#his little black skinny-jeans or leggings

[vld-has-messed-me-up]

Okay controversial Keith opinion here, but; his haircut could just as easily be described as a wolf cut rather than a mullet.

[eternalguk]

Losers || jjk. (M)

I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded.

↠ Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jeongguk. Your brother's best friend, your mom's favourite human, and the man who is saved as, the certified asshole, on your phone. With black hair and piercings, tattoos and skinny jeans… Jeongguk has been your worst nightmare since you were 18. Six years later, getting along with him is still impossible. The only difference? His pastime then was to steal your diary and read it aloud. Now? Well… let’s just say, it’s most definitely not the same.

↠ Genre : pwp, brothers best friend au, age gap au, fuck buddies au (angst, fluff & smut)

↠ Warnings : explicit sexual content, swearing, bickering but they’re actually flirting, teasing (a lot of it), making out, grinding, dirty talk, degradation, breast play, unprotected sex (be safe), kinda dom!jungkook, power bottom!jungkook, riding, begging, creampie, mentions of oral sex, mentions of one-sided feelings and i think that’s all.

↠ Word count : 1.6k

↠ A/n : hello <3 here’s a little something that i put together when I was bored! I hope you enjoy brothers best friend!Jungkook as much as I did whilst writing. Your feedback will be appreciated 🤍. Happy reading 🦢

↠ Song : meddle about - Chase Atlantic.

You’re full. So damn full.

Jungkook’s thick and imposing cock is nestled inside you, the delicious stretch causing both of you to unleash the most desperate sounds.

“Ride me,” Jungkook’s voice is husky, and very evidently quivering with lust and need.

You gulp, licking your swollen lips before lifting yourself up and lowering yourself inch by inch, until he’s all the way inside again. The pressure between your legs is unbearable, body craving relief.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers boring into your hips. “So greedy for my dick.”

And the taunting is back…

You roll your eyes, lifting yourself up again and slamming down so hard that you both groan. “And who was begging me to ride their dick?”

Jungkook whispers a string of curses, before thrusting himself upwards. “A-and who… who was begging me to have sex with them in the first place?”

You.

The answer was you, and you couldn’t even try to defend yourself.

Your brother had finally left the house, and in other words, you and Jungkook were finally able to fuck.

So here you were, in the living room, relentlessly riding your brother’s best friend.

Now, you weren’t that bad. Yes, you had made the first move, but Jungkook was no innocent bystander. Your thoughts linger back to where the shenanigans began.

“Hey princess,” Jungkook smirks as he saunters into the living room, interrupting your peaceful evening. “Missed me?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the sight of him. “Not even a little bit, asshole.”

“Stop lying,” he sings as he reaches over to take a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate. “I know you did.”

You remain silent, hoping he gets the cue and leaves. You don’t forget to mentally curse your brother for leaving you with this man-child.

Jungkook chuckles and you already sense a foolish comment about to leave his lips. “I know you love me, Y/N.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “In your dreams, Jungkook. Your dick? Maybe. You? Never.”

He moves to take a seat on the couch adjacent to you, his gaze lingering a little too long. “You look cute when you're angry.”

You flush, hating how easily he gets under your skin. “Shut up, let me read.”

But instead of retorting, Jungkook leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Make me.”

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat between your thighs. "You wish."

His lips quirk into a smirk as he leans back, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe I do.”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to kiss him. Why did he have to be so damn infuriatingly attractive?

As the evening wears on, your banter escalated into a full-blown war of words, each insult laced with underlying tension. But beneath the surface, there's something else brewing—a desire that neither of you wants to acknowledge.

The three previous altercations between you and Jungkook had led to sex… there’s no way you were going to let that happen again.

“I’ll just go keep myself busy with Areum. You know your really pretty friend? She’s been begging me to come over.” Jungkook grins mischievously, knowing he's finally pushed you to your limit.

But instead of storming off in a huff like usual, you surprise him by closing the distance between you, lips crashing against his in a heated kiss.

He responds eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of need.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

You smirk, trailing my fingers down his chest. “You love it.”

He groans, his grip tightening on you as he whispers, “I’d be a liar if I said no.”

And that was what had brought you to your current state. You begin to ride Jungkook in a fast, unrestrained pace, leaning forward so your clit can brush against his pubic bone, deepening your own pleasure.

“So big, Jungkook.. So deep,” you moan gratifyingly, throwing your head back as you relish in this complete heaven.

Jungkook smirks whilst watching you fuck yourself on his cock, pleasure vividly overtaking you as you roll your eyes with each bounce. “Good girl, ride my cock just like that.”

“J-Jungkook,” you whine faintly, his hands forcing you down completely and making you go faster. His low grunts and growls of your name make you warm up more, adoring the pleasurable sounds he makes. Your eyes meet his and you heat up as he gazes at you with lust stained eyes.

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, helping you bounce on his dick. He looks extremely sexy right now with swollen lips, tanned skin and messy, tousled hair.

The sound of heavy breathing and the way his cock easily slides in and out of you reminds you just how blissful it is to be intimate with Jungkook. It was a shame you couldn’t call him yours.

“Mhm,” you inform him, slowly riding his dick up and down, your cunt swallowing his thick girth with ease and allowing yourself to be distracted from mellow thoughts. Jungkook thrusts up and you gasp at the sudden action, whining his name louder.

Jungkook scoffs at your reaction, smirking as his hands come to rest at your hips. You notice his lust filled eyes and it urges you to ride him faster.

“Going to miss this pussy when I leave,” Jungkook grunts, his deep, throaty voice making your heart race faster.

You ignore the ache that settles in your heart at the thought of him leaving.

“Mhm.” You respond, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Jungkook’s cock deep inside.

Jungkook’s lips brush over your clavicles whilst his hands slide up and down your back, eventually stopping on your ass, grabbing it to help you ride him. Your hips rock back and forth at a steady speed, relishing in the current moment.

“Ohh fuckk,” you cry out, savouring each drag of his monstrous cock. Your hips continue to rock back and forth and Jungkook simply wishes you both were on a mattress right now so he could pound into you hard and fast. You feel the way he contains himself from thrusting upwards, knowing very well that he’ll lose control.

The mere sight of you in the throes of pleasure, throwing your head back and lustily moaning has Jungkook weak. Your partly lidded eyes, flaming skin and heaving chest tells Jungkook all that he needs to know. You look alluringly beautiful, using Jungkook’s body to catch your release.

“Always ride me so fucking well, baby.” Jungkook rasps, lips moving to wrap around your nipples and sucking on them vigorously. He fondles with the other, neglected breast, pinching at your nipple and your whines only heighten.

“You look so sexy and you’re all mine,” he growls, his hips moving to thrust up against yours. His throaty voice impels you to shiver, dominance and possessiveness lacing it. “No one else can have this.”

“All y-yours, baby,” you croon, your walls tightening and clenching as his low grunts and moans turn you on. “There’s no one who’ll make me feel like this.”

And that’s true. You have no clue if you’ll ever stop craving Jungkook. The idea of him fucking someone else, paired with the idea of someone else fucking you, leave a distaste in your mouth.

“I’m close, Kook,” you whine whilst reaching for his veiny hands to rub against your palpitating clit. Jungkook understands the message, instantly moving his hand to thumb against it. He circles his finger around the bud and you helplessly mewl, aching to come.

You pull on Jungkook’s tresses as your hips begin to stutter in their grinding. “Such a good girl for me, always so good.” He encourages you and that simple sentence is all you need as your pussy clenches and slick cum squirts out of you.

“Just like that, baby girl. Just like that,” Jungkook harshly breathes, painting your insides with his seed. He lifts his hips, fucking into you through your orgasms. You moan loudly before falling against his chest, pressing firm kisses against his sweaty neck.

“I love it when you come inside me,” you purr, sucking deep, purple marks into his skin. Another thing that should not be happening. Looking after a baby, Jungkook’s baby to specify, was not something you imagine yourself doing anytime soon.

A husky moan escapes from Jungkook as he pulls your face towards his, pressing a searing kiss onto your rosy lips. He kisses you with love, purpose and sincerity. The third thing that should not be happening right now.

You shiver at the feeling of his cock being nestled inside your wet, warm walls. Jungkook’s hands move to your ass, gently grinding you against him. You pull back and are met with a sly grin on your temptations face.

Temptation was the word your mind had settled with. Is that what he was?

“Again?” He cockily mutters, moving forward to rub his nose against yours.

“Well, why not?,” is all you whisper back before pressing your lips against his, swallowing his giggles as you push him to lean against his seat, ready to be destroyed all over again.

Jungkook’s fingers are lost in your hair, and his other hand rests against your waist, gently caressing your exposed skin.

You think back to days upon days with him, starting with a simple kiss to now fucking at every chance you get.

You dwell on your feelings for the man in front of you. Who would’ve thought that the Jungkook you passionately hated would be the one who’s on your mind constantly? The one who’s name comes to mind first thing in the morning. The one who’s worth every risk and battle.

Maybe you could tell him, whisper your fondness for him in his ear, but you don’t.

Instead, you snuggle into his warmth, hoping it’ll satiate your aching heart for now.

And there we go. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback and comments are always appreciated ; it really makes me feel better about what I write so please do tell me what you think of this if it is not too much of a hassle <3

Until next time,

🤍

[zanarkandskylines]

Blast Off

『♡』  fem!reader  x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ aged to 21 | friends to lovers ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: your favorite metal band is in town, the same one you used to listen to with bakugo back in high school, and you decide to go to the show together! after a long week, a night out in Shibuya is exactly what you need. tags & warnings: brief violence, cursing | friends to lovers, pining, protective bakugo, fluff, first kiss a/n: bakugo would be such a fun person to go to a show with when he’s the one interested! otherwise he’d rather stay home lol ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,714 ꒱

“Yo, you ready yet, dumbass?” Bakugo shouts from your living room, impatiently tapping his foot as he’s waiting for you to finish touching up your makeup in the bathroom.

“Just a sec, Kat!” you call back as you’re leaning over the sink, cleaning up the corner of your eyeliner with a wet cloth.

“Y’don’t even need makeup, dammit!” he retorts, a backhanded compliment to get your ass moving. “Ya probably won’t even -,”

His words die in his throat as you emerge from the hallway and enter the living room.

Woah. She looks fuckin' gorgeous.

You catch him staring as you’re clipping in a pair of earrings. “What? Too much?”

He scoffs as he sneakily checks you out a second time. “Nah, you look great.”

You smile and wink at him. “Thanks, Kat. Right back at ya.”

“If some slimy fucker creeps on you, I’ll punch his lights out.”

You can’t help but snort as his comment.

The outfit you chose to wear fit the scene of the band you were seeing, one of your favorite metal bands that you two would listen to back in high school. It wasn’t too over the top, at least you didn’t think so. An all black ensemble - a thin long sleeve mesh top under your band t-shirt, tucked lazily into a pleather mini-skirt and a pair of tinted sheer tights hugging your legs. Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, a few stray pieces of hair framing your face alongside your bangs.

Bakugo wasn’t as dressed up as you were, donning a simple grey t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and black boots. A stack of his favorite bracelets hung on his wrist and a pair of black studs adorned his ears.

“Figure out where you wanna eat?” you ask as you’re looking for your boots in the hallway closet.

“The curry place by the station. We can hop on the train into the city afterwards.”

Boots in hand, you return to the living in room and plop next to him on the couch.

“Those things could squash a damn kid,” Bakugo jokes, pointing to the platforms of your boots as you’re lacing them on your feet.

“They’re literally the same kind you wear on patrol!”

“And you’re still shorter than me with those fuckers on.”

You punch him in the arm, maybe a little too hard, to be playful. “I don’t need to be your height to kick your ass!”

“Ow, shit! Watch it, those hands are fuckin’ deadly!” he scolds, rubbing the reddening mark on his bicep.

“My bad,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder as an apology. “Let’s get outta here.”

-

“Hand it over,” Bakugo orders as you pick up the check from the table, flexing his palm toward you.

“Huh? I told you -,” you start to remind him until he cuts you off mid-explanation.

“Just ‘cause I heard ya doesn’t mean shit. Give it.” He snatches the paper and booklet with one hand while fishing his wallet out of his pocket with the other. “Stop bein’ a brat and let me pay for your damn dinner.”

“I’m not being a brat! I was just trying to treat you to dinner for once,” you say defensively.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I let you buy the tickets.”

Bakugo consistently paid whenever the two of you would grab food. It didn’t matter what it was - coffee before work, snacks from the convenience store, lunch outings, dinners in the city - he’d shove you aside and take your card, or be the one to order so you don’t have the chance to hand your card over. The few times you did get to pay for him, he immediately sent you the money back. It’s been a consistent staple in your friendship since Junior year of high school.

While leaving the curry shop, you see the train approaching at the station.

“Shit, Kat. That’s the train we need to catch to make it on time!” you utter in a panic as you grab his wrist. “C’mon!”

_

You arrive at the venue an hour before the show starts, giving you both enough time to get inside, grab drinks and find a perfect spot as planned.

Once inside, the two of you make your way over to the bar while the crowd was light.

“Are you at least gonna let me buy you a drink?” You tease, elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

He sighs dramatically, the tell-tale sign that he’s no longer going to fight you on it. “You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous.”

Beers in hand, you both head to the general admission area of the venue and situate yourselves near the back - not too squished between loads of people but close enough to see the stage.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” you beam, leaning against him as a token of thanks.

He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “Of course. Woulda been mad if ya didn’t ask me to come see the band we had on repeat together through all those study sessions and sparring matches.”

The lights begin to dim and the crowd cheers as the band takes the stage. He lets you take a step back and shift next to him, but keeps his arm around your shoulder. The two of you cheer in unison and hold up your beers for the band as they set up for their first song.

_

The show has been a goddamn blast! The two of you have been singing and dancing together the whole time, screaming every single lyric. Bakugo loves watching you throw your hands up and yell along with the crowd, having the time of your life and not letting anyone get in your way. It’s infectious - his grin not wavering the entire show.

“We have one more song for the night!” The lead singer announces into the mic. “It’s a special one - thanks for coming out!”

The song they begin to play is one of their slower numbers, one that you know Bakugo adored. You watched as his eyes lit up under the spotlights, taking in the moment as the band progressed through the song. You loop your arm with his, rocking back and forth in unison with the rest of the crowd.

Bakugo removes his arm from your hold to spin you around to face him, pulling you close and holding you to his chest. He gently sways with you in his arms as you embrace him, mimicking a slow dance. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his chest alongside the subtle vibrations of him humming to the song. Your eyes flutter closed, absorbing every ounce of love in this moment between the two of you. His hold encased you in a sense of security that you didn’t find with anyone else.

Once the song ends, the band is saying their goodbyes to the crowd as he releases his hold on you.

“I didn’t think they were gonna play that tonight,” you say, smiling up at him. “Guess we gotta buy t-shirts now!”

Bakugo laughs, shaking his head. “Matching ones?”

“It’s either that or we buy one and I constantly steal it from you.”

We?

Bakugo smirked at the suggestion.

“You steal my shit all the time, ya brat,” he teases, pinching your cheek. “I’ll buy two. Which one do y’want?”

“You pick, you have better taste than I do. I’m gonna run to the bathroom before we head out,” you say as you pat him on the shoulder before skipping off to the bathroom. He heads over to the merch table to stand in line for your t-shirts.

It’s been a good 20 minutes since you wandered off. Bakugo meanders over to the bathrooms, the t-shirts he bought for you both draped over his shoulder. He’s poking around, searching for you in the crowd as he spots your ponytail in a sea of others.

You’re talking with some guy that he doesn’t recognize. The guy slithers into your personal bubble as Bakugo stalks up behind you.

“C’mon doll, you’re fine as hell. Don't you -"

"Beat it, jackass. She's obviously not interested," Bakugo interrupts, stepping to your side.

He scoffs and takes a step back from you. "And who the hell are you?"

"Her boyfriend. Now fuck off."

Your cheeks flare at his comment - did he mean that? Or was that just to get this guy off your back?

You turn to leave as the guy slaps your ass - hard. "Have fun with this loser."

Bakugo doesn't even have time to react before your fist crashes into this guy's jaw, clocking him so hard that he stumbles to the floor. The commotion causes one of the security guards to scurry in your direction, beckoning for you to come over to him.

"Shit, we gotta go!" you yell, interlocking your fingers with Bakugo's as you bolt through the crowd and away from the guard before getting caught.

The two of you manage to escape, rushing out of the venue's exit door and into the busy Shibuya streets. You don't stop running until you round a corner and duck into an alley way, hiding from any potential security that could have tailed you and letting go of his hand.

Out of breath, you lean on to the wall and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"S-shit, sorry Kat, didn't mean to thrash you around like that."

He takes a second before deciding to box you up against the wall with his frame, catching you off guard. "I'm not complain'."

"Boyfriend, huh? Was that your way of asking me out?" you joke, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.

Bakugo snickers as he's shutting his eyes, lowering his face to level with your own before your lips meet. The kiss is brief, but enough to get his point across.

"I bought matching band shirts with ya, who the fuck else would I do that shit with?"

You giggle, pulling him back in for another kiss - longer and sweeter than the previous one.

This isn't where you thought the night would end, but you're over the moon.

bakugo just couldn't resist confessing after watching you beat some dude's ass in one punch ;)

Divider by : @/saradika

[ssweetleaf]

punk!steve and cheerleader!reader 👁️🫦👁️

SMUT 18+ below

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You were pressed against the cloakroom wall, three of Steve’s spit-slick fingers scissoring crudely inside your cunt and your poor heart thumped at the mere thought of getting caught.

The pretty skirt of your cheer uniform was flipped up, thighs parted and shaky to accommodate his digits even deeper.

“Can’t resist me, can you, honey?” he was relentless with his teasing, even whilst you were in the midst of your lovely performance — you had practiced so hard too, but the countless little winks and suggestive stares the punk had sent you had made you clumsy and flustered.

Hell, you wanted to be angry at Steve — you really did, but the simple utterance he had made, the breathy good girl, it had your knees buckling. And however cliché, you were quite sure you’d lose your balance if it wasn’t for Steve’s tattooed hands grabbing at your thigh and circling your waist to keep you upright.

“Looked so good out there,” he cooed into your ear, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, ready to suckle on the soft skin there. “M’so proud of you, baby.”

You pouted, brattily kicking your foot against his hip.

“I wouldn’t have messed up if you didn’t— Oh!” Steve pursed his pretty lips against your pulse point, sucking the skin between his teeth and bruising the flesh, his knee knocking between your thighs, only aiding in pushing his fingers in even deeper, the rough pad of his thumb firm on your poor, throbbing clit.

“If I didn’t what?” He hummed, breathing through his nose, his warm breath fanned along the skin of your neck and collar bones, leaving you shivering and clutching at his leather jacket to stop yourself from floating away.

“I, I don’t—” you stuttered, mind turning blank, completely fuzzy from his attention, messy kisses fuelling the fire between your legs and you could feel the bulging outline of his cock through his black skinny jeans, causing your mouth to water pathetically. “Stevie, please.”

“There she is,” he cooed, trailing his kisses to the corner of your mouth before sponging a chaste one to your lips, the cold metal of his lip ring was prominent, and you rutted against his hand, so eager for more, to quench the thirst your pussy craved. “Been waitin’ for my subby girl all night.”

The few piercings that littered his face glistened with every turn of his head and you pressed the pad of your thumb to the little tattoo just above his cheekbone— the dark ink making you sigh and huff, so impossibly inebriated by his sheer prettiness, you felt your knees buckling.

“V’missed the taste of this pussy, hon,” he grinned, pulling his fingers from your clenching cunt before pressing them to his tongue, sucking crudely and licking up the arousal that slipped down his knuckles and in between his digits, “been waitin’ for more ever since I had you under the bleachers.”

send me asks/my inbox is open!

[arachine]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so…i’m back. It’s been so long since i’ve posted the first dick analysis, and i just couldn’t resist doing one for the stranger things men! this is just a filler post until i finish writing some of my requests and outlining the first few chapters of my eddie munson series. until then, please enjoy this, i had a lot of fun just spewing all of my whore thoughts into this >.<

+ part two here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice. if you are having trouble reading, i suggest you adjust your iphone’s settings!

eddie “the freak” munson

↻ length: the social pariah, eddie munson, is many things. he’s loud, obnoxious, witty, and…a freak. yeah, he roleplays with 15 year old kids, and yeah, he very well may be a super senior–having repeated the 12th grade three times–but those things don’t really make him a freak. no, the thing that makes him a freak is the unnecessarily long, heavy piece of meat that swings between his legs like a pendulum. 

coming in at just about 6 inches flaccid, and 7.5 inches fully erect, eddie takes the cake for this lists’ third longest dong. 

↻ width: eddie’s a pretty skinny guy, and so, his dick’s probably not much thicker than a febreeze bottle. but it’s okay, because skinny dick, is still good dick. 

↻ color: he’s pale but it’s definitely a little tanner than the rest of his body. i’d say it’d progressively get darker the closer it gets to his tip (which is a beautiful mauve-y color that darkens when erect).

extra: 

↻ groomed: it’s the 80s, and he’s a metalhead with a wild mane of hair on his head, so naturally, i think he’d rock a little bush. just a little one, but on occasion, he will tackle it with some scissors and trim it down a bit. 

↻ curved: oh, god, yes. deliciously curved to the left with a plump, mushroomy head. 

↻ veins: duh! two thick veins that begin underside the shaft and split into a fork just beneath the head. 

↻ how he uses it: gonna just go ahead and say it, and this may be controversial, but i honestly think eddie would love putting you in a full nelson. now before you scrunch your nose in disagreement, just LISTEN. he’s such a skinny motherfucker but i just know there’s some muscle under those black skinny jeans and tees. i mean, we all saw that scene where he pinned steve against the wall with a broken beer bottle to his throat—albeit because he was defending himself—but that’s neither here nor there. eddie fucks, and he fucks good. 

steve “good hair” harrington 

↻ length: steve is a ken doll personified. except, unlike a ken doll, there’s actually something down there besides a flat surface—so rest assured, you won’t have to worry about bumping purses when doing the woo hoo. but here’s another controversial opinion: steve doesn’t have a big dick—it’s average, and that’s okay!

steve’s dick rests at a firm 5.3 inches flaccid, and a good 6.5 inches erect. not too big, and not too small. just…perfect, like him. 

↻ width: for what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth! yeah, you’re getting 6 inches, but he’s hitting you with that stretch—and it burns, but in the best way imaginable. 

↻ color: the prettiest boy in hawkins has to have the prettiest cock, right? i think it’d be pretty light in comparison to the rest of his body. when i think of him, i feel like he’d be one of those guys who are kinda tan but when they take off their pants, they have the most bizarre looking tan lines ever, and their ass is brighter than the moon! anyway, i digress; it’d be pretty pale with a mean, red tip when aroused, and strawberry pink when it’s soft. 

extra: 

↻ groomed: yes. he keeps it really simple. shaves it down real low but not enough to the point where he’s bald. 

↻ curved: as straight as a pencil 

↻ veins: has one on the top of his shaft that wraps around the head 

↻ how he uses it: we’re talking about steve here. steve the womanizer, steve the public enemy and panty dropper of seasons one through three. he’s all about that doggy style life. don’t let his himbo persona in season four fool you, that man is a whore! he likes to get down and dirty, and if that includes you on your hands and knees, with your face shoved into the sheets while your tears drip down onto the sheets…then, so be it. 

billy “ima turn you out” hargrove

↻ length: i am not a billy hargrove enjoyer but i can’t sit here and lie to you, i just won’t. that silly little fella’s got a cock the size of a bull… 

8.2 inches. 

no, i’m not taking criticism. he’s big, end of story. 

↻ width: the length matches the girth, sis. if you think you can take him—you can’t. and if you think i’m kidding—i’m not. think coke bottle, but longer.  

↻ color: tanned to perfection, because of course it is, he was a lifeguard for god sake! 

extra: 

↻ groomed: like steve, he keeps it pretty well trimmed. although, sometimes, he lets it grow out so he can show off his happy trail. and a sight to see it is!

↻ curved: oh my days, it curves to the right—like a lot. a real captain hook. 

↻ veins: absolutely covered in ‘em, but the most prominent one resides on the side of his shaft and if you really look at it, it kinda looks like a little lighting bolt. 

↻ how he uses it: you can’t have sex with billy and expect intimacy, that just isn’t happening. he likes it with absolutely no strings attached and no eye contact. so, expect to be thrown into all types of obscure positions, his favorite of which includes you with half of your body hanging off the bed and him pounding mercilessly into you from behind. honestly, as long as billy gets a view of your ass, he doesn’t really care.

jim “big zaddy” hopper 

↻ length: the biggest dick on this list. a true monster cock, that is it, that is all. 

but if i had to give a specific measurement…9 inches. whether that’s his measurement soft or erect, i’ll let you be the judge of that.  

↻ width: he’s so thick that he’d probably split your pussy open if he didn’t properly prepare you, and even then, you’d still never be prepared enough :(

↻ color: i’d say it would be one or two shades darker than his complexion, and the head is definitely not pink. more like a rouge mixed with a little brown.  

extra: 

↻ groomed: jim just gives grown man, you know? like obviously, he is one, but i just think there’s something so sexy about a man with body hair! so, i don’t think he’d keep it well trimmed, or trimmed at all for that matter. and if he does decide to take a pair of scissors to it, it’s very, very rare. 

↻ curved: surprisingly, no. it’s straight, but extremely heavy and he has big man balls to match. 

↻ veins: yes, just like billy, they’re all over. with a dick as big as his, he’s gonna need all the veins he can get to transport the appropriate amount of blood to it. 

↻ how he uses it: very traditional, very cute and sweet. likes to fuck in missionary because he’s a real man, and he prefers to look into his lover’s eyes while pleasuring them. however, that doesn’t mean he’s a prude. if he wants to, he could put you in a full nelson, but he usually just opts for something that won’t throw his old man back out :)

© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit.

[13uswntimagines]

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting. 

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best. 

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp. 

You got to fight. 

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own. 

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember. 

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating. 

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse. 

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better. 

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot. 

But it didn’t help. 

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again. 

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always. 

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans. 

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage. 

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with. 

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize. 

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,” 

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her. 

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine. 

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg. 

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend. 

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,” 

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,” 

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,” 

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,” 

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again. 

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,” 

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin. 

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?” 

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,” 

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder. 

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips. 

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself. 

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted. 

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly. 

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter. 

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,” 

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red. 

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?” 

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead. 

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,” 

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear. 

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand. 

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear. 

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features. 

She had worn lingerie for you. 

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself. 

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,” 

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core. 

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates. 

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before. 

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates. 

You weren’t ready to talk yet. 

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper. 

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you. 

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant. 

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend. 

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator. 

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe. 

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,” 

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness. 

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over. 

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships. 

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure. 

 “Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder. 

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door. 

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it. 

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss. 

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance. 

It was the reminder that you desperately needed. 

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat. 

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek. 

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless. 

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,” 

You swallowed hard at the change of tone. 

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open. 

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight. 

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know. 

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long. 

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt. 

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants. 

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt. 

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks. 

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back. 

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain. 

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck. 

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order. 

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet. 

You didn’t want to talk. 

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say. 

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,” 

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface. 

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out. 

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel. 

But that was enough of an answer for her. 

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,” 

You shook your head. 

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity. 

You wanted her to crush you. 

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,” 

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it. 

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,” 

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat. 

You didn't need easy right now. 

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention. 

That had been why you acted out at all anyway. 

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees. 

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite. 

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch. 

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you. 

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you. 

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen. 

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded. 

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most. 

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue. 

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position. 

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads. 

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring. 

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water. 

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue. 

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch. 

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,” 

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read. 

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place. 

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds. 

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled. 

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book. 

That irritated you too. 

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in. 

Now you didn’t even have that. 

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned. 

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion. 

It was what your opponent would have done anyway. 

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies. 

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable. 

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you. 

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will. 

She just had to ask. 

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you. 

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you. 

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t. 

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit. 

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed. 

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow. 

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud. 

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book. 

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book. 

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too. 

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit. 

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back. 

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,” 

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away. 

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,” 

You groaned. 

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes. 

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record. 

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded. 

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping. 

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass. 

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page. 

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left. 

But then again that would probably be worse. 

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder. 

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain. 

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her. 

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back. 

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud. 

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass. 

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,” 

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass. 

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended. 

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach. 

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions. 

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades. 

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck. 

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you. 

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back. 

You collapsed to the floor. 

You hadn’t even made it a minute. 

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat. 

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,” 

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips. 

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized. 

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins. 

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…” 

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it. 

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,�� 

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair. 

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight. 

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect. 

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed. 

[lovelybucky1]

Ego (rockstar!anakin x reader)

warnings: band!au, AFAB!reader, spitting, light choking, praise, degradation, (mentioned) exhibitionism, (mentioned) public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, m!receiving oral sex, rough sex, smoking, consumption of alcohol, anakin is kind of an asshole in his, but he loves you

masterlist

The concert was explosive. Your ears still ring from the deafening bass from the speakers next to the stage and your nose is filled with the scent of smoke and sulfur from the fireworks that lit off during the last song.

You push through the flow of the bustling crowd leaving the venue, as you make your way up to the stage. You climb over the barrier and skip up the stairs. You slip behind the curtain and walk through the backstage area to the back exit.

The roadies are wheeling the band’s equipment to the bus and are packing it up to be transported to the next city overnight. You cut in front of the train of carts and equipment and run towards the bus, your stiletto heels clicking on the wet pavement.

When you reach the door, you find it already open. You walk up the few stairs and find yourself standing in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The band is lounged on the leather couches, each with a bottle and a cigarette in either hand. Everyone cheers when they notice you; they all love you.

“There they are!” Kit exclaims.

Ahsoka, the newest addition to the band and the youngest of the group at 19, giggles loudly at something on her phone, obviously a little intoxicated.

You greet them all as you walk towards the couch towards your boyfriend. Anakin is lounging lazily on the couch, his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch, with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He looks up at you as you walk by, eyes half-lidded and a little glazed. He smiles slowly as he takes in your outfit: tight pants, his band’s shirt cut and distressed into something very revealing, and high heels.

Anakin is wearing something of similar style: a sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt, black distressed skinny jeans, and large black boots that make him even taller. His piercings glitter in the low light, and his smudged eyeliner makes your knees weak.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, reaching his hand out to grab your waist.

“Hey, Ani,” you laugh as he guides you into his lap.

He puts his cigarette in his mouth to free his other hand to touch you. With a smirk, he pulls you up his body so you’re straddling his waist.

“The show was amazing tonight,” you say.

“God, it was,” he says, closing his eyes and grinning as he reminisces on the night.

There’s nothing Anakin loves more than attention. He’s the front man of the band, always has all eyes on him. Everyone in the crowd cheers for him, is there to see him, wants him. As much as Anakin loves to play his music, he loves the ego trip even more.

“Everyone loved you.”

“It was electric. I can still feel it,” Anakin said with a groan.

Being on stage turns all of Anakin’s emotions up to eleven, and he rides that high for a long while after the concert. Like now, he’s looking up at you with lust blown eyes and you can feel his cock growing harder underneath you.

“Don’t be a diva, Ani, they loved all of us,” Ahsoka chimes in.

“Please, if Kit’s ugly ass was our front man, that venue would be empty,” Anakin huffs. “Everyone wants what they can’t have, so they’ll buy songs and tickets and all the other stupid shit we come up with just so they can get a taste of what it’d be like to have me.”

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll pop,” Aayla rolls her eyes.

“Well,” Anakin swings his legs around so his feet are back on the floor, keeping you in his lap. “In that case, I better make good use of my time before I get my brains all over the bus.”

Anakin places his hands under your thighs and stands up. You wrap your arms and legs around him and hold on tightly, your faces just inches apart.

“Ugh,” Ahsoka groans.

With a wide grin, Anakin walks you back to the bedroom at the back of the bus. It’s a large bed that Anakin has claimed since he put them on the map, much to the other’s annoyance. Anakin kicks open the door and takes one long stride before he’s dropping you down on your back atop the bed.

He shuts the door and makes quick work of shedding his sweaty t-shirt. His abs ripple when he puts his arms down and you find yourself staring at the tattoos that litter his abdomen, chest, and arms. You reach out to trace the stars mirrored on each of his hip bones, those being your favorite tattoos of his.

He looks down at you with exhaustion-heavy eyes, the liquor he undoubtedly had, not helping. Despite how tired he is, he needs to get the leftover adrenaline out of his system.

“You’re not even gonna let me kiss you first?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow.

“You taste like cigarettes.”

“That’s how I got you addicted to me in the first place,” he smirks as he reaches up to graze his thumb over your jaw.

“Trust me, that’s not what got me addicted.”

“No? Then what was?” he smiles as he waits for an answer. “My money? My fame? My dick?”

You roll your eyes. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

Anakin grins as he bends down to kiss you. He smashes your lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. He does taste like cigarettes, as well as alcohol and something that is so distinctly Anakin.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss finally breaks. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting such blunt words. “I was thinking about you the whole goddamn time.”

“What were you thinking about?” you ask curiously, your face still inches away from his, looking at his stained mouth from your lipstick.

“Bringing you up on stage and taking you in front of everybody,” he confesses as his hands travel from your neck down to your torso.

“I think that’d make the fangirls jealous.”

“Good. Let them be jealous. Let them see how good I can give it.”

Anakin stands up straight and you bring your hands up to work at Anakin’s pants; unzipping the fly and pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. It almost his you in the face as the pink tip bobs tantalizingly in front of you. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to put your mouth around it.

“It’s not gonna suck itself,” he smirks as he guides your head towards his length with a hand in your hair.

Once you get your mouth on his dick, he loosens his hold on you and allows you to go at your own pace. His voice is already a little hoarse from performing tonight, and the added gravel to his moans make your head spin as you listen below him.

“Fuck, they’d be so jealous. I’d take you up there and let you suck my dick in the middle of a song, just like this.”

Anakin tilts his head back in a groan as you flick your tongue around the tip.

Your mouth waters aroud his length, and after a few bobs of your head, drool is leaking from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Anakin loves when you get messy like this, especially when your dark lipstick leaves prints at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he groans.

Anakin threads his fingers through your hair and holds you tightly, not directing you, just making sure you feel it.

You take him all the way into your throat and look up at him with glassy eyes as you gag around him. Anakin loves the feeling of your throat contracting as you struggle not to gag; it feeds his ego knowing that his dick is too big even for someone so well trained.

Anakin feels like orgasm nearing, so he pulls you off by your hair so he does not finish too quickly.

You sit back on your knees and wipe your face with the back of your hand. You look sinful underneath him like this; lipstick smudged and eye makeup running from tears.

“Come up here, baby,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you to your feet. You put your arms around his neck and look up at him, feeling small in his arms. “I want you to give me some marks. I want something to show off tomorrow,” he grins.

You lean in to latch your lips onto his pec, sucking the smooth skin that covers the hard muscle into your mouth. You suck firmly, pinching thr skin between your teeth as you do. A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest when you pull away and he sees the dark red mark you left on his pale skin.

Before long, his chest, collarbone, neck, and abdomen are littered with similar sized hickeys. After each one you left, he reached down to press his fingers into the forming bruise, just to feel the dull pain.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Anakin says, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close so your hips are pressed flush to his.

“Then why don’t you fuck me?”

“Is that how you ask for it?” he asks with a smirk.

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll give it to me either way.”

Anakin chuckles as he slides his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt up as he does. You raise your arms above your head and he pulls it off, revealing your lace bra underneath.

Anakin’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of the delicate black lace over your perfect tits. It’s beautiful, and Anakin was to destroy it. He grabs each cup firmly in his large hands and pulls, ripping the pretty bra down the center.

“What the fuck?” you gasp. “That was expensive!”

“You bought it with my money, didn’t you?”

You glare at him. “Yes, but-”

“Then I should be able to do whatever I want with it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you huff as your shrug off the scraps of your ruined bra.

His hands move to the front of your jeans, but you swat them away before he can ruin anymore of your clothes. While you take your pants off, he does the same.

Now, you’re both standing in the tour bus bedroom, completely bare to each other’s gazes.

“Turn around,” Anakin orders.

“Make me,” you challenge.

He gives you an unimpressed stare before he grabs your hips and spins you around. He pushes you so you lay face down on the bed, but you do not stay there. You prop yourself up on your elbows and just as you look back at him, his long fingers slide through your wet folds.

“Soaked for me, huh?” Anakin chuckles.

“Don’t tease me, Ani.”

Anakin eases two fingers into you, curling them along the way to find the spot inside you that makes you clench.

“Or what? We both know you can’t resist anything I do to you.”

You hate that he’s right, but whatever annoyance that was building inside of you quickly disappated as he began to move his fingers in and out of you.

Anakin didn’t spend long opening you up before he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock.

He did tease you; he slapped your pussy with it before giving you just the slightest amout, enough to stretch but not enough to fill.

“It’s not enough,” you whine.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “You want more?”

“Yes, please.”

Anakin grips your hips firmly, then slides all the way in. That’s how Anakin goes about everything: all or nothing. You cry out as you adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn’t give you much time befote he starts to rut into you.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, yes, it’s yours,” you whimper.

With each stroke, the sound of his hips hitting your ass fill the room is sharp claps. You can feel the tip of his cock in your stomach after every thrust in, and it punches the air out of your lungs. Anakin fucks you hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips which will surely bruise.

After a while of this position, Anakin wraps his forearm around your middle and pulls you up so you’re standing, trapped between him and the bed.

His large hand presses on your lower abdomen so he can feel each thrust of his cock inside you, and because he knows the added pressure will make it so much better for you. Anakin hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses his mouth to your ear so he can whisper.

“I fuckin’ own this pussy, got that? I own you.”

Your stomach flips at his vulgar words and you lean your head back on his shoulder and moan.

Anakin can’t help himself when he sees your mouth open wide for him. He reaches up and hooks his finger in your cheek to hold it open, then spits. Some of it lands on your cheeks and lips, but most of it lands on your tongue.

“Swallow that,” he says, his breath hot on your ear.

You do as he said, swallowing his spit obediently. It’s hot and dirty and everything you love, all at once. It’s overwhelming, overstimulating, and unless Anakin physically stops you, you’re going to cum soon.

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me. Bet you’d let me fuck you like this on stage, huh? Serve me while everyone is cheering for me like I’m God.”

Anakin’s voice is low and rough, obviously growing more desperate with each stroke. He pushes you forward and you brace yourself on the bed with your arms. He leans over your back and licks a hot strike over your sweaty neck before sinking his sharp teeth into the tender skin under your ear.

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain from Anakin’s teeth in your skin. You’re sure it will leave a crescent bruise behind, but you can’t bring yourself to mind right now.

“Let me cum inside you,” he says in your ear.

Finding your words to be lost, you nod, giving him permission to claim you. He makes a noise akin to a growl as his thrusts start to pick up in speed. They become more erratic as he nears closer to his orgasm, and yours slowly builds along with his.

He grabs your hips and thrusts deep inside you, then holds you flush to him as he pumps his load into you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides makes your eyes roll back, and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder. He grabs your throat and presses his lips to your temple.

“Cum around my cock. I want to feel you.”

His other hand reaches down between your legs and begins to toy with your clit. The feeling of his fingers rubbing you in just the right way, his still-hard cock inside you, along with his cum leaking down your pussy work together to throw you over the edge.

You whimper as you begin to cum. Your knees feel weak as your lower stomach blooms with warmth and pleasure.

Anakin revels in the feeling of your walls convulsing around his sensitive dick. If he hadn’t already cum, your pussy would be milking him like this. Once you’ve finished riding out your high, Anakin pulls out of you and lays you down on the bed before joining next to you.

He turns you around so you're facing away from him and he spoons you, pulling your back to his sweaty chest.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispers.

“Felt so good,” you reply quietly.

Anakin’s cum is still leaking from between your legs, but neither of you care right now. You’re both exhausted, wrung out from sex and the busy day before this.

“Hey,” Anakin says, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hey.”

“Tomorrow night after the show, I’m gonna marry you.”

“What?” you gasp, turning around in his arms.

“I want to make it official. Make sure that everyone knows I’m off the market. That you’re the only one who actually gets any real part of me.”

Anakin may have a reputation of being a diva, an egotistical superstar, which isn’t necessarily untrue, but like this, in private with you, he’s tender, loving, and real.

“So what do you say?” he asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

You smile wide and bring him in to kiss. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say against his lips.

He kisses you again, deeply, as he confesses all of his love for you with a physical act.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ll get hate from Anakin’s fans for stealing their celebrity crush from them, but you shrug that thought off. On stage, he may belong to everyone, but here, he’s only yours.

[allocnddits]

Can I request protective Oscar which leads to her thinking he’s super hot like that and then that leads to smut please?

here it is, sorry for the wait babes

it was the little things

the way he never let you walk on the outside of the side walk

the way he would rest his hands on the curve of your back, right above your ass, anytime you were in a room full of people or a crowd you had to walk through

But that night specially it was all too hot. Lando had convinced your boyfriend to go clubbing with him after their podium. In reality all he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and maybe have the laziest, most intimate love making session with you. But you encouraged him to go out, it was his first podium in formula one and you felt full with pride, he had to celebrate it the right way.

So after the race you went back to the hotel and got ready to go out. Oscar looked unbelievably hot, it was the most boring outfit you could think of, for sure, but your boyfriend pulled it off perfectly. The black tshirt so tight on his arm, same with his jeans, they weren’t even supposed to be skinny but his thighs had gotten thicker and looked like they were about to burst out of those pants. The watch around his wrist, the chain you had gifted him at the beginning of the season adorning his neck and his cologne, god, that fucking cologne was intoxicating.

He was thrown on the bed, open like a starfish as he waited for you to get ready. You came out of the bathroom with a more casual than not outfit. Black mini skirt, white top and black boots, the star of the show being a vintage Mclaren jacket that Oscar would probably have to hold all night.

“Ready?” you asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed, groaning. “Come on, baby, it’s your first f1 podium, you can’t just stay in and do nothing.” you explained, combing your nails through his hair, trying to get it to sit right.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing, i was gonna do you” he hugged your waist, cheek pressed to your stomach.

“You can do me every day, but tonight i already promised Lando we would be there.” your boyfriend dropped his head in defeat, knowing damn well that the next morning his teammate won’t even know if he was there or not.

None of you were very fond of clubbing, not really knowing what to do. You danced for a bit as oscar talked to his coworkers that were there. The way you swayed your hips pulling different pairs of eyes to watch you. It was Lando that noticed and told him that you were causing a scene. He called you over with a motion of his finger, you obeyed blindly, walking over to him.

“Everything alright, baby?” you asked as he hugged you tightly to his side, the hand that held your jacket moving to discreetly cover some of your ass.

“Yep, perfect” he nodded, taking a sip of his beer before starting to talk to his teammate again. you couldn’t help but stare every time he took the glass bottle to his lips, the way they puckered up against the brim and how his arm flexed when he lifted it. “Want some?” he asked when he realized you were staring.

You nodded, holding your hand out for the bottle but it never met you, instead he took it straight to your lips tipping it so the liquid met your tongue. You drank it till he pulled away, trying not to make a mess but some of it dribbled down your chin anyway. He looked down at you swiping his thumb on the spilt alcohol and kissing you. He was putting on a show for everyone to see. Lando downed the drink the had in his hands with a chuckle before excusing himself to get another one. The second his colleague walked behind you he stretched his arm out, pulling him by the arm.

“Don’t you look, either” he threw his hands up in irony and Oscar started basically burning up, his hand lowering so the jacket would cover more of your legs.

“Don’t be mean” you told him as you threw your arms over his shoulder, his rested on your hips, hands holding your jacket and his beer, too busy to roam around your ass.

“I’m not. It’s just that, everyone was staring. I swear i saw a pit guy look you up and down, he must know who you are, right?”

“Oscar, even though this is extremely amusing and hot, you have to let it go, it’s alright.”

“Hot?” he teased

“Well, yeah, being all manly and jealous and possessive. It’s kinda hot.” you explained before starting to kiss on his neck, each mole of his receiving a peck. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

“Yes, please. Just gotta say bye, c’mon” he pulled you through the small crowd till you met Lando and some other coworkers of his. You two said your goodbyes and walked out of the place, waiting for his car. You got in so quickly after he opened the door for you, waiting impatiently to get back to your room.

His hand was on your thigh the entire ride, getting higher and higher, your skirt doing very little to stop it. You couldn’t take your eyes off his hand gripping tight on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched making it look sharper. The anticipation was killing you but luckily you were finally in front of the hotel. Oscar rushed out of the car to open the door for you and get you out of the car and into the lobby. Because of the late hour the elevator got to you quickly and you stumbled in, his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close.

As soon as the elevator doors closed you pulled him in by the colar of his shirt your arms wrapped around his neck, hands hanging loosely behind him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He was fighting the urge to not grind his hips against you just yet but it was hard when you started kissing down his neck and running your nails on his scalp.

“Oscar” you called “Oscar, we’re here” you pushed him off of you, taking him by the hand and walking to your room. You reached into his back pocket to grab the keycard and open the door, immediately kicking it shut and making him sit on the couch.

You got on your knees immediately, taking off your shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. You could see his outline in them as he lifted his hips to help you. Your lips connected to his thigh, kissing all the way up to the wet patch on his underwear, his dick growing even harder inside it.

“Don’t fucking tease, get to it” he rushed you, hand running through your hair.

Your fingers made their way to his waistband, pulling it under his dick. You watched as it basically bounced against his stomach before kissing the tip. As you looked up you saw that he was getting impatient so you spit down on the head, watching it drip down the side of his length before spreading it around him with your palm. He was watching you, following your moves closely, anticipating but the moment you took his tip into your mouth he threw his head back, closing his eyes tightly.

Oscar’s hand gripped tighter, the other one collecting the rest of your hair, pulling it into a ponytail. As he recovered himself from the first contact with your mouth he lifted his head up, admiring the way your mouth stretched around him.

“Fuck my mouth, baby, please” you asked with him in your hand, leaving your mouth open for him.

He fixed the hand on your head and pushed you down slightly on his dick till your nose gif the hairs on his groin. His hand held you there for a while before pulling off completely. You were already a mess, lips red and plump covered in saliva, small strands of your hair stuck to your face and you had been sitting on your ankles, grinding against them to get the slightest feeling of relief.

Oscar kicked your knees apart, placing his leg between them, he immediately pressed it up onto you. You let out a groan but it was cut short by the way your boyfriend shoved your mouth down on his cock.

“Fuck, baby, so perfect, your mouth is. Always feels so good” he praised as he aggressively pulled your head up and down his dick.

His thrusts had gotten more aggressive making you gag around him but you were so satisfied. After the little show he putt on earlier all you wanted was to be manhandled and it was exactly what he was giving you. You had started bouncing in his foot shamelessly and he was loving the view, your tits bouncing slightly and tears now falling from the corner of your eyes.

“‘M close, love, gonna cum in your mouth, yeah?”

He pulled you away, making you keep only his tip in your mouth, you sucked the hardest, tongue sliding against his slit repeatedly till he spilt in your mouth. Oscar groaned, throwing his head back as you sucked every last bit of cum out of him before it was all too much and he pulled you off him.

“That’s a way to celebrate a podium” you said before dropping your head to his thigh, completely used up.

[eiightysixbaby]

magic man

‘you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while’

word count: 3.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut smut smut!!! minors DNI. swearing, mention of drinking and drug usage (weed), oral (f receiving), slight edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, reader and eddie get high and reader drinks a little but everything is consensual - none of that shady shit, spanking, slight degradation/name calling, reader has a shitty ex (brief mention of manipulative tendencies), reader gets hit on by a creepy perv, eddie makes you watch yourself while he fucks you, overall filth (if I forgot anything pls let me know!)

summary: after moving to a new town to get away from a shitty ex-boyfriend and leave your past behind, you find yourself having even more guy troubles. it’s best to just give up on men entirely - right?

Your empty glass clinks against the top of the bar as you set it down, motioning to the bartender to bring you another drink. You exhale deeply through your nose, grounding yourself, holding back the frustrated tears. You really thought moving out of the city and into a small town, into Hawkins, would be good for you. Thought it would let you escape the shitty men of your past and start fresh. But here you were, sitting on a sticky barstool where your date was supposed to be resting beside you, instead completely alone. This was your third date with this guy, things had been going so well - or so you thought. He decided not to show, and clearly must’ve, y’know, forgotten to tell you. Ha. You sneered to yourself, fuck this.

Electric guitar and drums blared from the tiny stage crammed at the back wall of the even tinier bar. Some local band played, gathering a crowd of about fifteen intoxicated people who whooped and hollered as they played. You take a long sip of your second drink before turning your attention onto the band fully. Their music was loud, a little sloppy, but honestly they had potential. You hop down from the stool you sat on and stand at the back of the crowd, drink in hand. You bob along lightly to the heavy sounds coming from the stage, letting yourself get immersed in the passion and anger the music radiated. You catch the singer’s eye as he performs and you’re enamored for a moment, the liquor rushing to your brain as you get lost in the man’s deep brown eyes. He all but stares you down as the song lyrics tumble from his mouth. Brown curly hair falls in his face, and his ringed fingers work at his guitar. Ripped black skinny jeans hug his legs, chains dangling from the pockets, and on his torso he wears a dark grey Dio shirt, holes cut into the neckline. You chew on your lip as you gaze up at him, watch him as he gets almost intimate with the microphone. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you suddenly feel warm. Blame it on the alcohol, yeah, sure. The song comes to a close and the unnamed singer speaks into the microphone.

“Thank you all so much for listening tonight, we love to see people enjoying our music! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’ve got one last song for you guys,” his eyes are drawn to you as he talks, and you feel unsteady on your feet.

The final song starts, the drummer tapping his sticks together to count the band in, and you rip your gaze from the beautiful man seducing the audience. You remember the reason you’re at this bar in the first place, and a sour taste fills your mouth. No more guys. Not right now. You don’t think you could handle another round of getting your hopes up, just to be inevitably let down by yet another man with too much audacity. You turn on your heels and return to the seat you’d been at before, trying your best to drown out the remainder of Corroded Coffin’s set.

Maybe 20 minutes go by before you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, and once again meet the same dark brown eyes that held you before. The singer from the band stands inches away from you, a kind smile on his face.

“This seat taken?” he asks, sticking his thumb out towards the stool next to you.

You shake your head, and he sits.

“I’m Eddie,” he extends his hand for you to shake. “I uh- I saw you watching the set from the crowd. What’d ya think?” his voice is kind, almost shy.

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself before continuing, “listen Eddie, your set was great and you’re very talented, but I really better be going..” you shift in your seat.

His eyes haven’t left you this whole time and you feel like you’re suffocating. You can’t handle another disappointment, it’s best to cut this one off before it even starts.

“Woah, hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” he grabs your arm gently to stop your movement, the metal of his rings cold on your skin.

“Please don’t touch me,” you jerk yourself out of his grip, grabbing your purse to leave.

You shuffle out of your seat, leaving cash for the bartender and turning around quickly to exit the bar. As you turn though, a larger man bumps into you, spilling his drink down the front of your shirt.

“Shit, baby, didn’t see you there…” he purrs at you, his breath reeks of whiskey.

He puts his hands on your waist in an effort to pull you closer to him. You attempt to shove him away and see Eddie rise from his seat out of your peripheral vision.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, but the man is simply too big and too strong for you to break out of his grip completely.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs.

“She said get the fuck off,” Eddie’s voice is firm, loud. Completely different than the tone he had just used with you.

Eddie grabs the man from behind and shoves him, yelling at him to keep his hands to himself. You don’t stay to see what happens next, fleeing out the front door and collapsing against the outside wall of the building. The fresh air fills your lungs, a stark contrast from the sweaty, musty air of the bar. Your chest heaves, the now sticky fabric of your shirt clinging to your skin. Your face is hot and flushed with anger, and your eyes are shut tight as you hear the door to the bar open beside you.

“Hey, Y/N, fuck… are you okay?” You hear Eddie’s voice.

When you don’t respond, Eddie comes to lean on the wall beside you. He sparks a cigarette, offering it to you when he sees your breathing has slowed. Hesitantly, you reach for it, taking a long drag.

“Thank you. For doing that for me,” you say finally, turning to look at the boy next to you as you pass the cigarette back to him.

“Shit, you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Christ knows what that fucker would’ve done if given the chance,” Eddie scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

“Yeah,” you laugh, a bitter and cold sound. “I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse… and then it did,” you shake your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks plainly, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I was supposed to have a date tonight… son of a bitch didn’t show, didn’t even call,” you scoff. “Not to mention I moved here to escape my asshole of an ex-..” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear all of this.”

“You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.” He meets your stare and the look in his eyes is genuine, soft.

“I don’t really wanna get into it all- I just need a distraction,” you say finally.

“Wanna come back to my place? Get high for a while?” Eddie asks you, and he catches the hesitance in your face. “I promise I’m not like, a psycho killer or anything like that,” he raises his hands in mock defense.

“I don’t know, Eddie, I-,” you start, chewing on your lip as you talk.

You’re hesitant to agree, not sure what you’re getting into. Not sure if you’re ready to fall for someone again. Not sure if you like the way your heart pounds when he looks at you.

“Relax, we don’t have to fall in love or anything, sweetheart. I just think we could get to know each other better,” he says as if reading your mind.

And, fuck, there’s something so electric about him. He’s drawing you to him and he’s not even trying. Something in you is telling you to just go home, get in bed with some ice cream and forget about guys for the next century - and the other part of you is urging you to go with him, screaming ‘Go, you dumbass, he’s hot!’

“Yeah, okay, sure. I walked here so, can I hitch a ride with you?” You hear yourself ask him, mind racing as you do it.

“Of course, sweetheart. No way I’d let you walk. Let’s go,” and he’s stomping out his cigarette, urging you to follow him.

The ride to the trailer park is short, and you don’t do much talking on the way there. Eddie opens the door of his van for you, and you hop out into the warm July air. The night seems to buzz with anticipation.

“Welcome to my palace,” he extends his arm theatrically, opening the trailer door for you. “I live here with my uncle but, uh, he works nights.” Eddie explains, as you look around at all the knick knacks littering the trailer walls. “Oh shit, hey, let’s get you out of that shirt, yeah?” He motions to the stain on your shirt from the spilled drink.

You nod, and he jogs down the hall to what you presume to be his bedroom, returning with a clean shirt for you.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the right,” he smiles.

You change into the clothing he gave you - a black Def Leppard ‘88 Tour t-shirt - and meet him back in the living room. His eyes widen when he sees you and he clears his throat awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit- sorry, you uh, you look nice. In that.” His voice comes out almost squeaky, strained.

“No falling in love, remember?” You tease, sitting down on the couch beside him where he’s already rolling a joint for you to share.

The two of you pass the joint back and forth, talking about anything and everything. You relax more and more the longer you talk. Eddie tells you more about his band, you tell him about your life in the city before moving here. You end up telling him more about your ex-boyfriend, the manipulation and lies, all of the heartache he put you through. Eddie listens to the whole thing, resting a gentle hand on your knee, easing your nerves. Eddie tells you about his ex, too, a girl named Chrissy. Says they dated for a few months before they realized it just wasn’t gonna work for them, they wanted different things. You pretend not to notice the way he’s shifted closer to you slowly over the course of the last hour. He pretends not to notice the way you get caught up and stare at his lips while he talks.

The two of you fall silent eventually, simply enjoying each others company. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh, his shoulder touching yours with how close he is to you. Your mind feels like it’s coated in honey, everything around you feels so sweet as you sink further into your high. Eddie’s watching you, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving your pretty face. He allows himself to rub soft circles into the fabric of your jeans where his hand rests, and you shiver at the touch.

“You okay, sweet thing?” He asks.

“Mhmmm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Eddie’s presence is comforting. You feel safe around him, secure. It doesn’t feel the way it did to be around other guys, like you’re simply waiting for them to destroy the nice vibe you have going. No, being around Eddie feels different. And you’re letting yourself sink into it.

You brave a glance up at him, and he’s staring down the bridge of his nose at you. “You’re really pretty,” you say, giggling.

“Hey, now, sweetheart. I thought we said no falling in love,” Eddie retorts, but his smile completely shatters his mock-serious tone.

You laugh, and he revels in it. He cups your chin in his hand, and lifts your head up so you’re eye-level with him. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you lick your lips as a nervous habit. His gaze gets darker as your tongue pokes out of your mouth, his fingers still gently holding your chin. He smells like smoke and vanilla and booze and it somehow mixes together in the most delicious way.

“Kiss me, Eddie, please,” you breathe, your head spinning and your senses filled with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into him. His lips are soft, but demanding in the way they work against yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, your hips, your ass, searching every inch of your body.

“Fuck, baby, I need more of you. Can I have more of you?” he asks, breathless as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yes, Eddie, please,” and with that, he’s lifting you bridal-style off of his sofa and carrying you to his bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed and immediately you’re pulling your shirt over your head and then grabbing at the hem of his. You don’t know what came over you but you know that you need him. Kissing you, licking you, filling you with him. His energy is addictive and fuck, you’re hooked. Once the two of you are down to your underwear, Eddie’s mouth is on you again. Claiming your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, and honestly if it weren’t for the weed in your system, you’d probably be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you.

Eddie kisses all the way down your body before settling himself between your thighs. He lets out an amused hum at the wet patch that’s stained your underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart, this wet for me already?” he teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Shut up and get your mouth on me right now,” you say, but it comes out sounding like more of a beg than a demand.

Eddie smirks and shimmies your panties down your legs, trailing kisses on the insides of your thighs, biting at the plush skin. Without warning his mouth is on your dripping cunt, his tongue plunging into you like it’s his lifeline. You’re squirming and writhing beneath him, gripping his sheets so hard you’re surprised they haven’t torn. He’s a master with his tongue, like some sensual wizard, working all of his magic on you. His tongue laps at you hungrily, collecting the wetness that’s seeping out of you. He sucks on your clit, eliciting pornographic sounds from your mouth. He laughs against you, the vibrations sending delicious waves of electricity straight to your core.

“Eddie, shit- I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out, desperate beneath him.

But as soon as you get the words out, he removes himself from the spot between your thighs that weeps for him. His chin is glistening with your slick, and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

“W-why did you stop?” You ask, not even caring about how pitiful you sound.

“Gonna make you wait til I’m inside you sweetheart, I’m gonna get you cumming so hard around my dick,” he purrs, suddenly right next to you, speaking right into your ear.

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and his voice sends chills through your body. He stands up, slipping out of his boxers and letting his cock spring free. You feel like your eyes are going to pop out of your head like a cartoon as you survey his entire frame in front of you. His cock is big, maybe 8 inches, with a leaking pink tip staring you right in the face. His balls hang heavy between his thighs and you fantasize about having them in your mouth.

“Let me just grab a condom, pretty girl,” Eddie starts to open the drawer to his bedside table, but you reach over to grab his wrist.

“N-no, please. I’m on the pill. N-need you to fuck me raw, Eddie, please,” you’re fully begging him, looking up at him with wide, lust blown eyes.

Eddie’s cock twitches as he looks at your already too-fucked-out face, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“You sure, baby?” he asks, climbing over top of you and kissing you softly.

“Yeah, fuck, need to feel all of you,” you’re breathless beneath him and your cunt is leaking a mess onto his sheets.

“Alright sweetheart, c’mon, on your hands and knees for me baby,” Eddie commands you, and you oblige immediately.

He has you facing the mirror on his wall, and he lines himself up behind you.

“I want you to watch while I fuck the shit out of you..” Eddie whispers into your ear, “-can you do that for me? Gonna watch yourself get fucked, baby?”

You’re nodding way too hard, way too fast. “Yes, Eddie, wanna watch you fuck me..”

Eddie presses a few kisses to your shoulders as he starts to spread you open with his cock. His tip pushes past your entrance, getting sucked into your velvety walls. He inhales sharply, digging his fingertips into your hips. He pushes further into you, spreading you wider for him, going deeper deeper deeper. Your insides burn deliciously at the size of him, wanting all of him and then some.

“Fuck, Eddie. Oh my god, you’re so big,” you moan beneath him, pleasure washing over you as you accommodate to the stretch to fit him.

“Look at you, taking all of me like a good girl,” he praises, rubbing a hand over your ass before leaving a swift smack on the soft skin.

You groan at the sudden sting, pushing your ass further back into him, silently pleading for more. He spanks you again - once, twice, three times, the skin turning pink. You ache for him, every slap sending shockwaves through your entire body. All you want in this moment is for him to fuck you dumb.

“Please move, Eddie, need you to move,” you whimper, watching his face twist into a sick grin in the mirror.

“So desperate for me, sweetheart,” he coos, but ultimately gives in to your request.

He doesn’t start slow, either. He pulls all the way out of you before ramming himself back in, a wet squelching sound filling the room. He keeps his thrusts at a steady pace, gripping your hips so hard you’re sure the skin will be purple and blue tomorrow. You watch the whole scene in the mirror, taking note of the way your tits bounce with his thrusts, the way he’s biting his lip in concentration. You reach one hand down to your clit and start rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud. Eddie catches this in your reflection.

“Such a good fucking girl, touch yourself for me sweet thing,” his voice is low and thick, full of lust, and it makes your stomach flip.

He continues pounding into you from behind, a fistful of your hair in one hand, a fistful of your ass in the other. You can’t tear your eyes from the mirror, suddenly wondering why the fuck you ever thought you weren’t gonna go home with this man tonight. His balls slap-slap-slap against your skin, the noise mingling with the wet sounds from your sopping heat. Your orgasm is creeping up on you quickly, and you increase your pace on your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head. Meanwhile Eddie’s groaning behind you, so blissed out on your pussy, loving the way you squeeze around his cock. He talks you through the whole thing, degrading you in between praises, ‘Feel s’fucking good, sweetheart’ ‘Like to watch me ruin you, huh? Such a fucking whore for me’ ‘Wanna fuck you forever, baby, shit’.

“E-Eddie,” you choke out, his thick cock unrelenting in its assault on your pussy. “Don’t f-fucking stop… gonna cum,”

You’re practically sobbing beneath him, his grip on your hair and his moans filling your ears and his cock stuffing you so, so full are all sensations that become near overwhelming in the most enticing way possible. Before you can even process it, you’re clenching around his length, orgasm washing heavily over you. Eddie’s pulling on your hair roughly, keeping your head upright, ensuring that you’re watching yourself come undone.

“That’s it, baby, soak my cock,” he coos, easing you through your high.

He loosens his grip on your hair as you start to come down, your arms giving out beneath you as you slump slightly into his mattress. He holds you up with one hand under your belly, though, picking up his pace once again. You might as well be screaming beneath him and you’re positive the whole damn trailer park is getting a show, but you don’t have it in you to give a shit. He feels so good inside you and your body is practically vibrating with pleasure.

Eddie’s thrusts start to get sloppier and his breathing grows heavier than before.

“Need to cum in this pussy baby, gonna let me cum in your tight little cunt?” he’s bent over you, growling in your ear, making you tremble.

“Yes- god, Eddie! Want to be full of your cum,” you squeak back, your voice almost knocked out of you.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Eddie’s spilling inside of you, coating your walls with him. You’re really appreciating the mirror in front of you as you watch his face while he pumps you full of his cum, his head thrown back, messy curls falling around his shoulders.

He finally pulls out of you, and you completely deflate onto his mattress, body spent. You can feel his release leaking out of you, sticky and warm between your thighs. Eddie collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, sweet thing?” he murmurs, rubbing your back gently with one hand.

“Mhm, you’re insanely good, what kind of spell did you put on me? I wasn’t even gonna speak to you at the bar and now I’m hooked,” you look up at him, giggling.

“I would never tell my secrets, sweetheart,” he teases. “I think you just liked me from the moment you saw me on stage,” he pokes your nose with his index finger, making you laugh.

“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe.”

“Wanna stay the night? I can think of a few good ways I could wake you up tomorrow morning..” Eddie’s smirking at you, but his eyes are so kind, almost pleading for you to stay with him.

You think maybe, just maybe, this guy’s worth taking a chance on for the long haul.

A half hour later and the two of you are cleaned up, wrapped up in each other under the blankets on Eddie’s bed, him snoring softly with his head resting on yours. Your last thought before falling asleep, is that you should really thank your date for not showing up tonight.

[heartateasee]

“Solace”

stranger!Harry x you

Word Count: 1.6k (a bit of a shorter one)

Warnings: None! This one is just super soft and fluffy ❤️

Plot: You’re a party and you find solace in an empty bedroom so you can cry, however, you’re soon interrupted by a curly headed stranger.

(Big thank you to my bestie, Olive, for helping me think of a title for this one!)

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

You sniffled as you sat at the end of the bed in the room you had found sanctuary in. Looking down at your trembling hands, you attempted to squeeze the nerves out of them as you sucked in a deep breath. You let out a frustrated groan, mixed with a slight sob as you realized you weren’t able to calm down.

The party downstairs continued, and you could still hear the bass bumping - vibrating the floor underneath your feet. It caused the door to the room to rattle as well, but you tried your best to ignore all of that.

You weren’t sure why you had let your "friends" talk you into coming to this party. It was your third year of college, and this was probably the fifth party you had ever attended.

Parties weren’t your thing, and what happened just a few minutes ago is exactly why.

You jumped out of your thoughts as you heard the door to the bedroom open, and you looked over your shoulder quickly to see long legs covered by black torn skinny jeans entering the room - a tan colored button up with black flowers and several buttons undone adorning the torso of the human that has just barged in.

Ink was etched all over his skin, and you weren’t sure you had ever seen someone at your age with so many tattoos.

He was still looking over his shoulder once you got to his head, and you could see luscious curls draping down to just barely meet the middle of his neck.

“No, my spare charger is in here. Jus’ give me a minute, and I’ll get it for you,” you heard him say before he closed the door and turned around.

He froze at the sight of you, and you dropped your hands to clutch at the comforter underneath your legs.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, mouth immediately going dry once you realized he was actually perceiving you. “I was just trying to find somewhere to hide away for a moment. I can just-”

“Hey, it’s alright,” it was then you picked up on the dreamy accent the stranger had, and you watched as his eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Are you okay, petal? ‘Y look a little upset.”

You let out a laugh at his words because you knew you looked a mess. Whenever you cried like this, your face would become flushed, and your eyes would get all red. It was probably a startling sight for him to see.

When you went to speak again, you couldn’t find the words, and you swallowed down the whimper that wanted to leave you as your emotions were heightened once again.

“Oh no, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you even more upset,” you heard the noise of the stranger setting his beer bottle down on the nightstand by the bed before he was circling around in front of you.

You tried to avoid looking at him as he kneeled down so that he could look at your face again, and you turned your head a bit to try and disguise yourself.

“Do you want to talk about what’s going on? Do you need me to go get a friend?”

Sighing, you look up at the ceiling, lifting your still shaking hands to wipe at your cheeks.

“How about this? How about we take some deep breaths together? You’re trembling like a leaf.”

Finally you willed the courage to look at the stranger now that he was so close to you, and you saw nothing but concern, and kindness, swirling behind his jade colored eyes.

“Can ‘y do that for me? Breathe with me?”

Nodding slowly, you watched as the corner of his lips twitched into a grin - causing a deep dimple to dent into his cheek. “Good, okay. Can I hold your hands, petal?”

You nodded again, causing a full fledged smile to take over his mouth as he reached out to take your hands. His practically swallowed yours - long fingers adorned with rings wrapping around to soothe you.

“In for ten, and out for ten, alright?” He lifted his eyebrows as he spoke, and you hummed softly in response. “Here we go - one, two, three…”

Eventually he stopped counting, and you just followed his breathing pattern as you held his eyes. You could feel the weight in your chest dissipating with each set of breaths.

“There we go,” thumbs started to gently massage into your hands as curls bounced with each nod of his head. “Perfect. That was perfect. Feeling a bit better?”

You nodded, and he pushed himself off the ground - gently letting your hands go so they plopped back into your lap. “Can I sit down next to you?”

“Sure,” you cleared your throat as you shifted over a bit since you were sitting directly in the middle of the foot of the bed.

The stranger sat down next to you, and you weren’t sure if his eyes had even left you this entire time. “Now, are you able to tell me about what happened?”

“I just don’t usually do these things - parties, I mean,” you started after a moment, looking down at your hands as you picked at your nails. “And this girl here who doesn’t like me, and I don’t even know why she doesn’t like me, but she doesn’t…”

You trailed off for a moment before speaking again. “Anyway, this girl that doesn’t like me is here, and I know she purposefully ran into me so that she could spill her drink all over my shirt. I came with a few friends, and all they did was laugh.”

The stranger’s eyes moved to look at your torso, and you saw them slightly widen when he realized the large red stain on your lavender colored top. “Shit, ‘m sorry, I didn’t even realize your shirt. I was just so focused on calming you down. Hold on a second.”

He pushed himself off the bed so he could walk over to a dresser in the corner of the room. "And also, those don't really sound like friends, if 'm going to to be honest."

You knew that he was right. They really weren't your friends, and you wondered why they even asked you to come along.

You watched as he shifted clothes around in one of the drawers before he was walking back over to you - a t-shirt resting in his extended hand.

“Oh, no that’s okay,” you shook your head. “I couldn’t take your clothes. You…we don't even know each other's names."

You watched the grin from before making its way back onto his face before he spoke. “Well, ‘m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you responded almost instantly, and Harry tilted his head to the side. "I'm Y/N."

“See, now we know each other. So here’s a shirt for you to borrow.”

For the first time since you entered his room, you felt yourself crack a smile, and you heard Harry gasp.

“Look at that,” he joked softly, which caused you to smile wider. You grabbed the shirt from him, and you used it to slightly cover your face to hide the reaction his words gave you.

Harry clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, hands gently wrapping around your wrists. “Now, now, petal, let’s not hide that sweet smile, yeah?”

He pulled your hands down, and you could feel the blush burning up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“There,” he nodded. “Pretty."

There was a pause for a moment before he continued to speak. "Now ‘m gonna turn around and face the wall so that you can change, and once that’s done, you and I are going to go back downstairs. I promise ‘m not gonna let anyone mess with you, okay?”

“Okay,” you pursed your lips to the side, but your smile was still shining through as his compliment of you being pretty rang in your ears.

“Okay.”

Harry turned to face the wall just like he had said, and you quickly stood from the bed to pull your ruined top over your head. You tugged Harry’s shirt down over your body, and you turned to face the full length mirror that was along the other wall to look at yourself.

It was a white shirt with drawings of an outline of a woman’s hand all over it - some of them being empty, and some of them being drawn with a cigarette between the fingers.

“I’m finished,” you told him as you turned around to face his back, and once he turned as well, he smiled even bigger than before.

“Looks perfect on you, petal. I’ll put your shirt into the wash on our way downstairs, alright?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to, Y/N. It’s no trouble at all, I promise,” Harry assured you as he grabbed your old shirt off the bed. “Now, let me just grab this charger, and we can head back down.”

Your eyes followed Harry as he walked back over to his nightstand, picking up his beer bottle and tucking it into the crease of his arm as he fished the charger from the drawer. He opened the door to his room once again, and he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Well, are you coming, petal?”

Nodding, you walked up beside him. Once his hand was free after tossing your shirt in the washer, you felt him place it along your lower back as you made your way back downstairs, and into the mass of people.

But unlike when you first arrived, you now felt comfortable, and protected.

[the-floral-perspective]

Look headcannons | Creepypasta + mood boards!

This includes style and how I imagine their normal fits in this modern day. Also like race n whatnot.

Also, their everyday outfit is what they wear to kill their assignments! Their general aesthetics is like stuff they wear around the house or when they buy groceries or smthing. I’m sorry if I generally describe them the same way, but I promise how I vision them is different. Once I learn to draw it’s literally over for y’all.

Their everyday outfits are typically similar and nothing like their general aesthetic because of convenience reasons.

I don’t ever follow cannon so please don’t hate! Also don’t take the bodies too seriously! Y’all are beautiful just the way you are.

Jeff the killer

Face: triangle shaped face, slightly upturned nose with a slight curve from breaking his nose, hooded bright blue eyes, sharp jawline, thin lips. Unhealed but healing mouth scars, slightly discolored blotchy skin and unusually wide eyes. Wears guyliner. His mouth scars are like wide open btw. Super thin eyebrows tbh.

Physic: he’s got some boob, 5’11. Wide shoulders, a lil toned, but he’s got some squish. He’s got some MADDDD cake. His legs are hella muscular too.

General Aesthetic: lazy edge lord. Sweatpants, band tshirts, converse, slides. BLACK CROCS. Kinda pink sometimes tho, but that’s only cuz of Ben’s influence. He’s got a crazy collection of pajama pants tho (he has my kuromi pants from a secret Santa gift)

Everyday outfit: black ripped skinny jeans, black hoodie with a black turtleneck underneath. Wears some nice earrings tho and has an eyebrow piercing. Has a similar strap to EJ, but just on his thigh, it carries his knife and money. So yes he has a thigh strap.

Jane the Killer

Face: oval shaped face, bow shaped lips, high cheekbones, dark brown upturned eyes, upturned nose. Skin is a little patchy from the past burns, otherwise she is almost fully healed due to Slenders help. Has slight gashes on her cheeks but they’re mostly closed. Thicc arched eyebrows.

Physic: pear shaped, more booty than her chest. 5’8, seems a lot taller. A bit bony, long armed and long legged. A little toned, tho her arms especially, she’s got some DEFINEEED arms.

General Aesthetic: elegant lady going to the art museum. Wears a lot of longer pleated skirts (either knee length or longer), long silk dresses, heels, occasional converse. Shirts are form fitting and typically elegant or professional. Loves silk, satin fabrics and the occasional velvet.

Everyday outfit: a black sleeveless turtleneck with black flared pants and black fingerless gloves. When it gets really cold she wears a dark red coat with grey fur on the lining. Has a thigh strap and a chest strap to carry her weapons.

Ben Drowned

Face: heart shaped face, male button nose, small lips, completely black eyes with blood running down them. Pale skin and hella sharp cheekbones. Sharp ass jaw too.

Physic: 5’9. Broad shoulders, a little scrawny. Defined chest and shoulders, his stomach hella toned, he doesn’t got much cake but a barely adequate one. No boobs for this guy either. No honka honka for him :(

General Aesthetic: a lil punk and a lil basic. Like he wears a lot of plaid and also a lot of baggy band tshirts, so not really but sort of. He’s got the emo hair, he wears green plaid skinny jeans with a graphic tshirt and black combat boots a lot. Or converse. He’s got a lot of facial piercings too. So he’s just barely punk. He’s getting there tho.

Everyday outfit: a light green baggy tunic that kinda has a deep V 😏 and some black baggy pants that the tunic is tucked into. His shoes are black combat boots. Across his waist he wears a brown leather belt that has a small compartment on his hip where he can put his shit in.

Clockwork

Face: downturned lips, tan skin, a clock for an eye. Her other eye is monoloid shaped tho and brown. Hair is dark brown and messy straight. Button nose definitely.

Physic: pretty boxy and muscular. 5’11. She doesn’t have much boob or butt since she’s so muscular. There is a slight contrast between her chest and her stomach, but not that much. She’s defined and toned.

General Aesthetic: it switches everyday. Sometimes she’s pretty tomboy and other times she’s 2000 emo. She wears converse, short shorts, low waisted pants that have the bedazzled butt pockets, cropped tshirts and tank tops. So maybe 2000s party girl?

Everyday outfit: black zip up hoodie with fur lining the neck, lowrise dark blue bootcut jeans, dark red tank top. Brown ankle boots.

Ticci Toby

Face: male version of a button nose, diamond shaped face, bow shaped lips, multiple face piercings (snakebites, eyebrow piercing), slight stache on his chin and above his mouth (he shaves). Fluffy brown hair. The gash on his mouth is basically healed. Very very pale skin, pretty hazel eyes u could get lost in forever. Average brown eyebrows.

Physic: almost concerningly skinny, like he just barely makes the mark of being healthy. It’s cause he forgets to eat. 6’1. His shoulders are broad but he’s like a triangle if anything. Not much cake :(

General Aesthetic: boring white boy. Nowadays he only wears turtlenecks and tank tops with some boring ass pants. Tho they are tight on him 😏 he left behind his old hoodie habit. He picked up motorcycling gloves and vans.

Everyday outfit: a black, long sleeved, form fitted turtleneck with a black back harness for his axe’s. Black skinny jeans and converse for convenience. He still wears his goggles and face mask!

Judge Angels

Face: triangle shaped face, her chin has a prominent point. Almond shaped black eyes, heart shaped lips. Olive toned skin, pretty tan. Has a prominent crack on her left canine tooth. Upturned nose, crooked smile. Blond straight hair that greatly contrasts her skin. Blond short eyebrows.

Physic: short and petite, 5’2. Lean, doesn’t really have much muscle, or at least doesn’t look it. Pretty flat chested and a normal ass. She has calves of steal tho.

General Aesthetic: white and messy, likes baggier clothing and more trashy punk looks. Like she wears Tripp pants, oversized tshirts, big hoodies. She doesn’t really wear makeup except for some shittily done eyeliner. Her hair is still blond but now it has the occasional black streak.

Everyday outfit: one of those baggy tops that have the cuts down the sides yk what I’m talking about? Anyways it’s white with a bunch of charcoal on it that she stole from Bloody painter. For bottoms she wears black knee high combat boots and a pair of black, low waisted, wide leg shorts. Obviously under the shirt she has a sports bra. She also wears fishnet gloves.

Puppeteer

Face: Grecian nose, dark gray skin, almond shaped yellow eyes, a square shaped face, medium lips. I think his teeth are hella white tbh but he’s definitely got fangs of some sort. Thicc black brows.

Physic: pretty boxy, like he’s lean n all, but he is kinda straight up and down. Average cake, average waist, average muscle and tone. He’s still hawt tho, his hands 😩 6’3

General Aesthetic: helluva boss reject. Wears trench coats and boots and skinny jeans, business pants. The occasional hoodie. Doesn’t wear a beanie anymore. Or converse. Tho his wardrobe has lots of skulls. He kinda does a 360 with his wardrobe, going for more of an old school pirate vibe.

Everyday outfit: wears a long black trench coat that clips in the middle of his waist, black skinny pants, below the knee black boots, black button up (the last three buttons unbuttoned) are underneath his trench coat.

Nurse Ann

Face: diamond shaped face, button nose, mid/weaker jawline, thiccer lips, not a prominent cupids bow. Definitely pale/Greyish skin tone. Her hair is brown and is like boob length, also somewhat wavy.

Physic: curvy, kind of apple/pear shaped. She’s definitely well endowed with the bewbs and butt, has a more rounded stomach too, has thicc thighs and calves as well. 5’4.

General Aesthetic: fantasia 2000 princess type beat. I feel like she’s a huge fan of midnight blue and fantasy type of outfits. She loves dresses of any length with frill, lace and intricate designs. She loves puffy/billowed sleeves and mostly wears flats or boot heels. She’s also particular about silver star/moon designs.

Everyday outfit: I don’t think her outfit changed at all tbh, I think she still wears the black nurse costume and hat, tho I do think she’s added more weapons in her collection. I think she’s started focusing on needles and chemical injecting, tho she still uses her iconic chainsaw.

Bloody Painter

Face: oval shaped face, thin lips, bright blue almond shaped eyes, Grecian nose, a lil tan ngl, black messy hair (idk how to describe his haircut tho, it’s a lil long, straight and fluffy??)

Physic: kind of in the average or boney ratio. He has bony hands and forearms but aside from that he’s got medium sized shoulders and a slightly smaller waist. Ngl I feel like he does have some random curve at the bottom so some honka cake, but not much. 5’11

General Aesthetic: painter in despair. I think he likes Jean jackets, he’s like the male version of arthoe. He likes black/blue jeans, kinda looks like he came from the outsiders, wears baggy leather jackets too. Mostly sticks with tshirts with random bull on it. Also always has a brown satchel with him.

Everyday outfit: I feel like black cargo pants, black turtleneck and a black chest harness, probably combat boots too. On his chest he still has the smiley pin, but aside from that, for his assignments he goes pretty neutral and just for convenience. EJ totally helped him pick out his outfit too his first assignment.

Rouge

Face: square shaped face, upturned nose, chubby cheeks, vintage shaped lips?? Idk how to describe it. I feel like her hair is a messy black Bob now, but like pretty messy I mean it. Kinda tan. Definitely has freckles.

Physic: 5’7, pretty boxy. The best I can describe her is like Audrey Hepburn built. Idk why I feel like her and A.H are so similar. She’s boney and relatively small like that.

General Aesthetic: a little vintage sometimes, like she switches decades a lot. She wears fashion trends from the 1950s to modern day, both feminine and masculine styles. So she wears dresses, miniskirts, jeans, colored turtlenecks. Really her closet is very alive. She has stolen from her assignments hella tho ngl.

Everyday outfit: a black miniskirt with a tighter grey turtleneck, red tights, black calf length boots. When it’s cold she has a cropped jacket with a fuzzy hood and insides.

Masky

Face: oval shaped face, tan skin, dark brown hair (short and messy,) dark brown eyes, uhhh mid-somewhat sharp jawline, straight nose.

Physic: strong, average short 5’9. Builds more bulk, has strong arms and shoulders but a smaller waist, he’s got some MADD V-line. He’s got a nice smackable amount of cake.

General Aesthetic: 😏😏😏. He wears flannels, darker colored skinny jeans, SOMETIMES THO he wears 70’s pants that are like right around the hips and like highwaisted and whatnot with a sleeveless cropped tshirt. He’s oddly vintage with stuff like that, but in a rock singer type of way. He only just started getting into this tho.

Everyday outfit: dark blue skinny jeans, black tshirt, tan jacket that has a LOTTA compartments.

Laughing Jill

Face: button nose, oval shaped face, high cheekbones, an average (a lil weak) jawline, pale skin, black irises. Thinner lips. Thin slightly arched eyebrows.

Physic: southern mommy. SORRY. 6’2 tho Bc shes mythical. I think she’s a wide hourglass too?? Like she is big chested and she def has a gyatt, she’s got tummy. She isn’t really defined at all.

General Aesthetic: Harley Quinn wannabe. Just likes the mix matches jumpsuit idea. Like she loves mixing and matching contrasting colors and especially black and white. She mixes in some lavender too. Is always wearing the most dangly earrings too.

Everyday outfit: an above the knee length skirt with a black petty coat underneath, a long sleeveless vest that goes to her mid calf and buttons together under her boobs. Her shirt is a plain white button up with puffy sleeves. For shoes she wears black heeled boots. Her hair is in a curly bun with a tiny off center hat.

Hoodie

Face: Roman nose, not that pale, diamond shaped face, pretty light brown eyes. Pretty strong jawline. Short black hair (dyed recently)

Physic: muscular, 6’2. Hes beefy. Like he’s got boob muscle, ass muscle. HE IS SCARRRY. Think like a smaller Miguel O’Hara almost. He’s less beefy than that, but like yk still beefy.

General Aesthetic: tbh think he went for a goth/alt vibe. He mixes feminine and masculine occasionally. Wears like long skirts sometimes, like a kilt almost?? Wears the fishnet tights as shirts, has multiple Spencer’s belts and necklaces.

Everyday outfit: black fishnet top with a black fitted tshirt over it, black baggy pants. Multiple finger rings. Multiple belts and waist bands.

Sally Williams

Face: circle shaped face, slightly downturned nose, wide green eyes. Small lips, lil bit of a chubby face. She does not eternally bleed from the head. Her hair is long and curly past her shoulders. She’s pretty dark.

Physic: a normal, average weighted 8 yr. 4’8.

General Aesthetic: she likes more vintage, boxy styled dresses from the twentieth century, like 1960s European box dresses inspired by Iggy and kids dresses from the 20s. She actually really likes the vintage youth outfits Bc of Shirley Temple. She LOVES Shirley Temple.

Everyday outfit: a pink and white designed dress that pleats at the bottom. Black Mary janes and white socks. She carries a small white clutch that slings across her torso. Her hair is in a long braid.

Laughing Jack

Face: pale as a mf, triangle shaped face, high cheek bones, cone nose, black hooded shaped eyes. Sharp ass jawline. Small forehead. Hair is shorter and more curly.

Physic: toned as an mf but SCRAWNY, like he’s dangly and flexible. It’s scary and arousing. He has no cake tho, no boobs either. He’s very lightly defined but that is IT. 6’9

General Aesthetic: likes the David Bowie Jareth Labyrinth aesthetic, kind of similar to EJ, but not really. He just also really likes poets shirts and vests. He loves dressing sort of Royal or regal. HE LOVES to wear baggy button ups but he NEVER buttons them up all the way 😏

Everyday outfit: I feel like his main outfit hasn’t changed much, the only thing I see him changing is the wraps around his waist possibly changing to a corset instead for his convenience.

(I’d like to remind that Lazari doesn’t have assignments as she is not a pasta, so her everyday wear is less convenient.)

Lazari

Face: tan, dark brown straight hair (occasionally pink), square shaped face, Roman nose, bow shaped mouth, thicc brown brows.

Physic: depends on her age she changes physically. But she’s probably like average in all ages, just less lean and a little chubbier. Height ranges from 4’11 to 5’8

General Aesthetic: colorful and a little childish. She wears overalls and paints on her pants a lot. Think of her like 2019 in a nutshell. She wears mom jeans and Angel tops and bucket hats. Hates crocs tho. All of her jeans have some 90s cartoon character painted on them.

Everyday outfit: a black Spider-Man tshirt with black overalls cuffed at the bottom. Red converse, fun silly socks, her hair in a long braid.

Jason the Toymaker

Face: diamond shaped face, pale, Roman nose, shoulder length bright red hair. Bright green eyes. Kinda got that Jareth haircut. Sharp ass jawline. Thin nicely shaped eyebrows. The makeup does not come off.

Physic: triangle. Slutty man waist. Not that toned tbh but he has enough. HES GOT SOME NICEE BONEY HANDS. His arms have decent strength and buff ness, but it’s rlly not that obvious. 6’8

General Aesthetic: old clowncore ig. Or like fantasy 1800s boyfriend aesthetic. He wears mostly beige or rained colors tbh and then a dash of black and red. Otherwise he makes up his outfits in abstract shapes and styles.

Everyday outfit: his usual tbh, bro has not changed much.

Zero

Face: square shaped face, wide eyes, no cupids bow shaped lips. Completely black eyes. Completely white hair that goes just past her jaw. Messy hair. Has stitches on the side of her mouth.

Physic: broad shoulders, smaller breasted, not much of a different with her waist. Does have low hips, like a long torso with shorter legs. 5’9

General Aesthetic: crust punk. Wears shit that is torn up and dirty. Lots of DIY and ripped up tights. Low rise black skinny jeans. And cropped shirts that go like just under the boob.

Everyday outfit: cropped black ripped jacket, plain black tshirt and lowrise shitty ripped skinny jeans and black combat boots. Under her ripped jeans is her striped ripped stockings.

Homicidal Liu

Face: slightly upturned nose, still has the stitches on his face, green eyes. Lighter brown neck length hair. Kinda has like a slight wolfcut tbh. A lil tan.

Physic:I feel like he’s a lil buff. Like 5’9-5’10. Not as buff as Jeff. Has some thiccness tho mostly in his shoulders tho so he’s more toned than Jeff.

General Aesthetic: spider noir energy. He loves trench coats and business pants. No matter what he’s always wearing black gloves. He’s always wearing business shoes too.

Everyday outfit: black turtleneck and black trench coat with black pants and black knee boots. He has patches on his coat with holes in it, but they’ve been patched up with his striped scarf, same with his pants. His main fit is patched together with his old scarf.

Nina the Killer

Face: triangle shaped face, olive skin tone, button nose. Curly black hair (often straightened) with purple and pink streaks, thicc upturned lips. Her scar is healed, but still very open like Jeff’s. Her eye situation depends on her state of mind.

Physic: 5’4, pretty skinny and toned. Mostly proportionate. Aight sized boobs and butt, generally just dainty idk. Built like the girl from house of 1000 corpses.

General Aesthetic: risqué Monique Chabot in post war France. She wears short skirts, only cropped tshirts and small dresses. She does not get cold at all omg. A lot of times she’ll wear heals or platforms. Never flats or converse tho anymore.

Everyday outfit: platformed knee high boots, black tights with black thigh highs overtop, a black and pink plaid miniskirt, a black crop top that’s a random band tee. A fluffy cropped black jacket that’s zipped up halfway, for style purposes. Fluffy earmuffs if it gets cold and her hair in an emo high ponytail.

Candypop

Face: oval shaped face, hella pale, Grecian nose, heart shaped lips tbh, almond shaped purple eyes. His hair is still the long pretty blue color as always, always up in a ponytail.

Physic: built exactly like LJ but more meaty, like he’s got more toning on his thighs and legs and stomach. Like he looks a lot healthier than LJ for sure. His outfit definitely makes his muscle pop a lot too 😏 6’6

General Aesthetic: he wants to be Ramona flowers, but he literally can’t Bc he can never find men clothes that is like hers.

Everyday outfit: tbh, his outfit has NOT changed like at all otherwise in color scheme. When his hair was a light green, his outfit became more warmer toned b4 he grew out of that phase and went back to his OG look.

Kate The Chaser

Face: square shaped face, round white eyes, black messy hair just barely past the shoulders, small lips, high cheekbones, Roman nose. No brows, they are drawn on.

Physic: a little thicc, broad shoulders and broad hips. I’d say a wide hourglass figure, but she’s like hella muscular. She has a proportionate amount of ass. 5’6

General Aesthetic: she wants to look like Siouxie, very 80s goth. Allison from the breakfast club energy. She loves wearing long skirts with big sweaters and doing the beehive hair. She loves scarves too and has a hella collection.

Everyday outfit: black wide legged jeans with a billowy maroon sweater and black combat boots. Sometimes she’ll add one of those long black detective jackets, but that’s off missions.

Eyeless Jack

Face: grey skin, Grecian nose, rectangle shaped face, high cheekbones, medium sized lips. Split tongue. Almond shaped black eyes. His hair is dark brown and somewhat long and wavy/curly. Medium thicc arched brows.

Physic: 6’7 and very strong. He’s not ripped like bulging, but he is definitely defined. He’s got ass and thighs, his waist isn’t as small as Dr Smileys, but there’s still a medium difference between his shoulders vs his waist.

General Aesthetic: he wants to be cottage core so bad, like the poets shirt and tunics. He does wear cream colored tunics and billowy pants. Tho sometimes on special occasions he dresses like a basic bitch. He’ll get out the tight business pants and black button up.

Everyday outfit: a black button up, black jeans and navy blue converse. He wears one of those chest strap things tho that carries his scalpel and other weapons. He wears a black leather jacket too <3

Dr Smiley

Face: pale, dark red eyes, tiny pupils. Shoulder length, fluffy black hair. Diamond shaped face, Roman nose, thin lips. Defined jaw. Johnnie Gilbert looking guy. Thin arched brows.

Physic: lean and tall. He’s got broad shoulders and an itty bitty waist fr. He’s bony af tho (except for the thighs,) he’s got NO cake. No junk in the trunk for him. 6’1

General Aesthetic: professional emo/dark academia. He’s ALWAYS wearing black turtleneck and dress pants. He always has a red satchel too.

Everyday outfit: he still wears his black medical mask and white doctors coat, underneath that though he wears a black short sleeved turtleneck, so his arms are out when he’s not wearing his coat 😏 his pants are just basic dress pants tho. Aside from the shirt, he wears basically the same thing he always has.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: memories flood back of when you were younger, Eddie wants to talk but silence holds merit.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: cold before the warm

masterlist

The nub end of graphite scrawls against a crinkled back page of paper. Ripped haphazardly from a composition book labeled: Language Arts—E.M.

The yellow pencil was pocked with teeth marks, having been between a pair of teeth that weren’t yours, mind not even gathering the germs that could be harbored in the pressed wood. 

Your tongue had been poked out for nearly three minutes according to the watch on Eddie’s wrist. Your brain working overtime trying to find the best phrase that would stump your friend in the game of Hangman. 

The alphabet was written in a hurry on the left side of the page, parallel to the hanging post. Beneath that were evenly scratched dashes on the blue printed line, waiting for their companion of letters to be filled by Eddie’s correct guesses. 

Putting the pencil down with a satisfying smack, you look up from your masterpiece confidently.

“Okay, I’m ready!” 

Eddie chomps a piece of Big Red loud between his teeth, unhooking his tangled feet from underneath himself and stretching out his skinny legs, jeans from the previous school year hacked into shorts for the summer, “took long enough.”

You make a face and flip him a suggestive finger, the nail chipped and painted pink from the last time your neighbor Michelle let you play with her nail polish, and in return you listened to her gab about her boyfriend while she combed her hair like Marcia Brady. 

“Don’t be a poor loser because you’ve lost the last four games, Clove.” 

He laughs when your eyebrows turn into a pout, the heel of your worn sneaker kicking into his. The same black pair of converse, yours a few sizes smaller, faded and tattered, fitting your feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the arch of your foot, years of wear accustomed to another’s foot print that belonged to the boy across from you. 

Letters are guessed and lines filled in. Eddie insists that you make the hangman have a face complete with nose, mouth and eyes realizing that he is close to eating his words from earlier. 

“Would you like the hangman to be wearing socks and a hat?” You ask honestly, hiding a smirk behind the paper. 

Eddie scoffs, working a bite mark into his bottom lip as he racks his brain for what kind of dumb phrase you conjured up, “I quit on terms that you’re a cheater.” 

The insult was harsh, not worse than the words that you heard around your kitchen table or ones that ricocheted off the thin walls when you were on the cusp of dreaming. No, this word hurt. Stung into your skin like a wasp, repeating its terror until you were swollen and skin ached of heat. 

Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging to your lashes ready to drop. The paper clenched in your fist as you shoved it under Eddie’s nose, proving your innocence. 

“I am not!” 

“Sure you are,” he takes the paper from you, folding it roughly into an uneven shape and shoving it between the couch cushions behind him, “Cheatin’ Clove. Has a nice little ring to it doesn’t it?” 

Before Eddie can say anymore, a can of Coca Cola is thrown at his head hitting him with a thud, followed by your whimpers and the sound of your feet clapping against the dirty linoleum. 

“Clove! ow! Wait!” 

The screen door scratched your palms as you twisted it open. Jumping from the stairs and landing hard in the dirt, you didn’t bother bringing your bike home. Choosing to run the short distance instance instead, shutting the front door with a heavy slam. 

Tears soaked your pillowcase before you drifted to sleep, curled up on top of the patchwork quilt on your bed. 

Eddie. 

His name was trapped in your mouth, dry along your tongue, unable to force its way out. 

He was a ghost to you, memories that were buried and dormant were now flooding back at full speed, pinging around your brain firing each nerve tucked away deep, landing you a migraine behind your eyes. 

Seven years. 

Seven fucking years, since you had seen those doe shaped eyes, brown muddied colors still lost in a child’s innocence and wonderment— barely aged from the last time you had seen him. That memory burned into your retinas, like fuel to a pained flame. 

His hair was longer, well past his shoulders now, fringe of his bangs still thick on his forehead. His knuckles were covered in tattoos, the little you can see of his neck is also full of dark wisps of ink.

He says your nickname, the one only he knew. A joke between best friends. 

You try to open your mouth, fighting like hell to will anything to come out, but nothing does, the words choke against your throat, caught against each other in a tangled string of sharp edges.

“uh— I—E..”  

His eyes grew bigger than they already were, waiting for you to say something, anything. It was as if time stood still, all the pain from years prior coming back.

Images of Eddie, his smile, the bloody gash on his knee from his longboard, small memories, painful ones that could bring someone less strong to their knees: all flash behind your eyes.  

The pain from all those years ago was searing through you like a knife. Memories that you kept buried away were suddenly throttling you like they had just happened, the wounds that were licked clean were now fresh and open, blood flowing freely.

Before hot tears can spill down your face, you spin wildly on your heel, walking fast and turning back to the bar. The tray slamming onto the back counter with a loud bang, snapping.  

Your breath was erratic, heart racing. Whatever lingering high you had was gone. Emotions you hadn’t felt in years coursing through you demanding to be felt. 

Why was he back? 

You didn’t know the purpose of his return to Hawkins, only registering how hurt you felt that he was. The day he left still stung your spine, sending shivers all over your body. 

Did he ever think of you? In the seven years he had been gone did you bleep on his radar even once?

Hanging your head your fingers tap nervously on the lacquered wood, trying to calm yourself down before you work yourself up anymore than you already were. 

“Be right back,” you called over your shoulder to Jolene, head down walking fast to the cooler. 

The chilled air made your skin prick with goosebumps but you couldn’t care, the only thing you could feel was your heart shattering to pieces all over again. 

The floor was cold under your body, shelves and beer boxes held you up as you fell apart. Deep shuddering breaths in and winded ones out, you don’t wipe the tears as they free fall down the apples of your cheeks—dragging black eyeliner and mascara with them til they trickle from your chin. 

The callus of your life made it hard to feel, even harder to cry. But once the gate was open, it was challenging to close. A dam of pent up emotions broke free out of you like an angry flood, full of irreparable damage, forgotten feelings and an exploding heart. Taking with it years of questions, hopes and dreams. 

Scenery wasn’t the only thing that was altered in his time away. You evolved, having to peel off layers of naivety and fear. Would he care if he knew? 

Wiping another sludge of wet makeup from under your eyes you catch the tattoo on your hand. 

It burned on your skin. Prickling like it hadn’t been ten years since you’d gotten it.  Years that seemed like a different lifetime ago.

It practically was.

The boy who did them was long gone, and the man in his place was someone you didn’t even know. 

—

It was you. 

The only person in all of Hawkins who made it bearable. What should have been a joyful reunion was clouded over with painful memories. Of course there were good ones, but mostly the bad out weighed anything happy. 

You had always been the little bit of sunshine that broke through on a cloudy day, the only person he trusted with silly secrets, trusted with anything.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were here. Not just in Hawkins. But working here. 

A surge of rage filled his stomach but was quickly washed out by pain as you stomped away, looking as if you had seen a ghost, a part of your past that you didn’t want to remember. 

Was that what he was to you? A painful memory, one that was more sour than everything else that happened? 

Jeff’s voice is muffled in his ears, as if he’s trying to speak underwater. He can’t wrap his head around this whole thing. The guilt eating him alive. 

Eddie clears his throat and takes a generous sip of beer, trying to stop his hands from shaking, chilled sweat creeping down his back. He fiddles with a napkin, ripping the end into small shreds and rolling them up like a kid would for a spit wad. 

He could map out every scar on your arms and legs, tell anyone the exact color of your eyes, in sunlight and in a dark room. He knew your favorite song, that you were afraid of the dark and that your front teeth didn’t come in for almost three months after he had helped you pull them out.

You had taught him how to hang upside down on the monkey bars behind the trailer park. He taught you how to play his guitar, and if he thought hard enough he could remember the smell of your shampoo. 

You were everything to him.

Bestfriends since the cradle, made up handshakes and secrets sworn to the grave. But years, tear spilled miles and the guilt of broken promises wedged a distance between you. 

One that couldn’t be made better by the letters he sent that went unanswered. And it definitely wouldn’t get fixed in one random night when fate lead him to this fucking dump, back under your nose.

It hurt not seeing the sparkle in your eyes, but he could only blame himself. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

Jeff motions for Eddie to lean in, doing so he jerks his head to the bar where you are standing stone-still hovering over a counter with your back turned to them. “She looked familiar, right? Did she go to school with us?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to shove down his emotions with another gulp of beer, “she did.” 

Jeff leans back, “Chloe? Cassie, Chasity… no. Claire? Shit what was her name?” 

Eddie’s eyes fell to the smudgy tattoo, he rubs his thumb over the ink, “Clove.”

“That’s right!” clapping his hands together, “knew it was something weird.” 

Eddie let himself smile. Small and weak, his lip ticking up on one side. He rubbed the tattoo again, remembering that day like it was yesterday. 

—

The summer breeze blows hotly through the makeshift curtains, sending the loose paper on the dresser scattering like desert tumbleweeds across Eddie’s bedroom floor, joining the litter of car magazines and unwashed clothes taking up space in the tiny room. 

“gotta sit still Slick, or this won’t work.” 

You were biting through your lip, trying to muffle a cry from breaking out, “ow..it hurts!” 

It was your idea to get matching tattoos with your best friend, and it was Eddie who said he could do them no problem. He had already tattooed a heart on Dave with his girlfriend's name through the center last month—never mind that she dumped him a week later. The sobs coming from trailer 11 didn’t ever seem to end. 

“Well yeah,” Eddie chuckles, clearing his throat and puffing behind a cigarette, “what did you expect it would be done with? A marker?”

Your right hand rested on his bent knee for precision. The other was clamped tight over your eyes in hopes that if you didn’t see how it was done, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

The warmth of your sweaty nervous palm on his jeans felt hot, as if you were being burnt alive. But, despite the pain from the needle going in and out of your skin, Eddie was gentle. 

His shoulder provided comfort as you leaned your head onto it, slowly wetting his shirt with your tears. You curl your body into his side, knees stabbing into his ribs, head pressed tight to the side of his neck, hand fisting the sleeve of his shirt for support as you intake a sharp breath when he finishes the curve of the dainty heart. 

“Need a break?” he asks, setting the needle down on the carpet, rubbing a pattern with his thumb on your hand. “I made some Kool-Aid yesterday, your favorite kind.” 

Lynyrd Skynyrd plays softly in the background and Eddie strums along on your palm to the guitar solo. 

Muffled against his cotton shirt, your voice is hoarse from the tears, “orange?” 

He chuckles around a cloud of smoke, “hell yeah, picked some up yesterday morning before my shift, got a few packets for your place too, I know how much Lolly likes it.” 

“Speaking of,” you uncross your legs to stand, “I gotta go check on her.” 

Eddie stands up with you, a whole head taller than you were, you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and slot it into your own, inhaling the tobacco expertly into your lungs as you examine the small tattoo on your skin.

“‘m not done yet, but what do ya think?” 

Blood and ink were smeared around it messily, but it looked identical to the one he had on his left hand, yours only missing the clover. 

A smile stretches across your lips and you feel the burn of tears from in your eyes, “it’s perfect, Eddie.”  

He opens his bedroom door, grabbing the cigarette from your mouth and squishing it into the heaping ashtray on his nightstand. “you really think so?” he whispers.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” 

He blows his lips in a raspberry, long legs walking down the dingy carpet hallway to the kitchen, “let those prissy bitches try to pick on you now… nobody wants to fight someone with tattoos.” 

The girls at school weren’t nice in elementary school and they somehow got nastier with every year. You went from being “stinky girl” to “trailer skank” overnight. 

A far cry from any sort of originality, but that’s how Hawkins was, ruled by the dim and dumb, daddy’s bank account used as a hierarchy status. 

You always brushed them off, keeping mostly to yourself and to your best friend. Eddie took it upon himself to conjure up a frenzied retort that would have them scoffing in disgust. 

With Eddie, nothing else mattered, he didn’t care if your clothes didn’t fit right, or if your ponytail looked scraggly. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. You were just two neglected trailer park kids, but to him, you were important. 

“You're an artist Eddie, could probably make a lot of money doing this someday.” 

The idea fell silent between you, both knowing in your hearts what path your life would lead you down. Stuck in the nightmare of what went on behind the thin walls in the trailer park.

Peering over the counter you can see Lolly. Sleeping just as soundly as she had when you laid her down. The stolen playpen from the yard sale on Cornwalis turned out to be worth the uncomfortable bike ride back to Forest Hills with Eddie standing on his pedals and you on the handlebars holding onto dear life as he raced back home. 

Her chubby cheeks were pressed against the yellow floral sheet, little curls twisted into two tiny pigtails, milk dribbling slow from her puckered lips. 

You smile at the sight of such innocence, wishing that you too were unaware of what life was actually like, and knowing that you would do anything to keep your little sister safe from this reality for as long as possible. 

“Can’t believe she cried that long, usually she loves pb&j’s..” Eddie points to your head, trying not to laugh, “you still have peanut butter in your hair by the way.” 

Lolly had thrown every last bit of her sandwich in a temper tantrum fueled by a lack of sleep. Her aim being perfect with you as her target. 

Twenty minutes with your head under the bathroom sink and Eddie cackling as he squeezed shampoo on your head apparently wasn’t enough to get the sticky treat out.  

“Little shit,” you huff, a smirk on your lips, turning to the fridge, and reaching for the sugary orange drink from the shelf, shutting the door with your hip, “think she might be cuttin’ some teeth at least that’s what Patty said last time she babysat.” 

Eddie reached for the plastic cups that were nabbed from Benny’s after one of his busboy shifts, holding them steady as you poured the juice.

Only spilling a little, you lifted the end of your shirt to mop the counter up. “Kids are weird,” Eddie says, smacking his lips with an orange mustache after a long swig, “remind me never to have ‘em.” 

Snorting through your nose you swallow harshly, a quirk to your eyebrow, “having kids is totally normal, all of our neighbors do.”

He thought quietly before speaking again, “yeah, and nobody is ever around..” he shakes his head. “We’re gonna leave here someday, you and me.” 

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, Slim.” 

Eddie talked crazy like this sometimes. Always dreaming bigger than you could even fathom. Head permanently stuck in the clouds, wishing, hoping for something better than the cards you were both dealt. But you on the other hand, your feet, in hand-me-down shoes, never left the ground. 

His voice was stern when he spoke to you, eyes pleading, and you had never heard him like that before. 

“I’m serious, I’ll die before I stay here,” he moves forward, holding your biceps as he looks down at you, dark eyes wide, almost wild, “I promise you, we won’t end up like this...okay?” 

—

He couldn’t blame you for the way you reacted when your eyes met his. Seeing you tonight hurt more than he could have ever imagined it too. To be honest, he didn’t expect you to still be in Hawkins, but then again— where would you have gone? 

“…you still there dude?” 

Eddie’s eyes shift to Jeff, plastering a smirk to his lips to hide the pain etched so evidently on his face, “yeah, I just uh— tired I guess.” 

He scanned the bar for you, still seeing your frame behind the counter, this time turned around handing a round of beers to a couple of college punks. 

“How far is the drive?” 

Bless Jeff for trying to keep this conversation alive, but Eddie’s mind was anywhere but here at this table. 

Questions he never thought to ask, suddenly poured into his mind. Did you finish high school? Where were you living? How’s Lolly? How old is she now? How have you been? 

He felt sick that he didn’t know the answer to any of them. Guilt devouring away at him like a flesh eating amoeba. 

“Six—no, probably seven hundred miles.. give or take.” 

Had you applied to college? Were you still living in the trailer park?  

“Damn,” Jeff said, scrubbing his hands down his face, “gonna have to visit you sometime, show me around all the cool places… you ever been out to LA? My girlfriend, well ex now, we went a year ago around Christmas time she really loved...”

Although Eddie didn’t know the answers, he figured maybe Jeff would. 

He shakes his head, interrupting his friend, hand raised in apology, “hey, uh wh— whatever happened to her?” He hooks a thumb in your direction in the most nonchalant way he could, even though his entire body was fidgeting in anticipation. 

Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Clove? Oh umm, shit… well I think, no.. yeah no, she didn’t graduate. I remember hearing that she had dropped out, and now she works here apparently.” 

A smirk forms on his lips and he points behind him to the back corner, “forgot to tell you, rumor has it this place is more than just a strip joint,” his dark eyebrows wiggle, “if y'know what I mean.” 

For the first time tonight, Eddie noticed girls coming and going from the beaded doorway, vacant expressions on their smudged faces. Trailing behind were drunk men with glazed eyes and sweaty foreheads, readjusting the threads of their belts and slacks. 

He scans the bar with wild eyes in search of you. Hoping and praying to whoever would listen that you weren’t a part of this. You couldn’t be. 

Who is he kidding? 

If you were still in Hawkins, still under the weight and scrutiny of the inner dealings that started in the trailer park, you were very much involved. 

Realization hit him like a freight train. His stomach clenched and warped with the dreaded grief and guilt he still carried. Deep down he had figured this was what your life had come to. Lying to himself in thinking that you had gotten away from all of this. But seeing it firsthand, in the flesh—he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

Choking back vomit, he slides from the booth hastily, practically spilling his beer all over the table in his desperate attempt to find you. 

“shit!” Jeff shouted, “dude, you alright?” 

He wasn’t. 

He stumbles from the table, tripping over his own boots and knocking into one of the burly bearded men at the bar, sending his drink tumbling to the ground. Glass and liquor covering the floor like the sparkle of a fresh snow. 

“What’s your problem asshole!?” 

His fiery red hair matched his temper, and the weathered roughness of his cheeks, “ever been inside a bar, tough guy?”  

Before Eddie can whip up a witty retort, Mr. Big Red comes back for more, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him into the high counter of the bar, “hey honey, better stop serving this prick, he can’t handle his liquor like a real man.” 

The swinging doors open and there you are again, struggling beneath the keg you’re carrying. He wanted to jump up and grab it from you, but Eddie was still pinned to the bar by the guy's hand on his bicep, tightening more and more. 

Your eyes reach his and it’s like you don’t even see him. 

“Agh, c’mon Mick,” you say, a warm smile on your lips, “I like ‘em nice and drunk, that’s when they tip the best.”

You set the keg down with a metallic thud on the floor, grabbing a bottle of Jameson and two shot glasses. The mahogany liquid pours smoothly, much like the dark eyes watching you, and heat crawls up your neck. 

Sliding one towards Mick, you hold the other up by your black painted fingers, Clinking them together with a ‘cheers’ and bringing the glass to your lips, allowing your eyes to finally glance towards Eddie. 

He was taller now. His shoulders, more broad, filling in the teenage lithe muscles that fit his frame then. His baby face disappeared entirely, now his chin was stretched with a sharp jaw, which was currently clenched like he was holding back anger, his throat bobbing in a dance of tattooed skin. 

You swallow the liquor in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slips down your throat, the same fire that’s staring from across the counter. Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes from yours.

A twitch forms in your eyelid and you blink it away, setting the glass down hard on the wooden countertop.

You lean your body across the bar, collecting the glassware that’s accumulated since you had been hiding in the cooler. Placing them gently into the warm sudsy sink to wash before filling the small dishwasher below. 

Mickey was already turned back around, talking loudly to Wendy and trying to get her to sit on his lap for five bucks. His grip on Eddie’s arm turns limp when you slide him another shot, just for good measure. 

The bar is chaotic, loud and boisterous, but the air between you and Eddie is quiet, stagnant, no warmth from you. Icicles could form from your frigid silence. 

He knocks his knuckles against the bar, big gaudy rings clacking along, keeping in rhythm to the music playing overhead, but you don’t give in. Don’t humor him by asking how or why he knew Rock Me Amadeus.

“Hey V,” you call out to your work partner, “get this stranger a drink before he gets a parking ticket.” 

Swiveling away from him, you squat down to maneuver the keg to where it needed to go, rocking it on its rounded edge and swiveling it into place. 

Veronica’s voice is cheery and dripping with sex appeal as she asks Eddie what he wants to drink, and you can’t misplace the deepness of his voice, and the polite way he tells her that he’s fine for the evening. 

Cracking the top of the keg, you hook it up to the correct tap, shoving with all your might to get it in under the cabinet and slotted in properly. 

Spending more time than necessary below the bar, you avoid the warm chocolate eyes waiting for you up above. 

What were you supposed to say to him? Thank God you’re home? What the hell did he even want?  

An ant is huddled around a spilled drop of grenadine, you watch as it collects the sticky treat—what you wouldn’t give to switch places with the insect for a few hours. 

If one thing was certain you would need a little encouragement to make it through tonight and the haunting memories that shuddered through you every time you looked at Eddie.

Your purse was in the cubby over to the right, nimble fingers find the familiar plastic of the bottle, screwing off the top and clicking three pills into your hand. 

A greedy palm finds your lips, your eager tongue accepting the drugged gift. Swallowing without any liquid, your spit was more than enough to coat the tablets, watering upon knowing the relief you’ll be met with. 

More shouts and hollers boom through your ears, this time in celebration. 

“Where’d you go sweet cheeks? Need a round, Bobby just found out his girl isn’t pregnant!” 

Duty called, and you knew those dark eyes were still waiting for you, hide and seek was done for now, and in a few short minutes, you’d feel like you were flying. 

Boots planted firm on the sticky tiles, you push yourself up, fully expecting a litter of questions. But when you face him, he’s quiet. Silently watching your every move. 

Not in a way you’re watched by every other slimeball in this town, his eyes never once flicking over your curves or the deep v of your shirt. 

Eddie was admiring the woman you’d become. The shy girl he once knew was replaced by a force to be reckoned with. Did you become that way because he left? No longer having him around to stick up for you?

He pushed out those thoughts, thoughts of you alone. 

The way you fleetingly moved from drunk to drunk, collecting tips and pouring drinks, you were a natural. no longer the girl that was afraid of spiders and slept with a nightlight. What should have been a comfort in his heart stretched into an angry bruise against his soul. 

Warmth riddled your face into a smirk as you dug jabs back at the guys, making them pay up front before they tried to slink away to the back rooms. 

Eddie couldn’t miss how the smile never reached your eyes, that glassy lost look couldn’t fool him, another ping of guilt cutting through him like a knife. 

You were elbow deep in the warm water now, fingers pruned and slicked with soap when he finally speaks. The counter had cleared up enough that he wasn’t squashed between some greasy assholes, the regulars fighting to get to the best seats closest to the stage.  Tiffany on her second set of the night, her shiny heels spinning in the air to Girls, Girls, Girls. 

“So I’m a stranger now?”

Your fingers slip on the smooth surface of a glass and it hits the bottom of the sink with a thud at the sound of his voice, thankfully not breaking. Looking up, the smile fades as you stare back at him, fully allowing yourself to take him all in.  “what else would you be?” 

“Gee, I don’t know, Slick,” his hands twirl the rings on his left hand, “a friend.” 

Your laugh is filled without humor, sheer mockery as you shake your hands above the sink ridding them of suds and water. 

“Friend…” the scoff is thick in your throat, swallowing a ball of vomit before you continue, “that’s rich isn’t it?” 

“Clove..”

“…y’know…I had one of those once,” you say, eyes dead behind your irises, moving to the spouts of the draft beer, “at least I thought he was.” 

“Can we talk?” he pleads. 

“..think I’ve heard more than enough…” slapping down two heavy beers in front of him, you glare into muddy brown eyes, trying not to let yourself feel the pain in your chest, “these two are on the house.” 

Without a second glance or even a fuck you, you stomp towards the dressing room, leaving him sitting alone to sit alone at the bar, and for a split second you allow yourself to feel good it. His turn to be left in the dust this time. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani i @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler @succubusmunson @hereforshmut @alyisdead

[lihhelsing]

Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ↓ | Part 5 | Part 6

Despite Eddie's wishes, everything just keeps on moving.

In a way, it's a little comforting to know that no matter how badly Eddie fucks up, life keeps going. It kept going when Lou almost broke him, it kept going every time he dumped someone or got dumped. It kept going when his mom passed away in the middle of the European leg of their tour. 

It kept moving when he and Steve stopped walking in the same direction. 

Eddie sits in his dressing room, waiting for his make-up to be finished. He barely slept during the night, a mix of anxiousness and fear of whatever was to come.

Eddie wants to talk to Steve and clear the air and explain that what he had seen the night before wasn't what he thought it was. There's nothing between him and Lou. Not anymore. 

It's not like he thinks Steve still wants something with him. He's not delusional or anything, knows Steve is doing this only as a favor to him and nothing more. But he's done hurting Steve, needs to put an end to all this once and for all. 

There was no time in between the band finishing up their part of the music video at around 3am and the super early call time they all had for the last day of shooting. When he got there, Eddie got dragged to wardrobe and make-up and had no time to even look for Steve.

He hoped Steve hadn't bailed because of whatever it was that he thought he saw last night, but if he had, they would most likely know by now. Probably. 

But to be completely honest, Eddie doesn't even realize he's holding his breath in anticipation until the moment he lay eyes on Steve again. 

Eddie gets into the studio all ready for the shooting. His clothes are a perfect match to what he used to wear back then, right before Corroded Coffin made it big. A sleeveless CC shirt with ripped skinny jeans. Always black. Chains and rings and a leather jacket on top of everything. 

It feels even weirder once he gets a good look at it. The studio had been completely modified and now he can see a perfect representation of his uncle’s old trailer. The place where he made most of the music for their first album. 

The place where he fell in love with Steve.

But now that Eddie is really looking at it, he can see only half of the trailer. The other half is actually the recording studio where they had made their first album. 

Half and half, torn in the middle, just like Eddie had been back then. Unable to choose between life with Steve and the band. 

Whenever Eddie was with Steve, his brain was thinking music and lyrics and chords. He itched to put his hands on a guitar, to take notes, to write. 

Then, when he was with the band, he kept thinking about Steve, missing him, missing his touch and his kiss and-

“Hey,” Steve’s voice sounds unsure, like he had tried getting Eddie’s attention more than once. 

“Hi. Sorry, it’s… Weird being back here,” Eddie says and Steve gives him a soft smile which… Don't seem like a bad thing.

“Yeah. Brings back a lot of memories,” Steve agrees and motions forward as if he’s going to touch Eddie’s arm. 

But then the director is calling their names and asking if they are ready and Steve drops his hand, turning away from him. 

“Can we, uh, talk? After? I really wanted to explain what you saw yesterday.” 

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Eddie.” 

“No, I know. But I want to. If you… Please?” 

Steve looks over at him and there’s this unreadable thing about his expression that tugs at Eddie’s heart. He needs him to say yes. Needs him to listen to him. He needs to still have a chance. 

“Yeah, ok,” Steve says finally and Eddie can barely react before they are being directed to their places for the shoot. 

They have both the places that tore Eddie apart, and they are separated by a thick glass. Steve is standing on one side, a symbol of Eddie’s past life, the one he left behind when he started to pursue a life in music. 

The other is all his dreams coming true. Everything that he ever wanted becoming real. Back then, Eddie thought Steve didn’t fit in it. Steve didn’t feel he fit in. He never made Eddie choose, but soon it became clear Eddie wouldn’t be able to balance the two things at the same time for long.

He’d be away too much. And Steve needed him near. Wanted him there and Eddie wasn’t there. They fought, screamed at each other out of frustration and heartbreak. 

Eddie wanted to stay and he knew he needed to leave, but he only found courage to do it when Steve told him he didn’t see a future for them, that Eddie should put his chips on something more certain. 

He realized that day he would never be enough for Steve. He was splitting himself in half for him, trying to make everyone happy, and even then he was failing. Couldn't get things right.

The day he walked away, Eddie felt like his heart was going to give in. And he feels that way again as he looks into Steve’s eyes and sings how he hates that he loved him. 

There's this glass in between them and Eddie can't get through. No matter how loud he sings, no matter how much he tries, he can't have it all. He starts to wonder how much different his life would be if he had bet on his relationship with Steve. 

Wonders if he would've been happy with any other job. Maybe he would have become a music teacher somewhere. Have a white picket fence house with three cats and Steve. Maybe that would've been enough for him. 

Or maybe he'd resent Steve, like he always said he would. Every time Eddie missed something related to the band because Steve, he said that. Like Eddie couldn't make his own decisions. 

He knocks on the glass as Steve walks around the trailer with his back to Eddie. He wants to reach him, but he can't, and suddenly there's this suffocating need to tell him everything. To tell Steve how he feels. 

It's not past tense. His feelings for Steve never went anywhere, always there, always alive. He needs him to know. Even if Steve doesn't feel the same anymore, he's sure Steve has moved on from their thing a long time ago. He just needs him to know. 

Maybe back then it wasn't time for him and Steve, but maybe now it can be.

[sureallavnder]

18+ smut

I know what to do with you - Draco Malfoy

parings - Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

summary - draco makes you wait after a long day of teasing him he returns the favour and teases you until you’re begging him to finally make you cum

warnings - dom!draco, slight restraint, use of “daddy” and “kitten”, straight to smut

a/n - first smut piece!! sorry if it’s a bit all over the place i didn’t have a scenario when i started

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You’d been teasing Draco all day, sitting on his lap and delicately grinding your hips against him just enough to frustrate him but not give him any satisfaction.

“Draco… please” you beg your boyfriend of 3 years tracing your delicate fingers over his strong impressive hands.

“wait” is all he had to say moving your hands off him and holding them above your head giving you no room to move.

He started placing very small, light butterfly kisses all over your body focusing on your stomach and arms and a few just a few on your neck, he knew that always wound you up.

Draco had decided, after all your teasing, you better had been punished as he couldn’t let you get away with it and have you thinking it was acceptable behaviour.

But he hadn’t quite decided what to do with you…

The thoughts running through his mind, debating with himself, mumbling under his breath.

“what to do, what to do”

All while he was doing this you were pulling against him and trying to set yourself free from his strong grasp. As you finally thought you’d wiggled your way out Draco tightened his grip on your small hands and said in a devilish voice “i know what to do with you”

The boy you’d been seeing for 3 years frantically pulled off your pure black skinny jeans and baby pink lace panties, biting his way down your body as to make you even more desperate for him.

“Please, please” was all you could get out.

“y/n i said wait and when daddy says wait… you wait.” Draco demanded

You were squirming desperately by this point, your hands finally free, you were grabbing at any part of his body you could just to get some kind of recognition for your attempts.

“kitten” Draco whispered kissing your upper thighs gently but with dominance.

He finally stopped being so mean and let you undo his belt and pull out his hard cock which was a sight you never got used to.

“God Draco you’re so big” you manage to get in just before he pushes your legs up to your chest and plunges into your dripping cunt not giving you any time to adjust to his size.

That’s when you start whimpering and Merlin does he love it.

Malfoy decides that you’re better off bent over his bed so that’s exactly where he moves you.

There you are knelt down, bent forward over his slytherin bed he’s had for the past 7 years. He kneels behind you placing himself back inside your still desperately dripping pussy, not having had much release from the pounding from before.

He pulls your hands behind your back and tightens his grip on you so you’re now face down into his soft, full duvet.

The thrusting gets harder and faster, almost unbearably so, but that’s what Draco loves to do to you. It keeps you begging him to cum which he doesn’t let you do so easily.

“Please Draco i need to” you beg him again with more need this time.

And he decides it’s about time, “you’ve been desperate enough and i’m pretty much done with you…” (well that’s what he says anyway)

Pounding into just a little bit harder he brings you to your climax. You start screaming out so Draco releases a hand on your wrists to cover your mouth as to not let anyone hear the two of you.

After you’ve come down from your high Draco slowly pulls out of you cum dripping down your left thigh.

He gently pulls you up and turns you around so you’re knelt down on the ground facing him. He does this so he can jerk himself off and cum in your mouth.

“That’s it baby” he reassures you “take my cum”

Draco cums with a deep and husky groan. Then cupping your face gingerly he places a small kiss on your plump lips.

“You did so good hun”

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable, Part 4-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I thought this one was going to be a little shorter but I was wrong. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, sensuality, and Rufus appears in this part.

Word Count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

Being perpetually early was a good habit until it left me bored and looking up from my phone every few seconds. Of course, it was always a stranger, and we would exchange quick smiles when we made eye contact. However, my nervousness increased each time it wasn’t Jordan.

As I replied to a voice note from Sydney, I wondered why Jordan asked to train with me today. Last year, they basically forced me to train with them all the time after our first match.

“You can’t be one of Brink’s new favorites and be this bad at basic combat,” they’d insisted.

Every match was horrible, and I thought I was going to die each time. Though Jordan never hit me hard, they were still intense, and my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest at the end. When I passed my Intro to Combat class, Jordan agreed that we didn’t have to train together as much but they still expected me to practice.

I gulped at the thought and sent off the comment.

At least I was in shape.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” a deep voice called.

When I glanced up, Chad Mitchell and Thad Browne, the Alpha Tau vice president and treasurer, were walking up the gym steps. A pair of skinny blondes in Lululemon leggings exiting the gym gasped at the two of them. Chad grinned widely, revealing his movie-star smile, and Thad winked at them as they passed. No one could blame any girl for staring at two tall broad-shouldered guys in Gymshark t-shirts, Gymshark shorts, white Nike ankle socks, and Nike sneakers.

Chad pushed his dark blonde hair away from his face while he towered over me.

I straightened up a little. “Oh, thanks, Chad.”

“I never thanked you for warning me about trying to do a backflip during the Get Lei’d party,” Chad said.

“It’s no problem; I’m glad I had a vision about it in time.”

“But it would’ve been awesome if you landed a backflip from the house roof!” Thad interrupted.

Chad glanced at him. “The broken nose and knee would not have been worth it.” He turned back to me, eyes roaming the black Alo Yoga set I wore before making it back to my eyes. “So, was rush a success for Si Chi?”

I swallowed and folded my arms over my chest. “I would say so; Bid Day will be interesting. How about Alpha Tau?”

“We always get the best,” Thad interjected, chuckling.

“Yeah, ours aren’t looking bad. You know, after Bid Day’s over, Alpha Tau and Si Chi should have a mixer; make sure all our recruits get to know each other,” Chad proposed.

He placed his hand on the wall beside me, right next to my head, and leaned closer. The scent of musk was nauseating, and I turned away from him to cover my nose with my jacket.  

“You should reach out to Alina about that; she’s in charge of social events,” I rushed.

Chad nodded but I wasn’t sure he listened. “Yeah, Thad, do that.”

“Cool,” Thad agreed.

“You seem a little jumpy, Y/N. Are you waiting for your boyfriend or something?” Chad asked.

 Last year, Thad and Chad ignored me, opting to hover around Alina and Sasha. I guess my warning impressed Chad at the end of the year Get Lei’d party. Plus, it wasn’t like either of them were bad prospects but each time Chad looked at me, it was like ants were crawling over my skin.

“Sort of.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too sure. Why don’t you warm up with Thad and me? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

That would be the worst idea since acid-washed jeans. However, Si Chi and Alpha Tau were close houses and one had to maintain the balance between them. Sydney and Lydia always made it look so easy.

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes?” Jordan’s voice cut through the air as she strolled up the steps, irritation clear on her feminine features.

Suddenly, Chad was about a foot away from me, both hands in front of him for a second before he finally put them back at his sides. Thad looked as though he saw a ghost as he moved to stand next to Chad.

“My bad, Jordan, I didn’t know she was with you,” Chad rambled.

“Yeah, man, we had no idea,” Thad added.

Jordan glared at both as she moved to stand next to me. “You can go away now.”

I never saw them move so quickly and when they were gone, I stared at Jordan. “What was that?”

She shrugged. “They know their place. Were you waiting long?”

“No, they just happened to beat you here. Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you have to see them a lot?”

“Kind of and this is the first time either has been that close to me.”

“I thought frat guys were every sorority girl’s type.”

I scrunched my nose. “Not the stereotypical ones.”

“Oh, I forgot, you’re the pickiest girl I know.”

I huffed and gently pushed her shoulder, but she didn’t miss a step as we walked towards the gym entrance. “Don’t judge me for having standards.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re easy to tease.”

Since Jordan rented out the training space, it was quiet outside of the few grunts and weights clanging in the neighboring weight room. The entire space was reinforced for any power mishaps and the focal point was the blue mat in the middle of the space with a large black ring lining its perimeter. I groaned as Jordan pushed on my back, forcing me closer to the mat and making my inner thighs burn in the splits.

“I thought yoga was supposed to make you flexible,” she quipped.

“I am, but I think you like seeing me in pain,” I replied.

“Never,” she teased. “So…did you get anything else on Emma?”

Her words made me stiffen and I sat up on my forearms and shook my head. “Something’s blocking me. Usually, even when I can’t see clear images, I get blurry images but it’s like something has shut off that part of my brain.”

It was the same issue last night when Jordan, Marie, Andre, Cate, and I went looking for Emma. All I could see was her with that guy I never met. Even though everyone said it was okay, their sulking shoulders and lack of eye contact spoke louder; especially Marie’s.

When I got back to the house last night, I gave myself a migraine trying to find Emma and it took me forever to stop hyperventilating. I could have killed Andre for coming up with the dumbest plan on planet earth.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordan said, cutting through my thoughts.

She let me sit up and I turned to her.

“I just feel useless. Finding things out is the one thing I’m good at and I can’t even do that?”

“Hey, it’s not the one thing you’re good at. You’re good at dancing, studying, fashion, and helping other people.”

Jordan’s tone was earnest and matter-of-fact; no one could have argued with her and I suddenly felt all fuzzy.

I smiled. “I am the best-dressed on campus.”

“Relax, we’ll find Emma, just focus on what you can do. Like, trying not to get knocked out of bounds four times in a row.”

I scoffed at Jordan but she grinned at me. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Oh, she has an attitude now?”

“Maybe you just bring it out of me.” I pushed myself up to stand. “Usual rules?”

“I won’t use any powers outside of shifting, you can use yours as much as you want, no cheap shots, and the one knocked out of bounds the most loses.”

“I can’t wait to try the new sushi place at the union; Shelby said it’s amazing.”

“You’ll be trying it on your own dime.”

Jordan always got cocky when sparring. Now that Luke was gone, Jordan was the best fighter on campus. Whenever we trained, I tried to use wiping that big smirk off their face as motivation and it never worked. The best I ever managed to do was not break anything.

Jordan’s smirk never left her face as we squared off from each other. I took the deepest breath I could and tried to quiet my mind. Seconds later, my mind filled with the image of Jordan going for a right hook. I blocked her and went for a jab of my own, skimming her left cheek.

“Not bad,” she huffed as she dodged it. “You need to hold your upper body better; anyone could knock you off balance right now.”

Based on a brief flash, I knew that she was either going to sweep me or push me to prove her point. So, when she went to push me, I slipped away from her, maintaining my guard. She blew a piece of hair out of her face.

“What was that about my balance?” I panted.

“Don’t get cocky, freshie, I won’t go so easy on you,” She taunted.

My heart might have skipped a beat as I took a risk based on a vision and rushed her. When I saw she was going to shift, I stopped just short of Jordan’s reach, slipped down, and swept her feet. Just when I was going to make contact, she backflipped, shifted in the middle of the back flip, and landed in a crouch.

His elated expression made the hairs on the back of my neck stand as he stalked towards me. Our sparring match continued with me utilizing my ability as well as I could to get in the best hits. My heart hammered in my chest as I kept up with their ever-changing forms and fighting styles. In between jabs, Jordan continued giving me tips.

“Use your full body weight with each punch.”

“Your right roundhouse has gotten stronger, that’s good.”

“You’re dropping your left elbow too much when you weave.”

I did my best to incorporate all their tips into the sparring match and even got a couple of hits on them. At one point, Jordan and I exchange a flurry of punches and blocks and for the first time, I almost laughed while fighting them.

It was…fun.

I was able to get some distance between us before attempting another roundhouse kick that was guaranteed to make contact with the side of his head. Just as I was about to kick out my left leg, Jordan shifted to their female form and tackled me. Her grip was harsh around my shoulders while mine struggled to hold onto hers because of the sweat. I paused and noticed she was practically drenched and panting over me. A few strands of black hair fell out of her ponytail and stuck to her forehead, and she was still so pretty.

She seemed to pause as well and raised her eyebrows at me. “Focus on the fight.”

Her words stirred something in me, and I focused on what could be my best move.

The image was only a few seconds long but it almost left me catatonic went it ended. If this didn’t work, I had no idea how I would live it down.

Quickly, I leaned up and closed the distance between us.  Jordan’s lips were so soft against mine and I yelped a little when her body pressed more into mine. Her soft breaths felt like whispers over my face as she kissed me back and I squirmed underneath her.

Focus, Y/N, focus! My mind screamed.

As casually as I could, I pushed my wrists against Jordan’s hands, and a second later, she loosened her grip. Her fingers trailed down my arms as my legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to me. When I felt her smile against my lips, my stomach sunk.

Sorry.

The leverage I had around her waist was useful as my hands grabbed her shoulders and swung her down onto the mat. Jordan gasped as we pulled away and my hands captured her wrists. “What the---”

“I win!” I cheered.

“No, you just pinned me,” Jordan rasped.

I shook my head and gestured to her right hand, which was just over the out-of-bounds line. In the dozens of fights we had, this was the first time that I won. If I could fly, I would have probably been floating. When I looked back at Jordan’s face, I came back to earth.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, releasing her wrists and pushing myself to stand. “And I’m sorry about kissing you without warning.”

When I extended my hand, she looked at it as though it was a cobra ready to strike. After a few seconds, Jordan took the risk and let me help her up. Then, she walked back over to her bag, grabbed her water bottle, and chugged.

“It’s okay, uh, just don’t make out with everyone you fight with; that’s how you catch mono,” Jordan rambled.

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, I wouldn’t even think about it. With us, I knew it would be my best way to beat you.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Then, I took a second to look at Jordan. Something was off, she seemed tenser than she usually did after we sparred. Also, she stopped looking at me and started playing with the rings on her fingers. It had to be because of the stress of Emma missing and how there was more lurking on campus than anyone thought. That on top of Brink and Luke’s deaths would make anyone nervous.

Yes, that had to be it because those were the reasons my lips buzzed the entirety of the next training round.

The two extra rounds gave Jordan their bragging rights and no one could wipe the giant smile off her face as we wandered around campus. At the very least, the blazing sun provided some comfort from the cool breeze that blew past us. Since there were several classes in session, only a handful of people were hanging out, panic-studying, and Tik-Toking.

“You should have seen your face when you landed, it was gold!” she laughed.

“I’m glad it was entertaining,” I replied.

Jordan glanced at me, fished a protein bar out of her gym bag, and handed it to me. “Here.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Jordan paused in her walk to side eye me and I stopped as well. “Don’t give me that shit. I didn’t say anything earlier but, you look awful.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Jordan sighed. “That came out wrong; I mean, you look like you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

The situation was almost laughably ironic since just a couple of days ago, I was sleeping like a baby. However, the Emma-shaped hole was enough to spike my anxiety and the final touches on Bid Day were not helpful either. If Alina tried to deny my top pick at this last meeting…

Oh no, I had totally forgotten to take my meds.

“It’s okay, you actually have perfect timing,” I replied, accepting the protein bar.

It wasn’t super chalky and even if it was, I didn’t care as I popped two of the pills from Shetty and chased it with water.

“You pop pills in public now, freshie?” Jordan joked.

I shook my head and nibbled on the protein bar. “They’re prescribed by Shetty. That explains why I was freaking out earlier.”

“With Dumb and Dumber?”

“Chad and Thad, and yes.” Jordan nodded. “So, they work?”

“Yeah. I probably would have been able to save you the trouble if I’d remembered.”

I put the pill bottle back in my bag as we continued walking. The medicine would take a while to kick in but it was better late than never.

“It wasn’t trouble,” Jordan said.

I didn’t know how to respond so all I could do was nod. In all honesty, I was still processing that kiss. Jordan must have reacted the way she did because she was so caught off guard. If Emma were here, she would help me process, that is if she was willing to speak to me.

“So, do you want me to buy you lunch today or tomorrow?” I asked.

Jordan shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, I’m a good sport and I always hold up my end,” I tried to joke.

“Yeah, so it makes sense that I would do the mature thing and treat you to that sushi place you were talking about. You beat me for the first time and that shows how much you improved; I remember when you used to drop your guard every time you got scared.”

“It’s not my fault that my first instinct is to run!”

“You won’t always have the chance to run when you’re a supe. Now, I feel better about you being out there on your own.”

Her words made me swell with pride and I thanked her.

“Plus, there’s no one out there as good as me.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Of course, it all goes back to you.”

“I’m being honest. Seriously, wherever you get a contract, you’ll kick ass especially if you practice more.”

“Fine, Mx. Li.”

At that moment, I couldn’t wait to go back to the house and shower. Class wasn’t for another hour and a half which gave me enough time to try and process everything.

“Is that Marie?” Jordan asked.

I paused and looked in the direction she nodded to. Across the way, Marie slowly approached the bleach-blonde weasel that was Rufus, who was smugly perched on an overpriced bench. He was (fake) reading a book and looking semi-thoughtful.

The protein bar suddenly felt like a rock in my throat.

“What’s she doing with Rufus?” I muttered.

Jordan didn’t reply and we both watched as the two started speaking. Then, Rufus set his book aside and reached his hands out to Marie.

“Shit!” Jordan exclaimed.

“Marie!” I called at the same time.

It was too late, as soon as her hands grazed his, they disappeared. Panic started rising up from the back of my neck and everything was suddenly quiet.

“Y/N!”

When I blinked, Jordan’s hands cupped my face, and our faces were nearly touching.

“Focus, where did Rufus take Marie?”

After taking a couple of seconds to focus on it, I answered Jordan, and she nearly yanked my arm out of its socket as she raced towards the location. A minute later, we were pushing past people in the dorm until we reached Rufus’ room. My stomach lurched at the muffled sounds of “True”.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

Jordan didn’t respond. Instead, she took one step before kicking Rufus’ door down. The sound of the door hitting the ground should have made me jump but I was too busy staring at Marie’s blood-splattered face as she stared down at Rufus’ keeled over body on the floor. When he rolled onto his back, I saw all the blood covering his groin and the agony on his face.

Somehow, it was both disgusting and exhilarating to watch, kind of like those ridiculous mukbang videos.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Jordan tugged me by the arm down the hallway, Marie in tow. When we got a few hundred feet away, Jordan released us and glared daggers at Marie.

“What the hell was that?” Jordan demanded.

“I don’t know…I just exploded his dick,” Marie uttered, astonished.

“That was…wow,” I breathed.

Marie smiled, accepted the towel Jordan handed her, and wiped her face. “Thanks, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Why were you talking to Rufus anyway? He’s a creep,” Jordan scolded.

Marie narrowed her eyes at Jordan. “We didn’t have any leads on Emma, and I heard he was a psychic.”

I winced at the jab.

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Rufus is not a psychic; he’s a perverted loser who takes advantage of anything with tits.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marie hissed. “I can take care of myself.”

She shoved the towel in Jordan’s chest and started storming down the hall. Immediately, we started following her and my irritation grew with each step.

“Fine, then I won’t rescue you next time,” Jordan called.

That made her stop and whirl around. “What?”

“I saved you back there, well, Y/N and I both did since she knew where Rufus would take you,” Jordan insisted.

Marie took a step towards us. “I exploded his dick; I didn’t need your help.”

“But I provided a distraction; tag-team cocksplosion here,” Jordan said, gesturing between the two.

“I’m okay being cut from this team,” I commented.

“Oh no, you’re in it too,” Jordan said.

Marie shook her head. “Weirdo.”

Jordan shrugged. “More importantly, Tek Knight is on campus and he’s doing a story on Luke’s death.”

Marie’s eyes widened and I had to stop my mouth from falling open. Tek Knight was the slimiest, most prolific true crime “journalist” on Vought TV. He covered only the buzziest stories, and it made sense he would be on campus. I thought I heard some guys talking about it during a lecture yesterday, but I was so preoccupied that I didn’t focus.

“He’s guest lecturing Shetty’s class today and he’s going to want to talk to you,” Jordan stated.

“Shit,” Marie cursed.

I ran my hands through the ends of my braids. “And if he even gets a hint of what might be going on, we could all be screwed.”

“So, what do we do?” Marie asked.

“If you decide to keep up the lie, don’t let him see you waver, he loves going after that shit,” Jordan grumbled.

Marie rolled her eyes. “Are we on this again?”

“Yeah, you lied!” Jordan snapped.

Quickly, I stepped between them. “Okay, this won’t get us anywhere. Just breathe for a second.”

They both did, eyes still shooting lasers.

“We need to think about this. Since you two are in Shetty’s class, you two will have to figure something out.”

“Are you taking her side?” Jordan accused.

“Are you taking theirs?” Marie asked.

“I’m not taking anyone’s,” I insisted. “If you two keep fighting, no one wins. Just go your separate ways for now and regroup before class?”

It was not my best work but they both seemed to agree as Jordan went one way and Marie started to head down the other. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and jogged to catch up to Marie.

“Hey!”

She slowed down a little but didn’t face me. “I’m not sorry for trying to find Emma.”

“And that’s great but you should talk to the rest of us before getting mixed up with someone like him.” I shivered at the thought.

Then, she turned to me. “Like I said, we had no leads.”

“I know that, and I am working on it, trust me, I am but I can’t believe you went with Rufus the Rapist instead of giving me time.”

“We don’t have any, Y/N!” Marie snapped. “She could be hanging on by a thread somewhere or dead but we don’t know anything and now I have this Tek Knight shit to worry about.”

I flinched. “I told you, she’s alive and I know you’re scared but I’m scared too. Emma is my best friend and not being able to figure out where she is has been driving me crazy.” Tears began burning in my eyes.

Marie hesitated and looked down for a moment. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it just sucks that the last time we talked, we fought. I didn’t even get to talk to her at the gala,” I admitted.

“Yeah,” Marie looked back up at me, “I saw you were talking to a lot of people.”

“I kind of had to.”

“With Jordan?”

I cocked my head at her and she stared at me. “Wait, what?”

She sort of pouted. “I saw you were spending a lot of time with them.”

“We were schmoozing for their ranking,” I explained.

“Oh.”

I didn’t need a vision to tell me that she wanted to say more. What was going on with everyone today?

“Next time, I could help you do it, I mean, I don’t think you’ll need my help with Vought liking you,” I thought out loud.

“Don’t remind me.” Marie leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what to do! I’m so deep in this shit that there’s no crawling out.”

She slowly slid down until she sat on the ground, and I sat across from her.

“It might seem like that but, there is a way out, you probably just won’t like it.”

Marie’s eyes flickered up at me. “Are you siding with Jordan?”

“No! What is it with you two? It’s like a live X beef and I’m somehow in the middle!” I exclaimed. “No, I’m not on anyone’s side, I can see both your sides clearly: you want to get ahead and this a great chance to do it and Jordan feels like they saved you only to have you trample all over them.”

Marie frowned at my words. “They would have done the same thing!”

“I don’t know…” I don’t know anything anymore.

I pushed myself to stand. “It’s your choice, Marie.”

“What would you do?” she whispered.

“Honestly, I have no clue but I would probably talk to Cate about it.” I pulled her to her feet. “By the way, that cocksplosion was so awesome.”

Marie smiled. “Like I said, it just happened out of nowhere.”

“I knew he had some bad karma coming his way, but I didn’t think you’d deliver it.”

Then, she hugged me and I felt stunned. She smelled like cinnamon and something earthy that I couldn’t put my finger on. I had no idea that she had such a strong grip, it was kind of comforting. I slowly hugged her back and when she pulled away, she gasped.

“I got blood on you, I’m so sorry,” Marie apologized.

“It’s okay, no one should be able to tell unless they have a luminol ability,” I pointed out.

She nodded and as I made way out of the dorm, my curiosity got the better of me, and I focused on how the lecture would go. Unfortunately, all I saw was a brief scene of Jordan and Marie speaking in Marie’s dorm. They weren’t fighting so that must be positive.

Two hours later, I was sitting in one of the beach chairs out by the Si Chi pool, fuming. Sasha thought she was so slick, trying to persuade Sydney to let Justine in despite all the issues. She could have at least come up with a decent argument; the fact that she hadn’t even tried was almost the most insulting part.

I just happened to catch the two of them speaking on the staircase when I returned from my advanced modern dance class. Sydney politely nodded as Sasha spoke.

“…and she’s the best in her class!” Sasha finished.

“That’s great, but I don’t want anyone who uses someone else’s triggers for their own gain representing this house,” Sydney replied firmly.

“But----”

“Sydney, how’s the selection process going?” I called.

They both turned to me and Sasha lost some color in her face.

“Good, we’ve narrowed it down and we’ll finalize it tonight,” Sydney said.

That should have been satisfying but it wasn’t. Who did Sasha think she was? She could be antagonistic but she never outright bullied anyone. Does she want Justine to be a protégé?

“Y/N,” someone whispered.

I jumped in my seat and glanced around the pruned backyard. No one else was out with the other girls either heading to another class or studying. It must have been my imagination.

“Y/N!”

That time it was louder, and I slowly stood. “This isn’t funny, whoever’s out there!”

This day really was turning into too much. First, I kissed Jordan----which I still hadn’t unpacked----, second, Rufus got castrated in the most violent way possible, and third, I was hearing voices or being stalked.

Slowly, I started creeping back towards the house. Maybe it was time for a nap since sleep deprivation could drive anyone crazy. Maybe that would help me find Emma.

“Y/N, it’s me!”

And now the voices sounded like her.

“Over here!”

Something told me that I wouldn’t end up like every non-final white girl in a horror movie. So, I started walking in the direction of the voice, which just happened to be in the thick wall of shrubs that lined the perimeter.

“Where is here?” I whispered.

Then, a hand reached out from some shrubs on the right side. Carefully, I approached it and knelt down, still keeping my distance. Then, a head of curly blonde hair poked its way out of the shrubs, pieces of greenery attached to its scalp.

“Emma!” I rasped.

“Hey, do you mind being surprised after you help me out of here?” she asked.

As soon as I got her out, I hugged her. I was right, she was alive this whole time. I almost cried tears of joy as I slowly pulled away from her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you two but we’re both in trouble if someone catches us like this,” Emma said.

As quickly as I could, I snuck her up into my room and she collapsed on the bed as soon as I closed the door. With the better look at her, I noticed she was in a random black movie theater t-shirt, shorts, and she only had one shoe. She wasn’t too dirty but I tried not to think about having to wash my comforter once she left.

“Emma, where have you been? What’s going on?”I asked.

“Well, Andre sent me on a mission to find Luke’s brother,” Emma started.

“I know that much; is that the guy you were with?”

Emma shot up to a sitting position. “You saw us?”

“Sort of. I had no idea where you were going, why?”

“No reason, I don’t know why I was surprised, you see everything.”

Even though I didn’t, I let Emma continue. As she spoke, my eyes got wider and wider. There was so much to unpack: there was a research lab under the school called The Woods where they tested supes, the researchers faked Sam’s, Luke’s brother, death but kept him in The Woods, and they are working on something big.

“What is it?” I asked.

Emma shrugged. “Sam has no idea but he knows that the doctors have been working on it for a while and they’re almost done.”

I nodded. “Okay, where is he now?”

“In an abandoned theater. It sounds creepy but the stale snacks and ambiance make it kind of cute,” she chirped.

I shook my head. “You like him.”

Emma gasped, “What? I do not!”

“He’s your type: cute and a little messed up.” “I don’t have a type and even if I did, you might’ve been close to it,” she muttered.

I smiled and hugged her again. “It’s so good to see you again. I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Hey, like someone could kill me.” Emma tried to keep her tone lighter, but I could tell she was scared.

When I pulled away, I apologized for everything that happened before the gala. I wasn’t that good of a friend and Emma did everything she could for me, even when she didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have projected and called you perfect; I know that everything with your parents has been rough for you and you’re managing it as well as you can. Plus, I hid the whole how I get small thing from you,” Emma rambled.

“Why’d you hide it from me? You can tell me anything, that’s what best friends do,” I whispered.

Emma looked down at her hands. “Because I knew it would make us both feel like shit. You had other stuff going on and I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m the one who cheers you up and I was ashamed.”

“You’re allowed to feel bad sometimes, Emma, but it really hurt knowing you felt like you couldn’t reach out to me for help,” I managed, feeling myself starting to choke up.

“Don’t cry because if you cry, then I’ll cry.” She hugged me again and we both sniffled. “Okay, from now on, we tell each other everything.”

“Agreed.”

When Emma pulled away, she had the most mischievous grin on her face paired with a fake nonchalant look in her eye. I immediately eyed her as she crossed her legs and started glancing around the room.

“So, to go off that, what’s going on with you and Jordan?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? You come back from disappearing and that’s the first thing you want to know?”

“I could have died, Y/N.”

“Do not try to guilt me!”

I took a deep breath and mulled it over for a moment. A couple of hours ago, I would have killed for this chance to talk to Emma and now that it was here, I was stopping myself. There shouldn’t be anything stopping me, especially since we just promised each other that we wouldn’t keep anymore secrets. With that thought, I told her everything, from the night at the club, to when we kind of rescued Marie.

When I looked at her, Emma was stunned.

“What?” was all she could muster.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“You went from almost kissing Jordan to full-on kissing Jordan. I could tell you liked them by the way you talked about them last year but this is progress,” Emma remarked.

“I didn’t like them like that last year, I don’t now. Anyway, I only did it after I saw the vision and it was to win the fight, so does that really count?” I asked.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Did you feel anything on the other side of that kiss?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you feel them kissing you back? Were they breathing all heavy? Were their hands moving all over your body?”

All those things happened but, Jordan must have been caught up in the moment.

“If Jordan was caught up, they would have snapped out of it but they didn’t until you pulled away,” Emma pointed out.

“I did it as a distraction tactic!”

“Doesn’t matter since they liked it,” Emma said with a shrug. “And you must have enjoyed it.”

“How would you know?”

“Because the tip of your nose is turning red.”

I yelped and covered my nose. “It’s because this conversation is embarrassing. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship; I have to finish out rush week and then there’s initiation and not to mention classes---” Emma placed her hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “Y/N, ‘having time’ has nothing to do with liking someone. You’ve had googly eyes for Jordan for a year now, it’s okay to admit it!”

“I have not! They bullied me for half of last year.”

“Really? Did they ever say anything super mean to you or try to hurt you?”

As I took a second to think about my dynamic with Jordan, I realized that they only delivered playful jabs that I returned when I got comfortable around them. So, I shook my head.

“And aren’t they always trying to keep you out of trouble?”

“Not always,” I muttered.

Emma groaned. “Why did I think it would be easy to get you to admit that you like someone? You’re so oblivious.”

“I am not!”

“Really? So, how would you describe your relationship with Marie?”

“Friends.”

“Really? Because when you were doing her makeup that night, I thought you got lost in her eyes. Those big, beautiful, puppy dog eyes.”

I playfully pushed her but she maintained her pose and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me. Even though her words were lighthearted, I had paused a few times that night to admire Marie but she was pretty, everyone admired pretty.

“I was trying to do a good job with her eyeshadow. Besides, I thought you were still insisting I like Jordan,” I responded.

Emma relaxed and stared at me like I grew a second head. “You are way deeper in denial than I thought you were.” “What are you talking about?”

“I know that sexuality is a spectrum and a journey and everything but, Y/N, you clearly like two people.”

Her words hung in the air as I returned her stare. Emma had lost it, officially.

There was no way I liked both Marie and Jordan. Marie relaxed me as soon as I saw her and friends are supposed to be relaxed with friends. I felt like I could tell her anything and any friend would feel bad about accidentally ditching their friend on a night out. Also, any friend would feel like crying if their friend told them that they accidentally killed their parents. Any friend would want to try to make them feel better since they couldn’t take away the pain.

And as far as Jordan went, I was well aware of how attractive they were in both forms and occasionally felt warm inside when they smiled at me, but those were just hormones. Plus, Jordan was a protective person so it made sense that they would jump in when necessary. The shivers I’d attempted to hide when they pulled me onto their lap were normal.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered.

“I can only help you so much. It’s clear to me and maybe even to Jordan and Marie.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have time for this. We should find Marie and let her know that you’re alive and everything you told me.” “Okay, and if she just happens to give you a thank-you kiss, I’ll try not to gloat.”

“Emma,” I warned.

“Okay, can I borrow some shoes before we leave?”

Emma practically bounced with each step on the way to her dorm. Even though I convinced her to wear one of my hoodies just in case, she seemed happy to be back on campus. Hopefully, we could get everyone together and get this all figured out. Once this was over, then I would be able to focus on Bid Day and maybe what Emma had been saying.

It was going to be so awkward talking to Marie after that conversation. I felt so many things that I didn’t know what to settle on: confusion, frustration, anxiety, and all the others I couldn’t name.

The meds must have kicked in as Emma began trying to unlock her door. I was settled and comfortable. Everything was going to be fine.

Finally, Emma threw open her door. “Holy shit, so much is happening!” she announced as she stormed into her room.

I trailed after her and felt my anxiety break free from its cage. Jordan had Marie pinned against the wall, kissing her like it was his last chance. Marie seemed equally as passionate as she tugged on his shirt. At Emma’s words, they jumped away from each other, both frazzled and disheveled, eyes wide.

Then a flood of more emotions I couldn’t name washed over me.

[bakugosbratx]

Tattoo Artist Eren Jeager

Tw: tattoos, smoking, fuckboy behavior, sex for tattoos, totally self indulgent.

A/N: I had this idea while being tattooed and now here we are. Enjoy :)

Tags: @nymphoheretic @lanarist @renhoeku

• Tatoo artist Eren Jeager who has suicideboys, NBA youngboy, and Post Malone blasting in his booth. Also, listens to heavy metal, hard rock, and some alternative. He likes a mix.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager who has a shit ton of black and gray tattoos on his arms.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager who is always a little too close for comfort when it comes to tattooing his clients. His hand really doesn’t need to be on your thigh or the way he has your arm positioned doesn’t need to brush against his dick, but no one is going to complain. And let’s not forget the subtle warm breath you feel from time to time on your skin coming from him.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager also vapes a lot. His booth always filled with smoke and if you have a problem with it, you can get the fuck out of his chair.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager is actually really good at his work. He does realism tattoos really well, but he also enjoys the older style tattoos also.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager definitely let’s people give him head for a discounted tattoo.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager seems cold as fuck, not much for conversation, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes do all of the talking. If he isn’t fuckin’ you physically, he’s fuckin’ you mentally.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager is popular on social media for how hot he is. People travel to see him all of the time. His books are very full so you better never cancel.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager has a mix of patchwork tattoos and also blackout on one of his arms or legs. He always wears black skinny jeans, black vans, and a black shirt that hugs his muscles tight. Sometimes his shirts have designs on them.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager does judge you for your tattoos. If you get something simple and stereotypical for your first tattoo, he is roasting your ass lmao. “Your zodiac sign? You believe in that astrology bullshit?” Yes, my first tattoo was my Leo sign

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager drives a truck. Don’t ask me why this matters because it don’t. But it’s nice. He also has a cool older car collection.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager eventually owns a shop. Not right away due to not wanting the responsibility, but he does get there.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager has earrings. Maybe eventually small gages, but he definitely has earrings in.

• Tattoo artist Eren Jeager is always worth the money. One way or another, you’ll always be a satisfied customer.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved — I don’t give anyone permission to repost, distribute, copy or re-use my works in any way. Especially not on other websites such as Tik Tok, Ao3, Wattpad, etc.