#there’s also this cool deftones one

[internetburial]

[nexysworld]

Summary: Leon is sent on a mission to carry out a hit for the government. He hated these missions the most, but worst of all you weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see him. Pairing: ID!Assassin Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, canon typical gore, graphic depictions of murder, comfort sex, mild dubcon, unprotected sex, fem!receiving oral sex, soft sex, angsty sex, hurt/comfort/hurt, dark content, descriptions of wound dressing. WC: 5.2k

A/N: This was a birthday fic for the wonderful @elfven-blog. <3 Title from the lyrics to the song Sextape by Deftones. Edit: I also have a bot based on this fic now: Character AI | Spicychat

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

Cool air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck, limbs tingling with the typical anticipation of what came next. Hits weren’t his favorite type of mission, not by a longshot, he wanted to save people, not kill them. But with experience came a certain professional numbness and a way to compartmentalize. It didn’t help that the locale for this affair was in the dead center of a suburban upper class neighborhood. Every home had that same limestone brick or white overlapping paneling. Every door the same mahogany brown, tacky lawn gnomes, overly green grass, white picket fences – the works. The possibility of witnesses was high, the escape routes limited. 

Regardless, Leon was a professional, and he would make it work. He always did.

Tilting his wrist, he looked down at the gold rolex, it was a little past 2:30am. He listened closely, to ensure there was no movement inside. The double windowed back doors were his point of entry. The brass knobs were old, the locks inside not quite as intricate as modern ones, all it took was a good smack against the swiss army knife he’d jammed into it for the lock to click open. The door opened quietly, he made sure to not close it completely behind him to ensure he could make his escape. 

The house had an eerie quiet over it, almost like the universe knew what was about to happen. Leon cracked his neck and let out a breath, careful to not touch anything as he moved throughout the lower floor, clearing each room. The kitchen was pristine, nothing out of place on the island or counter. There was no homely smell of food, only the lingering scent of some harsh cleaner. Not a sign that anyone had even been down there within the past several hours – a good thing, he noted. Through the archway came the living room, he had been hopeful someone had opted to sleep on the couch, separate targets were easier targets. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t so lucky. 

The plush gray sectional was untouched, not so much as a divet into the cushion. The TV remote lay on the dark oak coffee table. Unlike the kitchen, this room felt more homely. The faint smell of some fruity air freshener was all over, the cherry walls were lined with gold plated frames of the family. 

His target was some small town politician, Jackson Moore, normally somebody not noteworthy to the government in the slightest, but he made the unfortunate mistake of shaking hands with terrorists, facilitating the sale of some new viral invention through the local pharmacies. The idea of another Raccoon City incident made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure who he held more anger for, the people like this person who’d bring it about, or the government that he knew turned a blind eye until now – the same government who wouldn’t make the effort to save the people who uphold it. 

He shook his head, and pushed his bangs back refocusing for a moment. He scanned over the pictures. Most normal family outings, some graduation photos and holiday ones in there. Hunnigan had told him beforehand that all of the kids were off to college, none due back for several more weeks. The only targets in the house were Mr. and Mrs. Moore. 

There was only one more room on the bottom floor, where he was sure his victims were, the master bedroom. Leon made his way over, silently padding down the short hall staring at the door. It was cracked, the sound of light snoring and the smell of mint wafting from the room. He peeked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room, a string of moonlight the only thing illuminating the sleeping lumps on the bed. 

He tested the door, it squealed slightly as it opened making him freeze. One of the sleeping forms moved slightly rolling over. He waited, still as a statue until he was sure that both still remained asleep before sliding himself through the narrow opening he’d made. 

Looming over the sleeping forms, he pulled his gun out from it’s holster attached to his waist. Even with the silencer, he knew he needed to be quick. One shot would wake the other, and then it was a matter of speed. He cocked the pistol, taking a few more steps towards the unaware persons before him. The gun felt heavy in his hand, but he lifted it anyway, deciding to start with the official target first. 

Will the trigger pulled back, the room lit up for a split second with the bang of the gun. Time slowed as he watched the man’s body jolt slightly, blood splattering onto the pillow, the walls. The smell of gunpowder and iron hit his nose. The man’s fingers twitched slightly before his movement stopped. Just like he had expected, his wife was awake instantly, though no noise came from her. 

Wide eyed, she stared at Leon, then down at her husband next to her. Her mouth opened like she was trying to scream, but the noise was caught in her throat, tears welled in the woman’s eyes. Blood had splattered onto her too, some chunks of brain along with it dripped from her curlers onto her lap. Her trembling hands reached over to her husband, “Jacks.” She whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his deformed face. “Jacks.” She leaned over the man, trying to scoop the bits and pieces of him back together. 

Leon wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to wonder if that’s how someone might react to his death some day. But he pushed those feelings aside, she was a target, culpable in everything just as her husband was. He lifted the gun again, pointing it at her.

As she looked at him, eyes wide with fear, her mouth formed the shape of a word. He didn’t need to hear it to know it was a plea. He pulled the trigger again.

Deadshot, like putting down an animal, between the eyes. 

Her body crumbled over itself as she slumped forward onto the bed, the back of her head exploded open like a volcano of bone, blood, and brain matter. 

Not dwelling on it,  he put his finger to the device in his ear. “It’s done, Hunnigan.” “Good work Leon. I’ll make sure that –”

“Hey mom, you still up? I thought I heard something.” 

The soft voice pulled Leon from his conversation, there were footsteps out in the hallway and the sound of a lightswitch clicking on. ‘Shit.’ He cursed to himself inwardly.  He took a few steps back from the door, whispering to Hunnigan. “You said there were no other targets here.” “There aren't –” “The daughter is home.” “Does she know you’re there?” “No, not yet.” 

There was a moment of silence on the line before she spoke again. “Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was serious, she knew him well enough after all these years to know his thoughts. “Leave no witnesses.” “There won’t be, she doesn’t even know I'm here.” The sound of the fridge opening and closing indicated the girl’s location.  “Everyone at the location is a target, Leon. Everyone at the location is a witness.” “Not if she – “ “Leon, this is an order.” “I can wait for her –” “Leon –” 

“She doesn’t have to die.” “Dad, is that you?” The sound of his voice, despite him doing his best to stay at a whisper, must've alerted the girl.  There was shuffling around on the other end of the line, the next voice he heard made his blood cold. The head of the D.S.O shouting into his ear. “Kennedy, this is an order, kill her! Complete the mission. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.” He said flatly, disconnecting from the call. In a worse stroke of bad luck, the door to the bedroom swung open nearly at the same time. 

And there you were. 

Glass shattering as it hit the floor, water splattering around as the light from the hallway lit up the room from the opened door. You trembled in place as you processed the sight of things. Leon was frozen where he stood too. You were an adult, but young, more importantly innocent in all of this. Rarely in his forced-on-him career has he had to kill someone completely innocent. Usually it was the partners of criminals, civilians caught in crossfire. But never someone as young as you, never in a situation so targeted.

He hardly registered the shriek you made before you bolted. Acting purely on instinct he took off after you, the delay of his own shock didn’t matter much when he noticed the slimy trail of bloody footprints from where you’d ran through the glass left in the hallway. His own boots crunching it against the ground as he moved.  If you had been smart, you’d have turned for the front door, or even the back. Instead, nearly sliding on your own blood you went for the staircase, the one route that would trap you on the upper floor. You let out a yelp of pain, trying your hardest to only use your less injured foot to bounce up the stairs as quickly as you could, the blood matting down into the carpet with each step. 

It didn’t take long for Leon to catch up, thumping up each one loudly as his boots made contact. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take his gun out, why he was even letting you attempt this unwinnable escape, he also didn’t know. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable. 

He reached out for you just as you made it to the top of the stairs. A simple shove was all it took to send you flying into the decorative hall table that waited at the top. A sickening crack was heard as your head collided with the dark wood, knocking it over as you rolled over with a groan, dazed from it. Managing to prop yourself up on your elbows, Leon could see the trickle of blood that began to run down your eye and cheek, along with the starting to swell shiner from your high-speed table collision. 

You scuttled backwards, as best you could, haphazardly tossing the vase that had fallen at him. It missed, and went crashing onto the stairs. Tears mixed with the blood on your face, diluting the color, only leaving the dry specs stuck there. You looked pathetic and terrified in a way that made Leon’s heart twist.

“P-please… don’t.” You pleaded, putting your hand out and up as if that simple gesture would be enough to stop him, distance him from yourself. 

He couldn’t do this, at least not like this. He kneeled before you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his hand. “Shhhh. Shhh.” 

“P-please… I won’t tell any–” “It’s ok,” he cooed. “It’s not my style to hurt pretty girls, you know that?” He added as he scooped you up from the ground bridal style. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Getting his DNA all over you, getting your blood on him. This wasn’t a clean kill, this wasn’t what the upper brass wanted. For the moment though, he didn’t care. “Where’s your room, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t point or make a sound, your eyes darted from him to the cracked door next to him and then back to him as you shook in his hold. He wedged it open the rest of the way with his foot, before gently placing you down on your bed. It didn’t look right, all the blood staining into the fresh and plush sheets. It was different than your parents downstairs, the whole room screamed you. From the decor on the walls, to the laptop on the nightstand, your college hoodie hanging off the back of the chair at your desk. More reminders that you didn’t deserve this. 

Before you could, he swiped the phone off of the side table, stuffing it into his pant pocket. “I know you hurt right now.” He said sweetly, “Give me a minute and we’ll get you all cleaned up, alright?” He gave you a moment to process his words. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He asked himself, as he held your hand, patting your arm gently. He could see the confusion in your eyes as the gears in your head turned to try and make a decision – timidly you nodded. He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl. Stay here for me, no funny business.” Pointing a finger gun at you before he slipped out into the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom. 

The suddenly bright lighting stung his eyes, he saw himself in the mirror, your blood speckled onto his jacket, some dried to his face. He looked rough, a cold sweat broken out onto his face, blue eyes distant looking back at himself. He splashed some cold water onto his face to calm his nerves before digging around to see if there was anything he could use to alleviate some of your pain, even if temporarily. The medicine cabinet was well stocked, though nothing would be enough to really combat the pain of your cracked head and torn up feet. He bit his lip as he grabbed some bandages and the bottle of peroxide. 

First aide wasn’t really his specialty, but he knew enough from training. Along with the other supplies, he filled the empty cup on the counter with warm soap water, and took the washcloth with him. 

To his surprise you were exactly where he’d left you, splayed out on the bed, looking scared and exhausted. Your head rested against the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a look at your feet first.” Not that he really gave you the option, but you nodded in return. Leon was no stranger to gore, guts, and the rest, but something about them gave him pause. There was so much blood he could hardly see what was skin and what was glass. “It might sting just a little.” He assured, pouring the cold liquid out onto your feet. You hissed and squirmed a bit, but he placed his arm over your ankles to keep them still, watching as the peroxide bubbled, clearing away the redness of the blood. Small pieces of glass fell with it onto the now stained carpet. He opted to speak to you, see if he could get you to calm down some more while he worked, pouring more over the wounds. “You’re in college?” There was something about you that was indescribable to him, familiar to him, and he wasn’t sure why. 

“Yeah.” Finally you answered with words, voice barely above a whisper.  “Shouldn’t you be at school then? I thought the semester was still going.” He as he checked you over for any more obvious glass. When it was clear the peroxide had done it’s job, he took the bandages, gently wrapping them around your feet, gauze padding them. 

“D-dropped out.” You squeaked out. “Last minute decision, had to come home.” He tied off the bandage before moving to look at your face. “School’s not for everyone. You’re probably better off without it.” Leon dipped the washcloth into the cup, wringing it out over the carpet, not really caring about the mess. He dabbed it gently against your injured face, helping to remove the remaining mess and to get a better look. Luckily the cut above your eye seemed superficial and the blood had stopped running, it was just a matter of cleaning up the  dried mess that was left over. He was careful around the tender purple skin as he cleared as much as he could. “You have a boyfriend you leave back at school?” 

“No. Never had one at all actually.” You replied, wincing when he accidentally touched a painful spot.  “Never had one?” He asked more for himself than as a real question to you. ‘Hasn’t finished school, never had a boyfriend. This is so fucked up. She can’t be any older than Ashley was…’ He thought to himself, debating whether the court marshalling would be worth letting you go. In the same train of thought, he considered what would happen to you if he did. The government would probably send someone else just like him, someone less soft. He bristled at the thought, sitting up straight on the side of your bed. “That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a cute girl like you would be drowning in guys asking her out.”  “Not really” You seemed to relax a bit now, well as relaxed as a person could be in your state. He could still tell from your blown pupils and 1000 mile stare that you were still in shock. Probably a good thing. “My parents are… were, strict.” Your face contorted like you were about to be sick at the memory. 

Leon went back to stroking your cheek gently for comfort. “So no boyfriend, ever have your first kiss? First time?” Now that he had a better chance to really look at you, all cleaned up he realized who you reminded him of. Not so much Ashley, she was more strong willed and you didn’t quite look the part either. It wasn’t just the age, no…your voice, mannerisms, the way you looked. It was so very much her. Someone he hadn’t thought about since before even Raccoon City.

“Yeah. Wasn’t very good, some drunk frat boy.” You admitted leaning slightly into his touch. Silence passed between you both, nothing but the ceiling fan whirring above you. An automated air freshener spritzed roses and lilac into the air, barely covering the distinct peroxide and blood smell. Leon was surprised when you finally spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

The look on your face gutted him more than it should have. “I had to.”  “Because of his job?” “Something like that, yeah.”  “Did he deserve it?”  “Yeah.”

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. There was another tense silence before you spoke again. “Are you going to kill me too?” 

He felt a chill ran over his body at the question. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. “I don’t want to.” It wasn’t a real answer and he knew that, but it was honest.  “Why are you being nice to me?”  “I told you, I don’t like to hurt cute girls.” “That’s not it.” 

How you read him for filth like that he’ll never know. “You remind me of someone.” He leaned back just enough to look at you again, but kept your faces close, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his face.  “Who was she?”  “My first girlfriend.” He admitted.  “What happened to her?”  “We broke up.” He said with a short laugh. “Right before my very first day as a cop.” While the conversation was far from appropriate for the situation, he supposed it worked to calm you down more as he felt you relax into the bed. His internal struggle was still playing tug-of-war with his psyche, not sure of how to proceed.

The piece in his ear picked up with some static before Hunnigan’s familiar voice was heard. “Leon are you there?” 

He ignored her in favor of continuing to dote over you, hand gently running through your hair, taking in your features more. That trepidation never left your eyes – he understood it. He probably looked psychotic right now, a murderer who was being eerily kind. He was self aware enough to know that much. 

“Leon, we haven’t heard a status report. Has the last target been eliminated?” She spoke loud enough this time that while it couldn’t have been above the lowest whisper for you, it was obvious you heard it, eyes widened again, mouth opening slightly. To keep you quiet he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, a soft kiss you didn’t really return. “Stay quiet for me, ok?” He mumbled against your lips, before sitting up again. He considered replying to Hunnigan, but looking down at you, he took his earpiece out, tossing it to the other side of the room instead. 

Hey eyed you again, before adding another kiss. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He reprimanded himself, as he placed another this time to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then jaw. Another on your neck for good measure. ‘I should’ve done it the second she opened the door. I should’ve done my job.’ Despite his mind’s dialogue he continued now at your collar bone. ‘Like ripping off a band aid…. I can’t let her last moments be like that.’ He began to rationalize as he looked up at you. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“Wh-what?”  “You deserve better than a drunk frat boy. Let me make you feel good.” He repeated.  “Why?”  “Because I want to.” He could clock the nervousness in your voice immediately. “You can say no.” He added. “I’m not a rapist.” 

“A-are you going to kill me if I say no?”  “No, of course not.” Again, it wasn’t technically a lie. He wouldn’t be doing it because you declined, but he felt mild disgust with himself for side-stepping the reality of the situation again. ‘It’s better this way though. For her.’ 

“Ok.” You said, nodding at him to continue.  He treated you like glass, gently working your thin tank top up and over your breasts. He continued by kissing each one tenderly before taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until he felt it pebble. When you whimpered at the feeling, he began to suck on it, kneading your other breast with his hand. When he pulled himself off with a pop, he looked down at you, lips parted, eyes closed. Enjoying so much despite him having done so little. Adorable. 

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip until he saw those pretty eyes crack open before capturing your lips again, taking the chance to slip his tongue inside once parted. You were sloppy with inexperience, but tasted like dessert, sweet. It made his cock twitch against his pants. He groaned slightly into your mouth, ignoring his own need. Pulling away he let you catch your breath, giving him the chance to move down your body one kiss under your breasts. The next above your naval – stomach contracting slightly. He added one more above the hem of your night pants. 

He looked up at you, silently checking with you if it was alright to continue again. When you nodded, he helped you out of the pants. Gently tugging them down from the waist band, lifting each separate leg himself, careful to not hurt your already injured feet. “You alright?” “Y-yeah.” 

“Let me know if anything hurts, ok?” “Ok.” “Good girl.” 

Leon tugged his leather jacket off discarding it on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He claimed a spot between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder for better access to what he was about to do. He gave a reassuring kiss to your thigh, using a free hand to part your folds, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. He eyed you watching as you melted under his touch, soft whimpers tickling at his eardrums. “Such a pretty girl.” He cooed, replacing his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive bud. 

He had to grind down on the bed himself to relieve some of his own tension, reminding himself to keep his focus on you. His grip on your leg tightened as you arched your back, squirming more and more against his touch.  “God…oh god…” You chanted, head tossed back, the leg draped over his shoulder kicking at his back. He knew you were close when your voice cracked, soft gasps escaped your lips. He continued lapping at you as you ground against his face, letting you ride through your orgasm – only stopping when your hands made purchase in his hair to get his attention. “C-can’t…can’t.” 

Pulling back, he wiped your slick off his chin with his forearm, looking down at you. He watched as your chest heaved slowly, returning to a normal rhythm. Your uninjured eye was lidded less with shock and more with that familiar coming down of pleasure. He went to move back when you grabbed his arm, looking directly at him. “What about you?”  He was a little shocked by the words, your concern for him. “I said I wanted to make you feel good.” He chalked it up to your likely traumatized and now lust hazed brain. “Don’t worry about me.” Leon made the motion to move again.  “Wait.” You called, grip on his arm tightening. “What if… what if I want to?” 

He didn’t move, unsure of how to respond. He’d already fucked up the mission, already covered you in his DNA, yours on him – but he couldn’t do what you were asking. That was too far.

“P-please?” You choked out, tears now welling in your eyes, spilling over and staining your cheeks again. 

And just like that he was taken back to that day again, right before Raccoon City. A night he swore was the worst of his life, until he knew better. Sitting there across from him, begging him not to go – you sounded just like her too, like she was frozen in time beneath him. Even worse, this was the opposite of what he wanted, he wanted to make things easier for you, relax you.  “I just want to be close, please? Please?” You were full on crying now, face scrunching up, barely able to catch your breath.  “Ok. Ok.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do you want me to take you?” Your words came out between sniffles and hiccups. “Any way, you want.” 

He nodded, sitting back enough to help you sit up, slipping your shirt off all the way. “Can you flip over for me? Lay down flat on your stomach.” He helped you comply with the command, still careful of your injuries. He could see the bandages on your feet had turned a slight pink. Once you were laid out the way he wanted, relaxed, face down into the pillow, he worked his own shirt off, tossing it over in a pile atop his jacket. His gun was removed from the holster, he was careful to lock the safety, discarding it with his other items. He left his pants on, undoing them enough to free his half hard cock, the head still weeping. 

He spat in his hand, giving himself a few good tugs, feeling himself hardening fully again. “You ready?”  “Yeah.”  He crawled forward, gently lifting your butt up just enough for him to line himself at your soaking entrance. He grunted when he pressed in, you sucking him in warm and wet. He let you take a moment  to relax down again as he leaned forward, pressing the entirety of his bare chest to your back, sinking his cock in slowly until he was buried all the way inside of your heat. 

He kissed up your shoulders, and neck, rolling his hips into your slowly. “God you’re tight baby.” He whispered against your ear. He didn’t have the heart to rail you into the mattress, wanting to abate your request for closeness, intimacy.  “S’big…” You lazily mumbled into the pillow.  “I know, I know.” He crooned your neck just enough for him to lock your lips together again. “But you’re doing so good, taking me so well.” Letting you rest, he returned to focusing on the motion of setting a steady but not too rough pace, angling himself so that he hit that spot inside of you that had you whimpering again. He rewarded the noises by rolling you both onto the side, where he could wrap an arm around you like a tight hug, leg gently pulled over over his own so he had a better angle.  Likely for the best, Leon was close already, he slowed down more, returning to simply rolling his hips as he trailed his hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your naval and thighs before rubbing at your clit for a bit as he kissed and sucked softly against your neck. He fucked you like he would’ve done to her, like you were his lover, the most important thing to him. 

Your velvet walls felt like heaven as they squeezed against him, closer and closer to your own second orgasm. “That’s it baby.” He whispered hotly against your ear. “One more time for me, ok?” He sped up his fingers, feeling you tighten around him so much that he nearly felt his own eyes roll back. “G-good girl.” He praised, gripping your hip to speed up his own movements, his balls tightening as he came, cock throbbing as spurts of his seed painted your insides. 

Leon held you like that for a while, curling in on you, offering soft praises as he nuzzled into your neck from behind. He didn’t move a muscle until your breath evened out completely, and he could tell by the low thrum of your heartbeat that you were incredibly close, if not already asleep. He looked up at the clock on the nightstand – 4:45am it read. He had about 20 more minutes max before someone from HQ would be sent in as backup, now that he’d been MIA for so long. 

Now fully soft, he gently pulled himself out of you, and carefully rolled off the bed. He watched you for any more signs of movement as he buckled back up and redressed. There was that eerie silence settling over the house again, he felt heavy with the weight of the evening crushing against him like an invisible force. He wished for a moment that the world would swallow him up where he stood so he didn’t have to face his responsibilities, the consequences. 

You looked peaceful laying there. He knew it was just the exhaustion, shock, and grief, that kept you tugged under the waves of unconsciousness, but for his own sake he pretended you were in a truly relaxed state. Moreso, he was glad you wouldn’t experience any more of that pain or fear tonight.  Leon clicked the safety off the gun, watching you for any signs of movement. Not even a twitch as he cocked the gun again. He walked over, sitting at the side of the bed again, eyeing you over one more time. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a lot of things at that moment, his ex all over again, your future,  another piece of the man he wanted to be.  “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, you know?” He whispered, mostly to himself as he pressed the barrel of the pistol to the pillow. 

He couldn’t look this time. He wouldn’t look this time.  His chest tightened, having to take a moment to stop the bile trying to work its way up, and the urge to cry that had him wanting to heave against the floor. He grabbed his earpiece as he made his exit. 

“This is Kennedy to HQ – the last target has been exterminated.” 

[bambiesfics]

do u have any headcanons for loser ellie? <3

Sorry if these arent as yummy, I just woke up and I’m so eepy. But these are what I could think up <3 This is such a random collection of thoughts but!

- I think Ellie has a red Coca-Cola themed mini fridge in her room where she stores monster energy drinks and her elf bars so they pull cool when she smokes them.

- She has a vision of -2.00 in one eye and -2.50 in the other eye, but hates putting on her glasses because she’s afraid it makes her look nerdier than she already is.

- She doesn’t use conditioner, only shampoo. And when girls at school flirt with her and ask how her hair is so soft she just tugs on a tiny lock of it and awkwardly tries to avoid eye contact. “Uh-I uh…I dunno. Do you think it’s soft?”

- She falls in love fast, and hard. An absolute master at obsessing over someone so much so that thinking about her crush at night time has been her favorite mechanism to fall asleep at since she was in middle school.

- She owns like 4 pairs of converses and only one pair of doc martens. She still winces thinking about the amount she spent on those. She’s had the same shoe size since she was in middle school so all her converses are beat up.

- Her preferred method of masturbating is angrily fingering herself and she usually does it with a pillow over her head. She’s always pissed after, she doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the sudden dopamine drop from her nut. Or maybe it’s because she’s tired of imagining fucking the same girls she can’t have & who will never want her back. There’s only so many times she can imagine eating a pretty girl’s butt until they squirt on her glasses before she starts getting pissed that it isn’t actually happening, mid-masturbation sesh. She grinds her g-spot until she cums, lazily rinses her hands, and just lies face down on her pillow in a stiff plank position.

- She listens to 40 year old dad rock the most. Think Aerosmith, Depeche mode, Papa roach, Deftones (she has a complex about that) and Alice in Chains. She’d slowly built up a collection of her most loved songs since she was 12 years old. So all her favourite bands and artists are a collection of music she holds near and dear to her heart. Don’t don’t even try it though, it doesn’t matter if you listen to those bands too, you cannot suggest one North American song to Ellie that she hasn’t already heard of. She’ll always know more music than you, even though her Spotify music obscurity rating is like top 6%

- She oddly knows more pop songs than you too. Even though she doesn’t listen to them nearly as much.

- She has slight ringing in her left ear from how loud she usually blasts her headphones at night. Sometimes when the noise really pisses her off, she leaps off her bed and loads up her playstation instead. Which then lead to 10am’s the very next day where her eye bags are a deep purple and she walks through the halls like a freckled ghoul.

- she uses the broken skateboard she used to skate when she was 17, as decoration in the corner for her room.

- she has 17 Etsy bookmarks saved from different tarot love spell practitioners. One time she dm’d one and just went into very scary explicit detail about how she wanted you to notice her, where the scene would be, what she’d be wearing, the first time you’d let her give you head, the fact that you’d be ovulating (that one was really important), and what type of pregnancy cravings you’d have when the inevitable happened and she married you (you weirdly had cravings for her current fav snacks: snickers and carton almond milk).

- she also knows she’s a loser. Scarily self aware girl.

- One time her and her counsellor just stared at each other, and blinked back and forth the entire sesh.

[httpstes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Random things that remind me of Venus in Water signs <33 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

: ̗̀➛ Cancer venus

Moon goddess, white cupcakes, soft makeup, pastels, twinkling stars, ball gowns, sleeping beauty, Bridgeton, velvet dresses, aurora borealis, moonstone, labradorite, ex lovers, childhood crushes, historical events that for some reason bring you a lot of nostalgia, warm cardigans, rosy cheeks, plump lips, angel wings, tattoos that are aesthetically pleasing but also have some rlly deep meaning behind them..in saying that probably has tattoos that are related to their loved ones, mini skirts, crescent moon, autumn leaves, picnics in the park, constantly getting hit by nostalgia then crying about your childhood, sad/serene resting face, calm river flow in forests, doll eyes, cathedrals, atonement, victorian homes and decor, mid-western gothic towns, struggling to live in the present because you’re in a constant state of reminiscing on the past, red and white candles, love spells, love sick, Ludus (playful love) and Agape (love for everyone), learning that unconditional love has its consequences.

: ̗̀➛ Scorpio venus

The mystics, love magick, killer smile, captivating love, people are addicted to you and the way you love, possession, the goth kids from southpark 😭, the hot detective in crime/horror films, small snowy village, probably went through a creepypasta phase, alex g, rlly cool piercings, coraline, uniquely shaped snowflakes, ending up on the scary side of Ao3, twitter, tumblr on multiple occasions, whimsigothic clothes, bela lugosi's dead, american horror story, finding solace in painful memories, joe goldberg (derogatory), exploring abandoned buildings, dark crystal, Evanescence, religious imagery, cathedrals, questionable taste in people, alluring eyes, creepy cute dolls, interest in the paranormal, sirens and pixies, deftones, obsidian, malachite, lavenders, twilight, overgrown houses.

: ̗̀➛ Pisces venus

shells, frozen lakes, Falls for the wrong people, likes the idea of light and dark energy.. yin and yang.. opposites attract type of beat, gives out too much love, normally the medic or healer in video games, always there for moral support, grandfather clocks, mermaids, poison tree by grouper, randomly remembering early childhood memories, angel numbers, spiritual/astrological tattoos, auras, maladaptive daydreaming, falling for the idea you create of people, kogal gyaru or Himegyaru, snails or turtles both seem very wise :), castles, the backrooms LMAO, angels, water lilies, american horror story (specifically the coven and hotel season), ENA, blindly following a cult or being the cult leader, playing in an empty park, rainbows, cottages, persephone and hades, blue lace agate, aquamarine, mazzy star, the cure, koi fish.

<<Hello everyone sorry for my long hiatus! It has finally come to an end!! School has already started for me so I’ll try post once a week however that’s just me saying shit and it’s not guaranteed 😭 I hope everyone has been doing well :))>>

[xoxovalrea]

Jaded - suguru geto + fem! reader

Sypno: Your dumb boyfriend “becomes” friends with the university’s drug dealer and does hardcore drugs on video. So you help him out by..fucking your edgy dealer‼️

A/n: dont do drugs kids⁉️ listen to digital bath- Deftones

Warning: words like slut & whore r used & drug and alcohol use. Also CNC & rough sex ( lmk if i missed any )

Wc: 1.3k

                        💜Minors DNI‼️💜

You’re on the couch with your boyfriend travis per usual when he all of a sudden starts getting really touchy which he only does when he needs something. 

You roll your eyes and say “whats up what do ya need” he rubs your thighs and finally says “baby can you please go over to sugurus place n give him money” you ask why out of curiosity and you instantly regret it. He tells you he was doing hardcore drugs with suguru and he got it on video threatening to send it to the school board. You sigh and tell him to leave so you can go over to getos place. You don’t even know why he is so serious about it, like he’s not even good at football or basketball or school in general all he does is beat up kids and cheat on you. You change into a crop top and some white sweats and start walking to a small trailer park. 400$ in your pocket is a small pocket knife and your phone so you don't get kidnapped or lost. 

As you're walking you see the trailer with the number 0197 on the mailbox and walk up to the door once you get there you hear a faint sound of a guitar so you knock even harder three times and the music finally comes to a halt. Geto walks out with blood shot eyes sipping Hennessy and his hair falling randomly on his face. “hey baby how can i help ya ? want the usual or nah and tell ya shit faced boyf-“ you sigh and let yourself in plopping down on his couch taking out the money and hold the money up towards geto he takes another sip of the drink and grabs the money laughing

 “His bitch ass really sent you here for him” he finishes the rest of the henny and puts it down“ I know don’t even bro“ you sigh as the couch sinks farther. You look up to see geto lighting a blunt. He notices you staring “what don't act like you don’t smoke ms cheerleader“ he lights it and takes a hit leaning back man spreading. You take a hit after him and he laughs “so I guess he want that video posted” you look at him confused and nod your head no even though he cheats on you how else you gon get money.

 You pass the blunt back and he looks at you “look let's make a deal you forget about your shitfaced boyfriend nd spend the week with me yea” you stare at him for a minute then finally respond “sure but keep your end of the bargain” he stares into your eyes instantly reading your every expression before taking a hit then smiling “trust you’ll forget all about him baby” he says before roughly kissing you.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°❀

 He wraps his hand around your neck squeezing softly pulling you into his lap breaking the kiss. “lets see how wet that cunt is” he slides your sweats off and rubs your clit through your panties. you let out a whimper in response as he starts increasing speed and eventually stops “how bout we call your boyfriend yea? make one noise and ill ruin his fucking life yea?” you nod as he picks up his phone and calls travis.

 He slides his finger up and down your slit collecting your juices Travis picks up and you hear a murmur of his voice as Suguru slides two fingers in immediately fingering you fast and hard. “yea she came over” he hits your g-spot and you accidentally let out a loud moan and he mutes his mic and stops fingering you “what I told you ? You're lucky your pretty” he unmutes and continues fingering you squelching filling his ears “my bad just my loud neighbors” your eyes roll back as he whispers in your ear to cum and you cream all over his fingers soaking your panties and his pants “yea we all cool though come over soon I gotta surprise f’ya” he laughs then hangs up still fingering you making your legs tremble underneath him. 

He pulls his fingers out and flips you on your back “awh look at how wet she is f’me” he pulls your panties off and throws them somewhere on the floor. He kisses your thighs up  and down leaving bite marks and hickeys. He stops and looks you in the eyes before sucking your clit and shoving two fingers back into your dripping hole. “Fuck geto I cant fuck take it” you scream out still sensitive from your previous orgasm, hearing this he only goes faster your walls clench around him and you let out another loud moan and squirt all over his face. You feel him smile as he devours you and your juices. “Put that pretty mouth to use nd get on your knees” you follow his orders and get on your knees between his legs he pulls his pants down exposing his huge boner  you bite your lips and lean in to kiss his tip and he lets you tipping his head back with a groan. 

 You take his tip in your mouth and go down a third of the way and gag stroking the parts you can’t get while geto takes his shirt off. He finally takes his shirt off and throws it to the floor. You try to go lower but you gag and your eyes water “uht uht go down you can do it“ he pushes your head all the way down lifting your head up and down. He throws his head back and bucks his hips up into your mouth. He pulls out to let you breathe then shoves it back into your mouth bucking up into your mouth using it as a fuck toy “fuck baby your mouth is so good” he says while creaming down your throat you swallow as he lifts you up by your face and starts making out with you sloppily he gets up and picks you up by your knees and carries you to his bed while making out with you.  

He lays you down “flip over on your stomach” you oblige and flip over face down ass up waiting for him. He rubs his tip on your ass “wait isn’t he coming“ he looks at you puzzles and nods yes “wait we can’t he will literally ruin me” you try to get up but geto holds you down “now you know you want this dick. he doesn’t even fuck good fuck him” you smile at his words still getting that gut feeling that this is wrong. “fine okay” he laughs and shoves his length into you immediately thrusting in and out slapping his balls on your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucks up into your cervix and pushes up onto the bulge in your belly  “FUCK geto its its to much I can’t-“ he cuts you off pushing your head into the sheets you hear groans coming from above you. “awh my pretty slut can’t take it ? That's too bad” he grins and pounds you even harder making you scream and writhe under him. 

Geto flips you over on your back and you can't even look him in the eyes, that's how dazed you are. He slips back in with a groan you don’t know how long its been since you guys started fucking maybe an 10 minutes maybe 30 you don’t know. You dont even know how many times you’ve came around his dick, you snap out of your thoughts as geto slaps your thigh “damn ma I got ya that fucked up” he laughs and starts rubbing your clit.

You feel his dick twitch as you tighten around him even more. He leans down to sloppily kiss you and you tangle your hands into his hair as you spasm all over his dick. After a few more thrusts he finally creampies you. As you're laying down with geto you both hear a knock and he grins “well look at that” he laughs as he kisses your forehead and gets up to put shorts on and get the door.

A/n: intro is too short but oh well & i MIGHT do a prt 2 to Love Galore or update it idk (for the person who suggested) bye lovess🕊️💗

[ctallena]

maymay!!! i’m back 🎀

could you do the m3 with a grunge reader, what i’m trying to say is, like yk she wears baggy jeans, ripped up old band shirts, has nirvana, radiohead, deftones posters all over her wall, that kinda grunge 🙏🙏

OMG YESSS im grunge myself so i get it!! also i love ur music taste already based on the 3 bands u named

��� MAIN 3 WITH A GRUNGE READER :

✩ — STAN !

i headcannon him as grunge too, so...

calls u a loser even tho hes one himself

"omg u listen to nirvana?? whats ur fav song??"

he would get offended if u chose one of the most popular ones

will be like "oh!..😐"

u two share clothes

"dude this tee is so fire"

"u can have it ONLY for one day"

ends up never giving it back

so u never give his clothes back too

i imagine losers and i see converse

you two DEFINITELY get matching lyrics on ur shoes

he feels so lucky to have another loser around

he always puts some music on when u come over and u never complain bc u have the same music taste

"that song HITS, whats it called"

✩ — KYLE !

he kinda doesnt care ig

like, you do you

one time u were like

"LETS MAKE YOU GRUNGE TOO"

"no."

you had to nag him about it until he finally agreed

had to lend some clothes from stan..

stan had to be there too

WHY DOES KYLE ACTUALLY END UP LOOKING FIRE AF??? DO U SEE THE VISION LIKE I SEE IT??

"can we get this off now pls"

"WAIT I NEED TO MAKE A PHOTO"

all of you end up taking a super duper photo

u post it on ur insta story

kyle is like "DELETE DELETR DELETE"

"omg if my mom sees this😕..."

thinks he looks homeless

✩ — KENNY !

thinks ur hot af.

idk whats that style called but i kinda imagine kenny in baggy jeans and like those wife beaters??

sometimes just tees if hes feelin lazy

yall the best combo world has ever seen

he literally worships u tbh

helps u pick ur outfit for the day

and u pick his too🤗🤗

genuinely thinks ur room is so cool

loves spending time with u in ur loser room

i wanna draw all of them now bye

requests r open !!

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, girls kissing, boys kissing, smut, cooperative oral (m receiving), fingering (v), p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy

chapter four: touch tank (16k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #15.

You took my breath away

So now I can't suck in my stomach 

around you anymore

Touch Tank — Quinnie

The dingy apartment hallway has never looked so luminous in the late afternoon sun as you return home from your afternoon of shopping. You're swinging your little striped bag, its treasures concealed beneath pink tissue; the fingers of your other hand are closed around the lid of a smoothie, mouth currently too occupied by a brilliant smile to keep sipping fruity goodness right now. 

You can't wait to show off your recent purchase to your boyfriend.

Inside, Steve is seated at the kitchen table, fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keys of his laptop, old coffee cooled beside him. You drape your arms around his shoulders from behind, peering at the mind-numbing spreadsheet with its rows of number-filled rectangles. You wrinkle your nose at it, tightening your arms; your bag crinkles against his chest, and your smoothie drags condensation across his shirt with the force of your hug.

Steve huffs amusedly through his nose, gently taking the plastic cup from your hand and placing it beside his mug before affectionately clasping your forearms. "I take it your girls' trip was a success?" 

"Yes," you say, eyes bright, grinning cheek pressed to his. "We each got something new for Friday night."

 "Oh?" Steve's thumbs rub teasing circles against your skin. "And do I have to wait until Friday to see your 'something new?'"

"Mmm…" You hum thoughtfully, playful as you wiggle your hips. "I suppose I could be persuaded to offer a sneak peek."

Apparently, that's all Steve needs to hear. The way he closes the laptop so unceremoniously makes you laugh, arms releasing him so he can eagerly pull you to the bedroom.

The four of you have been playing together for a few weeks now, and it's been good. Quite good, actually. You've found yourself growing more comfortable with both Eddie and Chrissy with each successive encounter, sexual and otherwise. You don't know whether all couples who swing also go on double dates to restaurants or solve escape rooms together, but considering Steve's friendship and long acquaintance with them, it seems natural for you all to spend time together outside the bedroom. You enjoy spending time with Eddie and Chrissy— they're warm, sociable, and fun. And you trust them. Eddie had proven himself trustworthy when he'd promised not to tell anyone about your secret; you know he'd kept that promise because there's literally no way Steve would've kept quiet if he'd found out you've faked every orgasm he thinks you've had with him. Though you've never gotten as close to orgasm as you had that first time with Eddie, you've been thoroughly enjoying yourself since. No complaints from any of you, as far as you can tell.

So it hadn't been difficult to decide as a group that you were ready to take things to the next level: that you wanted to explore penetrative sex together for the first time. This Friday had been chosen for the occasion.

Friday nights had unofficially been designated as group play since that first time you'd gone to Insa, and though you'd sometimes see one another on other days of the week, Fridays were a given. This gave you a little less than a week to prepare for the next step in your ongoing journey of sexual debauchery; a little less than a week to imagine what it would feel like for Eddie to be inside you for the first time. To some extent, the promise of the unknown makes those nerves squirm in your chest, but mostly, you're excited about it. 

When Chrissy called today and asked if you wanted to go to the mall with her, you eagerly accepted. An afternoon filled with powdery-soft smiles, shared giggle fits, and eager shopping ensued as you prepared for this upcoming weekend. You'd gotten mani-pedis, visited Lush to explore their offerings of natural facemasks and body butters, and, finally, spent an inordinate amount of time browsing for a new set of lingerie, one worthy of the occasion.

Shopping for lingerie with Chrissy was not like shopping for lingerie with Steve or by yourself. For one thing, Chrissy is much more adventurous than you regarding her undergarments: her preference is for as much edge and as little coverage as possible. You are slightly more conservative, gravitating towards cheeky panties over thongs and floral lace over faux leather. She'd chosen her own lingerie fairly quickly— a fuchsia v-string that was more strap than fabric, crotchless and with a satin bow in the front, with a matching push-up bra. For you, she'd held up many potential options that you quickly dismissed, but one set she suggested caught your eye. With Chrissy's keen encouragement, you'd tried it on; when you'd heard her squeal of excitement and gazed with wide eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you'd gathered enough courage to step out of your comfort zone and try out some adventure for yourself. 

Now, you're cloistered in the walk-in closet, twisting your body to examine it from all angles before emerging to show your barely-patient boyfriend your new lingerie.

"You gonna come out soon?" Steve's voice is muffled through the door, and you picture him sprawled on the bed, hair flopped over his brow, full lips in a pout as you make him wait. 

"Yes, Steve— honey, dear, darling one," you say with sing-song playfulness, biting your bottom lip as you run your eyes one last time over your body in the closet mirror before cracking the door. From the sliver, you see him sit up from his sprawl, head whipping toward the closet.

"Finally, jee—" He cuts off, eyebrows nearly to his hairline, hazel eyes wide, mouth falling comically open as you push the door open fully to reveal your body. You flush warm, a little smirk stretching on your lips as his gaze rakes over your body, devouring the sight before him.

The first thing that attracted you to this set was the color— a deep red, rich and heady like sweet fruit. The panties are embroidered with tiny flowers, delicate and feminine, not quite a thong but with less coverage than you'd usually choose. The bra is stitched with matching embroidery, but it's not a push-up like Chrissy's. You don't need that; you've got enough going on as it is. Instead, it's boned with underwire for just the right amount of support, and it's unlined— sheer, so your nipples show through, dusky and darkened beneath the red fabric.

When Steve recovers, he just husks a simple direction: "Come here, now."

It's a little brusque, but you chuckle as you approach him, pleased that he's so affected by the sight of you. When you climb onto his lap, Steve seems unable to decide what to do with his hands— brush them over your waist, palm the swell of your breasts, squeeze your hips, or cup your jaw and draw you in for a kiss.

But when you gently capture one fluttering hand, guiding it down to show him that your new panties are crotchless, same as Chrissy's, that decides it for him.

You gasp sharply as his finger plunges into you, his other hand grasping at your jaw to pull you in for a searing kiss. You're already wet from the anticipation of him seeing you like this, so he slides in with no resistance, groaning against your lips as he feels the evidence of your excitement. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers drawing through thick strands as you open your mouth for him. His tongue in your mouth moves in tandem with his finger, stroking you inside, kindling the heat in your lower belly until you're rocking your hips into the heel of his hand. He presses it tighter to you, rubbing friction into your clit as you moan, pushing your breasts into his clothed chest.

Clothes. You realize then that Steve has on far too many clothes.

Pulling abruptly from his lips, you pant, "Take off your clothes, Steve."

Your hands accompany your direction, tearing at his shirt before he's even pulled his finger out of you. Together, you make quick work of it and his pants, hand finding his hard length as soon as his tight boxers are revealed, fingers wrapping around him as best you can through the fabric. He hums, hazel eyes dark with desire as he palms the back of your neck, pulling you into greedy lips that suck at your throat. "Wanna do you from behind," Steve rasps against your skin, and his words make your pussy throb with anticipation. That's your favorite position— face pressed to the sheets, ass in the air, Steve's cock reaching so deep inside you you nearly see stars.

You get wetter just imagining it. 

"Mmm," you moan, and Steve smiles broadly, huffing a chuckle that puffs warm against your skin. 

"Knew you'd like that suggestion, baby." 

"You like it, too," you remind him as you climb off, crawling across the bed until your head is resting just below the pillows; you drop your shoulders, widening your knees, peeking back at him as you sway. "I know you like to watch my ass bounce." You're teasing, but it comes out breathy and desperate as you see the way Steve's looking at your exposed pussy still framed by berry-red lace— like he wants nothing more than to stuff you full, to pound you until all you can do is cry out for him. 

Steve pulls his boxers down his legs, lifting one knee and then the other to drag them impatiently off and let them drop to the bedroom floor. He's long and straight, with a pale pink head that disappears into his fist as he strokes himself once, eyes still intent on your pussy as you watch him. As hairy as Steve's chest is, he's very fastidious about keeping himself well-trimmed beneath the waist, which only makes him look longer as he draws closer until you can no longer see him. You drop your head, fingers tightening on the bedspread as something brushes against your swollen lips.

You anticipate the head of Steve's cock, but instead, you feel the press of his fingers; and though it's not what you expected, you sigh in pleasure as he dips inside, stroking and working your inner walls until you're burning for more. "Steve…" you whimper, and he knows what you're asking for. You feel him press a warm kiss to one plush cheek before he withdraws, knee brushing your calf as he lines up with your entrance. 

The initial stretch is always the most delicious, and today is no exception: you moan, a long, low sound of relief as he presses inside until he nudges up against the end of you. "Fuck," you hear him say, voice husky with need as his palm finds the middle of your back, the fingers of his other hand digging into the heft of your hip. You obey his silent request, pushing your chest down to the bed until your back is arched further for him. "So fuckin' hot, baby," Steve murmurs. And then he slides almost all the way out of you before thrusting sharply back in, finally beginning to fuck you.

Your fire burns bright, stoked by the quick, deep drag of Steve's cock inside you, his hips slapping into your ass, his balls swinging against your mound, his fingers gripping tight to your hips, holding you in place so he can fuck you hard. It's really intense, this angle; your toes curl, and your fingers fist into the bedding as you pant and moan out your pleasure. Steve is even more worked up today than usual, and the knowledge that he's so excited by your body just adds to the twisting flames and the tightening of your abdomen as he jolts against that spot inside you. 

"Oh, Steve," you whimper, breath heaving, body rocked by his deep thrusts. Through the thin material of your bra, the bedspread drags against your nipples, making them harden and igniting tiny sparks of pleasure that kindle the burn in your belly.

Steve's breathing hard, too, with ragged gasps as he works to pleasure you, groaning when you squeeze around him as he hits especially deep. And maybe it's the fact that you'd just spoken— just whined his name— but Steve chooses then to remind you of what you'd agreed to try with him.

"Baby," he says, voice hoarse and a little breathless but still careful, "Do you think you could, like… try, uh, talking more?" 

You've had your eyes scrunched closed, entirely focused on the feeling of Steve's cock pounding you, but they pop open at that. "Oh," you say, a little wobbly as your body continues to rock under the onslaught of his cock. "Yeah, o-okay." 

You try to think of what to say; you really do. Little snippets you've heard from Chrissy knock against each other in your head: 'bad girl,' 'punish me,' 'lick my cunt,' 'fuck toy,' 'dirty slut,' 'shit— goddamn— cock— whore—' 

They swirl together until they're whipping by, stinging your outstretched fingers as you try to grab one. They stick in your throat as your eyes dart, freeze spreading in your chest the longer you stay silent. Just say something, you plead with yourself, anything, anything at all. Just say, 'Fuck my dirty little pussy, Steve.'  

But you can't. The words won't come out.

Your nostrils flare, your eyes prickling with frustrated tears as Steve's hips slow slightly. Quickly, you try to speak, but all that comes out is a stammer: "I… I—"

Steve's fingers loosen on your hips, rubbing gently along the plush of your ass, and you whimper in response to his soothing touch— a small, almost pathetic sound. "It's fine, babe. Don't worry about it." 

The softness in his voice makes the tears prick more insistently as your stomach churns with guilt. It's all he'd asked of you, and you couldn't even try to do it. "Are you sure?" You ask, voice tiny.

Rather than replying, Steve stops moving inside you, pressing close, draping himself over your back, wrapping his firm arms around your middle to hold you tightly. His body covers yours, warming you instantly, lips pressing to your shoulder blades, dropping kisses wherever he can reach. You can feel him murmur against your skin, bangs brushing you as he speaks. "Of course. I'm sorry I brought it up." Quietly, tenderly, he adds, "All I care about is being with you."

You melt at the sincerity in his voice, breath escaping in a sigh as the freeze drips away. "Okay," you say, more assured now. 

Steve drops one more kiss to your back, lips warm and dry and lingering there as he presses his hips experimentally tighter to your ass. You hum, flame flickering again as his length shifts inside you. "You really look so fuckin' hot right now," he rasps quietly against your back, and you hum as the compliment kindles the flame higher. "I can't get enough of you."

You bite your lower lip, pressing back into him, encouraging him as he rotates his hips against you, grinding his length deep. "Mmm, Steve," you murmur, breath quickening. "That feels really good."

"Yeah?" He grinds against you again, groaning as you whimper, pressing back in kind. "You ready for me to fuck you how you like it again, baby?" 

A moan slips from your lips, pussy throbbing as the silk of his words caresses you. "Yeah," you say, and though the air is cold when his warm skin leaves your back, the fire that reignites is hot when he grabs hold of your hips again, pulling back and thrusting into you hard. 

"Ah!" You cry out as burning pleasure twists in your belly; Steve resumes his pace, fucking you fast and hard, cock reaching so deep it's almost too much. "Steve!" You whine loudly, fingers clutching desperately to the bed, holding on as his hips pound into you. He's sticking to you now, skin clinging with damp sweat on every impact, groans nearly constant as his pace turns frenetic, losing that consistent rhythm as he gets close. 

"Fuck, y/n, you're gonna make me cum, baby," Steve moans, and his words flare low, increasing your pleasure as you cry out for him again.

And then you feel Steve's cock jerk, hips slowing as he gasps a ragged breath, stifling those groans in his throat, jaw tight as he cums inside you. You moan with him, panting with exertion even though he'd been the one fucking you. As he finally stops moving, holding himself inside, you press further back against him, wanting him as deep as he can get, relishing that point of connection between you. 

"Shit," Steve sighs, a sound of deep contentment as he carefully pulls out of you. You tilt further forward, raising your ass higher as you hear Steve's hasty footsteps pad out of the bedroom, presumably on the way to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. That's confirmed when he returns, and you feel the warm brush of soft wet fabric against you, gently wiping as you lower down and walk your hands back until you have enough leverage to kneel up on the bed. "Thanks," you say, twisting to take the washcloth from him. Your eyes run over pink cheeks flushed from exertion, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, and those roguishly disheveled brown waves flopping over his forehead. You smile, leaning forward at the same time he does for a soft kiss. When you part, Steve cups your cheek affectionately, pressing one more kiss to your temple before you head to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. 

You return to find him lounging on your rumpled bedding, scrolling on his phone; as he spots you, he drops it on the bedside table, opening his arms wide with a charming grin. You smile, climbing onto the bed, giggling as his strong arms close around you, pulling you down against him. You rest your chin on his chest, fingers playing in puffs of hair as he looks at you fondly. "Hey," he murmurs, arm slung across your back, fingers trailing lazy patterns as you lay half-across him. "I was thinking we could try that Indian fusion place for dinner tonight. I heard they have this habanero chicken tikka that's apparently knock-your-socks-off good."

You gaze into your boyfriend's face, whose eyes— their flecks of green, brown, and amber— are so comforting. So cherished. You feel a sudden surge of appreciation for him: for his sense of adventure, for the fresh experiences he provides you, for the plans he always makes for you to enjoy together. 

Your lips curl with a tender smile. "Sure. That sounds perfect."

-

It's around eight o'clock on Friday evening, and you're reclining on the loveseat, casually turning the pages of the novel you're currently reading called The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches. It's a cozy little fantasy about an orphaned witch and her journey to find a new family, and you aren't too far in, but you're very much enjoying the writing style and the main character. You find yourself so absorbed that your eyes don't even once flick to the clock in anticipation of your guests' arrival or to the television where Steve is watching some college sports game with rapt fascination.

You've long been ready for tonight by now— since seven, in fact. You'd showered, shaved, exfoliated, and moisturized; dried and styled your hair, applied light makeup, chosen your outfit— a casual pair of ripped jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, soft and clingy, low-cut and shirred at the bust— and slipped your red set on beneath it. It feels a little delicious to be wearing such casual clothes atop such sumptuous lingerie, like you're a precious stone wrapped deceptively in old newsprint. It really is a beautiful color, you'd thought as you pulled it out of your drawer, laying it gingerly out on the bedspread. Though the thought had occurred to you that the shade seemed awfully similar to the gash of red you'd once seen on stage, you dismissed it as happenstance. You were more concerned with the impact it would make tonight. Considering how Chrissy and Steve had reacted to you wearing it, you're curious to see if it will have a similar effect on Eddie.

When there's a knock at the door, you're the first one up, padding over before Steve has torn his eyes away from the television screen. It sounds like someone may have just scored the game-winning basket, judging by the raucous cheering that bursts from the speaker as the door swings open to reveal a lopsided grin and dark frizzy curls standing tall beside baby blue eyes and bouncy blonde waves.

"Hi, Chris!" You say warmly, and the television goes silent as you embrace her first, arms closing affectionately around her sharp shoulders. Bow lips kiss your cheek, and you press a return kiss to powdery-soft skin, giggling as she squeezes you extra tight before letting you go. She's dressed casually, too, in a pair of yoga pants and a thin fuzzy sweater. You meet eyes, pursing your lips against identical grins loaded with the knowledge of what's concealed underneath your hang-out clothes. 

You hear the greeting Steve and Chrissy exchange, followed by the soft smack of their lips, but your eyes don't stray from the black and white of the man before you: white Reeboks, black joggers, white t-shirt, black ink, pale quartz skin, midnight-dark curls. Casual, comfortable, not just in the way he's dressed, but also in the way his lips crook, one dimple emerging, brown eyes bright as he steps closer and pulls you in with one arm slung around your waist. 

"Hi," Eddie says, smoky and warm, chin tilting down.

"Hi," you echo, smile instinctual as you tilt up to kiss Eddie hello.

It's not a particularly long or deep kiss, but the press of Eddie's lips against yours makes those moth wings flutter nonetheless, swirling the smoke of his voice you've just inhaled.

Steve takes your place to greet his friend when you step away, and they clap each other roughly on the back as you look for Chrissy— she's in the kitchen, fridge door open as she bends to look inside. "Hey," you call to her, "can you bring over the fruit salad?" You fold yourself onto the big couch, one foot tucked comfortably beneath you, the other leg swinging as you sink back into the cushions.

"Sure!" You hear her reply, but your eyes are again drawn to Eddie as he approaches with a quirked brow, brown eyes twinkling as they bore into yours.

"You're gonna eat fruit salad during a horror movie? And here I thought I was the weirdo. Clearly, you've got me beat." 

You scrunch your nose, sticking your tongue out at him as he flops into the corner of the couch, legs spreading comfortably to own the space like he always does. Eddie huffs at your attitude, making your gesture his own but dialing up the drama— broad tongue lolling, stretched out to his chin as his brown eyes go wide. You try to stifle the snort in your throat, but it comes out anyway, just half-choked and squeaky. You look pointedly away, but not before seeing his lips curl with a tiny smug grin.

The sight of Chrissy carrying your glass bowl of fruit salad along with her hummus and pita chips is a welcome one, and you smile sweetly as you reach to take it, cradling it in the crook of your thighs. She drops her snacks to the coffee table, wry as she tells you, "I'm gonna supervise the drink-making— Steve tends to be a little heavy-handed on the vodka."

"Don't I know it," you reply, equally as wryly, eyes happily dipping to fruity goodness— mixed berries and plump purple grapes all crowded together, succulently tempting. You choose a grape and pop it into your mouth, relishing that first firm squish as your teeth burst the skin.

"Ugh." An exaggerated sound of disgust has your gaze slanting to the left, expression flat as you take in the crinkle of Eddie's soft nose and dark brow. He's well in the throw of his theatrics as he rants, "Where are the shitty snacks? Hot dogs, pringles, gummy worms. I'd even settle for the long-time partner of motion pictures: popcorn." He sounds like he's complaining, but as you see his eyes dance, you know he's just feigning it. "Is this really how you treat your guests? Fuckin' hummus and fruit?"

You roll your eyes so he can't see the mischief in them, plunking the bowl onto the coffee table with a sigh. You make sure to sound utterly fed up as you retort, "Oh, just eat a strawberry." Without giving him any time to react, you push the fruit past those smirking lips and into his mouth.

His suddenly slack face fills you with delight, and your suppressed smile breaks free as he stares you down while he starts to chew. You can tell he wasn't expecting you to do that, but that he isn't mad about it either. "This… is actually good," he says, talking through the mushy mouthful of red fruit, struggling to chew while his lips want to smile, face all puckered with effort, brown eyes fond.

"Could've told ya that," you say, reaching delicate fingers into your bowl and leaning casually back like you haven't just forcibly shoved fruit into a man's mouth. You pick out a raspberry, then a blueberry, then a blackberry, cycling through all the fruits until you get to another strawberry. 

But on its way to your mouth, your wrist is abruptly snatched and diverted toward that plush set of smirking lips. "Hey!" you exclaim, feigning outrage as Eddie tugs your arm toward him. Your elbow lands on his thigh as you unbalance; in your distraction, he steals your fruit with his teeth, expression utterly devilish as your mouth falls open indignantly. 

"What can I say? You've converted me," he quips, words thick with half-chewed fruit. "Just can't get enough of these strawberries. Who knew?" 

Your breath catches as his lips close over your index and middle fingers, playfully sucking any remnants of juice from your skin. You're torn between amusement and fluttering attraction as you feel the wet warmth of his mouth, the slide of his tongue against your fingertips, and the squishy mush of fruit inside that somehow manages to be both disgusting and just the slightest bit erotic at the same time. Eddie seems never to swallow before he starts to speak, perhaps because he's speaking almost constantly, and you're seeing the evidence of that first-hand now.

You're torn for a moment, trying to decide which impulse to act on— amusement, arousal, or disgust. In the end, playful amusement wins out.

"Ugh!" You echo his exclamation from earlier, yanking your fingers from his mouth and wiping them off dramatically on your jeans. You wag a finger at him, expression stern like you're reprimanding a dog, though a chuckle breaks through as you scold him. "Now stop that! Get your own fruit!"

Grinning widely as if he's delighted you've decided to play with him, Eddie leans toward you, folding his expression into an exaggeration of petulance. "But I want your fruit—!" You dodge his grabby hands, snatching the bowl and turning away, stiff arm against his chest, giggling as you deny him.

A soft voice, tinged with exasperation, interjects. "Children, children," Chrissy says, and Eddie withdraws immediately, lounging back into the corner of the couch, elbow casual against the armrest as if he hadn't just been nearly wrestling you for the fruit bowl. You shift over to make room for her, tilting towards her as she sinks between you, primly handing over the plastic cups she's carrying and keeping one for herself.

You peer into your cup, lips puckering at the transparent liquid inside. "If I drink this, it's not just gonna be straight vodka, right?"

She smiles fondly, weaving her arm through yours. "Don't worry, I kept Steve under control."

"You're supposed to wait for the movie to start, dude. That's the whole point of a drinking game." You look at Steve as he sits down on your other side, puzzled for just a moment until you glance to the left to see who he's talking to. Of course.

As he lowers his cup, Eddie grins wolfishly. "Just getting a head start, Stevie," he replies, and Steve shakes his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. It's a snug fit on the big couch with the four of you— Steve's thigh is pressed up against yours, hip warm where he's squishing you between his solid side and Chrissy's thin frame beneath her soft fuzzy sweater. But if you have to watch a horror movie, this is how you'd prefer to do it: enveloped by comforting warmth, surrounded by limbs you can latch to when your heart inevitably starts to hammer in your chest. 

"Are we gonna turn off the lights?" Chrissy asks, sounding eager, and you suppress your reluctant whine as Steve extricates himself from you to oblige. As the apartment is plunged into darkness, you nestle back into the couch cushions, plastic cup under your nose, somewhat trying to hide behind it.

"How scary is this movie?" You ask, carefully neutral though your stomach is already squirming with nerves. No one seems to be as distressed as you, not even Chrissy, who, though she's already clinging to Eddie, has an excited gleam in her eye. So you keep the extent of your discomfort to yourself. Mercifully, Steve soon settles back beside you, the comfort of his citrus and sea salt cologne smooth in your nose.

"I keep forgetting you've never seen Halloween, babe," he says, and you glance at him to see his hazel eyes are shiny with the reflection of the television— the only source of light in the room. "It's, like, a classic."

"Well," you grumble, "I'm only here to get drunk. What is it again?" Your gaze darts to the ceiling as you try to remember. "Drink when you see a knife, drink when you see a pumpkin—"

"How 'bout you just drink when you get scared," Eddie suggests, lips crooking with a playful grin as you glance at him, pouting. "That way, it'll get less scary the drunker you get."

You huff, torn between amusement and exasperation. "Sounds perfect," you say, voice edged with sarcasm.

Chrissy's arm tightens around yours. "It'll be okay," she says, shooting you an encouraging smile. "Just hold onto Steve and me." 

Her sweetness warms you, and you snuggle into her side, taking a subtle bracing breath as Steve starts the movie. Here goes nothing.

Halloween isn't nearly as terrifying as some of the other modern horror movies you've had the displeasure of seeing— it doesn't seem to be trying to induce heart attacks through jump scares and gruesome effects. Instead, it smolders with tension, though some shocking moments still have your hand frantically clutching for Steve's fingers and your head ducking against Chrissy's shoulder. You drink when you see the others drink and take some little sips in between, too, falling into a state where your body is half-loose with alcohol and half-wound tight with adrenaline. Midway through the movie, Eddie stretches his arm along the back of the couch, and when you notice it, you toss a wary glance his way, anticipating an attempt to scare you. It preoccupies you, the promise— or the threat— of his calloused hand, a constant presence behind your head, though when he doesn't return your glance, you go back to halfheartedly watching the screen. 

When you jolt as Michael suddenly appears in the kitchen to kill Bob, and Eddie's hand shifts, dread spikes as you assume the worst. But his fingers are gentle on the back of your head, and he cradles your skull in his broad palm. Your breathing settles as he plays with your hair, scratching your scalp affectionately while a knife pins Bob to the wall in a gravity-defying display of violence. Truthfully, it's a welcome distraction, and you lean into his touch, eyes flickering from Michael's eerie head tilt to Eddie's shadowed face. When he notices you looking, a smile soft on your lips, a corner of his lips crooks back at you before his attention returns to the movie. Though his hand withdraws not long after, you sigh a slow breath out of your nose, strengthened now despite the lingering suspense of the film. You even find yourself cheering Laurie on with the others when she has her final showdown with Michael, nerves almost entirely forgotten as you get caught up in your desire for her triumph. And the ominous final image of Michael's missing body, complete with his signature heavy breathing, has you grinning instead of cowering at the twist.

"So," Steve asks you when it ends, "what did you think?"

"Mmm." You twist your lips, begrudgingly admitting, "I guess it wasn't that bad." You don't want to encourage Steve too much, lest he thinks you'll be willing to watch more scary movies with him after this.

"Did you get drunk?" Chrissy blinks at you innocently, and you peer down into your cup to find it mostly empty. You feel warm and loose and a little floaty, but not excessively so.

You answer noncommittally. "Kinda?"

She beams. "Then that's all that matters." You chuckle, setting your cup on the coffee table as the guys get up from the couch. 

Steve stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck to the side, and your eyes are drawn to the sliver of skin between his t-shirt and the waistline of his jeans. He eyes you and Chrissy where you still sit on the couch together. "Shall we move this into the bedroom, ladies?" He asks, trying to be suave as he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms against his chest in that move men use to show off their biceps.

You share a look with Chrissy. "Despite how lame that line was," you tease him, "I think we're probably still in." She giggles as Steve pouts. 

"Hmmm…" Chrissy plays along, waffling her shoulders. "I'm not sure… that may have been a little too cheesy for me. I might just head home."

"Aw, come on," Steve says, face falling at your teasing. You take Chrissy's hand in both of yours, shuffling backward as you pull her lightly toward the bedroom— guiding more than pulling her, really, since she's giggling as she walks forward with you. 

"You can do it, Chrissy," you coax, eyes wide and encouraging as your heels hit the bedroom carpet. "Persevere through the cheese. You're so close… almost there—"

"Rah!" Your heart leaps into your throat as hands clutch your shoulders from behind, accompanied by a playful, gravelly shout. 

Your scream is not so playful— you screech, loud and genuinely afraid as your chest spikes with icy panic.

Chrissy frowns, stalking past you as the hands quickly release your shoulders. "Eddie!" She growls his name sharply, face all scrunched up as you twist to watch him back away. He heaves with chuckles even as he eyes Chrissy plaintively, gasping,

"Wait, Chris, come on, I'm sorry, I'm— ow!" Eddie braces an arm protectively against his stomach to ward off further smacks, looking simultaneously amused and rueful as he cowers from his much shorter girlfriend. It's the first time you've seen Chrissy actually get upset, and you can't help but think she looks somewhat like a pissed-off chipmunk. She'd be scary if she weren't so cute.

"Don't apologize to me," she says hotly, crossing her arms and cocking a hip. "Apologize to y/n. Now." And after leveling him with one last withering once-over, she stomps away with a sharp huff, leaving you with Eddie in the bedroom.

Your heart is still racing, but the panic has eased now that you're past the initial shock. Eddie peers at you, face falling into sheepishness as he takes in your tense expression. He edges toward you slowly, mouth pulling into a crooked line of contrition, but you don't budge. Eventually, he stops a short distance from you; his head tilts, eyebrows raising as he opens his arms in silent offering. It seems he's letting you decide whether or not to accept his offer of a hug.

For a second, you just stare at him, annoyed that he would scare you when you thought he'd known how nervous you were during the movie. But those brown eyes are gentle now, the way you've noticed they get sometimes. And you know Eddie was just trying to play around with you; you suppose that, in his mind, he was continuing what you'd started when you shoved a strawberry in his mouth. So you close the gap, looking up at him dully as you draw near. 

The crooked line of his mouth tilts with a tiny smile as Eddie hugs you, arms wrapping snugly around your back, and despite yourself, you sling your arms around his narrow waist, chin propped against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Eddie murmurs, voice puffing like hushed smoke against the side of your face and rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I didn't think you'd scream like that." 

You pout for one more moment in sullen silence before you relent. "It's fine," you grumble. "Just don't ever scare me again."

You feel Eddie's chest jump against yours as he chuckles once, but despite his laugh, his reply is sincere. "I won't."

And you expect him to let you go then— after all, his apology has been accepted. But Eddie doesn't release you yet. Instead, he sways you back and forth, just slightly, long enough to get you to sigh deeply as you relax into him. Your nose tucks against ticklish curls, inhaling smoke and delicate apples. "I'm sorry," he says again, quieter than before, lips grazing your temple as he turns his face toward you.

Your breath catches as his lips brush your skin, belly fluttering with wild wings as you feel his arms shift, palms dragging across your back in a slow caress. "It's okay," you whisper. And you've had your fingers wrapped around your wrist, locked behind the small of his back. But as Eddie shifts, as he touches you tenderly, after a moment, you touch him, too. You release your wrist to press your palms against his back, skin hot through his t-shirt. When you run them slowly upwards, smoothing over the plane of his back, Eddie's ribcage expands into yours in a deep breath, adam's apple bobbing as he presses you closer to him. And that earlier fear is nowhere to be found now; instead, you feel held. Cradled. 

Safe in Eddie's arms, like his calloused fingers are tending you somehow.

You can hear footsteps behind you, and you both loosen your arms and turn towards the bedroom doorway, where Chrissy is leading the forge with Steve close behind.

Her gaze whips directly to Eddie. "Did you apologize?" 

"Yes, yes, Chris, I apologized," you hear him say, though you're preoccupied with the soft embrace Steve wraps you in, citrus and solid limbs enfolding you against a broad torso. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," you sigh, and you mean it. "I'm fine. He was just joking around. He didn't mean to be mean."

Steve chuckles against your hair. "Sounds like Munson," he says, dry and fond. "As long as you're good."

You pull back slightly to smile as you meet Steve's hazel eyes. "I'm fine," you say more firmly, and Steve seems to accept that, smiling back as his arms release you gently.

As you pad across the bedroom carpet to wrap your arms around Chrissy's shoulders from behind, tucking your chin against her fuzzy sweater, any lingering tension is dispelled. Voice lightly teasing, you say, "Thank you for coming to my defense, my knight-ess in shining armor, but I think our good bard here has been thoroughly vanquished. He's sworn never to frighten me again."

You grin up at Eddie from your place on Chrissy's shoulder as his lips crook, cheek dimpling at you. "A solemn vow," Eddie says, palm on his chest as he dips into a shallow bow. "One that shall never be broken upon pain of excruciating death."

You feel Chrissy huff a chuckle. "So dramatic," she says as she clasps your forearms, squeezing once before letting you draw away. As she turns, you detect the glint in her blue eyes as they fall on your boyfriend. "Well," she says, bow lips curving in a sultry smile, "In that case… Steve, would you like to do the honors of unwrapping this present?"

She motions down her body with a delicate hand, and you watch as Steve's eyebrows shoot up, face lighting with zeal. As she saunters over to him, you turn back to Eddie to see his dark eyes watching you, assessing. But the weight of his stare no longer overwhelms you with nerves like it had the first few times you'd spent together. You aren't hesitant to draw close to him, eyes on your fingers as they reach out and dip beneath the hem of his white t-shirt, dragging lightly along his waist. 

When you look up at him again, Eddie's brown eyes are warm as he allows you to push his shirt up his stomach. You gather the fabric as it reveals pale quartz skin and the dark obsidian of his inked body armor. "Are you nervous?" he asks quietly, slowly drawing his arms through the sleeves as you guide the shirt up to his neck. Gently, you pull it over his head as you consider the question. You can't deny that some nerves writhe in your stomach as you think about what you're all preparing to do— why you're undressing one another, how this occasion will become something more than what you've all done together before. You've pleasured each other in other ways, but there's something… different about knowing that Steve would soon be inside Chrissy and Eddie would soon be inside you.

"Just a little," you answer truthfully, laying Eddie's t-shirt on your nearby dresser. Your fingers dip to the waistband of his joggers, fingers pulling the string to unravel the bow as you admit, "But mostly, I'm excited."

You can hear the smile in Eddie's voice as he replies quietly, "Yeah, me too." His words flutter those moth wings again, and a small smile blooms on your face as you carefully lift the elastic of his black sweatpants, tugging them down his legs to reveal a loose pair of checkered boxers. He steps out of his joggers as they pool around his feet, pale legs long and gangly as he extricates himself, hand landing on your clothed shoulder for balance. He chuckles at himself as he finally kicks the pants out of the way, and a fond smile tugs at your lips as you meet his eyes, warmed to deep amber in the soft light of your bedroom. "Okay if I take these off?" he asks, thumb rubbing lightly against the button of your high-waisted jeans.

You swallow thickly, fluttering wings and nerves kicking up at the sudden imminence of your new lingerie finally being revealed to him. Still, you nod, voice quiet but unwavering as you confirm your permission. "Yes."

Eddie's calloused fingers are careful as he pops the button and tugs down your zipper, reaching inside to find the hem of your black shirt tucked into your jeans. He peels the soft fabric up your torso and over your breasts, and your nipples harden behind the sheer fabric as they're exposed to the cool air. As your shirt joins Eddie's atop the dresser— albeit in a little crumpled pile of Eddie-typical carelessness— you stare at it, suddenly shy, delaying the moment where you'll look at Eddie's face and see his reaction. Eddie pauses before his fingers find the waistband of your jeans again, moving slightly faster now as he works to remove your pants. You feel the denim drag down your legs until it's gathered around your ankles. 

"Lean on my shoulder." Eddie's voice is hoarse as he rasps his instruction, and your eyes dart to his face, widening as you see him: he's on his knees before you, dark curls wild around his face and kissing his shoulders, plush lips pink and parted slightly as he stares up at you with those eyes. They're startlingly dark now, dark with heat, with smoke and promise as you obey. Your fingers twitch against his warm skin as your hand covers the ink of his shoulder, and you lift your foot for him. Eddie stares at you for a moment longer before his eyes dip almost reluctantly to his hands as he pulls the jeans from one foot and then the other. His fingers briefly skim the back of your soft calves, raspy touch featherlight as you take a sharp breath— and then he's rising fluidly, towering over you again, nearly-bare body close to yours as you tip your chin to maintain contact with his face. Because you couldn't tear your gaze from him if you tried— from that sharp jaw, that strong chin, that soft nose, those full pink lips, and those eyes, wide and framed by long lashes, lit from within as he devours the sight of you in delicate red lace. His gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts, the dusk of your hardened nipples, the softness of your belly, the curve of your hips, the red embroidery that conceals the promise of your heat.

And the way Eddie is looking at you— when you'd imagined how he might react, you hadn't envisioned this.

Eddie's fingers trace the curve of your waist, trailing fire in their wake, and you tingle as they meet your skin. "Wow," Eddie says quietly. "You look…" He trails off, and a crease forms in your brow, expression hesitant, vulnerable. His eyes find yours as he finishes his thought. 

"You're beautiful." 

And Eddie's voice is husky with desire, but there's something more— something gentle, something sincere, something you can almost taste on the back of your tongue. 

Your smile blooms, sweet and melty. Roots stretch, quivering further down into the fertile peat at the bottom of you. But now, a tendril of green also peeks through the dark, striving to emerge from the earth. Small, fragile. 

Alive.

Firm arms snake around your waist from behind and the trails of fire fall from you as a bare chest presses to your back. As Steve hugs you, you turn your head to watch Chrissy's sensuous approach as she draws close to you and Eddie. Her fuchsia lingerie set looks incredible on her— breasts succulently lifted by her push-up bra, straps crisscrossing her trim hips, the bow sitting low on her mound to reveal the smooth skin underneath, teasing a glimpse of her bare shave. Steve kisses the curve of your neck, and Chrissy twirls showily as she sees you and Eddie looking, shoulder cocked, delicate hand bracing on the willowy curve of her waist.

"C'mere," Eddie says playfully, and Chrissy squeals, giggling as he snatches her around the waist, tugging her against him and dipping her in his arms. Steve drops more kisses along the column of your throat, squeezing you close as Eddie's hand cups the nape of Chrissy's neck, plush lips pressing to the happy curve of her smile.

Steve's voice is awed and nearly incredulous behind you. "Shit, you two really look so fucking amazing."

Chrissy presses her cheek to Eddie's, blue eyes brilliant as she tips her chin down coquettishly. "Why thank you, Steve," she replies, voice pitched low and sultry. 

Steve hums, and your breath catches as his lips skim your ear, quickly finding that sensitive place at the corner of your jaw. "This look still hits hard, babe," he murmurs to you. "Can't wait to get my hands on you again." A slight breathy moan escapes your lips as he cups your breasts, palming their weight as you lean back against him, eyes falling to half-lidded. 

Your buzz hits you suddenly as Steve touches you while Eddie and Chrissy watch, flooding warm through your veins as he guides you to the bed. Hazy, floaty, and loose, you fall against the duvet, and Steve follows you closely. The king-sized bed is more than big enough to accommodate Steve as he hovers half over you, cupping your jaw as his lips descend on yours. It's more than big enough to accommodate Chrissy as she lays down on your other side, bouncy waves tickling your bare shoulder, thin arm brushing yours as she shifts. And it's more than big enough to accommodate Eddie as he stretches out on the other side of Chrissy, smoke voice rumbling in the barest moan as you hear the unmistakable sound of their kissing— lips smacking, mouths moving like yours and Steve's are. Steve runs an eager hand down your body, wasting no time to dip between your legs, and your knee falls open for him as he begins to explore you, rubbing slow, teasing strokes up and down your pussy without dipping inside, without lingering where you need him most. Your eyes close and your hand blindly seeks the edge of Steve's jaw, holding his face as you kiss him deeply, trying to encourage him to touch you where you need it with the fervor of your lips. After a long moment, after he's teased you enough to make you feel a little desperate, Steve obliges. He starts to touch your clit, one finger brushing lightly against it at the same time that you hear Chrissy sigh, high and feminine, "Yeah, Eddie, right there…." 

The sound of her pleasure encourages your own, and your hips twitch up into Steve's hand, tongue searching for his as you moan again. And in an undulating kaleidoscope of moving bodies, heavy breaths, quiet groans, airy moans, wet tongues, hot skin, and pressing digits, you all encourage each other's pleasure until Steve is fingering you deeply, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit as you throb, as that fire begin to smolder inside. Beside you, you can feel the slight rhythmic shifting of Chrissy's body as Eddie fingers her, too; and as your head falls to the side while Steve sucks on your neck, Chrissy's warm breath ghosts your lips as she pants lightly. 

"Mmm," you hum as Steve adds a second finger, stretching you open, insistent in his demand for your fire to increase. The sensations are almost overwhelming as your heart thumps hard in your chest, pumping desire and alcohol through your veins: the warm brush of Chrissy's body against yours, the wet sounds of the fingers moving inside you both, the hint of Eddie and Steve's subtle grunts and groans as they enjoy giving you pleasure. You feel Steve unlatch from your neck as your nose brushes Chrissy's, your mouth half-open as you sigh, a hairs-breadth from her pink bow lips.

"You should kiss," Steve mumbles, and your lashes part to reveal the sight of baby blue eyes, hazy and heated beneath strawberry-blonde bangs. "Kiss each other," he encourages, his other hand finding your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he continues to finger you deeply.

In the languid heat of your drunken pleasure, the idea of feeling someone else's lips on yours as Steve fingers you is appealing, and the smoldering flames flicker, spreading at the thought. You blink, searching her expression for a moment until her gaze drops to your lips. And when she tips her chin, you lean in, shifting closer to press your mouth to hers.

Chrissy's lips are delicate, and the experience of kissing her is distinctly feminine compared to kissing Eddie or Steve. Maybe it's the softness of her skin, or the scent of her perfume, or the flavor of her mouth— sweeter than theirs, a sweetness you've already tasted after Steve kissed her during Strip or Dare, just stronger now.

After a moment, Chrissy's mouth opens, tongue swirling against the seam of your lips as she tilts her head— and you notice that Chrissy is much less careful than Eddie was when he kissed you for the first time. When Steve groans low in his throat, she instantly becomes bolder, pink tongue darting into your mouth as soon as you open your lips, licking wet and sloppy. You're taken off guard at first, but you try to keep up with her as she sucks your lower lip into her mouth, the aggressive sting surprising you as she nips it. "Shit," you hear Steve groan, and Eddie hums as Chrissy releases you, lips pink and slick as you both withdraw, resting your heads back against the sheets, still facing each other. 

Steve's fingers are pressing harder into you, your body rocking with the force of his hand as your gaze darts from Chrissy to Eddie— his eyes are half-lidded and hazy as he drops kisses against her shoulder, the dark ink of his arm draped across her body, pale hand moving rhythmically between her legs as her hips undulate up into him. You watch Chrissy's face as you feel Steve prop up on an elbow behind you, husking an eager question. "Can you do that again?"

Since you're watching Chrissy's face, you see the moment her blue eyes suddenly glint, a little cheeky smile tugging at her bow lips. "Only if you and Eddie kiss."

The rhythm of Steve's fingers falters inside you, and Eddie's head pops up, brown eyes widening, dark curls brushing Chrissy's porcelain skin as he looks past you at Steve. His face is skeptical, and you know without looking that Steve is sporting the same expression behind you. When they're silent, Chrissy adds, voice low and sultry, "Come on… it's only fair."

You're not especially invested in the idea of them kissing, but since Steve is the one who suggested you and Chrissy kiss, you do agree with her. "Kind of a double standard otherwise," you point out.

Eddie eyes Steve, brow still furrowed in a doubtful frown, and you hear Steve swallow hard behind you. "I guess…" Steve says non-committally, clearly unsure.

Chrissy's cheeky smile widens as she stretches out, legs long and shapely against the sheets, head cocking as she glances between Steve and Eddie. You've never seen her look so devilish, words sultry and loaded. "If it's a good kiss, I promise we'll make it worth your while."

You wonder what she means— her voice seems to tease at more than just another kiss between you. But you don't have long to dwell on it as Steve's hand suddenly stops moving between your legs. When he pulls out his fingers, you glance to see him with eyebrows raised, head rearing as if to say, 'Why not?' And when you look back at Eddie, he's no longer frowning or quite as skeptical. Instead, his mouth is pressed into a long, thin line of acceptance. "Are we doing this?" Eddie asks, half-disbelieving, and despite your earlier ambivalence, heat sparks low as you hear Steve say,

"Yeah, I think we're doing this, man."

Steve kneels up, and you bend your legs to make room as Eddie does the same. You and Chrissy cuddle close, eyes rapt on the forms of your boyfriends as they shuffle towards each other on their knees. Your gaze dips, catching on cocks still half-hard behind tight black briefs and loose checkered boxers, and you drape an arm across Chrissy's waist as your heart begins to race with anticipation. 

You've never been especially turned on by the concept of men kissing. You know that other girls find it hot, and you don't have any problem with it, but it's never been particularly arousing for you. But suddenly, the concept of these two men— whose mouths have explored your heat, whose tongues have dipped into your pussy— kissing each other with those same lips is wildly erotic. 

Of course, this is still Steve and Eddie, so you almost can't hold back from rolling your eyes as Steve stops moving closer and exclaims, "Dude, stop staring into my eyes like that." 

The exclamation is followed by Eddie's typical wide smirk. "What, like this?" He flutters his eyelashes coquettishly, pursing his lips, exaggerating a kissy face as he leans close. Steve shoves his shoulder hard, but Eddie just laughs, husky and deep in his amusement. You feel Chrissy shake her head in exasperation beside you as they push each other around a bit before Steve gets fed up. "All right, come on," he says.

And then they're close enough to touch, a careful distance between their waists and bottom halves. Steve's hand lands on Eddie's upper arm, and Eddie braces against Steve's shoulder as they lean in. Eyes wide, you watch raptly as they draw close, hesitating for a moment before their lips meet. 

It's tentative, light, about as chaste as chaste can be until Chrissy reminds them in a sing-song, "Make it good.” And then Steve and Eddie mouths begin moving more firmly. And at the sight of those masculine faces pressing close— Eddie's plush pink lips on Steve's, the tiny flash of Steve's tongue— your pussy pulses hard, heat throbbing insistently in your lower half, thighs rubbing together to try to bring relief. You hear Chrissy sigh a breathy moan, fingers drawing down your side as she watches them with you. Steve and Eddie don't kiss for long, but when they break away, you can feel how much slicker you suddenly are.

When the men glance at you both, their cheeks are stained pink, unimpressed as you and Chrissy titter with glee, clutching at each other. "Hope you enjoyed that," Eddie says wryly. 

"Oh, we did," Chrissy says with wicked delight, and you nod your enthusiastic agreement. "Go stand next to each other," she adds, voice almost a purr, tipping her chin to indicate the end of the bed. "And take out your cocks."

The men scramble to oblige, and Chrissy guides you by the arm toward them as their boxers are unceremoniously dropped and kicked away. She slinks to the floor, and you follow her, albeit a little less fluidly. Still, any concern you may have felt about your awkwardness whisps from your head as you take in the sight before you: Steve and Eddie side by side, solid tanned bulk next to limber predatory paleness, their lengths bobbing closeby. You kneel, still unsure what Chrissy has planned; you glance at her to see dainty fingers wrapping around the base of Steve's long cock, bow lips smirking sensually as she murmurs, "Join me, y/n."

Your eyes widen, and a thrill tingles down your spine as you suddenly understand her intention. And Steve seems to realize at the same time you do; he exhales a sharp breath, hips twitching slightly as Chrissy's tongue outstretches, wagging tantalizingly near the pale pink of his tip but not yet touching. Your face draws closer until you can detect the heat radiating from Steve's throbbing head, feeling utterly naughty as you stick out your tongue to match Chrissy's.

And then, together, you lick up both sides of Steve's cock.

Your eyes dart to Steve's face as his mouth falls open and he watches with helpless fascination as you and Chrissy lavish his length. You lick along his side, base to tip and then back again, lips curling as you watch Chrissy tongue lazily at his slit. "Oh, fuck," Steve groans, head tipping back as you suck underneath the base before drawing your lips to his tip, face close to Chrissy's. Together, as if you'd coordinated it, you begin to lick kittenishly at his head, tasting the salty musk of his precum, tongues brushing as you drag them against his heated flesh. "Shit, that feels so—" Steve cuts off with a desperate grunt as Chrissy wraps her lips around him, sucking sharply as you latch to the side.

As Steve's breathing becomes ragged, you register a second set of labored breaths. Your eyes flick to Eddie's as if by instinct; his gaze is locked on your faces, on your lips as you and Chrissy suck Steve's cock. You flush hotter under the intensity of his stare, and automatically, you reach out for him, hand drawing lightly up his calf, fingers tickled by his sparse hair. Chrissy pops off Steve then with a wet smack, pressing one last teasing kiss to his head. "Worth it?" she asks, looking up at him with a foxy smile. 

Steve runs a hand roughly through his brown waves, disheveling them. "Yeah," he replies, wide eyes darting to his friend as you and Chrissy shift your attention. "Dude, this is so fucking hot," Steve mutters, and you watch Eddie's adam's apple bob in a hard swallow as you and Chrissy settle before him, dark eyes flitting back and forth between you. You throb as your gaze settles on his thick length, which sticks proudly from that thatch of dark hair that trails upward to his navel. You lick up the side as Chrissy takes Eddie's head into her mouth without hesitation, bobbing deep as he moans hoarsely. But the sight of those dark curls ignites something carnal in you, so after a moment, you lick back down to Eddie's base to shove your nose, your face against the hair there. Eddie's scent is musky, heady, tantalizing as you kiss his heated skin, tongue darting out to taste the underside of his cock as Chrissy continues to suck him insistently. 

You glance up to see the evidence of your attentions, the reactions you so desire: that pink flush on Eddie's cheeks, that jaw tightened with tension, those eyes dark and inky. Eddie hums, higher than usual, as you mouth downwards, seeking more of his reactions. You suck one of his balls into your mouth, pulling lightly as you watch him with rapt attention. A little desperate crease forms between his brows; his nostrils flare, and his plush lips fall open in a delicious moan. The sight and the sound have you pulsing, desire twisting in your belly at the sudden desperation in his expression.

Abruptly, his calloused fingers are in your hair, tightening against your scalp, and when you moan around Eddie's ball, his hips jolt as he gasps. "Okay, okay," he rasps, voice tight and high as his other hand finds Chrissy's head, stilling her movements. "That's…" he chuckles breathlessly, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out as a sharp sigh. "Shit." 

Chrissy giggles as she pops off his tip, and you release him gently, instinctually leaning into his touch as his fingers flex against your scalp, scratching slowly. "Alright," Chrissy says, looking up at the two men. "We've had our fun. I think it's time for the main event."

Your stomach flutters at her pronouncement, wild wings and nerves mixing as you watch her rise fluidly, blue eyes locked on hazel. Your gaze flicks to amber brown. Eddie's eyes are deep and heated with desire as he stares down at you, his hand finally falling from your hair as you stand up. 

You're all silent for a brief moment before Steve runs a hand through touseled brown waves. "So, how are we doing this?" His eyes dart around the group, landing on each of you briefly. "I could flip a coin," he offers. And it strikes you as almost ridiculous— that you should decide which mixed couple will have sex first with a coin toss. But, considering the very prescriptive plan for how you're about to have sex, you suppose it doesn't make things much odder.

When you'd decided to try penetrative sex for the first time, Steve had been adamant that it be structured as follows: that one couple would have sex while the other watches and that you'd then switch roles— observers and performers. This was to ensure that everyone could enjoy the experience of both watching and participating, Steve had said. The logistics of it— how the guy would stand at the end of the bed and the girl would lay down on her back, surrounded on both sides— felt a little… Handmaid's Tale -esque to you. Unnatural. Almost a little transactional. But Steve had invested a great deal of time and energy in convincing the group of this, so you weren't going to question it.

Steve manages to find a quarter, and the sight of his hard cock bouncing as he flicks the coin in the air and slaps it onto the back of his hand is almost comical. "Call it," he tells Eddie. 

"Tails," Eddie says, and the flutters and nerves surge wildly in your stomach. 

Because when Steve reveals the toss, there's a fifty-fifty chance that Eddie's about to fuck you.

Steve lifts his palm, peering down at the result. Your eyes don't leave his face, breath caught in your throat until his gaze darts to Chrissy. "It's heads," he says, hazel eyes wide as Chrissy beams, blue eyes shining. 

Steve watches her, grinning as Chrissy flounces onto the duvet, taking his place at the foot of the bed as you and Eddie lay out on either side of her. And your head is thoroughly swimming now when you pillow it on Chrissy's shoulder and she wraps her thin arm around you. You blink slowly as you watch her reach down, pink-painted fingers wrapping around Eddie's thick length; your eyes catch on Steve's broad hand as he presses Chrissy’s thighs open for him. And then they dart restlessly, catching on fuchsia and ink and skin and skin and skin until they settle, finally, on your boyfriend's face as Steve lines the head of his cock up with Chrissy's entrance. 

It's surreal— the moment Steve pushes inside, disappearing into Chrissy as his hips cant forward, long bangs falling in a tumble over his forehead, dusting his eyelashes. You can feel her body shift against yours with the press of his hips, almost as if it's you he's fucking. But Steve's not fucking you. He's fucking Chrissy, sweet Chrissy with her powdery-soft smiles and her expensive perfume and her trim waist and her bow lips that open in a long, feminine moan as Steve slides home to the hilt. And it feels like there's a brief pause, a moment where things hang suspended, motionless, like the last few silent seconds of a song before the next track begins. In that pause, you suck in a slow breath, mixed emotions swirling as your gaze drags over the familiar curve of Steve's biceps, the thick hair on his chest, the breadth of his torso, the dip of his navel, and then the thin, pale legs spread open by his hands, splayed apart for Steve to take what he wants. For him to give Chrissy what she wants.

And then he's moving.

You can feel the brush of Chrissy's hair against your forehead, the sway of her body as Steve begins to thrust into her, strokes long and even as she arches her back against the duvet, a seductive stretch that accentuates the lithe lines of her body. You can see Eddie on the other side of her, the darkness of his wild curls as he ducks to her neck, kissing her there as Steve rocks her body. "Mmm," Chrissy moans, a sensual purr of satisfaction. "That's it, Steve— fuck me hard. Give it to me good, baby." 

He groans, lips pulled into a crooked smirk as he increases his pace, fucking Chrissy harder, hips slapping into flesh as the rocking of her body against you intensifies. "Oh fuck, you're so goddamn tight—"

So that's the kind of talking Steve was looking for. That swirl of emotion flares within you again— amorphous, scrambled, not entirely pleasant as you watch your boyfriend's eager eyes lock on Chrissy's perky breasts bouncing within fuchsia padding. Chrissy whimpers, fingers tightening against your waist and around Eddie's cock as she whines, "Touch me." 

You realize quickly that she doesn't mean Steve— he's already touching her, fingers pressing into her thighs, holding on tight as he drives into her. She must mean Eddie; she must mean you. So you oblige her: you gently touch her trim waist, fingers dragging featherlight against smooth skin as you draw your hand toward her belly button, up to her ribs, tracing random patterns. She sighs and hums, filthy words of encouragement spilling from her lips, egging Steve on. 

You don't watch the path of your hand as you touch her; instead, your eyes are locked on Steve's face, on the pinch of his brow, the heat you can see swirling behind his hazel eyes as he voices his desire. So it takes you by surprise when you feel the brush of calloused fingers against yours— fingers too rough to be Chrissy's, too far away to be Steve's. Your hand pauses, eyes darting to see limber fingers beneath ruddy knuckles, ghosting softly over yours.

Your breath catches as the raspy touch tingles your skin, fluttering low in your belly as Eddie's hand touches yours while you both caress Chrissy like she'd asked. You lift your head slightly to peek at his face, and your heart thumps as you see him looking back— dark eyes like molten ink, thick and drippy with promise. 

Eddie's fingers leave yours after the briefest moment, continuing their journey across Chrissy's body, and you do the same, tracing a path low on her hips. But the contact has shifted something within you. Whereas before, you'd been torn watching Steve fuck Chrissy, emotions swirling into a cloud approaching unease, you're now more focused on the tease of Eddie's touch, the anticipation of what's soon to come. You let your hand wander back towards Chrissy's middle, exploring, testing, hoping to feel the rasp of Eddie's fingertips again. And as his hand mosies across her skin— cupping her breast briefly, dragging over her side, dipping to her hip and then back up— it happens again. His hand finds yours, warm and rough as he draws his fingers over your hand, and your heart thumps as you feel it, a new feeling emerging within the emotional swirl inside. You tease Chrissy's ribs, dragging the backs of your fingers up her side before curving over to meet Eddie's hand again. And this time, you're the one to touch him: you stroke across the back of his hand, thumb brushing ruddy knuckles as your eyes flit to meet his again, finding molten ink as if by instinct.

Chrissy tilts her head then, and Eddie's eyes break from yours as she nudges toward him. "Mmm, baby, you're so hard," she murmurs sensually. "Is it turning you on, watching him fuck me like this?" 

You watch Eddie's full pink lips quirk with a tiny smile, but he doesn't reply; he just kisses her. You blink, eyes darting away to watch the rhythm of Steve's hips instead. You curl a little closer to Chrissy's rocking body, head slipping lower as you gaze up at your boyfriend. It strikes you how handsome he is then— how strong he looks as his abdomen rolls, skin damp with sweat, hair tousled attractively over his brow and against his neck as he works Chrissy to their mutual pleasure.

You hear the soft smack of Chrissy's lips as she separates from Eddie to moan loudly, back arching again against the bed. "Yeah, yeah, Steve, fuck me," she whines, drawing out the words, and Steve's hands shift suddenly— your eyes widen as you're jostled when he lifts Chrissy's hips, planting one knee against the bed, strong and proud as he fucks her even harder. 

Chrissy's eyes brighten with delight, lips curving with an eager smile. "Ooh, Steve," she squeals, "That's it. Fuck my naughty cunt, stretch me open—"

Her airy feminine moans mix with the impact of Steve's hips and his groans, hoarse and deep. "Yeah, baby, oh, shit—" His even rhythm begins to falter in a tell-tale sign of his approaching orgasm, and Chrissy giggles, purring,

"Is my tight little pussy gonna make you cum, Steve?"

You can see the desperation in Steve's face as his lips fall open, moaning, panting, cheeks flushed as he groans, "Yeah, yeah, fuck—" 

And then he's pulling out, wrapping one arm under the small of Chrissy's back to support her as his other hand grips his length, tugging quickly. You watch his pink head disappear into his fist once, twice— and then he grunts, hips canting, groans stifled in his throat as his cum paints Chrissy's porcelain stomach. It spurts in lines as he strokes himself evenly before slowing, squeezing tight near his head, and you watch it drip from his slit into thick drops above Chrissy's fuchsia thong. 

And the sight of Steve's cum on Chrissy's abdomen makes your stomach flutter with excitement— because it's hot and erotic, but also because it means that it's your turn with Eddie next.

Chrissy's arm tightens around your back, hugging you closer as Steve lowers her back down. She tugs you and Eddie close as she says, sweet and bright, "Mmm, that was fun!" 

The delight in her soft voice, coupled with the flutters in your stomach, make you feel affectionate. You smile, nose nuzzling against her collarbone, arm wrapping just underneath her breasts to hug her back, careful to avoid the mess of Steve's spend on her skin. 

"I'll get you a towel," Eddie offers, and the sudden sound of his smoky voice has your heart thumping as you feel the mattress shift when he gets up. 

Another hand squeezes your arm, and you twist away from Chrissy to look into Steve's face, flushed and radiant as he beams at you. You smile automatically back as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pressing kisses to your cheek. Steve seems happy, making you happy as you draw away, smoothing back his bangs as the mattress dips again— likely from Eddie returning with a towel for Chrissy. You chuckle as Steve’s bangs flop back into the same position, nearly covering his eye.

Steve's smile softens as he gazes into your eyes before kissing you tenderly. "Did you like watching me?" he asks, a quiet murmur close to your lips.

"Yeah," you say softly, fond as his eyes brighten at your answer. "You looked hot," you add, and when he beams at you again, you press one last kiss to his cheek. And then, you feel a soft touch against your hip. 

You turn your head quickly but keep your arms around Steve's neck, heart leaping until you register the pink-painted nails and delicate fingers. Your eyes find Chrissy's baby blues, her bow lips flushed and pulled into an encouraging smile. "Your turn," she says, and you feel Steve kiss your temple as you realize that her abdomen is clean, she's shifting over on the bed, and Eddie's standing at the foot, watching you silently.

Ink on quartz, black on white.

Steve gently removes your arms from around his neck. "Lie down, baby," he says, one hand applying gentle pressure to your shoulder.

But when your eyes dart from black and white to the soft indent of the duvet in the center of the bed, you frown. That feeling of unnaturalness hits you again; the prescriptiveness of just laying flat, waiting with Steve and Chrissy by your side for Eddie to fuck you. 

You don't want this to feel like some transaction. You don't want to just lie down. 

"Wait," you say softly, pulling from Steve's light grip and shuffling over until you're kneeling in front of Eddie. He watches you as you approach, hands hanging by his sides. And his cock is sticking from that thatch of dark hair, but you don't reach out for that. Instead, you cup his neck, drawing closer until you feel the press of his hot head against your belly, the rasp of his hands on your hips as they settle there. Eddie's brown eyes are deep as you gaze into them for a moment before tipping your chin and pressing your lips to his.

You can feel his warm breath tickle against your upper lip as he sighs slowly, leaning into your kiss. Eddie's lips are plush and soft as you move your mouth against them, coaxing him until his hands shift, smoothing over your skin until they meet at the small of your back, holding you closer. You drag your fingers up as he deepens your kiss, burying both your hands in the curls at the nape of his neck, belly fluttering, pussy pulsing as you feel his length twitch where it's pressed between your stomachs.

"They shouldn't have all the fun," you hear Chrissy say behind you. And then she giggles, lips smacking as she kisses Steve. You press a little tighter to Eddie, relishing the feeling of his warm chest against yours, the rasp of his thumbs as he rubs them softly against your back, the heady, tantalizing scent of him in your nose— smoke, apples, and musk, that scent that's growing ever more familiar, ever more comforting every time you inhale it. It swirls down, filling you inside, transforming into plumes of rich, heady feeling as you open your mouth for him, leaning into the soft brush of his tongue against yours. 

And once this moment no longer feels unnatural or transactional, you pull back to gaze into warm brown eyes. Eddie smooths your hair back, and you sigh, leaning into his touch as he murmurs, "Are you ready?" 

Your answer is immediate. "Yes," you whisper, and Eddie smiles softly as he kisses you one last time— so light, so delicate that it nearly makes your eyes sting. 

And then you lay down.

Steve's arm is underneath your head, your hair fanned across his bicep as his other arm rests just beneath your breasts. Chrissy's head finds your shoulder opposite Steve, and your arm curves almost automatically around her as she lays out on her side, arm resting in the curve of her waist, hip cocked, limbs long and willowy against the duvet. "Put your legs up," Steve tells you, and you rest your calves against Eddie's shoulders as he shifts closer. 

You feel a little exposed like this; your brow creases, vulnerable eyes peering at your painted toes— white nails even paler against the backdrop of Eddie's dark curls, which tickle the bottoms of your feet as he cocks his head. 

"Your feet better not smell," Eddie says, and your eyes flit instantly to his face, to those warm eyes dancing with his tease.

Scoffing, you retort, "They don't!"

Eddie snatches your foot suddenly, pressing his nose to your toes. You tense and squeal as he snuffles against your skin, trying not to squirm and kick him— but almost instantly, he releases you, hand returning to its place on your thigh. "Nah, you're good," he says teasingly, and his playful smirk spreads when you giggle. 

Steve presses his naked body tighter against your side; Chrissy's waves brush your skin as she turns her head slightly, staring between your legs. And when you see the playful smirk slide from Eddie's face, as you feel him shift a little closer, your own mirth fades as your gaze darts to Eddie's cock— somewhat shorter than Steve's but thicker, head blushed dark pink, bobbing just above the red embroidery of your crotchless panties. 

Your heart begins to thump hard in anticipation, sparks smoldering low as you watch Eddie's hand wrap around the base of his cock, guiding it toward your heat. Your hips shift as you feel his tip brush lightly against your slick flesh; you bite your lip as you inhale slowly, a little shakily. And when Eddie pauses, you meet his dark eyes, and you nod, hair brushing Steve's arm underneath you.

Steve's hand suddenly is at your cheek, turning your head to capture your lips in a deep kiss. Your eyes slip closed as you feel Eddie nudge against your entrance, hot and silky and unyielding as he presses closer and closer and closer—

And then you whimper into Steve's mouth as Eddie's head pops inside you.

The first stretch is always the most delicious with Steve, and it is delicious with Eddie, too. But though you already know he's thicker than Steve, you hadn't realized just how much thicker until he's stretching you open, inner walls burning as he eases in. It's a tight fit, and you suck in a sharp breath as he presses forward evenly. Eddie's not moving particularly fast, but it's still a little too intense, a little painful, so you pull from Steve's lips, brow crinkled as you glance up at Eddie to ask waveringly, "C-Can you… go slower?"

Eddie stops moving immediately, fingers tightening on your thighs. "Of course," he says quickly. And you make a tiny sound in your throat as he soothes his hands up your legs, rough skin rasping up your soft shins and down again to your thighs. It gives you something to focus on as you adjust to him, and you sigh, eyes slipping closed as Steve presses kisses to your cheek. Steve's lips and Eddie's hands relax you, and before long, the burn fades to a pinch. And when the pinch fades, too, you open your eyes, shifting your hips to encourage Eddie to move. 

You watch him as he presses forward again, eyes dragging over his features in a soft caress— the wild tangle of his curls, the softness of his nose, his full pink lips, the strong column of his pale throat, the ink of his dark armor as it cascades over his shoulders and chest and down his arms. And as you swallow him up with your wet warmth— as Eddie pushes further and further into you until his hips are snug tight to your skin, and his dark hair is pressed to the red lace of your panties— you feel that flickering flame burn hotter until you finally ignite.

You moan quietly as Eddie pulls out and then again as he presses back in, setting a gentle pace. And the drag of his thick cock inside you makes your breath quicken, your desire licking up your belly as Eddie starts to fuck you slow and even. 

Steve's voice is right in your ear, but he isn't speaking to you. "Does her pussy feel good?" he rasps, and the puff of his warm breath against your skin, coupled with the feeling of Eddie's cock inside you, makes your hips squirm. 

Eddie's fingers tighten on your thighs as he feels you move. "Y-yeah," he replies, and your breath catches as you hear his voice— it's rough but higher than usual, a little shaky, and the idea that being inside you affects him like that makes your desire coil tighter in your belly. Steve hums, sounding pleased as his lips trail over your jaw, dragging down until he's sucking at your throat. His hand finds your breast, kneading it lightly; on your other side, you feel Chrissy shift as she lays on her back, twisting her hips attractively, lifting one hand to play with your hair as you sway slightly with Eddie's gentle thrusts.

Suddenly, you no longer need gentleness. 

You build your courage up until you can say softly, "You can go faster now. If you want," you add shyly. Instantly, Eddie speeds up, and you moan as each impact of his hips begins to jostle you in Steve's grip. It's exactly what you'd wanted— Eddie's pressing in deep now, the steady, quick drag of his cock stoking your fire, pale hips smacking against your thighs. 

It feels good. It feels really, really fucking good.

"Mmm, I love watching you," Chrissy purrs, voice a sultry hum, and you glance to see her staring intently up at Eddie. "You're so fucking hot, babe." 

Your eyes dart to Eddie, too, and you watch as he chuckles breathlessly, jaw tense, nostrils flaring as he glances at Chrissy. Steve pulls your face to him, tongue snaking between your lips, and though you kiss him back, your eyes dart to Eddie again. And when that inky stare flicks to you, seeing you watch him as you kiss your boyfriend, Eddie groans quietly, a low rumble in his throat. 

Your hips twitch at his sound, excitement increasing at his reaction; as you shift, Eddie jolts against a spot inside that sparks deep in your belly. The sensation makes you gasp— your lips open wide against Steve's mouth, muffled against his lips as you whimper. You hear Eddie grunt, throaty and deep, as his fingers tighten on your legs. Your desire twists hotter, tighter as you elicit his reaction, at the knowledge that your sounds, your gaze, and your body give Eddie pleasure. That knowledge sinks inside you, sticky and thick, moving syrupy through your veins until you're burning with satisfaction.

Your gaze returns to your boyfriend as Steve pulls his lips from you. He strokes back your hair, cups your cheek, pupils swallowing hazel as he rasps, "That's it, honey, make him feel so fucking good."

And it's exactly what you'd just been thinking. But to hear Steve voice it….

He kisses you deeply again, and you let him, but that swirl of emotion begins to cloud within you as you ponder his words. Steve hadn't asked, 'Does his cock feel good inside you?'. And he hadn't said, "I want him to make you feel so fucking good.' And even his fingers kneading your breast or the sensual warmth of his tongue as it brushes yours can't distract you from that sudden realization.

You pull your mouth from his, head tilting as you sigh, hoping the curve of your neck will invite Steve's lips. And it does— he seems not to notice, mouth dipping to suckle at your throat as your body rocks with Eddie's thrusts and Chrissy trails her fingers up your side. And it's so much sensation— so many bodies around you, so many hands on your skin that you can't focus on any one thing, pulled along by the current of lust and desire surrounding you.

But then Eddie's nose brushes softly against your ankle, and you meet his eyes again. He nuzzles there, and his lips are plush, nearly ticklish, as his mouth ghosts your skin. You can feel his breath as he asks you a quiet series of questions, voice stuttering slightly with the rhythm of his hips: "Is it good? You want it faster? Slower?"

Eddie is standing at the foot of the bed. He's towering over you as you lay spread out on the duvet below him, feet to either side of his head. Physically, he's about as far away as he could possibly be while having sex with you.

And yet he's never felt closer.

That amorphous swirl of emotion transforms, blooming with heat and pleasure and flutters and more as you stare into Eddie's face. "No," you reply, "it's— it's good like this." Your voice is almost a whimper as you add, "I-It feels really good, Eddie—" 

You hear his breath catch sharply in his chest. And as you watch his face twitch, dark eyes wide as he stares down at you, you wonder at this reaction, at what may have elicited it. As Eddie fucks you a little harder, brow now contorting in pleasure, face beginning to flush, you realize: 

It's the first time you've said his name while you've been intimate. 

It may even be the first time you've said his name to him at all.

The knowledge that Eddie's name on your lips made him react— made him feel— ignites within you, and you're suddenly desperate for what you'd imagined that first time you’d been with him: how he'd sound and what he'd look like when he cums while you're having sex. And you've seen him cum before, but this… this is different. 

And you want it. You want it so bad that the burn in your belly turns to an ache that only increases as you moan, and Eddie moans, and your hips shift into him, and his fingers tighten on your thighs, holding you closer as he pounds you deeply. Steve is sucking on your neck, and Chrissy is humming eagerly as Eddie's rhythm starts to stutter, but they don't matter now. All that matters is the feeling of Eddie's length as it twitches inside you, the heat of his eyes as they bore into yours. His plush lips fall open, and that pink starts to spread on his black and white—

Clambering, shifting— the mattress dips, and suddenly the back of Chrissy's strawberry-blonde waves are all you see as she straddles your waist. She's sitting low on your stomach as Eddie thrusts into you, and the pressure sharply increases your pleasure. But you're bewildered, disoriented at the sudden change, eyes darting over her sharp shoulder blades as she asks, "Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, tight and high, and your breath catches as you feel him twitch inside you again. 

"Cum on me." Chrissy's sweet voice is whiny with need. "Please, Eddie, I want it."

"Okay, sweetheart," you hear Eddie say. And then that delicious stretch inside you is suddenly gone.

Abruptly, Eddie pulls out of you, and your hips jerk, pussy pulsing reflexively around nothing at the sudden absence of him. From behind, you can see Chrissy's arm moving as you stare at her back. Your brow crumples as you hear Eddie— that smoky voice moaning out his release as Chrissy hums with satisfaction. 

But you can't see him. You can't see anything but Chrissy.

In the aftermath of Eddie's release, everything calms, settling like a wave receding back into the ocean. The burn in your belly eases, the ache inside you fades, and the desperate want sinks into a quiet sense of emptiness as Chrissy kneels up, her weight no longer resting on you as she kisses her boyfriend. As Steve pets back your hair, you turn your face to him, looking into his hazel eyes— warm, comforting, familiar. He cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, relishing the softness of his hand against your skin as he kisses you tenderly. "That was so sexy, honey," he murmurs, sighing contentedly. "Fuck, I love you." 

You smile as his praise trickles into that small space inside, beginning to fill it. "Love you too," you reply, wrapping your arms around his torso. You ignore the soreness in your lower half as you shift your legs out from under Chrissy, draping one over Steve's hip in a full-bodied embrace. 

And as Steve envelops you with citrus and strength, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, hoping his scent will chase the lingering emptiness away.

-

Once everyone has cleaned up and returned to the bed to cuddle, you're wedged between Steve and Chrissy, warm and languid. Your body is soft with the afterglow of spent pleasure as Steve tucks his nose against the nape of your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind. You're warm and languid, but you aren't relaxed— you can't stop thinking about that tiny formerly-empty place inside, prodding at it with morbid fascination, trying to figure out the source of your unease.

Because it's filled now, but not with Steve's crisp scent, or his strong arms, or his praise, but with a vague sour tang that clings bitterly to your gums as you watch Chrissy lay half-across Eddie's chest, fingers playing in his dark hair. 

The feeling isn't overwhelming; it's small, barely there, really. You prod at it again, and it clings viscous and rancid to your fingertip. You know what it is because you've felt it before— typically when you happen upon pictures of gorgeous women with perky breasts and tight stomachs and trim thighs.

It's jealousy. You feel jealous.

You sigh slowly through your nose as your gaze runs over Chrissy's baby blue eyes, her pink bow lips, the softness of her strawberry-blonde hair as it cascades over Eddie's skin. Though you have felt insecure when comparing yourself to Chrissy, it's never been directed at her— just internally at yourself. She's never made you feel sour before. 

You decide it must be because your boyfriend has now had sex with her. You're resentful since she'd been able to talk dirty to him like he wants, since she can fulfill that desire for him when you clearly can't.

Yes, that must be it. 

You assess the weight of your feelings, measuring it against the memory of your girls' trip to the mall, your enjoyment of Chrissy’s company, and how her eager kindness and encouragement make you feel. And you consider the fun you've had with her— the fun you've had with Eddie and Steve, too. You'd grown to really appreciate the time you all spend together: singing karaoke, going on double dates, or even just hanging around your apartment. Steve seems happy with your arrangement, and so are you. You're enjoying yourself immensely, and if you're honest, you aren't ready to give that up just because you've gotten a little jealous.

I'm a big girl, you think. I can handle my feelings. It's not a big deal.

So you reach out, drawing your hand down the back of Chrissy's head, fingers stroking silky blonde waves as she glances at you. Eyes brighten; smiles are exchanged. And when she shifts toward you, thin arms wrapping around your neck as she tugs you closer and you giggle, the sour tang begins to fade. 

-

Late at night, once Steve's snores fill the dark quiet of the bedroom, you pull out your phone. The blue light illuminates your face as you swipe it open, navigating to the Spotify app. 

It's your turn to send a song this time.

You do this often. Every few days or so, your fingers will search blindly for your phone on your bedside table, bleary eyes peering at the screen once Steve's form is motionless beside you. And if there's a message on your lock screen, you'll carefully tug open your drawer, pull out your headphones, and listen to the song Eddie has shared. And if it's your turn to share, you'll pull up Spotify, searching for a track you're in the mood to share that night.

You know already which song you want to send Eddie tonight: Touch Tank by Quinnie. You discovered it about a week ago and have been listening to it often. It's sweet, floaty, and upbeat, and you like her voice because there's something soft and unpolished about it. You think she's an indie artist— it sounds like maybe she'd produced the sound herself. But the lyrics….

You'd smiled the first time you listened to them, perking as she sang, 'question your tattoos,' because you'd immediately thought of Eddie. But when you'd gotten to the chorus, you'd flushed and giggled, pressing cool palms to your heated cheeks, trying to ignore the curious glances from the other passengers on the subway. You couldn't help but think of Eddie again: his wild curls, bright brown eyes, and manic grin. That word had already floated up when you looked at him— pretty— so when Quinnie sang, 'He's so pretty when he goes down on me,' well… you couldn't help yourself.

You'd been debating whether to send it to Eddie, wondering whether he'd think the song was weird or awkward. But tonight, there's something different about you. Something new has emerged at the bottom of you, and though you don't consciously know it, it emboldens you. It guides your fingers to copy the link; it sprouts against the letters as you tap out your message. 'There's a line in this song that reminds me of you,' you write. And then, before those familiar nerves can freeze you, you send it.

You stare at the message, chewing on your thumbnail as you're struck suddenly with doubt. There are any number of lines Eddie could think you're talking about— the 'tattoo' line or the 'pretty' line, which you'd been intending. But what if he thinks I'd been thinking of the bridge? 'You took my breath away, so now I can't suck in my stomach around you anymore… Do you wanna wake up to me every morning…?'  

That's a little more… vulnerable than you'd been intending. And you hadn't even meant that part of the song. Why would you tell Eddie you want to wake up with him when you're waking up next to Steve? This was a mistake.  

Eddie hasn't seen it yet, so maybe you can—

Your chest pangs immediately with panic as the blue checkmark appears. You suppress a dismayed whimper. Why'd I waste so much time deliberating?!

You know there's no way you'll be able to go back to sleep now that you're waiting for Eddie to give his feedback on the song. When the bubble appears to show he's typing, your heart leaps into your throat. You scrunch your eyes closed, fingers nearly quivering around your phone as you wait. And then, when it buzzes once in your grip, you crack one eyelid, face contorted in a wince as you peek tentatively at the screen.

It's a short message; they typically are. But where Eddie normally would explain his score, tonight, there is no explanation. There is simply a row of six skulls out of five.

You blink, both eyes opening as you examine the screen. Six skulls out of five. That's… obviously good, right? You purse your lips, attempting to interpret why he'd chosen a skull emoji. 'I'm sorry,' you type, 'did I kill you with that one?'

There's the briefest pause after you send it, and his reply appears shortly afterward. You can almost hear Eddie's smoky voice murmuring in your ear as you read it: 'Nearly, sweet girl. A mortal wound. But, worry not: I will recover.'

'Good,' you reply, following it with two smiley faces. 

And the smile that grows on your own face is verdant. Your cheeks are supple and pink. Your skin glows.

You're just beginning to flourish.

[wintaswan]

ꔫ ❨ MCSM ❩ ﹒ ❝ music tastes ❞

ꔫ includes : jesse, lukas, petra, stella, olivia, axel, jack.

ꔫ summary : my opinion on what music mcsm characters would listen to!

ꔫ disclaimer : this is opinion and not fact. i also have a few doubts.. yall will prob disagree

ꔫ notes : ugh it was so hard for petra. if u want i can do another with romeo, xara, ivor, etc, more characters u guys want

ꔫ content : headcanons.

♡ ❨ jesse ❩

jesse would absoloutely LOVE the neighbourhood. all of their songs oh my goddd stop jesse would love their music. they r def one of the favs.

loves phoebe bridgers.

tyler the creator!!

olivia rodrigo!!! oh my god!!

mac demarco.

jesse heavy fw r&b. h.e.r especislly

childish gambino.

laufey.

frank ocean.

current joys.

suki waterhouse.

casual lana listener.

JESSE LIKES TORY LANEZ’ MUSIC!! and also kendrick lamar, bryson tiller, chris brown, bruno mars.

^ BRUNO MARS!!!

minimal tory lanez

ermmmm maybe chase atlantic

^ bit of fboy music lolol makes jesse feel sexy/badass

lady gagaaaa!

lukas got him/her into louis armstrong & is trying to get him/her to listen to more older jazz.

jesse is a big fan of ariana grande’s music!

salvia palth when feeling emo

michael jackson!!!!

radiohead!! eyedress!!

kinda fw raye

uhhhh this is awkward bc i usually like to think that fem jesse and masc jesse are exactly the same person minus gender (unpopular opinion alert) but i hate myself rn for thinking their music taste may have extremely slightly different vibes ummmm wtf

GODDDD JESSE WOULD BE ALLLL TFFF OVER KESHA. OH MY GODD jesse would love keshas music so much. one of their top artists!!! ESPECIALLY FEM JESSE

tv girl question mark?????

paramore.

steve lacy???

disclaimer i don’t like how i’m expressing my opinions cause i feel like this makes jesse look basic when i actually think jesses music taste is more cool than i’m able to write/portray it

♡ ❨ lukas ❩

i want to say that lukas listens to the same kind of music + artists + genres, however.. i can see him listening to a LOT. god he would love music.

old music is 100% one of his top genres. jazz, classical, etc. billie holiday, louis armstrong, mozart, nina simone, frank sinatra, al bowlly, ella fitzgerald.. i’m trying to get into both genres so i don’t know many but, hed def be super educated on old musicians like them, and know a LOT of them. he’d be so into them. i can’t sweat it enough how much he’d love these kinds of songs/music.

he would also be a listener of clairo, laufey, mac demarco, ethel cain, steve lacy, mitski, men i trust, her’s, strawberry guy, phoebe bridgers, alex g, suki waterhouse, etc.

ALSO HE LISTENS TO LANA!!

HE LOOOOVES CIGS AFTER SEX!!! LOVES!!!!

gave fboy music a try once and fell down a rabbit hole. he’s a little embarrassed of this so he doesn’t really share that he likes this kind of music ndbshudjfn.. he doesn’t want people to view him differently if he reveals he reveals he listens to that music. he knows they probably won’t but he still doesn’t want people to know 😭

a side of him also likes rap like tyler the creator, uzi, carti, travis scott n allat. not one of his top genres but he does really enjoy this music

along with his older music, he also listens to music like elvis presley when he’s feeling a little funky. or just music from the 70’s/80’s/90’s. nirvana, queen, michael jackson, jeff buckley, the beatles, bon jovi, tears for fears, abba, etc etc

he vibes w a few pierce the veil songs. #emo

had a cavetown phase

occasionally listens to radiohead

often listens to kendrick lamar, frank ocean, childish gambino, etc etc. loves that type of music.

^^^ ugh he’d love kendrick

he listens to the neighbourhood a lot alsooo and he enjoys their music

little bit of arctic monkeys but not too interested tbh

bye he’d love mazzy star oh my god don’t talk to me

tv girl(?)

eyedress

salvia palth when he’s feeling extra depressed for whatever reason

deftones(????) big question mark

SO YEAH. but he usually just tells people he likes jazz, classical, indie and 80’s. his music taste is very very diverse and he‘s vv satisfied w it.

he has favs overall tho.

♡ ❨ petra ❩

erm shes my fav so why do i have no idea #kms #awks

WAIT AVRIL LAVIGNE AVRIL LAVIGNE!!!! holy shit

PARAMORE OH MY GODDD

nirvana!!!

FUCKING EVENESCENCE. EVENESCENE. GUYS.

flyleaf!!!!

deftones uhh question mark

billie eilish!!!!

girl in red. GIRL IN RED.

rihanna??

maybe mitski. heavy maybe. if yes then only when she’s feeling sad

lil peep?

the runaways. she’s so cherry bomb coded

the cranberries?

phoebe bridgers?

sir chloe fucking ENORMOUS question mark

kesha???…????

ethel cain???

MAYBE hole.

CAN U TELL IM NOT SURE

i want to say she’d listen to lana but i don’t think she would too often…</3. only occasionally when she’s feeling a little coquette 🎀

axel lightly introduces her to his music taste and she likes some of it like flyleaf & deftones n stuff but she doesn’t fw the rlly loud songs too much at all. she doesn’t like when it’s too loud/overwhelming

okay so besides that she also listens to this genre of female singers that is like loud grungy gut wrenchingly depressing music yk???? GUYS I CANT NAME ANYONE AND ITS AN ODDLY NICHE SPECIFIC GENRE OH MY GODD THIS IS SUCH A CURSE BECAUSE ITS LITERALLY HER VIBE AND SHE WOULD LOVE THIS MUSIC BUT I CANT NAME IT OTHER THAN DESCRIBING IT AS GUT WRENCHING GRUNGY FEMALE SINGERS

SHE LIKES VIOLENT VIRA..?? RIGHt???

listen to strangers by ethel cain. “am i making you feel siiickk” THAT PART IS SO PETRA.

okay but when she’s feeling a bit emotional or a bit cute she might listen to a bit of mazzy star. but she’d never tell anyone

tv girl…? idk maybe not but maybe IDK

okay to sum it up i think her main artists would be paramore, evanescence, avril lavigne, nirvana, the runaways, lil peep, flyleaf, billie eilish, ethel cain, kesha, phoebe bridgers, the cranberries okayyy this is awkward i just named everyone i listed above this isn’t a summary i’m so embarrassing

♡ ❨ stella ❩

girl boss music af

azealia banks like okay!!! omg

AYESHA EROTICA. BC STELLA KNOWS WHERE ITS AT. FUCKING ICON

FUCK SHE WOULD LOVE LADY GAGA OH MY GODDD

KESHA. SHE WOULD LISTEN TO KESHA

marina??? question mark

christina aguilera!!

charli xcx

REAL CUNTY music, like genuinely anything that is typically sung by a woman that makes her feel like a girlboss

enjoys 2000’s girlboss songs and general girlboss songs

destiny’s child?

doja cat????????

rihanna

nicki minaj

britney spears

megan thee stallion

occasionally listens to ariana grande

FLO MILLIII

lana when she’s in her feels

stella knows where it’s at 💋

♡ ❨ olivia ❩

olivia would love beabadoobee.

GIRL IN RED. GIRL. IN. RED.

god the way she would love MARINA. she’d INHALE her music.

OLIVIA RODRIGO. omg

she would love tv girl

i can absoloutely see her listening to amy winehouse as well do u guys get it. she’d love amy.

^^ HEAVY SHE WLD LOOOOVE AMY WINEHOUSE GUYS PLZZZ

taylor swift….but hates her poppy songs

laufey

alex g??

billie eilish listener!! knows all of her songs. her fav album is prob dont smile at me. or when we all fall asleep where do we go but idk IDK IDK!!

casual lana listener and her fav album is lust for life or blue banisters. or norman fucking rockwell. or honeymoon.

jeff buckley?? the smiths??

fiona apple

she would lose her mind listening to childish gambino

hozier?

the cardigans

abba

melanie martinez..?

fleetwood mac

paramore

clairo!

the more unpopular ariana grande songs

OCCASIONAL classical music but just the stuff she knows and is familiar with like the basic beethoven and mozart n stuff

radiohead.

raye?

MAC DEMARCO MAC DEMARCO

bon jovi

ethel cain listener.

michael jackson.

would she listen to lorde or am i tweaking

harry styles…??? big question mark

URGHHH SHE WOULD LOVE MAZZY STAR OH MY GOD STOP

she would like conan gray!!

her main fav artists wld be billie eilish, amy winehouse, marina, clairo, olivia rodrigo, mazzy star, girl in red, mac demarco, bruno mars, radiohead, beabadoobee:3

♡ ❨ axel ❩

FUCKING LOOOOOVES GREEN DAY BROOO HOLY SHIT

TYLER THE CREATORS BIGGEST FAN

listens to drake. i wanna say unexpectedly but i don’t know how u guys perceive it.

WOULD LOOOVE INSANE CLOWN POSSE

the beatles!!!

a very mild little bit of the weeknd. listens to the more popular songs but knows a few less known ones and likes them but he’s not too interested in his music so he doesn’t explore much.

axel would love kanye west

deftones

elton john

dominic fike?

pierce the veil question mark

paramore

tory lanez but i might b tweaking on this one

idk whether this is rock or punk or metal girl idk i’m not a musical genius at telling these genres apart but he’d listen to likeee korn, metallica, slipknot, green day, ac/dc, nine inch nails, rammstein, flyleaf, soundgarden, deftones, pantera, ETC ETC ETC. his fav kind of music. guys i know i prob named basic shit but trust me when i say he knows the GOOOOOOD metal/punk/rock/grunge shit. he knows the REAL shit. he’s super into it and i can see him listening to this sort of music a LOT and he knows a lot about his fav artists as well

EXTREMELY privately fw justin bieber. god he’d hardcore bully lukas for it but behind close doors… he’s such a sucker for jb

classic rap like yeat, a$ap, 50 cent, tupac, carti, uzi, eminem, kanye, etc. he listens to them often but prefers louder songs with heavy instruments. he prefers older rap like 90’s-2000’s vibe rap, he doesn’t fw 2020’s rap too much but he’d still listen to it quite a bit.

childish gambino

can’t name any specific artists but would rly fw classic hip hop

bryson tiller??????..??????

queen

avril lavigne

elvis presley

MADONNA HAHA UNEXPECTEDLY

STEVIE NICKS TOOO

^ listens to upbeat fun 80’s songs too

basically rock, punk, metal, a bit of upbeat 80’s, and rap

♡ ❨ jack ❩

oh my GOD he would be ICP (insane clown posse)’s BIGGEST fan. HE WOULD LOVE THEIR MUSIC AHHHH

absoloutely a big lover of green day’s music!!

STOP RN HE WOULD LOVE QUEEN

the cure

the clash

the beatles??????

metallica

nine inch nails

never catch him listening to ayesha erotica or u won’t leave well enough to remember LMAOOO he enjoys a bit of a bimbo anthem every now and then but if anyone ever found out i think he’d go into cardiac arrest

is more into 80’s music than axel but in a different way, he likes the less upbeat happy songs and more grungey shit

DEFTONESSS

ac/dc

david bowie

mac demarco???

LIL PEEP LIL PEEP

lana del rey. he’s a little proud of it even tho her music is drastically different (eh) from his normal music taste

uzi

nirvana

slipknot, nirvana, ac/dc, nine inch nails, pierce the veil, deftones, metallica, green day and every rock artist axel listens to oh my goddd they’d bond over music so much guys

when he’s feeling fond or loving or any tender of vulnerable emotion he leans towards older jazz as well but it is not often at all. on OCCASION. heavy on not often. that’s his softer side. and when he does listen, it’s always a quieter song focused on the vocals

(shhh he will never admit his random soft spot for clairo!!!)

੭ guys plz send me requests on things to post for mcsm!! this post is such a mess. ew.

[corviisquire]

Creatures have colors!!

Left to Right: @moonchild-in-blue @leonsleftbicep @ghxstly-death

@pear-island

Left to Right: @a-s-levynn @foundationsofdecay @polteergeistt

They have been colored along with making some minor adjustments. If anyone wants anything changed please let me know! These creatures are yours so name them whatever you want, develop lore if ya want, and do whatever you want with them. Possible next batch will probably be made later next week.

Art notes under cut :D

I put some music drops because music inspires me too much.

Moonchild-in-blue: The blues and purples!! Opals and the insides of muscle shells inspired me a lot with the coloring (particularly the stars and moon). There’s another shell that has that shiny blue and green lining on the inside but I can’t remember the name of it. It was a full moon last night but I forgot to take a picture! Thought of you but anyways I loved coloring the lady. It was fun but I first I struggled on deciding if I wanted more blue or purple.

Some songs I listened to a lot while coloring this:

Sweet Disposition - Temper Trap

Moon Child - F16s

The Night Does Not Belong to God - you know who

Leonsleftbicep: Colors go crazy! Idk what your favorite colors are but I chose The Blue. I also incorporated some red (for yummy contrast and complementary colors). I realized this looked very vampire media core. EyAH enjoy the critter!

Some songs I listened to while coloring this:

Blue Monday - Orgy

Military Fashion Show - And One

The Apparition - do I really need to say who?

Ghxstly-death: Per your request, red and black was incorporated! Was inspired by Mohg, Lord of Blood, from Elden ring cause he has cool robes and a trident thingy. I really like how it turned out. Like I’ve been doing with every design is adding the bling and I felt gold would work well.

Was resisting the urge to put the entire One EP right here:

Get The Balance Right! - Depeche Mode

Mascara - Deftones

Jaws - Slep tonka

SEVEN HOUR SHITTER (pearisland/perryisle): You use bright colors in your art all the time so we got the colors goingggg. Little guy reminds me of Pumpkin Patch protagonist or Hollow Knight. Idk. Not much to say except TRIPLE DEATH SLIME BARRAGE!!!

No normal music for you. only Kevin Macleod and Pizza Tower ST.

A-s-levynn: More Dark Sun Gwyndolin inspiration… (you can tell I have my dark souls art books open next to me right now). As requested, tendrils/tentacles were added! I think it improved the design a whole lot because it was originally very symmetrical and the tentacles added just the right amount of asymmetry to balance out the overall look. I’m a huge fromsoft fan (playing Elden Ring, waiting for new DLC, have dark souls 1 remastered but haven’t started it yet, have bloodborne Elden ring and DS1/3 art books) so lots of my art has elements from Fromsoft games (neutron activation).

And just like everyone else, some music for the soul:

Too Late - 311

Scared Together - Silversun Pickups

Dark Signs - eepy coin

Foundationsofdecay: Again, taking more inspiration from your blog, colors and stuff. The design had subconscious influence from the game sky: children of the light. Had lotsa fun coloring it. I don’t know much about you like favorite colors or flowers but I tried my best!

Songs that inspired me:

Let It Happen - Tame Impala

Flux - Bloc Party

Rain - tired currency

Polteergeistt: The oarfish colors… A lot Of these characters have cool blues so I tried to use some teal blues to contrast the red/pink(?). “Nintendo switch core” I’m sobbing. I fixed the feet. Now my Pinterest is filled to the brim with fish images (specifically oarfish, sea jellies, and blue lobsters).

The music!!!!!:

UNDERWATER BOI - Turnstile

The Illness (Teenagers Remix) - GoodBooks

Descending - exhausted dollar

Thank you so much. All of you are such lovely people. 🫂💕🫶

[moonlightteaxoxo]

A Friendly competition 🦇

𝓛𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓥𝓪𝓷𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓮 𝔁 𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

PLOT: Between a battle of bands a certain fae had his eye on you.

Content: romance,band battles,mentions of magic usage(teleportation),friends to lovers trope,kissing

Currently playing: Entombed -Deftones

Note: im open to taking requests 💕

Really this should have been easy for you. After all you had done this many times before and you knew you were good at it.. But so you thought before your classmate had appeared as your opponent.

You and Lilia were good friends but youd never told him you were in a band because you though it didn't matter. Well, it did and here you were just standing dumbfounded on the stage. In a few seconds you were gonna perform but this time it felt different and it made you sort of anxious..

You picked the strings and shredded in all the right ways while still adding your own touch of detail into it which didn't go unnoticed by the fae who was watching you. No one wouldve expected him to have a crush on you but here he was, probably making a fool of himself by staring at you. After both of the bands performances you went into the bar to take a break before the final results. You sat on a chair and ordered a diet coke just to satisfy your thirst for a little.

"You did pretty good out there. Whyd you never tell me you were in a band?" your friend asked while a smirk played on his lips.

"I didn't think i needed to." you replied right away recognising him just by his voice.

"Awww why wouldn't i wanna know? Do you want to seem all cool and mysterious?" he teased and sat next to you.

"Well maybe, you will never know" you chuckled and took a sip of your drink.

"Is that so?.. Well after the results are given and all can you meet me on the main street near the dormitories?"

"Sure thing. Why though?" you asked curiously

"Well i gotta tell you something important.. See ya there!" he winked and disappeared using teleportation.

...

You got there and were a bit confused but behind you the fae was already hanging upside down

"Boo."

You nearly shrieked and he chuckled at that

"Seems like i scared you hm?~"

"Just what did you call me here for?"

"Well...." he trailed off and got closer to your face

You tilted your head but nothing except a quick peck placed upon your lips.

"Also you lost at the battle. See ya around!"

And with that he disappeared, leaving you dumbfounded and a flustered mess

[sketchystrawberryy]

Hi guysss thought I’d make an intro post!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

My name is Kai and obviously I like south park and drawing… I probably will post/reblog other stuff I like on here but probably mostly south park!

Stuff I like:

-South Park (yes we know that already)

-Scott Pilgrim (i’ve been a fan for years and it’s super cool to see it getting popular again!!)

-Animal Crossing

-Saiki K.

-Bands: Radiohead, Carseat Headrest, Gorillaz, Blur, Weezer, Deftones, Panchiko, The Smashing Pumpkins… There’s more lol (yes I am aware of my music taste being cringe or whatever and it’s so funny to me)

-Cats (I have 2!)

-I’m a furry lmao (might post furry art?? we’ll see)

Other stuff:

-My fav ship is style :3 other ships I like are creek, kenrietta, kenman, gerandy (kinda as a joke kinda not…) uhh and any ship that has cute art pretty much lol

-I don’t really do dni because i don't think they work but i'll say obviously if you’re a bigot or proshipper go away. also if you draw/write/read/consume nsfw of south park kids please go away that’s gross (not post covid idc about that, but this includes all the “aged up” stuff)

-I try my best to avoid ship discourse but I do hate kyman lmao (I probably won’t follow people that post it a lot) I don't actually care that much unless it’s proship so don’t take anything “anti kyman” I might say too seriously please!! I used to get into ship discourse and realized it’s incredibly stupid lol

-I probably will shitpost a bit, so again don’t take everything I say too seriously lol

-I’m new to tumblr and don’t entirely know how it works…

-umm follow my instagram it’s sketchy.strawberry and I’m more active there!

-I’m one of the creators/artist for @southbark-au ! It’s not really actively updating though… sorry

-don't be shy to message me or send me asks! i wanna make new friends :)

[timeagainreviews]

The Twist of a Stiletto

Back in the ‘90s there was a very famous TV show. 120 Minutes, don’t act like you don’t know. But for those of you not in the know, “120 Minutes,” was a show on MTV hosted by Matt Pinfield. There were other hosts, but Matt was my guy. Being a showcase of music videos from artists MTV wouldn’t dare play during the day, it was relegated to a late Sunday evening timeslot. Growing up, I never really had a personal relationship with music. It was the stuff in the background of movies. My dad would play CDs of his faves. Kansas, Jethro Tull, Chicago, Led Zepplin, The Beatles. Music could be fun or cool, but I could take it or leave it. That is until April 14, 1996, when 120 Minutes aired Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls on Parade,” and my 12-year-old brain erupted. A fire was lit inside me that day and Zach de la Rocha was more than happy to pour gasoline on it. I was suddenly, without any kind of warning, in love with music.

The spontaneous combustion of music hits us all differently, but I’m sure my story made you remember yours. How could it not? Music is a part of our lives. We wrap our memories in song. As such, some songs become painful. We then lock those songs in our past where they can’t hurt us, but a passing car with its windows down can bring us back. Music is personal. “The Devil’s Chord,” is a story about our relationship with music. How we hold music inside and when we let it out. It is a celebration of song as well as a lament. While the episode often achieves harmony, it also falls a bit flat. Are you picking up on a theme? Is this striking a chord with you? Ok I’ll stop. Probably.

I’ll get the obvious out of the way first. “The Devil’s Chord,” is precariously close to “The Giggle,” plot-wise. The TARDIS lands. The Doctor finds the world behaving oddly. He discovers it’s all to do with a magical gay American who chews scenery for breakfast. The American sends the Doctor through a themed gauntlet of insanity. The Doctor banishes the American using their own tricks against them. The American disappears with a warning about the next guy. Bish bash bosh. I’m getting that all out of the way ahead of time, because that would be a really boring article to read. But I will say this- if this is the Pantheon’s only gambit, I’ll be disappointed.

Ruby’s explanation of how she discovered the Beatles through her mum’s girlfriend’s vinyl collection was charming and didn’t make me feel old at all. Not to be all “kids these days only care about Tik Tok and Roblox,” but I was fairly certain most young people hate the Beatles. That is, if my Facebook feed is anything to go by. It really shows you just how on the pulse Russell T Davies is these days. Hello fellow kids. Have some trans inclusion while I court problematic people on social media. Kids like Deftones, Russell. Do a Deftones episode. Have the Doctor fight robot pigs with Chico Moreno. (Man, nü metal is having a moment in this article.) My point being, it’s weird to choose The Beatles now.

I harp on a lot about how metatextual Doctor Who can be and how it’s the secret of its longevity. They need to replace their actor? Regeneration. They need to get the Doctor into a building? Psychic paper. But I think I’ve found the exception that proves the rule. Russell T Davies said in an interview “...The Beatles music is so expensive. Even on a Disney budget, we couldn’t afford that…And so I thought imagine you’re visiting The Beatles, and you couldn’t have The Beatles music. What would you do? And that’s the story. It kind of created itself”. In true Doctor Who fashion, Russell T Davies saw a limitation and folded it into the narrative. It’s a shame then, that it doesn’t work at all.

It started with their shots of Abbey Road and EMI Studios. The zebra crossing at Abbey Road isn’t that wide. I’ve been there. And since when did EMI Studios have a red brick entrance? Where are its classic Georgian-style box frame windows? It’s one of the most visited tourist spots in London, and you’re not going to actually go there? You can’t get the music. Ok. That’s sort of understandable. But they couldn’t film on location? What exactly is the Disney budget doing here? Remember when they flew the whole TARDIS crew to Utah? And then the next season to New York City? They managed to shoo tourists and locals away from Umpire Rock. You mean to tell me they couldn’t hold back traffic on Abbey Road for a few hours? Hell, just composite it. Shoot it on a soundstage. You don’t have to go “Angels Take Manhattan,” when you could go “Daleks Take Manhattan.”

This may seem like a weird gripe from a person who said it would be boring to complain about how two episodes are similar, but it is the crux of the matter. Why use The Beatles in an episode about The Beatles if you do nothing with them? Why highlight edifice in a story about being vulnerable? Yes, the episode is predicated on the very idea of not having the rights to The Beatles music catalog, but this also denies the audience a payoff. Let me explain. Ruby and the Doctor get dressed to the nines to go back to 1963 and watch the Beatles record their first album. Great so far. They have a cute little moment with the tea lady while they sneak into EMI studios. Still great. However, as they roll record for the Fab Four, it’s immediately apparent that something is very wrong. The Beatles' music sounds awful. Like how I imagine my friends on Facebook think they sound all the time. And still, things are going great. What this does, however, is set up expectations for the moment when The Beatles' music is finally back in its full glory. I’ve seen the shot from the trailer of Ncuti in the recording studio full of smiling perfects. It’s gonna be high energy. What a payoff. Right?

The Doctor and Ruby also pop in to listen to Cilla Black lay down a track. It’s the same crappy atonal music that only a trans woman with a collection of circuit-bent instruments could love. Something is amiss. The Doctor and Ruby do a bit of digging. It’s time to go talk to The Shitty Beatles. This time, it’s more than a clever name. With as much respect as I can muster, these have got to be some of the worst Beatle lookalikes I’ve ever seen. Except Paul who was spot on as the real Paul McCartney before he died and 1966 and was replaced with Faul. See my 9-11 Truther Anti-Vaxx Birds Aren’t Real grouphat for more information. The Doctor takes Paul and Ruby takes John. George and Ringo get zero lines, which tracks with history. They learn that both Paul and John don’t actually know why they play music. It feels silly, really. They should just pack it up. But something deep in them is still drawn to music, even if what comes out is a song about a dog that was only slightly better than “Rocky Raccoon.” But before they can slap them out of it like John with his first wife, they’re interrupted by visions of the Maestro.

Enter Jinkx Monsoon, who actually opens the episode but I’m using time travel to talk about things as they become relevant. Now, before they were cast in Doctor Who, I knew nothing about Jinkx Monsoon. I know she was on Drag Race, but I don’t watch that shit. No shade if you do. Ru Paul is totally not problematic and has never done anything weird. Everything I skimmed in Jinkx Monsoon’s Wikipedia page indicates they’re pretty cool. They relish in the role in a way that will make midwest dads shift in their chairs, and I’m here for it. They’ve got an oral fixation that’s impossible not to notice. When they eat the music from Timothy Drake’s soul, they let out a moan that sounds a lot like a climax, and not in the musical sense. Also, how sad is it for Tim Drake that he’ll never meet Batman? RIP Robin. 1925 was too early. Speaking of 1925, isn’t it interesting that the Maestro appears right around the same time as the Toymaker sold the Stooky Bill puppet to Charles Banerjee? Is there some significance with that year? Handily, no World Wars were happening at the time. The Scopes Monkey Trial occurred. Babe Ruth received surgery for an ulcer. They broke ground on defacing Mount Rushmore. But really, kind of tame considering the bookends of the era. The Lorcano treaty was doing a lot of the heavy lifting though.

The Maestro’s whole deal is a sort of crazed sense of ownership over music. To hear them describe it, music belongs to them. They are music. In this way, I was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t song and dance people to death. It’s nice to be surprised. I rather liked their motivation. Monsoon doesn’t need to do a whole lot of acting. It’s all very panto. Very drag. It’s the kind of performance you hope you get. I’m not saying it’s a bad performance, just an elevated one. Both Jinkx and Ncuti get a chance to overact a bit in this story. Once again, I don’t mean overact in a bad way. David Tennant is the biggest overactor in Doctor Who save for Soldeed in “The Horns of Nimon,” and he’s consistently voted favourite among Doctor Who fans. Add “tendency to overact,” to the pile of personality traits I’m beginning to love about the Fifteenth Doctor. I love it when the Doctor really sells the energy of a scene, even if it requires him to speak forlornly into the middle distance.

Attempting to get the world’s groove back, the Doctor has a piano hoisted to the roof of a building. This is, of course, a reference to The Beatles’ final public performance from the rooftop of Apple headquarters in Central London. Only instead of Billy Preston on the keys, it’s Ruby Sunday. As she plays a Ruby original, the inhabitants of neighbouring buildings begin to shake out of their fog as music descends on them like sunshine. It even inspires a granny played by Doctor Who legend Laura June Hudson to dust off her piano to play Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.” It’s a lovely moment which is about to get stomped on by the Maestro’s honking drag boots, but for a brief moment, music swells.

I was glad to see them taking time to slow things down a little in this episode. The Doctor even talks a bit about himself and Susan over on Totter’s Lane. Couple that with Carole Ann Ford’s presence at the Doctor Who premiere last year, and it feels like it might be more than a reference. I’ve seen Whovians of weak faith construe this to mean Susan is dead, but in my experience, when a writer says something isn’t, it is. That’s just my two cents. Who knows if any of it means anything. It could just be that it would be weird for the Doctor to visit London in 1963 and not mention him living there with his granddaughter. Or it could be that Doctor Who is finally getting a better Doctor/Susan reunion than “The FIve Doctors.” Who could forget the moment when they’re reunited? 

First Doctor: "Oh, er, this is Susan."

Fifth Doctor: "Yes I know."

How could you not get choked up? What a reunion. I can’t imagine why people would want something more. The Doctor told her all those years ago “Someday I’ll come back,” and he did. It was brief and without any of that pesky emotional connection we usually get from television.

Ruby pulls the classic “But the world didn’t end in 1963, I exist,” so the Doctor shows Ruby what the world would look like without music and it’s grim. It was nice of them to show us a bombed-out London as many of us are still feeling the sting from Fallout: London’s delayed release. Thanks, Doccy Who. But the two are not alone as they’re interrupted by the Maestro and their Looney Tunes brand of scary sexy. As with their first interaction, the Doctor runs. I love that aspect because it’s very Davies Doctor Who. The Doctor runs from the Time Vortex. The Doctor runs from Gallifrey. The Ninth Doctor refers to himself as cowardly, but what it really is is he hasn’t anything to prove. He’ll live today to fight again tomorrow, and yesterday. Timey wimey.

While the Maestro finds the Doctor both hot and timey wimey, they are still very much a threat to him and the Doctor knows this. You can’t fight the Pantheon. You have to abide by their rules. How do you fight someone who can control the TARDIS with music? The Doctor rips the TARDIS console a new one in order to flee back to 1963, where the world has yet to end. I found it cute the way he kisses the console to say sorry for the way he treated her. It not only suits the Doctor, but this Doctor with his brand of compassion. The TARDIS gets it, but you’ve gotta kiss a boo-boo or it won’t get better, everyone knows that.

The Doctor’s only plan with his limited resources is to somehow find the opposite of the Devil’s Chord, a sort of lost chord, if you will. Of course, this draws the Maestro to the Doctor like my cats to the sound of the tin opener. The Maestro captures Ruby, wrapping her up in sheet music. The Doctor stares down the Maestro as they allow him the opportunity to prove his musical genius. Can the Doctor find the lost chord? With each new note appearing above the piano, the Maestro writhes in twisted agony. But the Doctor hits a bum note and the Maestro is back on their feet ready to suffocate the Doctor in a drum and choke the life out of Ruby. But the song within Ruby’s soul from the Christmas Eve where she was left on that church stoop is stronger than anything the Maestro can muster. The Maestro may own music, but Ruby owns this song in that moment. Like before in “Space Babies,” the snow begins to fall indoors and the Maestro recoils in horror.

This gives the Beatles enough time to discover the piano and play that final note. Alone, they may not be geniuses, but the combination of McCartney and Lennon is enough to find the lost chord and banish the Maestro. They could have also achieved this with Harrison alone. He wrote “Here Comes the Sun,” after all. With the lost chord now found, the Maestro gets sucked off back where they came. Was the note they found the same one from the end of “Day in the Life?” RTD said they used a single Beatles chord. Was that it? I don’t know enough about music to answer that. After a quick re-listen, I'm going to say yes.

London is once again filled with music. Now, we’ll finally get the chance to see the Beatles play their actual music, right? They fixed music, right? God I wish. After cryptically looking into the camera and saying “There’s always a twist in the end,” the Doctor and Ruby are suddenly thrust into what I can only describe as the worst song possible. I’ve said in the past that I am not a huge fan of Murray Gold’s music. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just a bit safe for my tastes. But this song… I loathe it with every fibre of my being. It’s cloying, it’s corny, and it’s a repetitive ear worm you don’t want stuck in your head. I’ve said I was interested in Doctor Who doing a musical number, but this was god awful. I try to be as fair as possible when it comes to my reviews, so I think I’ve earned enough good faith to openly say this song is terrible. I would rather listen to the crappy dog song from earlier in the episode, and I don’t even own any circuit-bent instruments, and therein lies the problem.

How can you say the Doctor saved music when the way you present it is with a song that is simply not good? We need a good song in this moment, and that was not it. If ever there was a time to reach into the coffers and pay for a song, it was this. I mean, he said “There’s always a twist in the end,” and “Twist and Shout,” was right there. It wasn’t even written by the Beatles so it might have even been cheaper. They could even re-record it in the same Glee style in which they filmed the big song and dance routine. Hell, how expensive are Cilla Black songs? Do one of those. Instead, we get another fake Beatles song, in fake EMI studios, on fake Abbey Road to imply that we saved the future from a world of fake Beatles songs. By the time this insipid tune wears out its welcome, the Doctor and Ruby skip away across Abbey Road, lighting up the zebra crossing like piano keys. But instead of it being charming, it caused both my wife and I to say “Oh God, it’s still going.” 

After the episode, I did a little bit of reading. I figured the two people dancing with the Doctor and Ruby were guest stars as they singled them out over the other background dancers. Evidently, they’re judges or competitors on Strictly. I dunno, I don’t watch that shit. So I really have no idea if that song was written to be in the style of something you would see on Strictly. But what I do know, is that it was brave of Murray Gold to show his face during that exquisite train wreck. I guess this episode really did pull a “Daleks in Manhattan,” à la “My Angel Put the Devil In Me.” In that respect, you can add contemporary music to the list of things Doctor Who should do well, but can’t seem to get right. It’s in good company with pirates and westerns. “The Gunfighters,” even fails at two out of three. Impressive!

I do admire the hell out of RTD and company for throwing their whole ass into that ending. It takes real chutzpah to fail so spectacularly. And honestly, as harsh as I’ve been, I didn’t totally hate the scene. In some ways, it's a clever pastiche to '60s music. In that light, I could maybe come around to it, over time. They’re also trying new things. But I think we found the ceiling pretty fast. I can’t say I’d like to see that sort of thing a lot more in the future, but here and there? Sure. As it is, it feels unrestrained and masturbatory. And truthfully, I would have preferred an actual musical like Buffy’s “Once More, With Feeling,” or Star Trek: Strange New Worlds’ “Subspace Rhapsody.” They somehow gave me what I wanted while simultaneously failing to deliver.

Now of course, the real question is- what was the twist at the end? Was it the appearance of the Maestro’s “son,” Henry “Harbinger,” Arbinger?  Or maybe it was a meta-reference to actress Susan Twist, the woman who once again has shown up in the background. I find it even more interesting that in every episode where she’s appeared, they give her a line to read. Or maybe it’s a Susan twist, as in the Doctor’s granddaughter. They mention Susan in the same episode with an actress named Susan Twist where they sing about twists while doing the twist. It’s like “Who’s on second?” or “The Doctor’s daughter who plays the Doctor’s daughter in ‘The Doctor’s Daughter,’ marries the Doctor.” 

Despite the ending and the rehashed story, I rather liked this episode. Jinkx Monsoon and Ncuti Gatwa had great chemistry. The mysteries continue to unfold. Along with my hope for the Rani, I can now add hope for Susan into the mix, and as with the Rani, I won’t get my hopes up. In the same vein, I'm grateful that Maestro wasn't a code name for the Master. We've seen enough of him for a while, thanks. Ncuti and Millie continue to impress as the Doctor and Ruby. I also admired Ruby's restraint in not telling John Lennon to avoid chubby guys in glasses. I loved the Maestro and the fact that their laugh was vocal warm-up. So much fantastic attention to detail. But that ending is not my bag. It felt tacked on, poorly paced, and obnoxious. It reminded me of that line from Fight Club- “We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” Emphasis on the crap.

[daintylovers]

okok black cat bf mike and golden retriever gf reader very cute butttt what about the dynamic with a black cat gf !!! they're moody and intimidating together <3

i feel like i can do this one better because i am the black cat gf :)

- everyone understands how you two got together. like this is the match made in heaven type

- you both LOVE judging tf out of people, snickering to yourselves as you talk about people who are trying to make fun of you. it’s no secret that mike has his fair share of bullies, so you go out of your way to make those people feel like shit.

- i can see you getting along great with the hellfire club. eddie loves that you know how to put everyone in their place while also making them question their self-worth. and ofc dustin has known you for forever.

- black cat gf is giving me very much passive aggressive energy, like the type to just start making out with mike to piss off the people around. or flipping everyone off

- going on late night car rides while listening to moody music. modern!mike is playing tf out of deftones and nirvana. he thinks he’s so cool for that one.

- making out in the woods, feeling the harsh bark scratching at your back as mike and you fight for dominance over each other.

- still making fun of mike for playing dnd even though you still tag along to the meetings

- making fun of mike for everything really. the outfit he wore today, or the way he just said something

- he eats it up every time, just grateful that you still stick around him

- but don’t be fooled, just because he’s grateful doesn’t mean he isn’t a pain in the ass

- him making fun of your height (firm believer this mf is tall TALL)

- or making fun of your grades. he’s smart and we all know it, so i feel like he would walk around like he’s the shit because of it

- biting him while making out, not hard or anything but just enough to hear him whimper, so you can mock him later for it

- wearing rings that he’ll slide off your fingers to put onto his

- matching smudgy eyeliner and big black leather boots

- keeping a lot of plants around but never actually being able to keep any of them alive, so mike resorts to buying you fake plants. this way you can never be upset about another plant dying again

- overall he likes having someone like him around. someone to understand his sarcastic nature and play with it.

[ireneispunk]

eddie headcannons for living in present day

a few headcannons i thought of for being eddie's partner in the present day! these are my own thoughts, if you think of any others feel free to add them to the comments!

these are writted with eddie having a femme partner, but no pronouns are used so anyone can enjoy!

content warnings: lots of fluff, no smut, semi implied though(?), occasional use of y/n

would 100% play world of warcraft, complains about how expensive it is but still never lets his subscription run out every month 

would drag you into every warhammer store looking for figurines for d&d 

IS a reddit user but purely for d&d map inspiration and r/babygoats 

still has the exact same music taste and says “back in my day we listened to-"

also claims to hate nu metal but sneaks in an occasional deftones song

hairstyle would be really similar but probably more of a long wolf cut to modernise it

loves the cinema for new movies but pirates everything else 

corroded coffin is more successful than it was in the 80s, but they’re still not ‘famous’

makes youtube videos with tutorials on how to play songs on guitar and gets 10 views per video. he still enjoys it anyway 

still chooses to pick you wildflowers instead of grocery store ones because he thinks their more special (even if they’re from rich peoples lawns)

still deals but only to a select few and close friends 

goes to as many metal shows as he can; whether it’s for his favourite band or an up and comer he’s never heard of 

he has just 3 spotify playlists, 1 is metal and the other is more chilled out rock. the third is music he knows you likes that he’s sure to put on when you’re over (also curses out the spotify adverts but refuses to pay for it)

D&D is still one of his favourite hobbies of course. he grew up playing in the only D&D shop near hawkins called ‘the forge’ his charisma made him great friends amongst the other players there and soon enough after her had a few campaigns under his belt, it was his turn to DM 

is honestly a bit of a fussy eater, but anything you order or make that he hasn’t tried yet he always asks to try and realises he likes a lot more than he thought 

would have a lot more tattoos and would volunteer as a practice sheet for tattoo apprentice friends 

uses incense in his room, he says it’s to mask the weed smell but you’d noticed him deeply sniffing his favourite scents in the store

likes his cheap cologne, and loves it when he smells it on you the next morning 

facetiming you when he sees a cool rock/tree/dog/straycat/funny looking cloud, mainly to see your face scrunch up into a laugh at the ridiculous thing he’s called you for

uses the same password for everything 

has maybe 4 additional apps on his phone to the default ones. his favourite would be locket widget so you “have to see my face no matter where you look.”

does have social media but definitely posts annually and it’s either you, corroded coffin or some swanky new dice

only follows you and matthew mercer on social media too

likes natures documentaries and sniffles a lot when the buffalo gets eaten by lions, and when the lions DONT  get any buffalo to eat

loves getting you small inexpensive gifts, your favourite chocolate or drink, a little trinket for your bedside table, mostly cards with two animals in love on it 

laying inbetween his legs with your back against his chest as he teaches you how to roll his cigarettes, they were terrible of course but he loved watching your brows furrowed in concerntration smacking his hand away any time he tried to help

also! would use menthol filters for his cigarettes ever since you mentioned how much you love the minty tobacco taste left on his lips, “doubles up as a breath mint too!” eddie would wink at you. 

he wasn’t very good at cooking but he loved helping you and doesn’t want you to feel pressured to cook for him. takes any chance he can to make you food he knows how to make, usually toast and fruit juice in bed served with a kiss

LOVES makeup shopping with you, no matter your style of makeup alternative or not, he’s so intrigued about the different kinds and always wants to treat you. “$10 for a skinny crayon? that’s daylight robbery!”. he still begged you later that day to turn him into gene simmons 

still got weird stares out in public even in our time but he thrived whenever you visited bigger cities with more diversity

playing any kind of multiplayer game together. left 4 dead 2, borderlands, halo, divinity 2; eddie didn’t care what it was as long as he could spend the time with you (as long as you promised not to tell people he married harvey playing stardew valley)

also! screaming and swearing and crying of laughter playing overcooked, resulting in lots of playful fights and kisses 

watching the whole lord of the rings trilogy extended cut in one session, “ed’s it’s NINE hours, you said it was only 3 films!” you huffed looking at the box set his uncle had bought him years ago. “nine hours that will change the rest of your life y/n.” he smiled dramatically inserting the dvd. he was right of course 9 hours later there you were gripping eddies hand so hard as tears burned into the corners of your eyes. eddie spent the last 9 hours glancing between the action of the movie darting back to your face to enjoy your reaction, ‘my friends, you bow to no-one’ aaragon announced on the tv, you clenched your eyes shut as tears flooded down your cheeks and a quiet sob escaped your lips. eddie whipped his head to yours concern written all over his face, cupping your cheep with his large ringed hand. “everyone bowed for THEM, the HOBBITS eddie!” you choked as the soft violin music playinf already felt nostalgic. eddie pulled you close, nose bumping against yours and wipes away your tears with his thumb and pressing kisses to your reddened cheeks. “i told you doll, life changing” he sighed, knowing full well he could shed a tear at how involved with his favourite series you were. 

if you were ever doing anything stood up eddie would always come up behind you and snake his arms around your waist and give your butt a small squeeze with both of his hands, you’d squeak in surprise every time before leaning back into eddie as he held you. you walked out of yours and eddies room one morning to see him facing away from you at the kitchen counter wearing nothing butt black boxer shorts as he poured some juice. you sneaked as best you could on your creaky floorboards before reaching each hand out onto eddies butt and give it a big squeeze. he let out a high pitch ‘EEEHH’ as you did spilling some apple juice onto the counter before looking out you with a false scowl. “only i get to do that.” he huffed pretending he didn’t enjoy it whilst he pale cheeks simultaneously tinted a shade of pink. 

this! evolved into giving each other a light smack on the butt whenever you walked past each other, your hands lingered a little longer on him when he wore his jeans because wow, did he look good in them and vice versa when you wore… well pretty much anything -more often than not this leading to more heavy petting-

pda kinda guy, but more so handholding, having an arm over your shoulder, rubbing his hands up and down yours arms aimlessly, kissing you on the cheek and dramatically kissing your knuckles and bowing, making your cheeks flare up

eddie giving you driving lessons even though he’s not a great driver himself

if people don't hate this i might make a part 2 if i come up with more ideas + plus any that others suggest

♡ irene

[st4rb3rries]

STAN MARSH and KYLE BROFLOVSKI friendship hc's!! ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

pairings; stan and kyle x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; goofy friendship head cannons!!

warnings; cussing, underage drinking

a/n; my first time writing so lmk if theres any mistakes

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

you guys try to start a band. stan plays the electric guitar and you play the drums. but kyle.... oh sweet kyle. this orange head plays some type of classical instrument. my boy be playing the cello during a mcr (my chemical romance) song i swear😭😭.

stan: "dude c'mon this ain't the 1700's your piano doesn't belong here."

y/n: "yeah pack it up bethoven"

kyle: "DUDE IM SORWRY YK MY PARENTS MAQDE ME PLAY THIS GAY ASS INSTRUMENT!!!"

you and stan just giggle

there's always sleepovers at your house 24/7. your house is a safe spot for them. like y'all always snuggle and cuddle together in your bed. its so comfy too because you have so many plushies. you guys always watch movies and take naps after for sureee.<33

baking bro. kyle is the best baker out of y'all. one time stan and you tried to bake premade cookies. hell nah the fire department came. kyle was so mad that day becuase it was his oven and his parents were out of town... you and stan had to get summer jobs to pay off his oven. you guys still owe money whoops. you guys really hope kyle forgot about this accident. (he didn't.)

you guys go stargazing!! and it's the best thing to do too. kyle would bring his telescope and. you and stan would bring the snacks, flashlights, and blankets. one time you guys went and there was a mediator shower. all of you guys were in awe as you saw the mediators flash by. lowkey wanna of the best and rememberable moment you guys all have together.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH STAN

sometimes when stan is having a bad day with his parents he sneaks into your room and brings some beer to drink with you. kyle doesn't know you guys do this at all. but you guys drink A LOT whenever he comes over. it's literally a problem but #yolo😜. the conversations are worth it though. you guys talk about the meaning of life and. say some random ass shit. for example you both confessed that you had a crush on each other at some point in your guys life. nothing but laughter after that.

one time stan decided he wanted you to bleach his hair. he only wanted to dye it cause he didn't wanna look like his dad. he was having a mental breakdown about it. he never really shows this side to anyone but you, his bestie. he cries into your chest for a long time after venting. once he looks at your shirt (filled with snot and tears) he says "sorry" so much it's literally so cute. once you were done comforting him it was time to bleach his hair:D. (Y'ALL WERE STILL DRUNK) after bleaching his hair it looked good to y'all at that time... when he got sober he literally said, "y/n what the fuck happened to my hair." clearly you remembered what led to his bleached hair but he didn't. stan dyed it back to black himself ha.

he always plays his guitar to you. if he had a crush on you he'd definitely write a love song for you to listen to. definitely hasn't wrote one before. he play's all these catchy riffs for you and loves to see your face in awe. always tries to teach you to play but you get distracted cause he's so close to you😏. you listen to music with him 24/7 and share headphones!! radiohead, deftones, mcr, my bloody valentine are y'alls go to music artists. music is therapy for y'all.

THIRFTING!!! y'all go thrifting everyday bro i swear. he always finds the best stuff too. he finds all the embroidered jeans, vintage tees, and hella cool jewelry. LIKE HELLOO SHARING IS CARINGG!!! nah but you guys do be sharing clothes and accessories. since you guys have the same style. you guys also be pulling up to them yard sales. that's when your luck happens and. that's when stan gets jealous. you guys are depressed but well dressed.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH KYLE

you always play with his hair. since its so cute and fluffy. he often gets insecure cause of cartman. but it comforts him when you play and style his hair. when you style his hair i'm talking about pigtails, braids, space buns all that cute stuff. to go with that you add clips, headbands and bows. he looks goofy as hell but anything for his best friend. sometimes when he's so stressed he asks if he can come over to your house. you say yes ofc. he only comes just so he can get his hair played by you. once you guys start chatting away and his hair is getting played with he get's so relaxed. this is what heaven feels like to him!!

starbies and studying at the library. ok out of the 3 of y'all you and kyle are the smartest. when you go to the library you guys always go to your go to spot every time. if someone is setting there. kyle asks them to politely leave. if not his short temper comes out. once the person finally leaves you guys set up everything organized. you guys borrow fancy highlighters for notes and. big wordy text books to read to each other. you guys always go over the answers if you have tests at school. kyle usually is the first to one to passout. so you have to carry him out of the library sometimes. he looks so peaceful why would you wanna wake him up😭. stan secretly gets jealous that you guys study at the library without him. like come on guys he's smart too.

PLAYING DREIDEL WITH HIM!!! he adores when you play dreidel with him! you always loose though🙄. no one can out beat him. when he first asked you to play with him and. you asked him what it was. he was so excited to tell you. you fell asleep because he told you the whole ass history of the dreidel. like you just wanted to learn how to play😭. whenever it's getting close to hannukah you make dreidels out of clay for everyone. you decorate them and stuff. sheila is tearing up cause y'all so cute together making dreidel's. she defenitly takes a photo of you two. after you gave everyone their dreidel. the last person to receive one was cartman.... it didn't go so well.

since you guys are nerds. you guys definitely write emo poems and. it always be late at night too. this is when y'all become so sensitive and emotional. trauma, bullying, blood, sweat, and tears. go into these poems omfg. you guys also write books for ike!! he loves them!! especially the ones from you. you and kyle also write dumb ass books for each other too. they even have lil crayon drawings lmaoo. for example: kyle wrote on called, "jew on the boat". it was one page that said, "jew on the boat". with a silly drawing. HELPPP YOU GUYS LAUGHED AT THIS FOR HOURS AND. IT WASN'T EVEN THAT FUNNY.

[stxr-bxy]

alternative marauders headcanons

james

somewhat alt, more of a rock person but definitely appreciates alt culture. favorite artists are fleetwood mac, melanie safka, jaco pastorious, the smashing pumpkins, and heart.

sirius

punk rock badass. his favorite bands are bad brains, death, black flag, bad religion, and sleater-kinney. he likes the sex pistols too. but has an appreciation for lots of music. he likes david bowie, sisters of mercy, and deftones.

remus

prefers rock but also enjoys punk. favorite artists are david bowie, the strokes, october country, pink floyd, and iggy pop. considers himself punk-ish because he listens to the music and agrees with the ideology. the proof that you don’t have to dress punk to be punk.

peter

grunge rock stan. favorite artists are nirvana, soundgarden, mudhoney, red hot chili peppers, and stone temple pilots. dresses like he’s homeless (which is basically how i dress) but makes it look cool with diy and studs and spikes.

lily

loves almost all music. favorite artists are radiohead, evanescence (idk why i just think she’d like them), bratmobile, pixies, and x ray spex. she dresses kinderwhore-ish grunge and loves dressing feminine and distressed (idk how to describe it). adores the punk subculture and loves when baby punks come to her shows.

marlene

the ultimate riot grrrl. dislikes the movement from the 90s bc it wasn’t super intersectional and excluded queer/trans women and poc but recognizes that it did help some women and should come back with some improvements. favorite artists are bikini kill, hole (but doesn’t support courtney love), bratmobile, emily’s sassy lime, and L7

mary

somewhat alternative but definitely a badass. favorite artists are abba, fiona apple, björk, kate bush, the bangles, and blondie. she likes anything raw and emotional with meaningful lyrics. loves to analyze songs and find out the symbolisms behind them. in her opinion music doesn’t need to sound good to be good, she cares more about the meaning.

emmeline

loves female artists and queer punk. favorite artists are mommy long legs, kittie, pinkshift, cheap perfume, and baby guts. loves subversing gender roles in music and fashion so she sometimes dresses masc and incorporates those themes in her music. proof that someone can be both a sweetheart and a total badass at the same time.

emma

loves all music. literally everything. favorite artists are coven, the slits, mitski, garbage, and limp bizkit. her style changes all the time but she loves hippie and indie styles. her favorite song is california dreaming by the mamas and the papas. loves lighting incense and going for walks. somewhat alt but more of a mellow subversive alt instead of an in-your-face-let’s-tear-it-all-down angle.

regulus

goth and punk. favorite artists are joy division, alien sex fiend, the muslims, and the clash. doesn’t dress very punk but dresses in a more casual goth style. only goes all out for shows and concerts he goes to. most of his wardrobe is black so he can never find specific clothing items.

pandora

faerie goth and hippie-ish. loves ethereal wave and cold wave music but also likes other stuff. favorite artists are molchat doma, cocteau twins, nine inch nails, and siouxsie and the banshees. dresses in a hippie-ish fairycore style and never dresses casual unless she’s at home. definitely shaved or bleached her eyebrows at one point.

barty

punk punk punk punk. the punkiest mf you’ve ever seen in your life. he exclusively wears leather jackets and crust pants. favorite bands are dead kennedys, rage against the machine, pure hell, the runaways, and pansy division.

evan

barty’s badass boyfriend. listens to almost all music. his favorite artists are eminem, the neighborhood, kiss, and joan jett and the blackhearts. somewhat alt, fashion is whatever he can afford and thinks is cool. gets a new piercing or dyes his hair as a coping mechanism.

dorcas

punk rock princess. favorite bands are pure hell, gina young, vulpes, bad brains, and mannequin p*ssy. they love poly styrene (x ray spex) and really look up to her because she was a very influential black woman in punk music. always had headphones on and is blasting “germfree adolescents” at all times. also loves kat bjelland (babes in toyland) and ari up (the slits)