Having cornered you within the confines of the vehicle, your assailant steps back, allowing you a fleeting glimpse. Through your disheveled hair, the darkness, and the tears clouding your vision, you discern little more than the silhouette of a man. His head abruptly swivels in your direction, his hand lunging forward, and a noxious cloth slaps onto your face.

In your frantic struggle with all your might, you toss your head back, a desperate bid to evade him, your instincts screaming about the consequences of failure. You were forcibly shoved into the car, an unsettling sense of déjà vu washed over you, and you could have sworn that your faceless assailant wore a hauntingly familiar, triumphant grin. A haunting warning chills your soul, "I warned you, y/n, from the moment you left me, I told you I will always find you." The world dissolves into darkness as he steps back, sealing your fate with a resounding slam of the car door. Rendering you unconscious.

(Transition)

A cold shiver danced down your spine, and the chill of damp concrete beneath your scent a jolt of discomfort through her frail frame. Panic began to claw at the edges of your consciousness as her memory reluctantly unveiled the grim truth: she was trapped, imprisoned by the very person she had once called her own.

As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the stale, musty air, tinged with the scent of old wood and mildew. The sound of distant water dripping echoed ominously, punctuating the silence that enveloped her. Her hands, trembling as she explored her immediate surroundings, brushed against rough walls and the coarse surface of a cot, revealing the stark minimalism of her prison. With every fleeting moment, the dreadful awareness of her predicament grew more poignant. Memories of their tumultuous history resurfaced, casting shadows on her thoughts, and the realization dawned that she was now at the mercy of her former captor. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the agonizing helplessness of her situation.

Amidst the dimly lit basement's gloom, your eyes gradually adjusted to the obscurity, revealing the harsh reality of her situation. As her disoriented senses sharpened, she could make out a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Her heart raced, and a tremor coursed through her frail form as the figure gradually materialized before her.

a/n: it's been a minute bro ik i said that i was going to post like five days a week naaa that was a lie. it's not that easy im currently in school and im tired and doing work all the time. im exhausted but ima try to post once a week. i will try. anyways, im still on my yandere shit and i have way more coming up. i really this one and i think it's a cool story. please let me know your feedback please this is only the first part of the story and i don't want this to flop 😭 please don't make it flop I beg! i really worked hard on it it took me days to do!! there's gonna be two more chapters and smut would be included in the next chapter so...