#Pick a texture dumbass

[antics-of-a-spiteful-stickbug]

When your hair is some kind of awkward middleground between straight and curly, not in the sense that it's wavy, but instead in the sense that it's straight until properly scrunched, in which case it looks like soggy ramen noodles <<<<

[leeluvsyoongi]

DIE 4 ME —  | Studyholic! Reader x Underground rapper! Yoongi | 

Synopsis: You’re invited to an underground party, and the invite is sent from an unknown number, you accept the invite, and spend the wildest night of your life with a notorious rapper who goes by the name of  Gloss.

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | author's note — It's been a minute babes!! I took a long ass hiatus, and now I'm chillin' after finals fucked the shit out of me. I hope ya'll are taking care of yourselves xx (this was kind of a last-minute thing so pls ignore the shitty writing)

⋆.˚ | Mentions of body portions (curvy fem! reader), this is for everyone, I ain mentioning no skin color, hair texture, and none of that “she blushed like a tomato” ahh shit. (I’m an actual whore for yoongi guys)

✧˖° Word count: 3.3k

| Warnings: (sixty-9ing, fingering, blowjob, marijuana, brief mentions of cocaine.)

It's filthy, it's descriptive. For entertainment purposes only.

𓂃⋆.˚

The week after finals often came with an akward rockiness. Getting back to the usual lazy beat of not being shit deep in PowerPoints, and notes, running on four to five hours a night. Nobody to blame but yourself of course; you decided to take six courses this semester, a dumbass move. Not that your studies affected other aspects of your life that much, you didn’t exactly party, and had a small circle of acquaintances, who much like yourself, prioritized their GPA over social life. It wasn’t how you envisioned your college life to be. You’d hoped to attend at least a few parties on occasion or go out drinking with friends. Shit went down, hopes got crushed, and stress piled up. 

You were one of the last people to leave the testing center, your legs hardly holding you up as you dragged yourself along the concrete. You mentally cussed out your decision, your head throbbing with the after-effects of the seventy-five questions. Fumbling for the keys to your apartment, you shove yourself through the door, kicking off your sneakers, and flopping over the couch. A low groan escapes your lips at the sweet relief that engulfs every inch of your body, nestling your face against the fabric pillows. “Fuck.” You palm at your left pocket, fishing out your phone, before scanning through your texts. Sitting up straighter, your brows furrow at the unknown number, your thumb glides over the texts. 

Crashout Party, 4567 Judas Ave.  Saturday, Dec 13th  11pm - 6am Code: 78V9ZX

“The fuck?” You mutter, glaring at the tacky black flyer, clearly rushed on Canva or something. The rational part of you takes it as a dumb joke. Why the fuck did they have a code?  You scoff at the thought of it being some cult shit. Some of you urge yourself to take a nap and recharge, then get up, get dressed, and have a little fun. You tried to shrug off the stupid idea,  maybe at least text one of your friends and see if they got the invite too. 

Jen, did you get this? Image sent Yeah, you goin’? Prolly, you? Yeah, idk tbh.  Alr, I’ll pick you up then. Alr.

“We goin' I guess.” You sigh, dragging your limbs off of the couch, and making your way to the restroom. A couple of hours later, you off of your ass again scrubbing your skin clean and washing the sleep off of your face. You pick and pluck at every bit of hair, making sure you’re all prepped up, just in case you decide to catch some proper dick. It’s funny honestly, the thought of you going out to get drunk, and party, considering you spent your evenings watching sad Thai BLs or munching on mozzarella sticks. The life of a borderline crippled introvert. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out there and have a blast, you did. You just weren’t sure if you were cut out for fun. Every inch of you was mundane, hell, you screamed plain. You weren’t built like Adriana Lima or Anok Yai. Sure, you had a small pooch you often poked at, chubby thighs, and a pretty nice ass. You didn’t hate your body.

Gazing at your reflection made you feel good about yourself, after a long time. Your eyebags concealed, your makeup and lashes on fleek. Your hair is styled so it enhances your features, decorating the strands with a lacey white bow. You tentatively ran your hands down your figure, admiring how the black satin dress hugged your curves in all the right places. Lacing up your boots, and grabbing your keys, you made your way out the door. 

“Damn, Okay cute,” Jen remarked, flipping her fingers airily as she gestured to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you spun. 

“Preesh.” You chuckled, admiring her black wife-beater, baggy jeans, and grey sweater hooked over her arm. Your eyes flickered down to her silver cross-chain and rings. 

“You bouta drown in pussy tonight huh?” You playfully tounged at your cheek, as she got into the passenger seat. 

“Damn, you make it sound like I have a social life?” She scoffed, clicking her seatbelt in, before running a hand through her cropped brown hair. “Homegirl plans on eating out her GPA, remember?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “But tonight, ion mind getting a little messy.” She lazily grinned, making a display of her blunt nails. “I locked in heavy for finals, between you and me, I deserve to drown in sweet cunt.” 

You raise a brow at her brazen remarks, before staring at the engine. “Whatever you say.” You hum, “Pop in the address for me.” You plop your phone onto her lap, steering onto the main street. Jen adjusts your phone in the cupholder before kicking her feet up the dashboard.

 “Any hookups for you?” She yawns, gazing out the window. “I don’t know, whatever happens, I guess.” You sigh, stopping at a red light. “I mean I shaved and shit, just in case,” You click your tongue, softly chuckling. “I just wanna feel good, you know?” You turn to face her, before bursting out in laughter at her expression. “Dude, what?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that, y���know?” Her fingers roll over a steel ring, “Like, yeah, I know we all don’t party much and shit, but damn, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a virgin.” She snorts, a grin tugging at her lips when you roll your eyes. “Okay, Jen. I’m not a virgin.” You scoff, pressing down on the gas before making a sharp turn and parking your car in a dark lot. 

“You got your gun on you?” Your eyes drift around the sketchy alleyway, eyeing the graffiti littered on every wall, and the flipped dumpsters. 

“If they fuck up my car, I swear to god-” You grumble, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you step out into the chill air. 

“Of course, I got my gun on me.” She mutters, shrugging on the grey sweater. “Do you not see this place? We’re prolly in the hood.” 

She grabs your hand, before catching a sign over a flight of stairs, leading down. “This is lowkey sketchy huh?” She chuckles, keeping her hand over the holster. “If we die, I pray I get some good dick up there.” You point to the sky, as she bursts out in laughter. “You’re fucking sick.”

“We've been known.” The two of you make your way down the stairs, before standing in front of a heavy door, loud music thrums through the barrier, making you expel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A slot opens up, revealing a pair of shades.

 “Code.” A gruff voice sounds, hardly audible through the thrashing boom of the speakers. Jen tugs out her phone from the back pocket. 

“78V9ZX.” She smirks, and the door glides open, revealing a tan-skinned bulky man, dressed in a thick black hoodie. 

“Get the fuck in.” He laughs, reaching out his hand to dap the two of you up. He leans in close before muttering, “

We got coke in the back, a line for 15.” 

Jen grins. “Damn, I see why this place is fucking underground, did everybody get invites?” “Just a few randoms.” He grumbles, before taking his stance at the door. 

Your eyes scan the dim setting, a myriad of blue and red dancing over sweat-slicked bodies. Drunken laughter sounds over the ear-bursting beats. You turn to Jen, but before you can open your mouth, she’s gone. Disappearing with a girl with bright green box braids into the crowd. “Damn, she’s fast.” You mutter, squeezing yourself through the throngs of people, nearly gagging at the sharp smell of whiskey and sweat, finally, you find an empty seat at a bar. The barista, a bubbly woman with the brightest blue eyes asks something you can only assume is what you’d like to drink. You blink, a little dazed. “Water’s fine, thank you.” You respond, with a nod before turning your head to the crowd who explodes with cheers. “FUCK YEAHHHHH AGUST D!!” Some dude roars, pumping his fist. You look confused turning your attention to the high DJ stand. On the screen is the most gorgeous fucking man you’ve ever seen in your life. You take a sip of water, watching a buzzed-blonde guy appear next to the hyped-up figure. 

“TONIGHT, WE GOT GLOSS FLYIN’ FROM SK TO NYC!!” The crowd tears in an ear-piercing surge. You could only assume he was some god figure in the whole underground ordeal. 

“Fucking hell.” You mutter. 

Gloss smirks, nodding modestly. “Ready?” He speaks into the microphone, Only resulting in more shrill cries. “You gotta be louder than that New York.” 

He chuckles, and Lord above does the sound hit you right between your legs. It’s insane how transfixed you are on him. From the way his wavey-ish charocol hair was parted right down the middle, to the heavy silver chains hanging off of his neck. To every fucking syllable that rolled off of his tongue, thick and rich. You swallowed a lump lodged in your throat. The blonde man from earlier took over Mixboard, and suddenly the fastest bars you’ve ever heard in your life sputter out of his lips. People were jumping up and down, vibing with a renewed fervor, and this Gloss motherfucker didn’t even stop for a single breath. His voice was deep and steady molding around words you were pretty damn sure weren’t English. 

The crowd burst into another tempest of cheers, you exhaled, loosening your grip on the glass that threatened to shatter. 

“Holy shit…” You whispered, watching as he made his way down the steps, only to be bombarded by people. He complied, taking a few selfies and sighing at some girl’s arm. You watched him make his way to the bar. Your head turned away as you grabbed your phone, opting to focus on anything else. 

Until he took the seat right next to you. 

You turned to nod at him, a small tight smile on your lips before you got back to scrolling through your apps. The barista smiled at him, before taking note of his order. Four shot glasses of Hennessey. You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you, so you finally decided to turn around and face him. “Sorry, just wondering why you’re scrolling back and forth through the apps.” He smiled, it was small, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What’re you lookin' at my phone for?” You had no idea where that response clawed out of, but goddamn you sounded like a serious asshole.

He softly chuckled and raised a brow before lifting his hands in defense. “Slow it down.” He thanked the barista, before downing a shot like it was straight water. “Just curious.” You set down your phone. “Just cuz.” You take a sip of your water. He noticed. “Don’t drink?” His eyes flickered back up to your own. You crossed your legs tighter. 

“Not when I’m driving.” You shook your head, setting down the empty glass of water. “Smart.” He muttered, looping his fingers into his pocket for a fat roll. “Mind if I smoke?” “Nah.” You shook your head and carefully slipped your fingers into his pocket for another. Who knew what possesed you, to act so boldly in all honesty? 

“Mind if I smoke?” You slowly pushed the stick past your lips. His eyes flickered down to the soft flesh before hooking his fingers under your chin.

 “Think we should smoke somewhere quiet huh?” A smile small crept along his features, and for the first time, you noticed he had a very cat-like nature about him. Your brows slightly quirked, as you held his gaze.

 “So is it Agust D, or Gloss?” You muttered, the blunt hanging loosely between your fingertips. 

“Gloss, Agust D, Suga, but for you…” He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Yoongi. Just Yoongi.”

 You released a shuddered breath, your fingers tightening on the cigarette like your goddamn lifeline. “[your name], and somewhere quiet, I’m down.” You nod, and you watch as he runs a hand through his hair, downing another glass, before stepping up and taking your hand. 

The two of you weave through the throngs of people before making your way up the steps of the DJ stance and behind a hidden door. The room was dimly lit, with a black leather couch, against the wall, with a coffee table centered in front of it. A large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a poor table to the right.  “Damn, who the hell invested in all that.” You mutter, looking around the small furnished space. “The Owner, of course.” Yoongi chuckles, plopping himself over the couch, before pulling over his lap. “This okay?” He glances up at you, his hands planted firmly on your hips. “Yeah.” You mutter, taking the space in. “I mean, it’s a fucking sketchy place, you get me?” You wave a hand at the entire setting. “I mean, it is underground.” He raises a brow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his hands running over the satin fabric of your dress. “No shit.” You grumble, eyeing him sternly. “I mean, I’m surprised the cops haven’t caught up, you get me?” “People don’t make a show of knowing, you get invited, and you keep your mouth shut.” He hums, a slender finger training down the column of your throat. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you get your brains blown off.” A heavy chill runs down your spine at the thought. “And how would they know?” You whisper, snatching the lighter out of his pocket. You spark a flame, inhaling deeply. “Eyes and ears everywhere, yeppuda.” Yoongi tosses his head back, exhaling thick plumes of smoke. “You’re not from here though.” You lean your body back against his chest, getting comfortable. “How the hell would you know?” A rough chuckle escapes deep from his chest. “Who said we don’t have shit like this in Korea?” His cold hand slowly creeps up the soft material, resting on your bare thigh. A chill rolls down your spine. “So you’re an outlaw huh?” You tease, slowly rotating your hips over his growing bulge. A satisfied smile tugging at your lips when a low moan vibrates against the back of your neck. “Underground rappers are outlaws.” His other hand tightens on your hip, rocking himself against the curve of your ass. “We just don’t get caught up in drifts.” You take another gulp of smoke before burning out the blunt. “And how would you feel if I told you I’m studying law?” You turned to face him, angling his jaw upwards. “I like a game of cat and mouse.” He mutters breathlessly, “But you wouldn’t open that pretty mouth, would you?” “Depends how wide.” You whisper, your other hand slowly trailing up his t-shirt, smoothing your palm over the firm lines and dips of his torso. “Show me.” He lazily smiles, running a thumb over your bottom lip. You slowly grin, before leaning into his ear. “How about we both show each other, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious about that tongue technology.” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, to kiss you. His lips molded firmly into your own, restless on the soft plush of your mouth, as his hands squeeze at your sides, before lading a sharp firm slap to your ass. Your gasp is silenced by the warm feeling of his tongue, running over your bottom lip before ravaging your mouth. Your eyes fall shut until he tears his mouth away, his dark eyes pinning you in place. 

“Take off your dress, and sit on my face, since you wanna see it so bad.” He instructs, watching you undress, down to your undergarments. He softly chuckles, before slipping off his jacket, followed by his baggy shirt, and everything under his thick black belt. Your eyes drink in every inch of him, from his sculpted upper body, to his toned stomach and legs. Your eyes flicker back to his own, and he’s taking in every inch of you. “Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers, getting comfortable on the couch before positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Fuck…” you whimper, feeling his thumbs slowly spread you apart. Your hand hangs over his length, before slowly wrapping your fingers around the warm flesh, carefully jerking him, grasping onto his thigh to still yourself. Breathy moans spill past your lips as your stomach quivers with every harsh suck against your puffy button. “Fuck, just like that.” He groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses before running his tongue along your slit. A sharp gasp claws past your throat, your voice muffled around his cock, as his hands slowly kneed at the doughy flesh of your ass, sucking obscenely at your cunt. “Yoongi…” You sigh, lowering your head and pressing reverent kisses over his leaking tip, sucking at the head. A deep groan buzzes against your clit, causing you to jerk forward, your legs trembling at the effect. Yoongi lowly chuckles, running his thumb over the tight ring ass, before prodding his tongue into your hole, curling the muscle to stretch you out further. 

You take him in deeper, your eyes stinging at the burn in your throat. He’s quick to add a finger, twisting the digit before fully pushing it through. You can hardly moan, your throat lodged up with his cock as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. “Taking it so good, pretty.” He mutters, slipping a second finger into your dripping cunt. “My fingers and cock. Were you made for me or what?” He nibbles lightly on your clit, as you double over his legs, gripping him fiercely, your stomach contracting at the sensation. Your head spins as you take him in deeper, gagging around him.

“Fuck…Fuck!” Yoongi groans, curling his fingers deeper, prodding until you spill over his mouth. You whine, feeling him twitch deep inside your throat as he falls apart. You pull away, swallowing thickly as you gasp for air. “Fuck…” You shudder, feeling his lips around your clit, his fingers slowly pumping, bringing you down from your high. The fog in your head slowly clears up, and you become aware of your surroundings. The thrashing music beats outside the walls, the heavy vibrations that fill the small space from the speakers. 

Yoongi groans, slowly sitting up and gathering you in his arms, before laying back down. Your eyes feel heavy and dry, the weed already settled in. 

“Need some water?” He murmurs against your hair, tracing soft lines over the smooth span of your back, before pressing a few brisk kisses to your mouth.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You whisper, your voice a little hoarse, resting your hair against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m flying back to Daegu tomorrow.” He says, brushing back a few strands of hair off of your face.  “You want a pre-flight fuck or something?” You mutter, smiling. You’re sated, basking in both your after-glow and high.

“As great as that sounds, I was wondering if you’re free. I leave at 8:30 pm, you could show me around, just chill, get to know each other.” He chuckles. You notice how red his eyes look, fuck he’s baked as hell.

“Sound like a plan Gloss.”

[usedtobecooler]

this must be the place

eddie munson x steve harrington x afab!reader | 8.6k words

summary: the summer of 1985 is only just beginning when a trip to scoops ahoy! unlocks some deeply hidden feelings you have swirling in your stomach for steve harrington. eddie munson won't let you live it down, and maybe that’s due to his own feelings too, but a chance encounter on a hot night at lovers lake sends you all down a rabbit hole you could never of prepared for.

content warnings: 18+ only minors dni, sexual content (threesome, piv sex, oral sex male receiving, dirty talk, van sex), porn with plot, eddie and reader are fwbs with feelings, gentle bullying and banter, eddie is canonically queer, mentions of past king!steve, brief homophobia mentions, a heartfelt conversation. feelings are felt on all three sides, if you don't like it look away <3 reader isn't explicitly described as alt/goth but it's implied.

Steve Harrington is staring at you. 

In his silly little sailor uniform, eyeing you up whilst you silently pick at your banana sundae. It’s strange, truly, because Steve Harrington was a certified ladykiller, and had been for as long as you’d known him. You’d seen him lay on the signature moves one too many times during previous encounters, always making the girls blush and ogle at him dreamily as he told them exactly what they wanted to hear. 

So, why was he looking at you like a classified moron? Like a little creep who had no idea how to interact with women?

He was unfairly attractive, even when he was watching you like a dumbass. Dark lashes fanning his cheeks when he blinked — freckled, tan skin and juicy, almost glossy looking lips. He was so pretty it was kind of hard to look at him. Nobody was immune to the Harrington charm, not even you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself he didn’t have an affect on you. 

You take longer than you care to admit to before you catch yourself staring back behind hooded lids, and Steve notices, gives you a small smile. You duck your head back down, a heat spreading over your cheeks – why were you acting like a schoolgirl?!

“Don’t turn around, but—“ you barely even get the sentence out before Eddie’s whipping his head around like an idiot, facing exactly where Steve is standing, the poor guy frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, a dark flush spreading on his shocked face before he’s turning away. He hastily retreats through the barn doors to the back room, and you’re almost positive you see a cartoonish puff of air that his disappearing act leaves in his wake. 

“What the hell was that, Munson? I fucking said not to turn around,” you hiss through gritted teeth, leaning forward to smack Eddie’s bare arm with your sundae spoon. Eddie feigns a little hurt noise in the back of his throat, rubbing at the red patch of skin where you’d spanked him with the silverware. 

“Hey! No hitting,” Eddie whines, leaning forward and stealing the glazed cherry from your sundae, popping it in his mouth with a delighted grin. You go to make a noise of protest, and he’s already butting in, “Nuh-uh, I think not, brat. That’s payment for the tyranny of abuse I have to deal with.” 

You roll your eyes, digging your spoon into the melting ice cream, grimacing — you never liked the texture of ice cream once it began to heat, “Stop being such a big crybaby,” it comes out as a grumble, no menace behind it, as you pay even more unneeded attention to the dripping cream that spills from the lip of the spoon, “I swear Steve was like… staring at me.” 

Eddie snorts, swiping the glass from your side of the table. You let him, too — you didn’t want it anymore, and Eddie was a creep who liked melted ice cream, especially when all the flavours swirled together and created an almost grey-like colour, “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’ve got a giant zit on your forehead — I’ve been staring, too.” 

“Oh, real cute, Eddie.” You roll your eyes, but your hand comes up to your face, fingertips gently running over your smooth skin to make sure there were in fact no pimples. Eddie chortles at that, too, knowing he’d got you concerned about the possibility of there being an actual zit that Steve Harrington was indeed staring at. The thought alone was mortifying.

You watch in disgusted wonderment as he tucks into the ice cream like a man starved. He always ate like he hadn’t had a meal in months, it bordered on gross. You grimace a little when ice cream dribbles out the corner of his mouth, though you catch yourself fighting not to lean over and swipe it away like the main character in a John Hughes movie. 

“Remind me again why I suck face with you for fun?” You ponder, mostly to yourself, but Eddie’s looking at you with his stupid, big doe eyes and this goofy grin on his face, so you don’t even need him to tell you the answer. 

You know why. 

“Saw Harrington checking you out today,” Eddie says, almost conversationally, and you scoff — you’re literally riding his dick, what sort of fucking thing to say during sex is that? 

“What?” You ask, bewilderment etched on your features as you stop your rhythm, planting your ass firmly on Eddie’s thighs and he groans, the tight heat of your pussy completely enveloping his length making him shudder. 

“Shit, why’d you stop?” He whines, head landing with a small thump against your soft pillows, his big brown orbs rolling into the back of his skull. He grips onto your hips tightly, rucking up into you for emphasis, and you gasp.

“Why are you thinking about Steve Harrington when your dick is in me?” You counter, rolling your hips until your clit catches on the thatch of dark hair nestled on Eddie’s pubic bone, a shudder vibrating through your whole body from the sensation. 

“I wasn’t,” Eddie argues, but it’s half-assed. He grows impatient quickly, slides an arm around your back and flips you over in one motion — it’s pretty smooth, especially for Eddie, who was mostly gangly and not in control of his own limbs at any given time. You keen into it, a shocked little moan escaping you when he bottoms out once more, ruddy head of his cock sliding against your front wall, “Jus’ think he wants to fuck you, is all.” 

You narrow your eyes, a smirk playing on the corners of your lips, “Why do you sound jealous?” You cackle, sighing softly when Eddie ruts into you deeper, staking his claim without a single word, “You’re the one fucking me right now, not him. You worried he’s gonna steal me away? That maybe he’d be better? Bigger?” 

Eddie’s eyes narrow at that, any sweetness in his glassy eyes vanishing when you speak. You’re in for it, truly. You’ve touched a nerve, and he’s wound up. You can’t help the way your chest tightens, a heat blooming in you that’s a mix of want and pride. It was so easy to rile him up.

“You’re gonna regret that, brat,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, gripping at the underside of your thighs, bruisingly tight, hauling your knees up to your ears. The new angle makes you cry out, his cock bruising into your cervix, “There you go, sweetheart. Cry for my cock. Beg for it.”

You can’t get Steve Harrington out of your mind. It’s not that you deliberately think of him, it’s just hard not to when he’s suddenly everywhere.

You watch from your bedroom window with a furrowed brow as said Steve Harrington climbs out of his ridiculously flashy Bimmer, dressed in too-tight faded jeans, a grey shell jacket and a plain white tee underneath. He’s so fucking tan, like he’s been out bathing in the heat of Indiana’s summer all day and not working under the harsh fluorescent lights in Scoops. 

You bite at your glossy lip, wondering if there’s any tan lines there or if he’s truly that tanned all over. Wondering if his moles and beauty marks dip below the collar of his jacket, desperately wanting to trace them with your tongue and make him squirm.

Linda Curtis bounces out of her front door, adjacent to your own, permed blonde hair pulled back in a claw clip, dressed in the ugliest pink shirt you've ever seen. Linda was an ex drama club nerd, had vaguely run in the same circle as Steve used to during Senior year, once she got her braces off and Tommy considered her hot. Billy Hargrove drove her to school one goddamn time and that was it, she was hot shit everybody wanted. What Steve saw in her, you would never know, but it took all sorts. Or whatever Eddie said.

You watch curiously as the Harrington charm works it’s magic right in front of your very eyes, Steve steps in close to Linda, brushes a loose curl back out of her eyes — Jesus Christ, why was that doing something for you — and says something you can’t make out, but it’s enough to have Linda blushing and pulling nervously on the hem of her denim shorts.

Why were you jealous?

The telltale noise of an obnoxiously loud horn honking lets you — and probably the entire neighbourhood — know Eddie had arrived to pick you up, snapping you completely out of your daydream. Your lips curl up into a smirk when both Linda and Steve jump ten feet at the sound, Steve rolling his eyes and scoffing.

What a bitch.

Eddie catches you looking from your window and lets out an obnoxious laugh, grinning up at you with his annoyingly perfect teeth. You wanted to punch him, maybe, but Friday nights were for one thing and one thing only, and that was getting high at Lovers Lake in the flatbed of the van. 

So it’d have to wait until you didn’t need him for the weed or the ride.

Summer meant the pretty sunset as a backdrop whilst you smoked the day's events away — it somehow made everything that little bit more relaxing, watching the swirls of orange, pink and purple melt together as your brain fogged with the drugs, a nice settling in your tummy as your high took over. 

It was second only to the heavy September rain that you loved so much, you found yourself yearning for it all year around. The loud patter of the large droplets clinking on the tin roof of Eddie’s van, buried under a nest of blankets to keep the cool chill off your arms and legs. Eddie’s hot breath fanning over your neck as he kissed it, chest heavy against your back. Warm, solid and comforting.

Maybe you were in love with him, or maybe you weren’t. You didn’t want to think too much about that.

You glide out of the house as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to arouse suspicion about where you were going. Even in your twenties, your parents would still have a few choice words for you in regards to Eddie Munson, and you were in no mood for the lecture. You’d heard it too many times in the years you’d known him, since fifth grade when he pushed you in the playground and you pulled his hair in retaliation. 

From that moment on you were inseparable, to the dismay of your parents.

You’re aware of two other sets of eyes watching you from across the street as you bounce down the driveway, all smiles as excitement thrums through your entire body. Eddie’s maybe looking at you like you hung the fucking moon or something, but that’s probably to do with the fact you’re wearing his shirt and looking the epitome of hot.

Okay, maybe you had a complex.

“So that’s where my shirt went,” Eddie hums, giving you an appreciative once-over as you wrench the passenger door open with a horrific sounding crunch of metal, “looks better on you, I’ve gotta say.”

You clamber into the van with a huff, laughter spilling into it, “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to woo me, Munson. We’re gonna fuck anyway, don’t worry.”

Eddie laughs loud and so fucking obnoxious, as if for somebody else’s entertainment, and it does catch the attention of the lovebirds on the other side of the road. You look over just as Steve catches your eyes, and suddenly your chest feels kind of heavy as he stares at you with a kind of intensity that you can’t put a finger on.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, Harrington,” Eddie cackles, head basically out the fucking window and he’s grinning at them both, snapping you completely out of it, “that’s as close as you’re getting to her, count your lucky stars.”

Linda turns her nose up, like she’s disgusted at the fact that Eddie even so much as looked in her direction, however Steve flusters. His cheeks flush with something akin to embarrassment, and he turns his head to hide from you both, instead busying himself with grappling for Linda’s hands once more. 

Eddie laughs almost maniacally as you take off, tyres squealing and kicking up loose stone chips in your wake, “Little Stevie didn’t know what to do with himself!”

“He looked mortified.” You agree quietly, sinking into your seat with a little grin. Something about Eddie having that effect on Steve from such a simple little sentence was almost entertaining, considering how things once were. 

Eddie and Steve weren’t friends. In fact quite the opposite. Steve and Tommy were miserable assholes for years, made Eddie’s life hell at any given turn unless they needed him for drugs. 

You think back, and truthfully the turning point was during Junior year. Steve had tripped Eddie in the hall, called him ‘queer’. Eddie didn’t stand for that, sucker punched Steve right in the jaw, hard enough that his skull hit the locker adjacent to him.

“That shit might hurt you when your daddy calls you it, but you’ve gotta do a lot worse than call me exactly what I am as an insult, Harrington.” Eddie had grinned, vicious and seething, as he watched Steve clutch desperately at his bruised jaw, wide eyed and hair askew from the force.

Steve never bothered Eddie again after that.

In fact, not long after, Steve never bothered anybody again. Maybe the knock to the head had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or something.

“You good?” Eddie’s voice, his large hand gripping your thigh knocks you back into reality, out of the daydream, and the grounding is enough to have your entire body melting into the simple touch.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do if the band doesn’t work out?” You ask quietly, shoulders aching from where they dig into the bulky metal on the backs of Eddie’s front seats. The ringing in your ears drowns out the cricket chirps now, eyes hazy and no doubt bloodshot to hell, two joints deep and all that. 

You can feel Eddie’s gaze on the side of your face, like he’s trying to bore a hole into your skull and rummage around in your brain, those wide dark chocolate eyes staring you down with a serious amount of intensity. You wriggle slightly under it, suddenly uncomfortable — wrong question.

“Honestly, no,” Eddie answers honestly, tearing his eyes away from you in an instant, letting you breathe again momentarily. His curls curtain his profile, the bulbous tip of his nose the only feature now visible, he picks nervously at a loose thread on his jeans, “I’ll probably go work with Wayne at the plant, they’re always lookin’ for workers. Still sell on the side too, I doubt Rick will let me out of this deal, I bring in the most revenue.”

“Can come work at Sam Goody with me,” you sing-song, resting your head on his shoulder. You pretend not to notice the way he instantly melts at the press on his side, seemingly grounding him just as he’s beginning to panic about things like the future, “it’s a pretty good gig, and we get discounts on cassettes!” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pulling a drag from the joint that briefly laid forgotten at his side, ash falling onto the scratchy blanket you both laid on top of, burning holes into the material, “That code for ‘and we get to watch Harrington’s juicy ass in those shorts!’?” 

You cackle, all seriousness from the conversation vanishing in an instant as Eddie turns on his usual class clown persona, mocking you with his silly tone and grinning like an idiot, “Scoops is literally across the landing! I can’t see that far.” 

“I can’t believe he got to you,” Eddie’s teasing tone continues, he shuffles on his bony ass and accidentally shoulders you in the temple in the process, causing you to whine quietly, “sorry, shit, sorry, sweetheart. I guess I just — didn’t ticket you as being the type to like what he had going on.” 

“I could say the same for you,” your voice is barely a mumble as you drag your heavy head from his shoulder, looking at him properly.

Eddie hisses a sharp draw of breath in between his clenched teeth, passes you the joint that you take happily, sucking in a drag like a desperate woman. The silence sits heavy between you both for a long moment, weighs on you like a fucking shackle to your ankles, pulling you down into shark infested waters.

“He was always everything I wasn’t and I hated that shit,” Eddie mutters, fidgets — can’t look you in the fucking eye, “to begin with I was jealous and angry, he had it so fucking easy and people just fell at his feet, worshipped the asshole no matter how much of a prick he could be.”

You nod, extend your hand to pass the joint back to him — Eddie shudders when your cold fingers connect with his, and you allow them to linger for only a split second before you pull them back once again. 

“Remember when I punched him in the hall, once? Think it was junior year or something,” Eddie recalls, and you have to pretend like you’re not two halves of the same whole for just a moment, like you weren’t just reminiscing on the exact scenario hours earlier, “he called me queer. And at that point I didn’t really know what I was, but him saying it just — fucking solidified it, or something. I said something mean, but I confirmed to him and myself what I sorta knew all along.”

“I remember,” you breathe, chest tightening, “I think you hit close to home, when you said his dad called him the same thing.”

Eddie laughs, mirthless, canines sharp as he smiles so wide, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes — he looks manic, “Yeah, well. I’d heard shit, and I used it to my advantage at that moment. Was wrong, I know. He had it fuckin’ coming, but after that I realised… I didn’t hate him. I thought I was jealous of how easy he had it with chicks and how they fell for it, but then I guess I realised I maybe wanted to be his conquest of the week.” 

It tugs at your chest, and you’re caught between feeling relief and feeling utterly devastated that Eddie spent all this time pining and having to hide it from the world, when you could openly ogle and gawk at Steve without so much as a second glance from passersby. 

You’re too high to truly comprehend it, and maybe you just chose to ignore the signs, but now it makes sense as to why Eddie would bring Steve up and use him to mock you, how his eyes would be ablaze with something that wasn’t jealousy, but wanting. He wanted you to bring him up, wanted you to tell him your sordid fantasies. Maybe even wanted to be a part of them, and yeah. That makes your tummy flip.

Your head thumps against the backing of the passenger headrest, a loud breath escaping you that you didn’t even realise you were holding, “God, we really are too fucking alike, Wayne was right maybe we were separated at birth.” 

“Birds of a feather, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, means it this time. He crowds into your space, plants firm hands on your bare thighs and leaves a chaste kiss on your chin, “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll always be my number one.” 

You had wondered if Steve’s date had gone poorly when your designated smoke break on that following Monday had been infiltrated by Robin Buckley – the poor girl sighing frustratedly, claiming she just ‘needed a breather from Harrington’s excessive whining’, to which you’d both shared a cackle. You had offered her your cigarette that she declined with a wave of her hand and a small smile, ‘trumpet player and all’ she’d grinned.

You saw Steve on Tuesday, on his lunch break as he wandered into Sam Goody to pick up an order that Dustin Henderson had put in before he went off to Summer camp for six weeks. A Wham! album from late 1984 that had you raising an eyebrow.

“Kid kinda wants to be like me,” Steve had shrugged, cocky as he rolled his eyes, leaned his arm on your counter. Flashed you the goddamn Harrington smile that momentarily had you forgetting that his taste in music was vile, “the chicks love George Michael.” 

“You’re setting the poor guy up to fail by recommending he listens to this shit,” you quipped, handing the plastic bag holding the cassette over to Steve, heat prickling up your spine when your fingers brushed over the handles, “I promise you it’s not George Michael that ‘the chicks’ are interested in.” 

“And what exactly are they interested in?” Steve asked, quirking a brow and smirking at you, giving you a once over with those wandering hazel eyes. 

The little shit was flirting.

“I think you and I both know what they’re interested in, Harrington.” You flirted back, your glossy lips smacking together, catching his eye immediately.

“Are you?” Steve breathed, focused solely on your lips, and you could almost see the second his upstairs brain shut off and his downstairs one took over for him, “Interested, I mean.”

“Oh, honey. I think you know the answer to that.” 

Eddie had appeared on Wednesday, conned you into using your staff discount for the Armed & Dangerous EP — you didn’t even like Anthrax, and Eddie didn’t have a damn record player, yet you still got it for him. 

Steve had been wandering past, hands stuffed deep in his shorts pockets as Eddie left with his bag of goodies and the most ridiculous grin on his face. So engrossed in pulling out a rolly that he slammed right into Steve’s side, sending the poor guy straight to the floor, unable to pull his hands from his pockets in time to stop himself.

You’d watched anxiously from your perch on the stool behind the counter as Eddie crouched into a squat to help Steve up, extending an arm that Steve took with a flush of colour on his cheeks and an embarrassed smile. You couldn’t see Eddie or the expression on his face, but you already knew he was saying something stupid, maybe even cracking a joke, because Steve laughed. Head thrown back and hearty enough that you could hear it faintly, their hands still clasped together even though he was already back on his feet.

Your heart fluttered, beating overtime as you watched the interaction with curious eyes, a nervous wave of butterflies in your tummy. They parted ways, and if Eddie asked, you pretended that you didn’t see him looking over his shoulder once Steve turned away, half buried behind the waves of his hair as he blushed red, his doe eyes soft and fond.

And if by some sort of confusing act of God, Steve was ever to ask you that same question, you never saw him do the exact same thing, just seconds later.

You were screwed.

Steve doesn’t arrive at the Curtis family home on Friday evening, and you can’t even pretend that you don’t let out a sigh of relief. Just as you had suspected, Robin had indeed been talking about the date during your short conversation, and Steve’s latest conquest was no more.

It’s raining lightly, thunder and lightning cracking in the distance, amplified in amongst the trees as you and Eddie pass a blunt back and forth between your bodies. You’re laid top-to-toe, his head basically hanging upside down out of the back door of the van, you in the resumed position up against the rock hard front seats. 

“There’s somebody out swimming in the lake,” Eddie says, breaking the peaceful silence with his dulcet tones, words deep and heavy from the cotton mouth. His hand halts its movements on your bare calf, “did you see another car here?”

Your eyes narrow, catching a head bobbing in and out of the water at a far distance, way too far away for you to recognise who it was, though swimmers in the lake weren’t uncommon especially during the Summer months, “No, I didn’t. Could’ve walked here, I guess.” 

Eddie’s head whips up at that, and he gets up on his elbows as if it’s going to give him a better look at you, “We’re about ten miles away from civilization, dummy. Nobody's walking out here unless they have a death wish. Maybe they parked in the trees.” 

“Why do you sound so nervous? You think Hopper or his knucklehead deputies are out here taking a dip in the lake whilst undercover trying to catch a couple of shitheads smoking a joint on a Friday night?” You cackle, and Eddie rolls his eyes, lets out an annoyed huff and plucks the joint from your relaxed fingers.

“I’m on my final strike, asshole.” Eddie grunts, sitting up properly and craning his neck to get a better look as the person swims closer and closer to you both, the ripples of water as they glide along the only giveaway, as they keep their head underwater the entire duration.

You find yourself drifting off, hazy and blissed out, the noises and visuals a cacophony of brain scratching senses. Your eyelids go heavy, drooping, and before you know it Eddie’s fingers are brushing your skin and helping along, adding to the sanctity of your mind. You doze peacefully, sighing contentedly. 

Footsteps closing in knock you out of your unconscious state, your brain alerting you to another person who certainly wasn’t Eddie approaching — panic creeps in momentarily, until the figure appears at the open door of the van, knocking the breath from your lungs in a mixture of relief and desperation.

Steve Harrington is in front of you. Dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a fucking cropped vest, exposing his toned stomach, his happy trail glistening as droplets of water clinging to the dark hair that disappears into the low waistband of his pants.

It’s. Sobering, to say the least. You’re suddenly conscious of how you’re sitting, legs spread wide in your own shorts, slumped down like an absolute slob. Eyes bloodshot from the weed, your shirt askew. 

Okay, cool. Steve’s going to take one look at you and decide you’re in fact a completely disgusting creature that he absolutely does not find attractive. Great, just great.

Eddie breaks the silence, his voice knocking you out of your trance so quickly you startle yourself, jumping in your seat, “Steve Harrington, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Eddie smirks, shuffling back into the bed of the van until he’s propped up against the side, kicking his legs out flat right across the bottoms of your feet. 

“Just thought I’d come say hi, thought it was your van from back there,” Steve’s nonchalant, shrugging, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet, trying and failing to not watch Eddie’s every move as his gangly limbs manoeuvre, “you got anymore?”

Drugs, he means drugs. Could probably smell them a mile off, could tell you were both high just by looking at you, remembered Eddie was a dealer and wanted his own.

You try to hide your disappointment, though your face always had a way of talking for you, and you feel your nose scrunching in distaste before you can stop it. Steve fails to notice, dumbstruck bambi eyes watching Eddie like he wants to — you don’t even know, but it’s almost like he wants to ask something else.

“You want in?” Eddie asks tentatively, seemingly asking the question for Steve like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, holding a fresh rolly up in between his thumb and forefinger like an offering, “We were just about to spark this one up, and I’m sure you could do with the… relaxation after that show you just put on.”

He’s mocking, grinning like the Cheshire cat as Steve flounders, flushes a deep shade of red across his cheeks, but climbs into the van like he’s meant to fucking be there or something, sliding down right next to Eddie close enough that their thighs are touching roughly, the rivulets of water on Steve’s leg clinging to the material of Eddie’s jeans and soaking them in the process.

Eddie’s eyes widen like saucers, like he expected Steve to tell him to fuck off, yet there he was pressed against Eddie like it was the most normal thing in the world. Steve produces a lighter from the pocket of his shorts, plucks the joint from Eddie’s hand like it’s nothing, and presses it between his cherry red, plump lips. Sparks it up and inhales deeply, eyelids fluttering shut, thick eyelashes fanning his cheeks.

Your thighs clench as you watch Steve’s adams apple bob up and down, the vast expanse of his tan neck stretching as his head thumps back, whole body slumping as the sudden nicotine hit relaxes his body. You connect the moles and freckles with your eyes, fingers itching in your lap, resisting the urge to lunge forward and mark him up, connect the beauty marks with your mouth, suck bruises into his skin until he’s whining and begging. 

The air lies heavy between you all, nobody saying a word as you pass the blunt back and forth, your high settling in once more, enough to have you light headed and itching to touch more and more and more. Ten minutes or maybe an hour go past, you’re not too sure which. 

You can tell Eddie is starting to feel the same, from the way his thigh begins jiggling up and down — usually by this point he had a lapful of you, grinding against him and gasping for release as your drug-addled brains melted with the need to touch and to kiss and to fuck.

Steve wiggles in his place next to Eddie, his large palm coming out to slap Eddie’s thigh and keep his leg still, like he’s annoyed by the constant jerking movement, yet his flushed skin and agape mouth tell you otherwise. Somebody whines, needy, and you’re not too sure which one of you it is, but the sound goes straight to your core, has your cunt fluttering. 

Eddie breaks first, pulling you into his lap unceremoniously, your arms instinctively wrapping around his pale shoulders to ground yourself as you’re flung like a ragdoll, his hands digging into the fat of your ass, fingertips pressing almost bruisingly, yet you keen into it, desperate for more.

Your bare calf touches Steve’s thigh, and he’s looking at you like a deer caught in headlights — pretty hazel eyes staring up at you in awe, watching as your body rocks against Eddie’s own, though you don’t dare settle down on his crotch properly, waiting for Steve’s confirmation that he’s good with this.

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, just to be sure, making it clear that you’re not adding two plus two and getting five, needing to know for certain this is what he wants, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Steve.” 

Eddie’s own gaze lands on Steve now, soft and gentle, no teasing on his features anymore, pure sincerity. Steve looks back and forth between you both, bites that fucking lip of his as he ponders.

“I think-” Steve starts, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, “that I just… really wanna kiss one of you right now.” 

If Eddie’s surprised, drawn back or even nervous, he doesn’t let on, as he leans into Steve’s space with parted lips, a stupid lazy smirk tugging at the corners, enough to make your core ache for him. 

You watch with hazy eyes as they share breath back and forth, two pairs of deep set brown eyes locking and conversing without words as you heave desperately, rutting gently against Eddie’s thigh. His rings bite into the soft skin of your waist, grounding you, letting you know he’s still aware of your presence. 

Steve closes the gap first, slots their lips together and startling a desperate whine from the back of Eddie’s throat — a noise you weren’t even aware he could make. Steve’s large hand runs up along Eddie’s rosy red cheek, fingers splaying and nails raking into Eddie’s scalp as their mouths move together like ripples of water.

It’s beautiful to watch, you can’t look away (as if you even fucking wanted to), your hands bunching into the bottom hem of Eddie’s shirt to help you sway your hips back and forth. Eddie’s sharp tongue peaks out to swipe along Steve’s bottom lip, and Steve surges forward to deepen the kiss, their tongues dancing together as they pant breathily and moan quietly. 

You’re not sure when it happens, but Eddie’s rough hand on your waist begins to guide you against the starchy material of his jeans, like he’s paying just as much attention to you as he is to Steve. 

You take your opportunity, leaning forward to latch your mouth onto Eddie’s exposed collarbone, biting and suckling like a woman starved as you finally, fucking finally let yourself rock against Eddie properly – grinding against his half-hard cock until he’s whining breathily into the kiss, clinging onto your waist. 

Maybe you’re feeling ballsy because of the drugs, or maybe it’s because you’ve just waited forever to get your hands on Steve Harrington, but soon enough your hand is ghosting up his inner thigh, pressing hot and heavy against the sizable bulge in his ridiculously short shorts.

“Y’r both gonna fucking kill me,” Steve groans against Eddie’s lips, breaking the kiss momentarily only for Eddie to surge forward once more and reattach their mouths, and your pussy flutters – hearing Steve so fucked out from the simplest of touches sends a hot, prickly flush up your body, settles in your core. 

Your hand presses more firmly onto Steve’s cock, hips rutting against Eddie’s and they both roll their hips at the same fucking time, pressing into your hand and cunt respectively. Your brain short circuits, lips detaching from Eddie’s collarbone so you can moan, wet and panting against his damp skin.

“You wanna fuck her, Harrington?” Eddie asks, bites at Steve’s bottom lip and Steve keens into it, grunts and fucks his hips up into your hand again. Eddie releases his lip, trails kisses down Steve’s chin and to his jaw, rough and sucking, sure to leave a mark, “She wants you to, I know she does. Fantasises about you wrecking her, think you’re up to the task?” 

Steve nods, feverish and almost pathetic, and you have to question if he’s always like this during sex or if Eddie really just has that effect on him, has Steve reduced to nothing more than a mess as you both finally lock eyes once again, “Please, nggh, please. Wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please? Will you let me?” 

The begging does something to your insides you never would’ve expected, and you’re throwing yourself into Steve’s lap. His hands grab onto your waist, replacing Eddie’s and it’s noticeable, he’s gentle, almost unsure of how to take you – he looks up at you, leans up to press your lips together and you’re unravelling in his arms.

He kisses like a fucking boyfriend, lips gliding against your own just roughly enough to have you melting into it, tongue swiping your bottom lip the same way Eddie did to him just minutes earlier, licking into your mouth and gliding his tongue against your own in this perfect rhythm that has you rutting down into his lap. The thick length of his now fully hard cock nestles perfectly in the cave of your pussy, only covered by three thin layers of clothing. 

You’re delirious with it, hands on his cheeks, fingers buried into his hair as you suck face like you might die if you stop. You can feel Eddie’s intense gaze on you both, his hand slipping in between Steve and your own torsos to tug gently at your loose shirt, pushing it up your chest to expose your tits to the cool air. 

His fingers are everywhere, rubbing and pulling at your nipples, hardening them and sending shockwaves of want and desire down your entire body. Steve disconnects your lips with a string of spit, his eyes hazy and darkened with lust as he bends down to latch onto your tit, sucking and licking it into his mouth like a desperate thing. 

You’re so turned on you might fucking die, rutting against Steve’s clothed erection fast and hard, desperate to feel that catch and drag rough against your clit. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, breath hot against the side of your face, mouthing at the sensitive skin below your ear, “Harrington as talented with his mouth as you hoped?” 

“I know now why the ladies love him,” you squeak, unable to contain it when Eddie’s fingers finally leave the swollen bud of your nipple and dip down below, hand hot and heavy as he pushes the offending material of your shorts away so he can press against your cunt, swiping over your clit with two fingers, the back of his palm digging into Steve’s cock in the process.

“Oh my fucking god,” Steve grunts pathetically, bites down on your nipple and punches his hips up into Eddie’s hand, rocks against him for a moment before settling back down again. He pulls off of you with a wet pop, chooses instead to trail kisses up your chest and to your neck that have you moaning unabashedly, “you sound s’fucking pretty, can’t believe it.” 

You can hardly focus on a single thing, ears ringing as pleasure takes over your body. Eddie knows you inside and out, pushes with a perfect pressure on your clit, swiping over it in fast circles as he mutters sweet nothings, coaxing moans and gasps from you with every touch. Steve’s attacking your neck, biting and kissing, leaving a mark in a way that you’d practically wished for for too fucking long.

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice raising a little knocks you out of it, his fingers slipping through the wetness of your folds and off of your clit like he was caught off guard, “like it a little rough or somethin’?” 

Your half lidded eyes watch as Steve’s hand grips at Eddie’s thigh, ghosting closer and closer to the inside seam until Eddie breaks, uses his free hand to pop the button on his jeans and shuck them down his thighs, finally allowing his cock the damn release from those tight pants.

Eddie resumes his motions on your clit properly once he’s done shuffling, “Sorry, sweetheart.” He apologises, swirling the tips of his fingers over the bundle of nerves fast enough to have you seeing stars, “Know you well enough to know it won’t take you long, anyway.”

He’s right. The slick noises of your pussy being worked over invade your ears, the deep blooming in your core rising quickly as Eddie sets an almost brutal rhythm, desperate to get you there. You cling onto Steve’s biceps as he sucks another bruise just below your jaw, hot mouth leaving your skin finally, letting up so that you can breathe, if only a little.

You’re not sure why it shocks you when Steve spits into his palm like it’s nothing, wraps a firm hand around the length of Eddie’s cock like he’s done it a million times before but it does, and suddenly you’re flushing hot all over, the visual of Eddie’s eyes shutting and mouth falling open in a grunt the last thing you see before your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasm wracking your body with such force that you slump into Steve’s front — head on his shoulder, hips stuttering as Eddie works you through it.

“That’s it, honey, oh shit,” Steve’s voice sounds strained as he watches you stain the front of his shorts with your release, his hand heavy on your waist as you ride Eddie’s hand, his wrist glistening in the light, “you’re both so hot, fuck me.” 

You flush at Steve’s words, whining in the back of your throat, “Sensitive, Eds,” you squeal, hips jerking back and away from Eddie’s hand – you get why he’s slow to move, when you see how Steve’s jerking his cock, how Eddie’s hips are fucking up into it, the dark red head leaking down his shaft and coating Steve’s fingers. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie’s apologetic as his hand moves, though he’s so breathy and fucked out that you can tell he’s hardly paying enough attention to care, “get your fucking dick out, Steve.” 

Your trembling hands do it for him, and Steve willingly lifts his hips up to let you pull the offending material down. His cock springs out and — oh, oh fuck.

He’s so fucking big it makes your mouth water, so heavy under it’s own weight that it sits flush against Steve’s toned, heaving belly as he sucks in sharp breaths, slightly curved to the side and cut, the head almost purple with need, soaking wet with his own precum.

“Of course you’ve got a monster cock,” Eddie grunts, rolling his eyes, no heat to his words when Steve squeezes him tighter, jerks the head, flicks his thumb over the slit, “would’ve sworn you’d touched a hundred dicks with how good you are at it, fuuuck.” 

“You’re gonna give me a goddamn complex,” Steve moans, stripping Eddie’s cock faster until the other man is literally shaking in his spot, hips vibrating, and you’ve seen this a million times — Eddie is close.

“Stop— mmph, stop, gotta stop,” Eddie pants, scrambling to halt Steve’s motions on his dick, which Steve does without a second thought, though his hand still lays loosely on the base as it pulses, slit weeping, “I’m gonna blow my fucking load if you keep doing that shit.” 

There’s a heavy silence between you all for a moment, exchanged looks that say more than words probably could in such a highly charged situation — it’s like Steve was always here, the way he slots in and understands exactly what’s going on like he’d been with you both before in this way. It makes your heart clench, makes your tummy do flips.

You climb from Steve’s lap, rid yourself of your shorts and soiled panties whilst Steve and Eddie shuffle themselves around – Steve lying down, head propped up on the two sad looking pillows Eddie always kept around, and Eddie on his knees at Steve’s side. 

It’d be truly ridiculous to look at from an outsider's perspective, like a bad porno movie, but you’re all so turned on that you can’t see past the want to care enough, as you climb back into Steve’s lap and resume your position.

“Want you to fuck me now,” you murmur, doe eyed and desperate as you cling to Steve’s shirt, rocking down onto his dick again, spreading your wetness over his shaft, “please, Steve?” 

Steve whines pathetically, grabs a hold of his dick by the base, hazards a guess at where your opening is and fails miserably, unable to see anything at this angle. You try to help, wiggling your hips until the fat head catches on your clit — you both groan, a slight tinge of laughter in yours from the absurdity of it all.

“Damn Steve, can’t even find her pussy when it’s right in front of you,” Eddie huffs impatiently, yet his words are full of arousal you swear you’ve never heard, licking his wet, plump lips as he leans over to grab the base of Steve’s cock, slides the head against your wet cunt until you’re both whining and gasping for it, “sit on him then, sweetheart. Take his big cock like the good girl you are, yeah?” 

Steve grips onto the meat of your thighs as you sink down, gasping at the sheer stretch — Steve really was bigger than Eddie and nothing could’ve prepared you for the intrusion. Your cunt leaks down his shaft, down Eddie’s hand until he’s removing it so you can sink down completely, adjusting to the stretch by wiggling your hips. 

You can tell Steve is trying to keep his composure and failing miserably, if the way he’s grunting through his clenched teeth is anything to go by. You seize the opportunity, clamp your walls down around his length deliberately until he’s sputtering, grappling onto your skin even tighter, “D-don’t, can’t do that — I’ll come so fucking quick,” he gasps, staring up at you with wild eyes. 

Eddie barks out a laugh from the side of you, and you can tell it’s from the sheer satisfaction – knowing that even though Steve’s cock is bigger there’s no way he’s going to be as good at fucking you as Eddie. Of course that’ll feed his ego, the town freak being better at fucking than Hawkins’ own certified slut.

“Go on, sweetheart. Show him what your pretty little cunt can do,” Eddie’s encouraging you, one hand loosely holding the base of his own cock, the other now placed on the small of your back, a grounding movement that keeps you from losing it all together.

You grip onto Steve’s broad shoulders, nails biting into the skin as you use your knees for leverage, take the first aching drag up the length of his cock. You feel like you’re being split apart from the inside, the dull hurting so fucking good that you’re sick with it.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby,” Steve’s eyebrows marry together as he watches you take him in fucking awe or something, unable to tear his eyes away from where you’re sinking up and down on him. 

It’s torturously slow whilst you adjust to him, a tentative bounce and rock motion until your pussy is soaked from the constant press on your gspot. 

You speed up your movements and Steve is all but wailing and begging beneath you, Eddie looming over the top of him and tugging lazily at his own cock, almost like he’s not entirely sure what he wants to do — or what he’s allowed to do.

Steve looks up at him, ripping his eyes away from your pussy sucking him in, leaving behind creamy rings of release on his shaft. He’s wide eyed and almost manic, watching as Eddie fucks his fist, “Put it– put it in my mouth, I wanna. Wanna suck you off.”

Eddie chokes on his own tongue momentarily, eyes bugging out of his head at Steve’s request, “You – I, what?” He laughs incredulously, though he’s already shuffling up next to Steve’s head, and Steve moves with him, craning his neck to the side and opening his mouth wide, tongue lolling out. Eddie fists a handful of Steve’s hair, sliding his cock into Steve’s mouth with an obscene fluidity, “You really are a fuckin’ slut, huh?” 

Steve moans around his mouthful, nods what little he can manage as Eddie begins to rock in and out, building a slow rhythm, the loud slurping noises of Steve’s saliva adding to the noise of your soaked pussy fucking down onto him. You’re so turned on it hurts, the sight of them both together has you closing in on your second orgasm quickly, with a lightning speed.

The sound of wet skin, from sweat and ungodly amounts of body fluid is so loud you’re sure anybody within a five mile radius could hear you all, and that does something to your insides that you don’t think you could admit to out loud. Steve’s large hands move your hips, help you along as you bounce quicker on his cock, chasing your high, and you have to hand it to him that he’s a seriously good multitasker. 

“You’re fucking — God, can’t believe you’re sucking me like this,” Eddie cries, ever the one to be so fucking vocal, and it’s clear as day he’s close to the edge already, “so fucking talented with that mouth — oh fuck, keep doing that. Yeah, yeah, oh fuck.” 

“I hate you both so fucking much,” you gasp, arching your back and crying out as you bounce up and down on Steve’s cock in short, snappy motions. Steve grunts, fingernails biting into your hip, a clear sign that he wants you to keep doing that, and you do, “I’m-I’m, shit m’gonna cum –!” 

It hits you like a goddamn freight train, your thighs trembling, hands gripping and nails biting at Steve’s abs as you come, gushing wet and walls fluttering as the feeling settles deep in your stomach. Your legs give up on you, body turning to jello within seconds.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you, watching you with such intensity that you feel his eyes basically burning holes into your head. You’re sure he doesn’t even blink as you rock through it, tits bouncing and mouth agape in the most delicious moans. 

Steve’s patience wears thin, his hips fucking up into you from below, hands moving you on and off of his cock as if you’re a fucking ragdoll, but he’s not even really paying attention to you — he’s focused on Eddie, mouthing heavily at the other mans dick, taking and taking it as Eddie feeds it to him with nothing more than a few moans and grunts.

“Need to cum, let me cum on your face,” Eddie begs, tears his eyes from you finally to ask Steve the damn question, rutting into his mouth jerkily, practically sobbing as he reaches the end, “wanna ruin you so bad, fuck, please?” 

Steve’s so far gone, nestled so tight in your pussy and drunk on it that he’d agree to anything, nods what little he can and Eddie takes barely a second to slip from Steve’s mouth. Tightens his fist around his own cock as he jerks it messily above Steve’s face.

“Your pussy is like heaven, fuck,” Steve grunts, voice worn and fucked out from being stuffed full for so long, and you’re so overstimulated you barely register what he’s doing, brain fuzzy. His fingers dig into your hips tight enough to bruise as he fucks you so hard you’re seeing stars, “cumming, I’m fucking cumming.” 

Steve forces you down so hard on his cock that you wail, clinging onto him for dear life as he pulses deep inside of you, coating your insides with his release. You swear you’ve fucking died and gone to heaven or something, with how good it feels.

Eddie grunts from his place in front of you, “so fucking hot, shit, shit, oh fuck,” blurting from his mouth as he comes, his load shooting so far it kind of misses Steve’s face all together and instead spurts down his neck and chest. 

A long wave of silence washes over you all as you all come down, a mess of sweaty limbs, coated in each others sex. You know the van had ought to fucking reek of it, the sheets below you all soaked and soiled. None of you find it in you to care as you pant heavily, hands all over each other as some weird form of aftercare, stroking and touching.  

“Steve, where’s your car, man?” Eddie asks, breaking the silence yet again from where he’d finally slumped back on his ass next to Steve’s head.

Steve looks at Eddie like he’s stupid, furrowing his brows, “My car? Dude, I ran here. It’s only, like, six miles or something from my house, it’s not exactly far.” 

You cackle loudly from your place in between Steve’s legs, “And you called me stupid for insinuating somebody walked out here!” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, flips you both the bird, though there’s a little quirk on the corners of his lips.

You’re not sure what’ll happen from here, if anything at all, but the comforting aura you feel is enough to have you guessing that maybe it’s far from the final time.

to anybody who read this and took a chance on it, thank you all so much! this has been a little labour of love and i actually started on it before christmas, it was meant to be nothing more than a quick little smut fic but i felt it needed more. thank you all in advance for any likes, reblogs and sweet comments you leave, it means the absolute world.

[yandere-yearnings]

Absume. (Yandere!Best Friend x GN!Reader)

feat. sui's ai

♡ oneshot, approx. 1k words

♡ post-specific warnings: melancholy (?), angst (??), angst w/o happy ending (???)

♡ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML SUIIIIIII❤️ i did not have as much time on this as i would've liked but no matter, i wasn't gonna exist on suiday w/o a suiday celebration dar style. i present to you ai angst❗❗(it was meant to be fluff but i'm a fucking dumbass who can't write lmao) ai belongs to @suiana and is from her stellar, absolutely fantastic game, Anything Will Do. sui i want you to know you make everything worth it and i wouldn't still be here on tumblr if it weren't for you. all my love to you mwah mwah <333 unedited, not proofread.

♡♡♡

This life was strange to you.

Sometimes it went by so fast, you’d wake up with no recollection of the days passed; staring at the ceiling with open eyes. It’s the same crack in the paint that had always been there, long and thin and unnoticeable if it weren’t for the fact you sought it out unconsciously. You remembered it, even if you didn’t remember crawling into bed that night, or having dinner at the table, and what exactly it was that your mother fussed over. 

There was a growing emptiness since you first noticed. No matter what you did, or how many people you were surrounded by, inside of you something was caving in. You didn’t know who you were. You didn’t know your place in this world without landmarking it by your achievements — and yet, when you looked back, there were none. How had you gone on so long? What had you been doing all this time?

Perhaps you lived in your head a little too much. Everything could be a little lighter if only you’d let it be. Sweeping every thought aside, you rolled, trapped your arm under your own weight and looked at your reflection in your mirrored bedside table. You were as you had always been. This was you, and this — whatever it was — was yours.

Lukewarm air, no temperature gradient, it should’ve made it easier for you to leave your bed, but you stayed there some long minutes before moving. Your clock was broken. Not conventionally. It only moved by the hour. Time was yours and you could waste it. There was security in the feeling that you had a choice to not start your day.

Morning, mundane as always, slathered you in its hues. Washed browns jittery under your feet, like there was no ground beneath you from wood to tile. The bathroom mirror had your fingerprints. You’d touched it many a time. Left a mark. This too, belonged to you. You could no longer believe this wasn’t real. Maybe it was that you were sensationless at your soles, treading carefully over loosely carpeted steps, trying to feel the tickle of those familiar fibres. When had you lost it all?

Your mother was in the kitchen, you don’t remember a time when she wasn't. It’s as if she can’t leave this lower floor, like she cannot rest, like her duties do not end. The door to her room never opens or closes, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her without that plaid apron. She never notices you unless you speak to her. She never says anything different.

At the table it’s fruit, and it tastes like nothing. No texture, nothing to chew. It feels like you’re eating air. Play-pretend at a plastic table with a plastic knife and fork. You’re young again and your sister ropes you into her fake kitchen. You don’t have a sister. Not here, at least.

There’s a knock at your front door. It’s light, like the person on the other side is afraid to be heard, but wants your attention still. When you open it, there he stands — the only thing in this world that you can reach out and touch, that thrummed beneath your fingertips, as alive as you were desperate to feel.

Ai takes your hand, and the breeze picks up just like that. Ever so easy. You watch your feet and every step they take to the pavement, nothing skips; you can commit it to memory. He’s speaking to you but you can’t hear the words just yet, there is only wind and the rustle of leaves. His hair billows, bleeds out heavy cyprus that blends into the backdrop of trees. He has always given you these beautiful bits of him, and you had let yourself go blind.

Letting go was something you should’ve done long, long ago, but you guessed he was your comfort. Solace. A shelter you could run to. Leaving never felt right, not when you knew he’d stay waiting. Ai told you once, he loved you beyond all of this. Outside the street lights would flicker, and in the flashes it was his face illuminated, tucking you in after a dreary day. You could never hold onto those scenes, in your mind they were fragmented, and you forgot about them as quick as they came. If you asked him why, you knew he’d tell you that this was the price, whether either of you could pay it, whether either of you could even endure it anymore.

On a deep inhale, you finally resolved that it was no fairer to him as you found it was to you, that now was the only right time. Now would be the only time you’d have him by your side like this again. This moment alone, he was real and he would not slip through your fingers.

You had set out for school, but with your textbooks weighing what your heart could not, you had no intention of going there with him. Instead these empty streets faded, and quickly noon set over the park you ended up at. The swings did not creak, but they were old. You wondered how they could carry the two of you — you and Ai, and everything you’d both been piling up inside. 

Back and forth you went, here and in your head, trying to find the words to say you don’t think you could do this anymore. If you said sorry, would it make him mad? His due returns weren’t meant to be apologies. You were meant to fill him up just as he had done for you, you were meant to make everything worth it, every sacrifice, every stilted interaction from the day you understood that you were losing him. It was meant to get better. All this was meant to pass. Your mind was blank, and you were waiting for something but your clock was still broken, so nothing would ever come. You wanted to say I love you. You wanted those to at least be your final words — you just didn’t know how.

Ai was kind to you. He had always been. So he took your head in his hands, didn’t cry a single tear though it should’ve gone with that smile, and made the cut clean.

He said: “anything will do.”

[toughguymatt]

Night Drive

Part 3/3

Pairing: AU!Nick x Male OC (Adrian Rivers) Summary: Curiosity getting the better of him, Nick takes up an offer to go on a late night drive. Warnings/Content: Language. Oral sex. Third Person POV. Posted in three parts, so it's an easier read. Smut is in the final this part. A/N: When we say AU, we mean it. Nick bartends, is into cars, and knows how to drive? Crazy. Buckle up, get strapped in. Also, the FC for Adrian is Vinnie Hacker, but feel free to picture whoever you like.

Part One / Part Two

"Just... Yeah. Right up there." Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car jostled to a stop. The overlook was one of Adrian's favorite spots. But it had been a while since he'd hidden away to watch the sunset, to imagine the lives of the blurry tiny specks in the distance, to tempt his toes at the edge. 

The stars were brighter than Nick could see from the car, and it was a rarity to be able to just park somewhere without worrying about getting the car back in time. Movement from beside him caught his attention, and immediately Nick’s eyes fixated on Adrian. 

Adrian interlocked his fingers and stretched them above his head with a moan, a sliver of skin peeking beneath the hem of his shirt. "So, Nick, have you been up here before?"

Nick swore he could see Adrian’s damn Adam’s apple move under the hum of his moan, but he didn’t have time to speculate long due to the way his shirt rid up like a fucking wet dream. He was… unfairly attractive. “Not up here, I don’t think.” He spoke as his eyes flickered back to the side of Adrian’s face, stomach fluttering now that Nick didn’t have the distraction of keeping them alive. “The view is pretty good, though.”

Adrian's gaze drifted from Nick's obscured blue eyes to his lips then back up again. "Yeah." he agreed. "It is." Nervousness stirred in Adrian's abdomen. He was completely okay with sitting and talking, but the urge to touch Nick was becoming a problem. Adrian blamed his kinesthetic leanings and the fact that he'd never seen a more kissable mouth in his entire life. Adrian wet his lips, leaned over the armrest, and reached forward to softly brush Nick's hair from his eyes. "Can you even see it?"

Nick’s heart picked up in pace and a blush bloomed over his cheeks. “If you thought I couldn’t see, it was pretty fucking risky to let me drive you over here.” Anxiousness pooled in his stomach despite the way his head tipped just slightly toward Adrian’s hand. 

"Taking risks is part of the reward." Adrian’s fingers dug into Nick's shirt, curling the texture against his fingertips. "You got into a car with me in the first place. I think you knew what you were getting into." Adrian yanked at the fabric, pulling Nick into a kiss.

Whatever Nick was about to say died on his lips the moment Adrian's were pressing against them.

Adrian bit at Nick's bottom lip, gently sliding it from his teeth, before soothing it over with another kiss. "This console between us is about to piss me off." Adrian kissed Nick's jaw, beneath his chin, and against the pulse point of his neck. A quiet moan caught in Nick’s throat as it tilted back just enough for the press of Adrian’s lips. He smiled against Nick's warm skin. "We might have to do something about that.”

The vibration of Adrian’s words against his neck left Nick breathless. He lifted a hand to tangle in Adrian's hair. "Yeah..." Nick managed to say. "It was your dumbass idea to go on a drive. In a car," he exhaled, breathily, as a shiver rolled over his skin. He needed more. 

Nick crashed their lips together, lips dragging down to Adrian’s jaw; mouthing his words against it: "You can push your seat back."

Adrian half-chuckled, half-moaned. "You can," he put his hand on Nick's chest," push yours." He shoved Nick back into the driver's seat before adjusting Nick's chair for him in a quick motion. "See?" Adrian gave Nick another kiss and drifted his hand to the waistband of Nick's pants. "Much better."

Nick’s stomach jumped in excitement as Adrian’s fingers bumped against his stomach. A sigh etched into his words. "Yeah, for you." His tongue brushed over his bottom lip in frustration. "Can barely fucking reach you now."

"You don't need to reach me," Adrian murmured against Nick's mouth as he unbuttoned Nick's pants.

“I want to.” Nick was embarrassed that he was already hard, face tinged with red, as a gasp of a moan vibrated against Adrian's lips. The zipper teeth of Nick’s jeans scratched at Adrian's knuckles as he palmed over Nick's underwear. Nick’s hand automatically rose to grasp at Adrian’s wrist loosely, self consciousness creeping back in at the worst moment. 

"If you need me to stop," Adrian spoke quietly as he continued to touch, "just tell me."

Nick slowly let go of Adrian’s wrist as his other palm slid down Adrian's torso, finding the hem of his shirt so that the pads of his fingers grazed the skin underneath. “Don’t stop,” he whispered. 

Adrian kept their mouths busy with feverish kisses as he thumbed over the head of Nick's cock. He enjoyed the weight of it in his hand, but he was growing impatient to feel it on his tongue. Nick, meanwhile, forgot how to breathe, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck." Nick’s teeth lightly dug into Adrian's bottom lip, chasing his kiss.

Adrian leaned back with reddened lips, needing to see exactly what he was working with. He hooked his fingers against Nick's waistband, Nick’s cock straining deliciously against the fabric. Adrian’s mouth was watering. "Move your hips."

Nick exhaled sharply as he complied, albeit a second delayed, hips finally rolling up at his gentle command.

"Not so bossy now, huh?"

"Shutthefuck up.” 

Adrian kept eye contact as he spit into his palm. “Make me.” His own erection was pressed against the center console as he gripped Nick’s cock with slender, tattooed fingers. He kept his motions firm but gentle, enjoying the sounds vibrating into their kisses, as slickness built up beneath his hand. Adrian sighed against Nick’s mouth after a final, hungry kiss. “Need to taste all of you,” Adrian mumbled. He edged downward, keeping his hand pumping at the base. 

Nick wet his lips and slid his palm along Adrian’s back. Nick was so hard in Adrian’s hand that he could barely think. 

Adrian softly licked at the head of Nick’s cock, before taking it completely into his mouth with a moan. Adrian looked how honey tasted, and somehow, his tongue felt just as smooth. The first lick to Nick’s cock had him fighting to keep his hips still as he sighed heavily into the air. The sight of Adrian’s tongue brushing over his heated skin would definitely not be forgotten anytime soon. 

“Fuck, Adrian,” Nick whispered, momentarily throwing his left arm over his eyes. If he watched the way his lips moved over him too intently, this wouldn’t last long. Eventually, his arm slipped away, falling against the side of the car as his other hand sunk deep into Adrian’s hair. Nick moaned again, gaze half-lidded and face permanently stained pink as his knuckles tightened in the strands, tugging as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

Adrian groaned around Nick’s cock, keeping his pace as his jaw ached. The pain was worth the weight of warm skin on his tongue, but it wasn’t enough. Adrian lifted up to catch his breath. “Nick,” he spoke hoarsely. “Harder. Pull my hair harder.”

Nick's pupils were blown, his cock twitching at the low scratch of Adrian’s voice. It echoed in his ears, rolling over him in waves. "Jesus. Okay," Both hands buried themselves into Adrian’s hair, fingernails scratching along his scalp. He pulled at the amber strands roughly as his hips shifted under him. 

Adrian near-whimpered at the simultaneous pull of his hair and Nick’s desperate intake of breath, but instead he focused on his up-and-down motion. 

"You're gonna make..." A sharp breath punctuated Nick’s words, tone tapering off into a borderline whine until he cut himself off, tightening his grip even further. This time the tug was a warning. "Gonna come."

Adrian’s eyes welled with tears as Nick hit the back of his throat with spilled warmth. He raised gently, mouth closed, and moved to the passenger side door. He opened it just enough to spit onto the pavement. He exhaled as the door shut, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You good?” Adrian leaned back over to give Nick a chaste kiss. “You better be,” he whispered near his mouth with a smile.

"After that? Damn. Give a guy a second," Nick whispered back, lips curling to return his smile, but instead he closed their distance again. His nose bumped against Adrian’s before brushing their lips together briefly as he took a moment to calm down. His palm drifted down Adrian’s arm as he shivered, blue eyes still darkened as he tried not to melt back into his seat. 

Nick wasn’t sure how much time passed before he was finally able to move; tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his pants. The flush that remained covering his skin was now in part to embarrassment. He just let himself be… dick out in a stranger's car. Yet Nick still took a moment to drift his eyes over Adrian in appreciation. He let out a soft exhale as he wet his lips. Adrian’s features were somehow soft and defined at the same time, creating a near otherworldliness about him. Nick tried not to feel a spark of smug satisfaction at the way Adrian’s hair was even further mussed; unruly curls framing his head like a goddamn halo. "You good?"

“Absolutely.” Adrian grinned. He could still taste Nick in his mouth. “I’d consider this a very successful first date.” He fluttered his eyes with a shimmy of his shoulders. “Wouldn’t you? But, no, seriously. I’d really like to take you out. Properly.” 

A smile tugged at Nick’s lips, baring teeth, as a short laugh followed at the dorky gesture. Nick was met with both the strangest and strongest urge to kiss him again for it. He didn’t, instead lifting his hand to brush hair away from Adrian’s forehead.

“Maybe after I get back,” Adrian leaned his head back on the seat, gazing lovingly at Nick, “we can figure something out?”

“Yeah.” Nick wasn’t even sure what a proper date even meant. Yet for some unfathomable reason, he almost found himself wanting to agree nonetheless. He dropped his arm between them, resting back on the console. “I’ll think about it.” Nick wet his lips and leaned his head back a bit, hair falling back against his forehead. “So am I driving myself home, or do you want to be the one to do that?”

"I'll drive you back." Adrian gave Nick a final peck on the lips before exiting out of the passenger's side.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Adrian,” Nick whispered as the slick of Adrian’s tongue brushed against his own. “We’ve gotta… stop…” His eyes were glossy under the faint light of the streetlamp just outside the window. Nick kissed him again deeply, swallowing the moans that came from the other. Nick shuddered. “Okay… okay…” he panted. He slackened his grip on Adrian’s shirt and pressed his palms flat against Adrian’s shoulders, pushing him back. If they didn’t stop now, Nick was at serious risk of kissing him for another half hour. Or having a repeat of earlier.

“Okay,” Adrian agreed, nodding. “Stopping now.” His hand caught the back of Nick’s head, and he tugged him back for another kiss that left both of them dizzy. 

“Not fair.” Nick uttered against his lips; the slow brush of Adrian’s over his own could be addicting if he wasn’t careful. The last time Nick was head over heels for someone, it didn’t end well. His hands were shaky as he cupped Adrian’s face between them, thumbs grazing over his cheekbones. Nick gave him a pointed look before he quickly darted in to press a final kiss to the side of his mouth. “That’s all you get,” he murmured, a slight grin pulling at his lips as he finally worked up the strength to leave his ass alone and settle back into the passenger's seat.

“Am I going to see you again?”

Nick dragged a hand through his messy hair and straightened his work uniform. His previously crisp button down shirt was wrinkled all to hell. “Maybe.” His hand grasped for the handle of the door, pushing it open. 

He heard the roll down of Adrian’s window before he even reached it. He ducked his head down to say goodbye, but he didn’t have a chance to get the words out as he felt Adrian’s hand wrap around his forearm, tugging him gently downward.

A gasp caught in Nick’s throat, but his head automatically dipped down. His eyes darted to Adrian’s lips, like he hadn’t just spent the better part of the night finding out exactly what they felt like. A half-groan half-laugh escaped him as he pressed their lips together through the open window. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

“Get out of here,” Nick whispered raspily. “You’ve got a plane to catch.” Nick reached through the window, brushing back Adrian’s hair away from his eyes, before giving it an impromptu ruffle. “Good luck on your thing,” he murmured before stepping away from him, finally turning on his heel to head back to his apartment. He could feel Adrian’s eyes on him until he was out of sight. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Nick was as quiet as Nick could possibly be as he entered the silent apartment. He barely got through the door before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Adrian: miss me yet?

His stomach filled with fucking butterflies at the sight of his name and the grin that spread across Nick’s face made his cheeks hurt. Thank God his brothers were asleep right now. He’d never hear the end of it.

Nick just stared at the phone for a moment, back pressing against the closed front door. He was still grinning to himself as he tapped out a reply.

Nick: you wish. Nick: goodnight Adrian.

[adaze-4d4z3]

Ae Cha, my dumbass and horrifically insecure Erissona yayyy!!!

Red text: HOLY #@!* LOUD LOUD BRIGHT AS HELL LOUD LOUD

Blue text: I DON’T WANNA DRINK THIS… AAAAAAAA WHY AM I LIKE THIS

Ramblings about my girlie under cut :^ (it’s long like really fucking long how tf did I write this much)

Gender/sexuality

Demigirl (She/They)

Omniromantic (fem pref)

Aceflux, either no attraction w/ disgust or way too needy (Usually the former)

Studies

Fine arts major

Psychology minor

Theme songs (the question marks are a kind of)

Imperial Blue (R sound design)

Abbey (Mitski)

IMAWANOKIWA (Iyowa) (?)

Egoist (Oonuma Paseri)

Bathtub Mermaid (Mili)

Between Two Worlds (Mili) (?)

Doku Shite Choudai (Nakiso)

Yellow (Yoh Kamiyama)

Laplace's Angel (Will Wood)

Kimi Wo Yoru Kore (Fullkawa Honpo)

People Eater (Sodikken)

You Smell of Dead Flowers (vslush)

Appearance

155cm, aka 5'0, insists she's 5'1 though. (She's close enough cmon.)

Long black/really dark brown wavy/curly hair mostly slightly wavy some parts just curl for no good reason. Dyed undercolour hair, it fades quick so the colour changes between different light blues, teal, lavender and light pinks. She kind of sucks at dying it though.

Dark eyes like really dark brown

Pale/normal? skin, her feet are ungodly pale compared to the rest of her though lol. (Tan lines make me suffer) Dark circles, girl has a shit sleep schedule.

She's near-sighted but not as bad that she has to wear her glasses all the time, she just usually does because it's a hassle to keep putting it on and off. The prescription is actually pretty light.

Small ass hands and feet. It's baby. Like really fucking small hands. (This is a curse that I'll give to every oc even slightly somewhat based off me) Painted nails black, it's chipped and not that great. No pedicure though.

Their ears aren't pierced! It's clip ons, that's why she had a spare to give Milo :> (Girl CANNOT sleep with them in)

Her face is a little scarred due to skin picking problems that still persists. The skin around her nails suffer as well. Will make every hangnail bleed. Panicks every time it happens. Will also bite the skin around their nails, they ended up kind of tough because of that. It gets worse when she's bored or nervous. (She just eats the skin she bites off.)

Give her gum and that'll be fixed but she never has any on hand.

Random facts :>

Korean-Australian, but like 1/4 Aussie, (one full korean parent one half aus half korean one) but lived there most of her life rather than South Korea. Can't read or write the language except her name but listening and speaking is fine. (Conversational, she'll die inside if the words get too big)

Has a license for serving alcohol. (Well in Aus anyway) From a hospitality course she was in during high school. (She did it for fun)

Hates drawing backgrounds. Hates studying anatomy too but hey, prefers drawing people so back to anatomy studies it is. (She cries every time the foreshortening looks wrong.)

Can't animate for shit.

Probably draws Milo for the anatomy studies and dies inside because she just drew a naked Milo. Bro ain't living that down. Will do it again. Then regret it again.

Can play the piano, cries because she can't even play a full ocatave without pressing others keys. Learnt to sing as well- participated in choir as a soprano. Has a pretty straight voice. Can't roll r for any reason. Sucks because half the songs she knows would sound better with rolling rs. Can sing operas really well. (That’s how she was taught to sing after all) Her normal voice is kinda low though.

Loud noise/ yelling overstimulates her. Texture can also become a problem sometimes. Doesn't like being watched but she'll endure it for a perfect love :')

Weirdly good at giving good relationship advice, well she knows the one she wants is bad so she has to know what's good first.

Therapist friend. Half the gossip she knows comes from that.

Definitely the family dissapointment and gay cousin.

Gacha gamer- PRAY for their wallet.

Favourite flowers are rhododendrons

Favourite colours are lavender and rose gold

Will curse you out in Korean and have the person just confused but intimidated. Busan accent coming in handy :>

Ambidextrous, but her right hand is still technically better.

Important-ish things for why she's Fucked Up!!!!! :D

Emotionally neglected to some degree. Her parents cared about academic results and bragging about her. Was a very 'gifted' child, grades dropping at higher grades but still well, A/B student. Not good enough for her parents though.

So she's learnt that love is earned. So she tried but she just couldn't. Sacrificed her sleep to do the things she liked as more and more of her time was dedicated to study. That's why her current sleep schedule is fucked :>

She couldn't really handle the expectations so she chose the uni the game takes place in, it's pretty far from her parents. Just to try and do what she wants for once.

They couldn't go to their parents for support usually so they tried relying on friends. Only to be dragged into messes of friendship dramas after the other. Rather neglected and unwanted in the groups themselves. Got bullied too without much support in those times. Ending up alone over and over.

This kind of cemented her in her eyes as someone unwanted. So she had to make someone stay with her. She could tell she was lonely.

Unfortunate dating sim enjoyer now with ideals of love tries to date normally. However she can never get them to stay.

Worsening mindset yay!!!

She knows what bad relationships look like and tries to seek codependent ones out. Dating worse and worse people and trying to change them so they might just stay with them a little longer.

Toxic idiot can't do it properly. No one stays for longer than ~3-5 months.

So she changes herself. Practising in the mirror. (Bro ain't confidant usually!!! Acting man acting!) She has pent up anger inside of her she used to become stronger. Did her best to conquer her introverted nature and absolutely shit social skills to manipulate others. She doesn't even like what she's doing at all. Finds stalking others and getting information annoying and exhausting. She's not that strong either, has goddamn no arm strength. (She'll beat you with a shoe tho in true East Asian parent fashion lmao) Dislikes conflict too.

She learns how a perfect love for her might act. Even if she never wants to do the things herself.

It hurts them to do what she's doing, but to her it's the ONLY way she can have someone stay. AND have people not INTERFERE. (She has short person solidarity with Desmond please, they like you, you just get in the way)

Has a habit of apologising. So they say sorry randomly to others but she's just apologising for what she has done and keeps doing. They want to stop but keeps forcing themselves to keep going or keeps going in a panic.

She genuinely likes Milo, but gets so insecure that he'll leave her that they do what they do.

Doesn't even like most of the people she dates. A lot of them remind of their old bullies, but she thought bad people might achieve what she wanted faster.

...but that's not the kind of love she wanted. She wants to be in control this time, at the same time be revered enough by her partner to be smothered in love and not think and not be in control.

It's a balance she's never achieved.

(All playable endings end up being too intense for her, but if she doesn't break him it's not enough. Wall ending she ends up lonely from Milo not being around but others they can't process how things turned out.)

She's met Perfect!Milo in the fucking void! They end up there often trying to make her perfect love, and having to restart over and over because she can't get the balance she wants. Feels too bad for Perfect!Milo to have him become the one she wants, but enjoys his company. She brings him a small painting or drawing every time :D

Tbh she got too attached to Milo to try to do this with someone else anymore and results are steadily improving :^ it’s a slow, slow process though, and she still hasn’t achieved their perfect love.

She usually isn't really "Eris" in a sense most of the time. However, when she does her stuff to manipulate others/ be intimidating/ hurt others, that's when she really "Eris" in a sense. I draw her with the heterochromia when they’re in that mode for lack of a better word. :^ or when her insecurity peaks up :> After all, even under all that wanting and insecurity is still an Eris.

Milo Nicknames :3

Love

Angel

Darling

Sweet/ Sweetling

Yeobo (korean for darling/honey in married couples)

Bunny/Kitty/Puppy (Route dependant)

Mimi/ Mi (cute, shortened version of his name)

Ae Cha legit calls him like dude, bro, guy, man, girl, girlie etc just casually- she does this with everyone so Milo isn't an exception even if they are dating lmao

The funniest thing about her is that she could ACTUALLY GET BETTER by just going to therapy but no time for that when chasing a perfect love. HA BE TRAUMATISED.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

Yandere Dick Grayson x GN Reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: This AU came to me in a dream. The best honor you can bestow on a character is a yandere Ghostface fic, so I obviously had to give one to my man.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: yandere content, Ghostface Dick Grayson, stalking, blood, stab wounds, reader is implied to be a college student, reader likes horror movie trivia, Dick’s kinda freaky in this, OOC Dick (since he’s obviously not a serial killer in canon), the writer’s poorly disguised blood kink (nothing NSFT-worthy, but it’s definitely there).

… Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring…

… Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring…

Honestly, the phone ringing from the kitchen might’ve been the best jumpscare of the night. At least it was unexpected, unlike the tactics of this low budget slasher film you were watching (what was it called again? Agh, you’d have to look at the channel menu, and you lost the remote long ago). With a small sigh, you pulled yourself out of the couch and stretched your arms outwards, reveling in the satisfying pops elicited from your shoulders.

… Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring…

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “I’m coming.”

The phone was in the middle of a fourth ring when you finally reached the kitchen. Picking it up with a loose arm, you punched in the answer button and brought it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

An unfamiliar voice greeted you on the other end. It was low and velvety, with the slightest gravelly texture around the edges that made the back of your neck feel prickly. Your brows furrowed at their teasingly flirty tone, not liking where this could be going. “And who is this?”

“You tell me,” replied the unknown caller.

“Sorry, got no idea.” You leaned against the kitchen counter, facing the living room so you could at least half-tune into movie still. “So… can I help you with anything, or…?”

“What’s your name?”

Okay. Whoever this guy was, he was seriously starting to creep you out and piss you off. “Dunno, you tell me,” you mockingly answered. “How did you get this number?”

“No need to be so rude,” the voice cooed at you. “I just wanna talk, is all.”

“Not very fond of talking to strangers,” you distastefully mumbled.

“You must not make a lot of friends, then.”

“Well,” a puff of air left your lips, “I manage.”

“Sure doesn’t look like it.”

… Huh?

Vocal chords feeling suddenly dry, you thickly swallowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Come on now, gorgeous.” There was a chuckle before the caller continued. “It’s a Friday night. Shouldn’t you be out with friends instead of watching old scary movies all by yourself?”

Your blood turned ice cold.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Who the hell is this weirdo, not only giving you a random call, but also spying on you? Was this some sort of prank from that dumbass fraternity down the street? Some sort of tradition they have to call up new residents in the townhouses and try to scare them shitless? But if that’s the case, how the hell did they get your number?

Another chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. “Don’t look so tense, love. I only wanna talk, remember?”

“Talk,” you flatly echoed, turning around slowly to face the kitchen window. While you didn’t see anyone out there from where you were standing, it was too dark to know for sure. “About what?”

There was a long pause. All you could hear for several seconds was your quickening heartbeat and over-acted screams from the TV. It lasted for so long, wondered if your trembling fingers somehow accidentally hit the hang-up button.

Finally, the unknown caller spoke up again.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Your brows furrowed at the question. Why the fuck did he want to know that?

“Can’t say I have a favorite,” you shakily answered.

“Everyone’s got a favorite,” reasoned the caller. “Even I have one.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes darted between the window and the backdoor, praying you remembered to lock both of them. “What’s yours, then?”

“Guess.”

“… Friday the 13th?”

“Nope.”

“John Carpenter’s Halloween?”

“Guess again.”

“Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“You’re really bad at this.”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you, or a shadowy figure was emerging from behind the bushes. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you began to slowly back out of the kitchen. “Well… then I give up. Tell me.”

“Nuh-huh, sweetheart. The game doesn’t work like that. And besides…”

You were now at the threshold in between the kitchen and the living room. “Yeah?”

“Three strikes and you’re out.”

A click, then a low beep; the call was dead.

Just like you’ll probably be if you stick around.

While you weren’t exactly sure if “out” meant he was going to kill you, you sure as hell didn’t want to find out. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that only murderers made ominous quips like that. So, dropping your phone to the ground and spinning on your heals, you made a b-line towards the front door and fiddled with the lock. If he could see you from the kitchen, then that obviously meant he was out back; he’d have to circle around the entire line of townhouses if he wants to catch you in the front. That would give you enough time to start banging on doors, and at least someone would have to let you in, right?

As soon as you threw the door open, however, it became shockingly apparent that you made the wrong decision.

Looming in the doorframe was a broad figure in black robes. He wore a porcelain white mask with exaggerated mouth and drooping eyes, reminding you for a split second of some sort of Scooby-Doo monster. The only difference between one of those and this fucker, however, was the rather sharp-looking knife he were twirling in their gloved hand.

He gave you a tiny wave with his free hand.

You began to book it back into the kitchen.

Before you could even clear the living room, however, a sharp pain exploded in the back of your shoulder, causing you to cry out as your knees buckled. You were sent careening towards the ground as something ripped out of your skin; his knife, you realized with complete and interr horror. With grunts of agony, you struggled to push yourself off of the linoleum floor in hopes to get back to your feet.

An impressed whistle pierced the air. “Took that like a champ, sweetheart. So proud of ya.”

You finally managed to get yourself to a semi-crouched position, only for a hand to grab at your wounded shoulder and shove you down. The shout that was ripped from your chest was cut off as your jaw harshly slammed against the linoleum floor. Metallic blood flooded your mouth as your teeth caught your tongue in the impact, only adding to the cacophony of pain. There was still a firm hand on your shoulder, which squeezed tighter so he could roll you over and face him.

“You look so pretty when you’re terrified,” your attacker cooed, his blood-splattered mask only inches away from your face. He lowered himself to straddle your hips, his body weight pinning you against the floor. “Way better up close.”

“Please,” you pathetically pleaded, some of your bloody spit dribbling down your chin. “Please…!! Please, just let me go!!”

A low rumble came from him — a weird mix between a laugh and a groan — as he held the knife up against your neck. The blade was still warm, your own dark blood staining your skin. “Yeah, go on... beg for your life, love.”

God, why was this happening to you?! All you wanted to do was watch some cheap slasher movie and take it easy for the night, and now you’re one slice away from certain death?? Was this seriously gonna be how you go out; murdered in your own living room with old reruns playing on the TV? A choked sob left your lips at the pitiful thought.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered, feeling the edge of the knife catch your skin as your throat bobbed from swallowing. “Please…”

“Good job, gorgeous,” he condescendingly praised. “Just like that. Don’t you know how hot you look right now?”

Christ… this guy was fucking disgusting. The way he seemed so into this made your skin crawl. His free hand came up to caress your cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind with it. Swiping his thumb across your lower lip, he hooked his index finger under your chin and tilted your head upwards. It took you a few moments to register that the weight of the knife’s blade was removed from your neck, now being held gently against your cheek as he let out a hum.

“You’re quite the catch,” he mused, pressing the blade harder against your cheek to draw blood. You couldn’t help but sharply inhale at the stinging sensation.

“Why are you…” a noise of pain interrupted your sentence as he slowly slid the knife down to your jawline, “doing this..?!”

He didn’t seem to care for your question. Instead, he released your chin from his leather hand, bringing it up to his mask and stroking the elongated jaw. It was as if he was pondering something, his fingers smearing your speckled blood downwards until he got to the tip of his mask’s chin. Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, he began to tug the mask upwards to reveal a crooked smirk. Your stomach dropped entirely when you realized he was confident enough about this to let you see part of his face; he really was going for the kill.

“I’d like to think this thrill is a lot better than the cheap scares in movies,” he teased, bringing the knife back to your throat and leaning closer to your face. You could feel his hot breath against the cut on your cheek as he finished with, “and I think you’d agree.”

Your shoulders jolted at the sudden wetness against the side of your face, and it dawned upon you that the fucker was licking you. His tongue ran up your shallow gash, clearing away whatever amount of blood that bubbled from it. You felt your face crinkle up in disgust as he continued to lap at it, like he was a little kid licking an ice cream cone (you could even hear him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth and swallow; this fucking psycho was actually consuming your blood).

Once he seemed satisfied, he pulled away a few inches to run his red-stained tongue over his lips. “You know… my favorite scary movie is actually Dracula. I was always into the classics.”

“Dracula,” you shakily repeated, feeling cold sweat collect on the back of your neck. “1930s? Tod Browning?”

He let out a hum of approval. “Wow. You seem to know your stuff, sweetheart! Didn’t realize you were that into the genre.”

“I… I guess…”

“Yeah?” The leather of his gloves creaked as he clenched the hilt of the knife tighter. “Isn’t this perfect for you, then? Getting to live out the real deal? Lot’s of horror movie junkies out there would absolutely kill to be in your position right now.”

Your limbs felt numb, petrified to the floor with pure terror. “Never thought I’d s-star in one…!”

“What a shame,” he tutted. “You’re a perfect fit for the victim role.”

The blade began to dig deeper into the meat of your neck.

This was it. This is how you were going to die. You could barely hear the resolution of the movie in the background over your palpitating heart as the blade dug deeper into the meat of your neck. With any luck, he’d make this a quick one, putting you out of your misery so you didn’t have to suffer through a slow, painful death. If he wasn’t that nice, however, your vision was already spotty from blood loss, so there was at least the possibility of you passing out before it got too agonizing.

But then, just as you could feel your own blood dribbling down your collarbone, the pressure was alleviated.

“Come to think of it, though…” he pulled the mask back down his face, giving it a little jostle to make sure it was correctly oriented. “Killing you off so soon would be disappointing.”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I want to see you in the sequel.”

Without another word, he slowly pushed himself off of you to stand up. You took this as the perfect opportunity to desperately crawl away, wide and careful eyes still trained on him in case he lunged at you again. Fortunately, it seemed as though he truly was done for the night, taking a few steps back from you as he twirled the knife in his one hand. With the other, he gave a tiny wave, and practically skipped out the front door, even having the courtesy to slam it behind him.

He just spared your life.

You could practically feel yourself melting into the cracks of the linoleum floor. Holy shit, he just spared your life. After all of that — finding your number, calling you outside of your house, stabbing you, and having the perfect opportunity to finish you off — he decided to spare your life. What the fuck just happened.

Well, it’s not like you had time to deliberate on that; you were kinda still bleeding out right now. He did stab you, after all.

So, rolling yourself over on all fours, you clutched the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder and began to crawl towards the kitchen as the ending credits rolled on your shitty slasher film.

So… as it turns out, the phone ringing was not the best jumpscare of the night.

[ronancebyler]

Platonic Jonbin headcanons?

oh my god being asked to talk about platonic jonbin??? them and platonic edancy are my favorite underrated platonic dynamics so I will use any opportunity to not shut up about them.

heads up! there will be possible rojancy (without romantic jonbin obviously) and possible stonathan and also possible platonic soulmatism stobin because those are things I cannot get out of my skin.

also! these are all in random order and don't have to exist in the same universe as each other or canon. really this is mostly just me cherry picking what parts of canon I like then saying fuck it and going by vibes!

jonathan and robin are both nonbinary but robin is a she/he sort of nonbinary and jonathan is a they/them sort of nonbinary (this will be the pronouns I'll be using throughout this) (if you see me use different pronoun hcs in different posts shut your mouth)

they have matching music tastes. no, not the same music taste, MATCHING music tastes. like it feels like the songs would get along or would be in playlists of two best friend characters. they're also both incredibly passionate about music so they love saying that each other are the "only music tastes I respect even though I don't listen to all of them" like they're such snobs together (robin is joking, jonathan is not)

they do dress like they came from the same cartoon. it's less that they look similar and more like they have a general vibe to them that when put together feels eerily like the same artist drew them

jonathan finds eddie hot and robin is so personally offended by that because eddie is the person he loves making fun of because it's her personal bully victim (affectionate)

"FIRST STEVIE AND NOW EDDIE????" "I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED"

robin and jonathan have opposite tastes in crushes. the singular place it aligns is with nancy wheeler

robin has a thing for people who kind of intimidate her and are incredibly driven/passionate people with a soft side

jonathan has a thing for soft people who love animals and are really kind but with a scary side

"how is she literally perfect????" "i don't even know"

there is something so funny to me about jonathan having a heavy preference for men in their sexuality

"that guy is hot" "he literally looks like he's been dipped in a dumpster what the fuck is wrong with you"

the pattern you're seeing in these headcanons is that they're not similar as much as they are complimentary

robin does jonathans hair. they didn't ask for it, he just showed up to their house with hair products and went "sit down. no you don't have a choice."

this isn't necessarily because she's good at doing hair and more because jonathan's hair texture is just so nice but eventually he gets really good at it

steals each other clothes but will not use it in the same way. jonathan's overwear???? no, that's robin's lasso. robin's shirt???? no, that's jonathan's journal decoration

stonathan with platonic jonbin is so fucking funny and i don't know why more people don't consider this

"MY BEST FRIEND IS FUCKING MY PLATONIC SOULMATE????? oh my god i let them meet is this nepotism" "robin what the fuck" "nonono let her speak"

also platonic soulmates stobin being so welcoming of jonathan my beloved <33

"you stole my best friend and my ex???" "are you actually mad" "no that's funny as fuck you should come for girls nights"

which while we're on that tangent yes jonathan is invited for girls nights yes they are the most girl there no they are not a girl you just don't understand their gender is a candy wrapper at the bottom of a garbage can okay

"I'm infiltrating the secret meetings of all genders." "yes, jonathan, sit down, let me do your nails while robin talks about girls"

jonathan is literally the best person to come to for any crush because while steve will get excited with robin and support his delulu urges jonathan will be dead serious when they say "no she likes you back you dumbass"

when they get flustered from nancy flirting with them they react the exact same, which is they freeze and slowly turn redder

the difference is jonathan goes silent while robin starts talking more to attempt to distract nancy (it doesn't work)

when they panic at the same time their brains temporarily connect so they can yell "oh god fuck oh my god what do we say fuck she's so pretty I'm too gay for this" in each others brains

robin loves her label as being a lesbian very much and he's very connected to it while jonathan could not care less to label their sexuality

"mmm I'm such a lesbian womennnnnn" "have fun with that but also fold your fucking clothes"

they both get each other out of awkward social situations when their token 'knows how to talk to people' buddy isn't there

they also tend to stick to each other when steve is out being sociable in public spaces

as much as i love the idea of steve being robin's beard, i like jonathan as his beard more

people are more intimidated by jonathan for whatever reason so they're less likely to bug them about their relationship

if you're going down the rojancy route, they're dating the same girl so they hang out a lot together anyways so it's a good cover

and if you're going down the stonathan route steve is literally always with robin they can find time to sneak in kisses

"arent you jealous your gf is always with that Harrington kid??" "I'm not even slightly worried i trust her"

robin gets really attached to will and basically becomes will's third sibling

she's also really attached to el so she's ready to bat for the byers family any day of the week

jonathan is the older sister, robin is the older brother, i dont make the rules

(i mean i literally do in this scenario but like the worms in my brain insist)

robin jumps on top of jonathan instead of "hugging"

"hugging is weak we will be commencing a five-step attack plan" "robin."

i now realize how long ive been talking I'll stfu

[the-zebra-dragon]

I wish so bad my cats had tumblr I think it would be like

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

lol does anyone know what this weird human behavior is? every time I go to scratch on this One Scratching Post my human comes and stands on the base of it. they don’t scold me, and they don’t pick me up like when I scratch on the Forbidden™ Good Scratching Textures, but it’s weird that they keep standing in my space whenever i’m using it. I’m pretty sure this thing is For Cats, but now I’m not so sure and it’s freaking me out. any ideas, science side of tumblr?

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

IS SAID SCRATCHING POST THE ONE BY THE CHAIR. WITH THE ROUND BASE.

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

yes. also why are you yelling.

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

CANT TURN CAPS OFF LOL

HUMAN SCIENTISTS SAY THAT THEY CANT FIGURE OUT WHY HUMANS DO WHAT THEY DO BECAUSE THEY’RE HUMANS. HOPE THIS HELPS.

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

if you don’t know the answers to my question why did you reblog it.

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

I LIKE REBLOGGING POSTS! :D

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

you are the worst.

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

SHOUTOUT TO ALL THE VICTIMS OF PAW MUTILATION. WHILE IT IS LESS THAN IT WAS IN THE PAST MANY OF US ARE STILL LEFT WITHOUT DEFENSES BY CRUEL HUMANS. #STOPPAWMUTILATION

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

Imagine not having claws lol

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

CATS LIKE YOU ARE NOT HELPING THE ISSUE. I WISH YOU LUCK IN YOUR SAD AND LONELY LIFE.

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

Bro are you serious? OP was making a post for cats who have been declawed because being declawed SUCKS probably. You didn’t have to be a dick about it just because your humans can’t stand to have you in the house.

Yeah, I read your bio. ‘Outside cat and proud of it’ is a fantastic title for a loser like you. Hope you’re smart enough to stay off the road at night, jerk.

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

Aren’t you that dog Shooty McLumberjack’s friend brings around and just lets run the neighborhood? Because it’s real interesting that you’re criticizing my humans when yours is slowly deforesting the neighborhood and driving the other humans up the wall with noise complaints.

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

CAN YOU TWO GO MAKE YOUR OWN POST PLEASE. I WILL TAG YOU-KNOW-WHO IF YOU DON’T.

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

why are you cyber bullying me???

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

i Am eXperiancing… a sniffe…

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

And what does it smell like, Percy?

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

smells

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

and why can’t I go in the warm box, huh? Because the humans won’t let me? Maybe I want to get baked like a loaf of bread.

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

IT’S CALLED AN OVEN AND IT WILL KILL YOU, DUMBASS.

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

It’ll kill YOU. I’m built different.

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

being a dog is great. I smelled a log AND drank water from a puddle.

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

Really? On this cat-dominated website? Go eat some trash, dog.

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

Okay! Trash is yummy!

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

… okay, go fetch a stick, then?

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

Okay! I got a whole branch! Now what?

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

Chase a car or something?

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

Okay, but I lost the car. now what?

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

‘Outside cat and proud of it’ is insulting you, you know. They’re implying you have low intelligence because you’re a dog.

🐕 bow-wow-boom Follow

I know! But I was having so much fun that it failed!

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

… what the fuck, how am I losing to a dog???

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

I wan sipPy

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

THE HUMANS ARE NOT HOME. THEY CANNOT OPERATE THE FAUCET FOR YOU UNTIL THEY GET BACK.

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

toO LOUD you… SCEAMING IN ME EAR??? wear me sIppy

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

No sippy now, sippy later.

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

Aw. :( :( :( o kaY

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

The second I get the chance to get in the house it’s over for you inside cats. I’m gonna shred your furniture and eat all your food AND get my scent on your toys and you can’t do anything about it because your humans are suckers for big kitty eyes!

🗣️ yappinbeau Follow

You can’t do that though, that’s illegal! You’re so mean!

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

And what are you gonna do about it, clawless? Hide behind the real cats you live with and hope I don’t take ‘em out? You’re pathetic.

🐈‍⬛ beefbug Follow

Normally I’d ask if you’d care to say that to my face, but since you clearly need to be taken down a peg…

@unicornrainbows21

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

THERE YOU ARE YOU LITTLE BITCH. FIRST YOU TALKED SHIT ABOUT ME, NOW YOU’RE TALKING SHIT ABOUT YAP AND NYX AND SOME RANDOM DOG? COME AT ME BRO I’LL FUCKING TURN YOU INTO A PILE OF ROCKS. I’LL THROW DOWN ANY TIME YOU WANT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

🌳 behindurmomshouse Follow

GOD DAMMIT I THOUGHT I BLOCKED YOU

🥺 unicornrainbows21 Follow

can’t block this ✌️🥰

[possibilistfanfiction]

I love Beatrice feels about Avas gender identity (or lack of). And how, for Beatrice, her womanhood is still an important part of her, even if she expresses that part differently than other women. And how Bea is just down for the ride when Ava experiments with their gender expression, just endless support and love and just letting Ava try out whatever they want. Like the scene with the binder, Ava wasnt visibly uncomfortable or weirded out, she just said that it wasnt something for her, and Bea never discouraged her of trying it out by telling her that she wouldnt like it, or other masculine things that fit better, like the suit. So yeah, thanks for having someone like Ava who doenst give a fuck about how she "should" dress and act as told by society and then Beatrice, for whom womanhood is still an important part of, but she puts her personal own spin on it, so she still feels like herself and happy. So, yeah you said you already have two butch!Bea prompts, so I just wanted to request a Avatrice fic with some happy gender expressions/feels it doesnt have to be butch!Bea AU, if you want. But yeah, I love how you write Beas butch style but still in touch with her womanhood. (And of course her kicking ass in Aikaido class ;) )

‘wow,’ you say, a little breathless. ava grins, spins around in their tuxedo slacks and button down with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, an old binder of yours that’s loose on them but still offers some compression underneath, paired with patent leather loafers and a tie loose around their neck. they’ve slicked their hair back neatly and are grinning, arms outstretched. ‘you look amazing.’

‘yeah?’

‘of course,’ you say, as if there was any other possibility. ava wraps her arm around your waist and looks in the mirror at the both of you together: it’s a little different, because you’re used to ava in the dresses and crop tops and flowy pants he loves, an old favorite pair of overalls — but it’s, like, really, really hot. you’ve learned through your friends and therapy and ava’s own deep exuberance around queerness that you really are in love in so many of its forms, the textures it takes and allows; while you feel much, much better and safer and more comfortable and at ease in yourself when you’re in loose, easy pants, your chest flat, your hair short, you have never begrudged ava their expansion. they’ve seen so, so much, lived through more pain than anyone should ever have to, so everything about them, even at their most annoying, is beautiful to you.

‘if i wore a packer into a cathedral, do you think i would be struck down or something?’

it takes a second too long for your brain to get unstuck from the heat that races down your spine; ava smirks. ‘are you —‘ unfortunately your voice comes out a little strangled and you have to regroup — ‘are you wearing one?’

‘nah,’ ava says. ‘thought about it, but these pants are kinda tight and if i have to sit through some dumbass pomp and circumstance at the vatican i’m at least going to be comfortable.’

you hum, the best you can do.

‘maybe i’ll wear it tomorrow with that new skirt i got in madrid though,’ she says, far too casual for the victorious expression on her face. 

‘well, you do know god best.’

‘that’s so true,’ ava says, preening again and then turning toward you. ‘gender expression, totally cool with god, if you can believe that.’

‘i suppose i can.’ ava’s smirk softens into an easy smile, one you revel in every time it’s for you, the way sunflowers turn toward the sun. 

‘plus, this little vest situation you have going on is, like, so hot. god can’t begrudge me your arms, not after all i’ve done.’

you huff at their obvious delight in flustering you, but it’s summer and very hot and, really, the light sweater vest you’d picked out to go with your very church-appropriate slacks is also quite tame. 

‘i love you,’ they say, softening again, and kiss your cheek. ‘now, let’s go scandalize some conservatives, shall we?’

you laugh, unable to resist ava’s warmth, again and again. ‘we shall.’

[stomach-bugg09]

I absolutely love your fali and y/n fics and I was wondering if you could do one where y/n or fali gets jealous because someone keeps flirting with the other and they just find it endearing and like tooth rotting fluff

summary: while [y/n] learns new things about her uncontrollable jealousy, fali must learn the consequences of his inability to take a hint.

a/n: tehe i’ve been so pumped to write this one. this one goes out to my personal babes ( sash <3 ) because i know you’ve been wanting this you angsty lil bitch. hope you enjoy — it’s a lot of jealousy / angst , but dw because it’s balanced by fluff and fali being a dumbass. reblogs + feedback are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass @23victoria

warnings: jealous [y/n] , fali being stupid , three randos flirting with our man , little argument , [y/n] crying , fluff

words: 1.0k

jealousy jealousy

after a few months of dating, [y/n]’d gotten very used to other females of the clan attempting to make a move on fali. at first, it’d been a shock—something to get used to. but, it didn’t take long for her to realize that there was nothing to worry about. afterall, fali was trustworthy. why should she be concerned?

sure, she often got a little bit jealous of the way he laughed at their jokes before she reminded herself that those girls never experienced his lips on theirs’. once she recalled that detail, she often wore a smug look on her face before approaching fali and melting into his embrace.

but, this time, everything seemed a little bit off. in the beginning, [y/n] couldn’t quite understand why that was the case. why was she now getting so upset?

after a few minutes of watching three na’vi girls flirting with fali, she finally realized that it was because fali was an absolute idiot.

normally, when some helpless female wandered over to him, he was quick to shut the tension down. he was always aware, always smart enough to realize it, especially when he’d been with [y/n] just moments before.

this time, however, it was almost as if their intentions weren’t even on his mind. instead, he laughed at everything they said. instead, he let them sit there in their very showy outfits. instead, he swam with them through the reef.

[y/n] was about to lose her mind.

she sat on the beach, back leaned against the textured bark of a palm tree as her hands clenched and unclenched fistfuls of sand. [y/n]’s eyes glared daggers at the group that swam in the surf, eyes rolling dramatically at the sight of one of the girls splashing fali.

it’d been a good hour of watching the scene play out, and [y/n] was fighting the urge to stomp down to the water and murder fali. at that point, it wasn’t even the girls’ faults. oh no, they were young and stupid, but fali was old and stupid.

the moment that [y/n] saw fali bid the group of girls a farewell ( which left them giggling ), she braced herself for an aggravatingly dumb conversation.

as soon as he walked up the beach, fali’s eyes met hers, and funnily enough, he waved as if everything was normal. when [y/n] just rolled her eyes, he immediately knew that he was in trouble, causing him to quicken his pace.

as he now jogged through the sand, [y/n] braced her hand against the tree to help herself up. the closer he got to her, the more she felt like leaving.

“[y/n]!” he yelled once she turned around and began walking away. “[y/n], wait!”

she huffed at the sound of his feet against the sand, his breath faster as he picked up speed. “go away.” [y/n]’s voice was dry and full of annoyance.

when he finally caught up, he slowed to match her pace. “[y/n], what’s wrong?”

at that, she stopped in her tracks, turning to him with an unamused look. “what’s wrong?” she asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “is that a joke?”

“no?” he sputtered, hands raised in mock defense. “i don’t understand!”

“oh my eywa, fali. how stupid could you possibly be?” she gripped her head, the heels of her hands digging into her temples as to massage them. “i mean i knew that you were stupid, but not stupid enough to still not understand once you saw how annoyed i am.”

“you know, i really would love to try and understand, but you are not making it easy.” fali bit his bottom lip, canines gently running themselves over the cuts due to dry air.

[y/n] breathed out a disbelieving chuckle. “you mean to tell me that you didn’t think twice about those girls flirting with you? all three of them were just so funny, weren’t they?”

fali’s face dropped. “oh.” [y/n] shook her head, beginning to walk again.

“shoot, [y/n], wait!” she paused again, not bothering to turn. “i didn’t—i didn’t even notice!”

“obviously,” she said, sarcasm dripping through her tone.

“it’s just that their daughters of some of my parents’ friends—i just wanted to entertain them! i didn’t think they were being harmful.”

“you could have called me over! i dunno, showed me off or something!” [y/n] now turned to face him, tears pricking her eyes.

fali paused to think. his heart stung at the sight of her sadness, and guilt flooded his gut. “i’m sorry, [y/n]. i should have, i really should have. i was just… distracted by making sure my parents wouldn’t have gotten mad at me.”

[y/n] sighed. “i understand.” she brought her hands up, fingers wiping her eyes gently. “it’s just… i don’t belong here, you know?” [y/n] shook her head. “i’m just worried that you’ll leave me. leave me for a girl from your own tribe.”

fali’s heart shattered. he stepped forward, engulfing [y/n] in his arms. “oh, [y/n]. i would never.” he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “honestly, those girls were extremely annoying. i was just focused on being a people-pleaser—too focused that i ended up displeasing my own love.”

[y/n] laughed through her tears. “‘displeasing?’”

“is that a word?” fali questioned, eyebrow muscles twitching upwards in confusion.

he felt her shoulders shrug. “i have no idea—it sounds silly, though.”

“most words do,” he laughed, backing up from their embrace. at the sight of her now smiling face, despite the tears that now dried on her cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst. she made him melt, and there was nothing that could get him to ever let her go.

“i see you,” he said, voice quiet and pleasant. “and there is no girl, metkayina or not, that could ever get me to leave you.” a smile sprung onto her cheeks, her fingers once again wiping away tears. “do you understand?”

“yes,” she laughed. “yes, i understand.”

“good.”

[y/n] nodded, admiring the way he lit up at her words. “yes, good.”

[gloryy-vs]

Apple Cider

lo’ak x human!reader

sfw, fluff

you and lo’ak spend time with each other every night during eclipse, enjoying each others presence. tonight, you finally realize the feelings you’ve had for him for years has always been mutual.

You hopped over thick logs and forest sh rubble to reach the pond you and Lo’ak would meet at every night after eclipse. You stumbled over the root of a tree as the pond and sure i find rock and fauna came into view. Cursing yourself, you were glad Lo’ak had his head down so he didn’t see your embarrassment.

Just as you regained your balance, his head turned to your direction. “Took you long enough.” He said, his untied hair dropping to his shoulders.

You loved when he didn’t tie his hair back, it suited his build a lot more. Practically skipping over, you let the cream satchel you brought with you drop down your arm. Lo’ak scooted over to let you sit down, rails swishing around happily as you took out two glass bottles that contained an orange colored substance. You looked up at him with a smile, noting his ears perking up when he brought his face closer to the bottle you were attempting to hand him.

“What the hell is that, bro?” He asked quizzically, taking it with caution.

“Apple cider, dumbass. I stole some from the lab for tonight. Humans love this shit.” You said, a cocky smile plastered on your face as you opened the bottle up, hearing the fizz emerge as air was flowing into the bottle.

“Apple cider?” Lo’ak said to himself, opening the bottle with his teeth and taking a sniff.

You side eyed him, taking a swig of the juice. You leaned against the taller alien, setting the bottle on the ground. Though you would never mention it, spending time with him at night was the best part of your day. Unwinding with him, talking about your new findings from the lab, hearing him talking about hunts he went on. You always found yourself coming to Lo’ak with any problems you had too. There were times when you tried lying to yourself, telling yourself there were no feelings involved but you knew better.

You watched him take his first sip, subconsciously smiling as you watched his eyes grow wide. “This tastes….” Lo’ak cut off, taking another big gulp. “Pretty good.”

You snorted, turning your head forwards while he put his free hand around your shoulders, letting you rest against his chest fully. You could feel the pace of his heart quickening. Heat spread to your face at the thought of him even being remotely attracted to you, a human. Lo’ak set his own bottle down, starting up a conversation.

“I like your sweater today, the blue looks good on you.” He said, using his now freed up hand to rub the peculiar material between his long fingers. The color matched his own azure skin perfectly.

You purposely set it up that way. Wearing this sweater always reminded you of the taller warrior, and instantly brings a smile to your face when you see yourself in the mirror.

“So what? Every other sweater I wear looks like shit?” You said, cocking up a brow and looking up at him. “No wonder you’re single” You mumbled, knowing he still heard it.

“You know that’s not what I mean bro!” Lo’ak exclaimed, his chest erupting with a deep laugh. You could feel your head rise and fall with his chuckles. “I’m single because I choose to be.” Lo’ak attempted to sound confident, but you saw straight through his act. He was still single because he had a thing for you, but both of you were too afraid to admit it.

“Yeah sure, I believe that.” You said, picking up the glass with cider inside and taking a few big gulps.

Lo’ak went quiet, his mind wandering as he began to play with the ends of your hair, feeling the texture under his fingers. It was like he was out of his own body, just enjoying the silence between you two.

“So how did today go? Jake do anything…Jakey?” You asked, hoping that the sudden question wouldn’t force him to stop playing with your hair.

Luckily it didn’t, but you did feel the sudden movement of his tail thwack against your back. “Nah, didn’t yell at us at all today. I’m trying to stay out of trouble. I don’t wanna get grounded again like last time.” He said, twirling your hair around his pinky finger.

“Why? Cus you’d miss being able to come out and talk to me?” Your voice pitched up, trying to get a confession out of him.

“Well, it’s really nice to talk to you. I just don’t wanna get grounded from my Ikran. No hard feelings but I can live without you.” He said softly, a hint of a laugh in between words.

You smacked his chest, looking up at him with annoyed eyes. “I hate you, Lo’ak! You’d be so lost without me, be for real!” He looked down at you with his natural puppy eyes.

“Fine, fine! I would!” He instinctively pressed his cheek against the top of your head. It lasted for only a moment before he snapped back to his reality and pulled away. “I’d…still miss my Ikran though.”

Rolling your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his trim waist. “Just shut up and hold me.” You said into his chest, knowing that the feeling between you two was mutually just by the small reactions he had tonight. It satisfied you deep inside, but you knew it wasn’t the right moment for a confession to come out of either of you.

“Okay, okay. So demanding!” Lo’ak said, rubbing his hand that’s been around your shoulders this entire time up and down your back while his other hand rested on your thighs innocently.

You knew from tonight on, you’d give this romance a try no matter what it took. Just to be with Lo’ak.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @cowboybrunch!

5 Lines Tag

My lines:

a line with suspense a funny line a line with color a loud line a line you’re proud of

I'll pull from End Times :)

A line with suspense

Her mangled Janazi characters bled as the wine seeped through the napkin, twisting their meaning even further. Twenari had taught Izjik and Sepo—or tried to teach, in her case—how to write in Janazi back on Nace. Sepo, of course, had picked up the language frighteningly fast and with a studious intensity that had left him with the handwriting of a scribe. Izjik, on the other hand, had never written anything before. Halawema’ishi didn’t have a written counterpart like Llanaodan, so she wasn’t super familiar with the concept to begin with.

Unfortunately, End didn’t have the patience to wait on her. All Izjik managed to scribble down was ‘Find Devaris. Help—’ before her captor took control and she was shunted once again to the back of her mind.

A funny line

“Look for dry wood in a variety of sizes,” Sepo acquiesced with a sigh.

Djek smothered a giggle. “And I’ll bet you’re an expert at looking for dry wood in a variety of sizes, huh?”

A twig flew out of the darkness and impacted his forehead. “You’re a child.”

“Avoid any Nabafyrian cedar,” Twenari added. Either the innuendo had sailed over the girl’s head or she just didn’t care. Honestly, it was a toss-up. “It can explode when exposed to intense heat.”

“That’s…. Sure, whatever. Exploding trees.” Djek cracked his knuckles with a sigh and began to make his way into the underbrush. “Run fast if you hear me scream.”

“The head start will be appreciated.”

“Run towards me, dumbass!”

A line with color

Flicking into her arcane awareness, Twenari could see a great hurricane of whirling threads—black and yellow and purple like a fresh bruise. The mass of it covered the sky, turning the rays of the moon already dimmed by her focus on the magical into little more than candlelight. It crouched over Sepo and his miraculous music like a bloated giant. Almost, Twenari could see the bare impression of a face pressed into the rotting strings leering down at him.

From the fiddle flowed magic as well. Twenari had seen divine magic before, both in the All-Temple and making up Izjik’s torn cloak. It had a finer weave to it, a different texture under her discerning eye. The magic Sepo played wasn’t quite that. It shared elements—the burning blue threads flowed like water or honey, as smooth as silk—but held the tell-tale snarls of mortal magic.

Mortal magic was imperfect. Sometimes, that was where discoveries were found, or what transformed a stale hymn into a fiery concerto.

A loud line

Before her was a far more damning sight. End didn’t wear its carapace of night. It didn’t need to, facing only mortal threats on a floating piece of flimsy wood. Twenari felt the terror of teleportation replaced instantly by sickened rage. She’d imagined it would be hard to see past Izjik to the demon wearing her skin, hard to separate the flesh from the thing within, but her friend never would’ve smiled with such sadism. Her friend would never have worn Djek’s blood on her knuckles like a trophy.

The Amaranthi’s eyes were wild with terror as he looked back at the newly arrived reinforcements from where he struggled to stand up from slick ground. Fading whips of shadow pulled uselessly as End’s arms and legs.

“Where the fuck have you been?” was his screamed greeting.

A line you're proud of

Breathing hard, she sat on the edge of the slowly sinking ship, letting the southern sea wash the ichor from her sandals. The stars stared down at her with naked hatred and Izjik knew it would be this way every night for the rest of her life. Despised by the heavens, feared by the gods.

“I hate you,” she whispered, but the words were hollow. A desperate grab for the last embers of fury to keep her warm. Terror seeped into her veins like icy poison. Izjik looked down at her shaking hands—did blood even flow within them? Or just black ichor?

It was done. She was free. So, why didn’t she feel that way?

I'll tag @apolline-lucy @melpomene-grey @nebula--nix @theprissythumbelina and anyone else who wants to play :)

Your lines are:

A whispered line

A line with sass

A pretty line

A blue line

A brutal line

[quirrelli]

Quick and dirty Kiriko redesign

Main issues I tried to address:

The shilouette is pretty meh. It's not dire but at a glance/distance there is potential for confusion. So I tried to exaggerate notable features (hair, mask ears, hakama) and added a spear, like she has in some of the concept art. For one thing it looks cool and for another, it's been established through the Shimadas that these animal spirits are tied to a weapon and a spear fits in very neatly with a sword and bow.

The design is bland. (Which at least makes her fit in with the other OW2 default skins lmao). The first time I saw her I literally thought it was a D.Va skin. The idea, I would guess, was to merge traditional japanese clothing with modern day hip street fashion vibes and it just doesn't come together at all. Instead of enhancing them, all the aspects that should have visual impact are watered down. From her leggings to her face, there is no flavor; except in that trash garbage mask-visor nonsense. So I leaned into the traditional clothing, since leaning into the "hip young person" would just make her even less distinguishable from similar characters. I also tried to add some bits and bobs for flair (like the seals on her arms), just can't be bothered to really go into texture and detail atm.

Generic personality. This is more of a vibe thing than a character design thing but I want her to, at least at first glance, come across as a bit more cool and confident, maybe a little mysterious and just more interesting than the knock off Tracer/D.Va she turned out as. She can still be a bit of a goofball behind the mask but I feel her protector role demands that she can be at least a tiny bit intimidating.

That trash garbage mask-visor nonsense. My least favorite part by a goddamn mile. It just looks so fucking dumb and there's no way to make it cool; with its teeny kitten ears, dumbass white eyebrow triangles and perfectly flat bottom cut off. Again it's like mixing two things (naruto style ninja headband and kitsune mask) and ending up with the worst of both worlds. And you just know the reason she doesn't have a full or even half mask is because god forbid you can't see a female characters cute, utterly indistinguishable from the other cute 20-somethings, face. Fuck you, she gets a whole mask and it's badass.

Color. Her color palette has powerful "I'm 14 and this is my OC" energy. Actually, everything about her kinda has that, but the color palette especially. Now, I'm the first to admit that color isn't my strong suit either but even I can see some very obvious improvements. Like, why are her normal healing and her ult different colors? To me that's unnecessarily confused and looks bad, simply put. On top of that, they're yellow and cyan respectively, aka the most overused colors for glowy things ever. So I picked a yellowy orange bc it matches the fox motif and sets a nice contrast with the Shimadas' blue and green, just like the red in her outfit does. I incorporated some of that orange into her clothes as well, you know, for cohesion, and kept the green hair as a nice complementary to all the warm colors.

Feel free to make suggestions for improvements, might do a V2 eventually

[simplymisty]

SUPER MEGA PROTIP FROM ARTFIGHT VETERAN!!!!

HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!

Okay, no, on a serious note: here's some things I would like to share with new people as a person who participates in Artfight since 2019:

you don't have to make fully rendered attacks. sketch is a category for a reason! "even" sketches are immensely appreciated

actually, you don't even have to *draw* for attacks! last year I did some minecraft skins for fun. saw someone make dice sets as attacks. as long as it's allowed and it's art created by you (and tagged accordingly) you can make whatever the heck you want!

you don't have to make your art digitally either. traditional attacks are epic. love em

having fancy character references is not a requirement! if art of ur oc shows their design (or at least most important aspects of it) and is decent quality, it's enough. a lil tip tho - don't add shaded/textured drawings for that matter, hard to color pick. if these are the only ones you have, make a basic color palette next to it!:) helps others make your character look accurate

pace yourself. yes, there are people who draw attacks everyday. yes, there are people who drop attacks with 100+ characters in it. doesn't mean you have to do same thing! it's all about having fun and, trust me, grinding until you are sick of drawing is not fun. been here, done that

revenges and friendly fire aren't a MUST. you want points? okay, if u wanna grind, then go ahead and attack opposite team! person who attacked you has characters that you can't/aren't comfortable with drawing? it's okay not to do revenge. Revenges are fun, I always try to do them, but it's not something you absolutely must do.

try to always read characters permissions and descriptions. sometimes there's key info in them and I feel like it's quite important to stay accurate to them. again, if you can't do something they ask you there - it's okay to choose different character or person to attack

don't attack someone expecting them to 100% attack you back. if you set your expectations to that, you might get disappointed and it takes away the fun from ya. attack because you want to draw the character, because it has cool story, cool design, the person is cool so you want to give em a lil gift, etc, etc. Same as you don't have to attack everyone back, they don't have to either

hitlists are optional. some people make em, some don't. same with those funky id cards, my lazy ass gave up on em this year and it's cool 👍

basically don't be an ass, have fun and remember to take breaks!

Also, if ya want, add my dumbass (~simplymisty_) on artfight, because I'm in jail of making refs at the last minute, so I try not to go on AF until im done with em. I do friendly fire, revenges, revenge chains and try to draw basically anything. Love that artfight grind. Hope you liked my autistic rant, it's 5 am and idk what I'm talking about anymore

[salemoleander]

Top five minecraft blocks to build with?

OUGH okay okay I'm making the decision that this doesn't include flowers/partial blocks:

Gotta be terracotta!! It's muted but colorful, plain without being boring, tiles well- if I had to pick just 1 color I'd say white terracotta is my favoritest to build with!

Mangrove planks my beloved. How did we survive without this color- it's absolutely gorgeous, and the trapdoors in particular make for LOVELY lampposts.

Polished andesite. What a workhorse of a block!! Superb flooring block, grey but with flecks of blueish purple that make it look shiny and interesting. AND it's easy to get a lot of, quite early! If they ever give us a borderless polished andesite variant I'll cry tears of joy. (Honorable mention: quartz, which doesn't win bc it's so fucking irritating to get. <- dumbass who keeps using it in thousand-block-long nether tunnel designs)

Barrels. Okay hear me out- no it is not the most exciting block, but it is LIGHTYEARS better than putting chests everywhere. The barrel underside texture as a floor or wall is underrated, and lets you have a ton of 'hidden' storage. This block carries the functionality of all my builds on its shoulders like Atlas supporting the sky.

Blast furnace! This one IS an aesthetic choice- the top, bottom, and sides of the blast furnace are GORGEOUS, and mesh super well with basalt, cauldrons, and hoppers. They're neutral, versatile, AND you can cook ores in them!!

Honorable mentions:

Shroomlight - Delivered us from Mandatory Sea Lanterns

Oxidized copper - GORGEOUS. Favorite color. Could take any spot on this list tbh

Smithing table - Solely for the gorgeous dark red underside, it did not have to go that hard

Redstone block - It has to be occluded by slabs/stairs/glass/etc, but little hints of redstone are SO eyecatching and fun to work with!