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octuscle · 5 months

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Makeover

Mortimer not only had a shitty old-fashioned name, he was also simply shitty and old-fashioned. His clothes were actually often inherited from his father and grandfather. His speech was affected. And yet he was nothing but a small and insignificant clerk at the tax office. Totally career-minded. A pedant. A pain in the ass. Like his father. Like his grandfather.

But Mortimer was also a lickspittle and a pussyfoot. He never had the guts to provoke any kind of trouble with big taxpayers. Trouble only meant more work. But with small private individuals and small businesses, he loved to torment them when checking their tax returns. Especially those who didn't have a tax advisor had beads of sweat on their foreheads just holding his letter in their hands. And when they opened it and read it, they turned pale. Mortimer could almost jerk off at the thought. In fact, his little cock got hard at the thought.

The punks from the tattoo parlor were outstanding victims. The tax return was probably largely correct. But it was full of minor formal errors and implausibilities that could have been overlooked. But that was no fun for Mortimer. So he bombarded the owner of the studio with questions and requests to submit additional documents. As I said, the tax authorities would gain no further advantage from this. But Mortimer was able to exercise his little bit of power. But this time he would regret it. Bitterly regret it.

The conversation with his superior had been unpleasant. Pete, the owner of the tattoo studio, had made an official complaint. For arbitrariness, abuse of authority and a few other things. Probably one of the perverts who were his customers was a crooked lawyer, Mortimer thought. He didn't have much to fear from his boss. One crow didn't peck out another crow's eye. Nevertheless, he had been ordered to make a personal appearance at the tattoo parlor to clear up the loose ends. What a humiliation. He would get revenge for that too.

The studio smelled of tobacco smoke, leather, sweat, whiskey and disinfectant. A terrible combination that almost made Mortimer want to vomit. He went through the documents he had in front of him. No chance, everything was correct. Still, there had to be something. And quickly. It was Friday morning, he wanted to have his report written by 2 p.m. at the latest and leave for the weekend. The employees all looked like freaks. He asked Pete for all the employment contracts from the last 20 years. Pete looked at Mortimer… With piercing blue eyes. He took Mortimer's chin very firmly in his tattooed calloused hand, almost stroking Mortimer's face with the other. And then he moved his hand slowly towards his crotch. And then he gripped Mortimer's balls firmly. "Listen, you office boy! Everything is fine here. Got it?" The grip on his balls did not loosen. But his erection became painful. Mortimer nods. The grip loosened. Mortimer packed up his things. At the office, he would report the store to a friend from the health department. Pete had made a big mistake.

It was almost 11:30 when Mortimer arrived at the tax office. Lunchtime. People were running along the corridors and streaming towards the canteen. Mortimer actually wanted to eat straight away. But the call to the health department was more important. He had almost reached his office when his boss stood in his way. "So, all the problems with the tattoo artist sorted?" Mortimer was just about to answer when his boss laughed. "Mortimer, I wouldn't have put it past you. You and a piercing? Did you get that pierced to appease the taxman? Well, because it's Friday. But Monday without it again, please."

Mortimer turned pale. Yes, there had been something on his lower lip. He felt carefully. A cone protruded from his lower lip. One was through his nasal septum. And under the cone was something else under his lower lip. In a panic, Mortimer ran to the washrooms. He looked in the mirror. He looked like a freak! He no longer even noticed that he was unshaven. Mortimer reached for his cell phone and tried to call Pete's tattoo studio. Only an answering machine. Mortimer ran into his office and put on a face mask. He told colleagues who came by that he wasn't feeling well and wanted to protect them. They wished him a speedy recovery. But it didn't get any better. Mortimer nervously drummed his fingers on his desk and wondered what he should do. Then he noticed the tattoos on his knuckles. "Fuck" and "Yeah". In Gothic letters. Mortimer ran back to the washrooms. And threw up.

He didn't actually have to call in sick. He would have finished work in an hour anyway. But he had to get out of here. Immediately. He walked to the bus stop. It was a warm spring day. Nevertheless, Mortimer drove to Oxford Street first thing and bought a pair of gloves in the first store he saw. Should he go to the tattooist? But not now. The streets were full of people. And he looked like a freak. No, off home. And tomorrow at the crack of dawn to see that asshole Pete.

Something was different in his apartment. There was a half-full ashtray on the coffee table. And the fridge was full of beer. Surprisingly, this didn't strike Mortimer as odd at all. He took a beer, lit a cigarette and threw himself onto the sofa. What a terrible day. He began to cry with self-pity. And he fell asleep crying.

It was already dark outside when Mortimer woke up. The beer was warm and stale. But Mortimer finished it. The fag had fallen out of his hand as he fell asleep and had left another burn mark on the shabby old leather sofa. Mortimer burped. He was drunk and stoned. The piercings in his nipples felt good. Mortimer began to wank. He squirted on his Sex Pistol T-shirt. And fell asleep again.

The next morning, Mortimer woke up with an insane hangover. His apartment was a mess. Full ashtrays, empty beer cans, dirty clothes. What the hell had happened here? Mortimer collected the garbage while still half asleep and put the bin bags outside in the hallway. He had to pee. No, he had to piss. He went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He ran his tattooed hands through his greasy hair. He urgently needed to go to the hairdresser again. But first he had to piss and then take a shower. He pulled his 20-centimeter cock out of his no longer completely clean underpants. The scrotal ladder clacked as he did so. And the mighty Prince Albert shone in the light of the bathroom lamp. Mortimer felt dizzy.

Yes, the first thing he wanted to do was go and see Pete. But for some reason, his apartment was a mess. Mortimer took a shower first. He had to admit that the feeling of the piercings in his nipples, scrotum and cock was very sensual. But the steel had to come off. And he also had to do something about the tattoos. His fingers and the backs of his hands were covered in tattoos. He hadn't even seen his back and neck yet. When he felt clean again, Mortimer collected the dirty laundry. He made the beds fresh. He wanted to turn on the washing machine. But it was gone. Not just the washing machine, but the whole alcove. His bathroom was somehow smaller. And there was no washing machine or dryer. Mortimer stuffed the washing into an IKEA bag that he didn't know where it had come from. He collected the rest of the garbage. He washed the dirty dishes, because his dishwasher in his much smaller kitchen was also gone. It was almost 4 p.m. when it was finally clean and tidy again. Mortimer was satisfied. All he had been able to find in the way of clean laundry was a shiny red Adidas tracksuit, a pair of white Calvin Klein shorts, a white fine-rib undergarment, white socks and white sneakers. He looked silly. But it should be enough for a visit to the laundrette. He took the dirty laundry and the garbage bags and left the apartment.

The hallway smelled of cold tobacco smoke, beer and piss. The walls were covered in graffiti. From time to time, the roar of violent arguments could be heard from the apartments. Shit, this is a crazy dream, Mortimer thought to himself. This must be a crazy dream. The elevator was broken. So he walked the eight floors to the laundry room. Thank God there was a free machine. Mortimer took a laundry token out of his trouser pocket. He stuffed his dirty laundry into the machine. Damn it, he didn't have any detergent. A skinhead was sitting on one of the rickety plastic chairs under the no-smoking sign, reading a sports magazine and smoking. "Excuse me, could I borrow some washing powder from you?" Mortimer wanted to ask. But he said "Oi, sorry mate, could I nick some washing powder off ya? And a fag while you're at it?" The skinhead looked at Mortimer. He licked his lips. "Got yer tongue pierced too, you dirty pig?" Mortimer stuck out his tongue. And the skinhead took his cock out of his bleached jeans. "Then get on your knees and earn both!"

The skinhead only had a modest PA. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure for Mortimer to work his cheesy boner with his tongue. The skinhead steered his head into his curls with a firm grip. From time to time he pulled Mortimer's head far back into his neck and snotted in his face. Mortimer's cock built a tent in his pants. The skinhead squirted down his throat. Mortimer squirted into his pants. And the washing machine rumbled. ""Oi, cunt, fancy a proper haircut? Can't see any of them sick tattoos on your skull." Mortimer took a quick breath. What was happening here? He was standing in a full-weight tracksuit in the laundry room of a public housing complex, had just swallowed a skinhead's sperm and now wanted to get a haircut from the skinhead? Shit, how had he ended up in this situation? "I'm in 639, got beer and fags. Bring the rest, mate!"

The laundry didn't get really clean in the old washing machines. Mortimer threw everything onto his unmade bed. His apartment was a mess. But it was his home. And he was about to get a free haircut. Mortimer was rolling a cigarette when Liam knocked. He had brought the rest with him. The rest was a long hair clipper, a wet razor, shaving foam. And three buddies who couldn't wait to piss on the freshly shaved bald head.

Monday morning. Pete had asked Mo to take the missing documents to the tax office. Mo had actually worked at the tax office in the past. He knew his way around there. But he had been fired because Pete had allegedly bribed him to be gracious during the tax audit. In return, he had gotten some piercings and tattoos for free. But that was a hell of a long time ago. Now Mo was one of the most talented piercers in town. In the hottest studio in town. Actually, Mo could have afforded something better than the shabby place in the run-down high-rise complex a long time ago. But leaving his mates in the lurch? Not for the life of him!

Hot tf pic by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #leather tf #skinhead tf #forced tf #revange tf #ai image

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luvjunie · 1 year

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twirls my hair if you’re taking request uhhh— what about reader with tattoos like a full sleeve and piercings and maybe big hair like a fro, braids something that makes her stand out— basically she’s just real intimidating and popular too fast for her liking she just transferred school and the guys are trying to pounce on her but miles 42 is the one that catches her eye?

— a fresh start

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary: it’s your first day at a new school, and surprisingly, making a friend isn’t as hard as you thought it’d be. wc: 1,853

a/n: changed this up a little i hope you don’t mind! 100% unintentional but when my mind wanders i follow it 😭

Back at Brooklyn High, you were always told by teachers that school wasn’t a venue for your ‘personal fashion show’, but that it was a place for learning. And while you agreed, it wasn’t your fault that you looked the way you did… Well, that’s a lie. But you loved your look, and so did your peers.

While your hair was big and somewhat distracting to others, your dad always told you it reminded him of what your mom’s looked like the first time he met her, so you never bothered to change the way you styled it, no matter how much you dreaded putting it in bantu knots or doing a twist out every three days.

As for your face full of piercings, that was all you. It was something your dad didn’t favor at all, and he definitely didn’t understand how it was ‘a way for you to express and be true to yourself’, but that was the explanation you gave him, and eventually he accepted it. Though begrudgingly— it was still acceptance, so you took what you could get.

The first piercing was your eyebrow, and you’d done it in your bathroom when you were fourteen with a safety pin. One look at yourself in the mirror made you forget all about the throbbing pain radiating from your face, and just a week had passed before you were already thinking of another. You swore to your dad that it’d be the only one, and that you just wanted to try something new; until you wanted to try your belly button, your septum, and both of your nostrils. After that, It’s safe to say that everywhere you went, attention followed.

Expressing yourself through your clothes and accessories was just a part of who you were. And back at Brooklyn High, you were proud of the way you looked.

But you weren’t at Brooklyn High anymore.

The uniforms were drab at Visions academy. Every girl wearing the same two articles of clothing as the other; the same sad story for the boys. And to keep it a buck, if you were comparing visions to your old school, the atmosphere here sure looked a lot like a jail. And if not for the small loopholes you’d managed to locate in the dresscode, it would’ve felt like it, too.

The searing heat of curious eyes followed you the moment you entered the building, and you began to wonder if choosing to stand out on purpose was the best idea after all. It seemed at Visions, that came naturally for someone like you.

For a few reasons other than the ones you could change in five minutes, you didn’t fit in here. Not in the slightest.

With a wavered sigh and your books glued to your chest, you continued on to your first block, tuning out the whispers that were far from hushed.

It took you a little longer than the six minute passing period to discover your History class within the ginormous fluorescent halls, and when you finally stepped foot into the dimly lit room and noticed the Crash Course video playing on the projector, it dawned on you that they were already well into the lesson.

Almost everyone’s head lifted to look at you when you entered. Almost everyone’s head but a kid who was face down, drooling on his desk, and another whose gaze remained welded to a sheet of paper the graphite of his mechanical pencil was scribbling against. The familiarity of crisp parts and blue magic-sheened cornrows stood out to you first, and a small sense of comfort finally washed over you— for a moment.

The video on the projector paused abruptly, and your teacher appeared to be the exact opposite of dazzled at your late arrival. Great.

“Nice of you to join us, miss…?”

“Y/n, sorry…” You cleared your throat and smiled more like grimaced apologetically, the chain clipped to the waistband of your skirt serving as an idle fidget. “Got lost, real big school.”

Mr. Benson, as it read on your printed class schedule, adjusted his glasses when he went to jot something down onto the paper below him. “Alright, y/n. You can sit next to…”

You watched as a few kids straightened up in their seats, attempting to look uninterested enough to play it cool, yet noticeable enough for the teacher to remember they existed and place your seat next to them.

“Morales. Raise your hand.”

The boy in question quietly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pencil clacking against the wood of his desk when he set it down. It looked like his concentration had been broken, and instead of raising his hand, he lifted his head from where it was damn near nose deep in whatever he was doing, and just stared at you.

His slowed blinks gave you enough grounds to take a gander that he was the ‘Morales’ in question.

A stunted breath and a silent nod later, you made your way through the aisle of desks and smoothly slid into the one a pin-filled backpack had just been removed from.

You’d be crazy to not let your curiosity get the best of you, especially now that you were this close to where the brooding energy was coming from. So once your teacher unpaused the video, you stole a peek over at your new desk neighbor, and noticed that his right arm was now strategically placed over the geometric sketches on his paper.

Seeing as it was already mid-year and you were new to the huge school, you figured it’d be in your best interest to try and make at least one friend. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself to him, until a light tap on your shoulder from behind stole your attention.

“Umm, excuse me?”

You turned around to meet the freckled face of the boy who was sat behind you.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, sorry, but I can’t see over your hair. It’s kinda… in the way.”

It wasn’t necessarily what he said that bothered you, it was how he said it, and the fact that he barely stifled a laugh when he did.

Reclined in his chair with his arms crossed, Miles fought to hide the scowl threatening to twist his lips. The desks in this class were staggered, specifically to avoid the very issue of heads blocking the line of sight, meaning there was no way your hair was actually hindering his view.

“O-oh… Sorry, it does that. Sometimes.” Flustered, you nervously tried to press your hair down a little without ruining its shape, the one that took you a whole hour to achieve just this morning.

Miles assumed you were the girl his classmate was blabbing about just before the bell rung, remembering the brief yet detailed explanation of ‘fresh face, big hair, decked out uniform and kinda cute’. Poking fun at you must have been his pitiful attempt at flirting.

Miles suddenly spoke in your defense, eyes remaining on the screen in a bored daze.

“It’s not her fault you 5’2, James. Drink some milk when you get home, maybe you’ll have a growth spurt.”

You sent an inquisitive glance his way and kept it there. You hadn’t thought about what you expected his voice to sound like, or that the first time you’d hear it would be because of him defending you, but this was definitely a pleasant surprise. His voice was so smooth it put silk to shame, and it was a bit low, too, as if he’d just woken up a few minutes ago. Yet it didn’t sound as if he’d quieted his voice on purpose; something that led you to believe he was usually this soft spoken.

“Shut up, Miles.” James grumbled.

“Ain’t my fault you can’t flirt for shit. I’m tryna help you out.”

Some surrounding students close enough to hear the retort had snickered, and a laugh managed to leave your mouth before you could prevent it, resulting in a loud “SHHHH!” from the front of the class.

“That’s funny?” Miles’ hazel eyes floated over to you, swirling with mirth and pinning you in place.

He was joking, but his tone probably didn’t give off that vibe, seeing as you were gawking at him like a deer in headlights.

“I’m messin’ with you,” A small grin played on his face. “I’m Miles.”

“Oh,” an awkward chuckle relaxed your shoulders. “Y/n.” you responded quietly.

“Yeah… I know.” There was a hint of a chuckle beneath his voice. It seemed you’d forgotten that you revealed your identity to everyone just minutes ago.

But you couldn’t help it, you’d never seen a boy quite this pretty before, with lashes long enough to make you jealous and a smile you were certain owed its beauty to genetics, and not an expensive set of middle school braces.

He had six freshly done straightbacks with curved parts, and two clear beads hanging onto each tail that sat a little below his shoulders. It was then that you noticed the medium sized, gimmering stud he sported on his ear, and you deemed it safe to assume his other ear had the same. Cute.

Still feeling the heat of your eyes on his temple long after he’d averted his attention, Miles curiously glanced back at you, then teasingly nodded his head towards the front of the room.

“Pay attention,” he whispered, that same molten look in his eyes. “I don’t share notes.”

—

Class went by in a bit of a haze, to no surprise. It was extremely difficult to pay attention when the fear of your possibly-misshapen fro was on your mind. Today happened to be the one day you’d decided you didn’t need to bring your pick to school, the image of it sitting on your dresser emitting a disappointed sigh from you.

The tinny screech of chairs brought you back to the present, where class had been dismissed and students were shoving papers into their backpacks and shuffling out the doorway, all in a hurry to their next block.

Miles stood up from his seat, appearing to be in no rush.

“I like your hair, by the way.” he observed randomly. “Cool piercings, too.”

The compliment eased your nerves completely. It was genuine, as if he knew you were still thinking about what happened earlier.

“Thank you,” Tucking your notebook away, you looked up to see him sling his backpack over one shoulder. “for defending me earlier, too.”

“S’ no big deal.” he shrugged, but it was, to you.

“Cool braids, by the way.” you parroted through a lighthearted smile.

“Thanks,” Miles’ eyes panned to the floor when he felt himself grin. A habit of his you’d already managed to pick up on in your short knowing of him.

“I’ll catch you later.” He deemed with a two-fingered salute, other hand burrowing into the pocket of his pants.

Rising to your feet, you gave a small wave and watched as he headed out into the crowded hallway with the others; feeling a little less nervous to come to history class tomorrow.

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse headcanons #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 6 months

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if is it ok to request, what if April brought her best friend down to meet the bayverse turtles? But her bestie is goth/punk with piercings and tattoos? looks a little intimidating but an abseloute sweetheart?<3

love this idea, thank you for your patience as it's taken me so long to get to this x

Also this is 100% like my best friend, they're super goth and tatted up to the 9's but they're also a massive sweetheart

Leo

"hey, I have someone I want you to meet" April calls from the doorway to the lair

Leo knows who she wants him to meet, she's been going on and on about how this friend is finally in town and she would love to hang out, all of you guys together

he puts on all his charm

"And who is this lovely-"

then he sees her

lips, eyebrows and nose pierced, hair dyed in an acid green/black split dye, dark and black ripped up clothes, tattoos covering every inch of visible skin

"-wow" is all he can make out

she's the complete opposite of April looks wise

"No, keep going. You were about to tell me how lovely I look" she jokes. "Hey, I may not be barbie girl pretty but I bet 'ya anything I can kick your ass at call of duty!"

that softens the mood and makes everyone a little more relaxed

and she was totally right, Leo was fighting for his life playing that game with her

when it's finally time for them to leave she calls back "And if you think my hair is cool, just wait til you see what I can do with a paint brush, that shell of your's is going to put the Sistine Chapel to shame when I'm done with it!"

Leo just laughs, thinks she's a great girl

"Never judge a book by its cover" he mouths to April as she walks out the door

Raph

He knows April is there, he can hear her joking with Mikey but he can hear another woman's voice

he walks in to say hi and stops dead in his tracks when he sees who she's with

"......"

"Raph, it's rude to stare" April scolds

"It's ok" he friend reassures "I just have a natural allure that's irresistible to men and turtles alike, it would seem"

that makes him chuckle, she's funny, he's glad she's funny

"The, erm, the..." He keeps touching his nose, clearly indicating towards her septum piercing "... like a bull" is all he manages

"Well, I am a taurus" she quips back

he laughs again

tensions settle after that and he gets on with her like a house on fire

he asks her later what he first impression of him was, since it was clear he was taken aback by her appearance

"My first thought was whether or not you'd fit through the door frame, holy shit dude you're built like a truck!"

the rest of the evening is spent with a lot of joking and laughing, April's friend can give as good as she gets and Raph likes that

Mikey

He's so excited to meet April's friend

so much so, he's prancing round the place trying to get everything ready

when April walks through the door with her, he his jaw drops

"Devil lady!" he says in a tone which indicates he clearly thought that was a compliment

"Masked turtle man!" she replies with the exact same enthusiasm

the two of them bond over how cool she is and how cool Mikey is

comparing stories and boasting, all in good fun, until they both get a bit carried away

April has to put her foot down when her friend tries to give him a stick 'n poke tattoo on the kitchen floor

"It's not sanitary! Put the ball point pen away! He's gonna get sepsis!!!"

eventually they all retire to the sofa and play guitar hero, which April's friend does not do too well at

"I thought all you punk chicks knew how to play guitar" he says

"Nope, we just date guys who do" she laughs

After they leave Mikey is begging April to bring her round again

he still wants that tattoo

Donnie

He's not the best at meeting new people

but, he actually feels more comfortable when he see's April's friend is alternative looking

he loves a good social outcast because he is one

they bond over talking about the history of subcultures and the ecological impacts of fast fashion and why you should DIY all your clothes or thrift them

April is ind of just sitting there like "what have I done? Putting two nerds in the same room..."

When the subject of tattoos gets brought up she mentions a couple she regrets

cue Donnie and his inventions

"I have a laser remover!"

"No" April pipes up

"It's totally safe, it's just-"

"N-O! No!" she reiterates

her friend mouths "When she's gone" and winks at him

the two of them are fast friends

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #april o'neil #April's friend #Aprils friend #goth friend #punk friend #alternative friend #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt headcannons #headcannons

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flowersandbigteeth · 2 years

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Hey I'm not too sure whether you are open for requests but I'll just leave it here anyway because I just absolutely LOVE the way you write mythical creatures and demons. (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥ Each and every one of your works were just devoured by me in mere hours after I found your profile. ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Especially the one with Chase the tentacle monster. Yum. (͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)✨

So I was wondering if it would be possible to write a drabble or smut of a yandere maedar. They are a bit lesser known Greek mythical creatures and are basically the male versions of gorgons. (Just in case you didn't know)

The fact about their loyalty to their mates is what made me wonder about them.

I had never heard of these before you sent this, but I love the idea of a male version of a gorgon. I immediately got attached to the idea of Rohan having tattoos on his head of snakes in honor of his sisters, which then made me visualize him as this total pierced up sort of biker badass! Thanks for sending me this, it's so interesting to do unique monsters.

Maeder (Rohan) x female reader

Word Count: almost 3k

W: nsfw monster smut, vaginal sex, some bullying and brief discussion of suicide, mention of yandere activities

“Rohan, stop hissing at him,” you chided your security guard.

“Hsssss!” he hissed louder, bearing his fangs this time.

The skinny man in the suit holding an 8.5x11 glossy of you with your cello might have pissed himself and practically tripped over his own feet running away.

Rohan was a pretty intimidating visage, that’s why your mother/manager had hired him to be your security guard. At eight feet tall and probably 500 lbs, the Maeder had a bald head covered with writhing tattoos of snakes bearing their fangs.

Venom dripped from their teeth, a vivid gold compared to his gray skin. Gold studs pierced his face above his eyebrow and a gold septum piercing hung in his nose. He didn’t look like the type of guy you wanted to fuck with.

You swatted his arm and his gold, reptilian eyes flicked to you.

“My job is security Miss (Y/N),” he growled, “these groupies are dangerous.”

“I think they are just harmless fans,” you assured him, rolling your eyes.

He grunted. Rohan didn’t think anyone was harmless, except maybe you. He saw the sick letters you got from psychos when he went through your mail. Any one of these “harmless fans” could be a serious threat. Your phone rang and you sighed, answering it.

“Hello mother,” you said, tightly into the phone.

“Where was your head at (Y/N)?” she snapped, “you won't get another sponsorship with that kind of performance. Have you been out partying too much?”

You huffed.

“Mother, you know where I’ve been…all I ever do is practice,” you grumbled at her as you made your way through the back of the concert hall with Rohan leading the way.

He guided you to a sleek limousine and helped you in. You always felt bad for how he had to crouch in these things to fit, but your mother ordered the cars and she didn’t take his comfort into consideration.

“Ugh,” you groaned, crumpling once you were inside. You loved the cello, but you hated the celebrity of it all. Your mother was a marketing genius and had helped you build a fabulous career, but now you wished you could just work on movie soundtracks at home instead of these public recitals she made you do. She wanted to expand your career, make you into a pop star or something.

You’d recorded two solo albums, composed the soundtrack to a popular video game, and appeared on the cover of a popular ladies’ magazine. Still, as successful as she’d made you, you didn’t get the scheme. You were just a nerdy girl who was good at one thing, playing the cello, not some flashy celebrity. You weren’t exceptionally gorgeous or crazy fit like she seemed to want you to be.

“Well you aren’t practicing enough,” she snapped, “and what are you eating? You look like a pig! I’m hiring you another trainer, that asshole obviously isn’t doing his job.”

You rubbed your eyes, probably smearing makeup all over your cheeks, but you didn’t care. Listening to her talk was like melting your face with an iron.

“Are you on your way home?” she snarled, “make sure you put some ice on your face before you go to sleep. You had bags under your eyes. You can’t go out there looking like a trash bin, (Y/N). I’ve got you an appointment scheduled for Botox next week and then we’ll start looking into a boob job.”

You put the phone on the car seat and closed your eyes, ignoring her prattling. She was going on about Botox options and body shaping. There was nothing wrong with your face and you didn’t need to go on a diet or get surgery. You needed to figure out how to unlink yourself from being your mother’s project. Maybe she could manage a celebrity puppy…though you hated to put anyone, even a dog, through her version of management. She’d probably make the puppy get leg lengthening surgery or something.

At some point Rohan just hit the red button to end the call. She’d go on for a while without even noticing you’d hung up if she ever noticed at all. Usually she just gave you some curt order about your diet or skincare routine before hanging up herself. You shot him a grateful glance.

“She’s just using you, you know,” he said, fiddling with a knife at his knee.

He was always so stoic except when he had something to say, which wasn’t often. Then he was nervous, even though his voice was deep and commanding.

“I know…but all this wouldn’t exist without her,” you said, waving vaguely at the expensive dress you were wearing, the limousine, your $10,000 cello, and even him, “It’s kind of a trade, isn’t it?”

He frowned.

“Usually trades are consensual,” he growled, waving back at you, “all this wouldn’t exist without you.”

“Mmm,” you said, “I guess. I could leave if I wanted, but where would I go?”

He snorted.

“You can’t actually,” he smiled darkly, “why do you think I’m paid so much?”

You looked at him blankly.

“What? My mother is paying you to keep me from running away?” you asked.

He nodded, his eyes trained on you, reading your expression.

“You’re her golden goose,” he said, “she was worried you’d fall in love with some tech mogul and want to quit. You’re the talented, beautiful genius, you’ll be just fine, but what about her? To keep her living in the way she’s grown accustomed to, she hired me to handle those sorts of things. Discourage suitors…report back to her on your relationships…Get rid of anyone who gets too close…all of that.”

He pulled out his phone and held up a screen with a notepad app full of dates and times.

“I’m supposed to be collecting data on your emotional state so she can use it to declare you unfit to manage your own estate,” he went on.

Your eyes widened.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked.

He shrugged and didn’t say anything else, looking away and shoving his phone back in his pocket. You glanced out the window at the city going by and frowned, tears pricking your eyes. Though you were hurt and felt betrayed, you didn’t get to be a nationally acclaimed cellist because you were weak of spirit. You took a deep breath and looked out the window, centering yourself.

“So I’ve really been a prisoner all along,” you murmured, seeing the tall buildings blurring together as prison bars, “aren’t you afraid now that I know, I’ll try to get away?”

He barked out a somber laugh and you supposed that was your answer. He was paid to make sure that didn’t happen and just by looking at him you could tell there wasn’t much hope.

Rohan pulled off his jacket and covered you with it as you made your way into your building to avoid the flashing lights of the few paparazzi posted outside. By your mother’s standards, you looked horrible. If she saw you on some blog with makeup smeared all over your face she would have a conniption fit.

For a moment you were surrounded with the scent of him and his cologne. He smelled a bit spicy. When you reached the top floor you wandered out onto your balcony, kicking your heels off behind you and looking out over the city. It was hard to feel like a prisoner up here, looking down at the rooftops. You leaned out, clutching the balustrade and took a deep breath in.

Thick warm hands, suddenly wrapped around you and you started.

“Don’t jump,” Rohan’s deep voice rumbled in your ear.

You spat out a dry laugh.

“You thought I was going to kill myself?” you rasped, “don’t you think it would serve you right, watching me throw myself off the building after what you just told me? You’re my jailor, after all.”

He turned you around to look at you, tipping your face up and his lips came down on yours, hungry and desperate.

“You're a fool if you think I’m just going to let her have you,” he growled an inch away from your face, “you’re mine (Y/N).”

His mouth smashed back into yours, one heavy hand holding you to him by your waist and the other wound in your hair so tightly you couldn’t move. You could only accept his kiss and moan into his mouth.

This was…unexpected…but not unwelcome. You’d always found Rohan to be attractive, he was just so serious you never thought he even considered sex. You’d never seen his eyes follow another man or woman except with a look of distrust in them. He was handsome so people threw themselves at him all the time, but he never seemed the slightest bit moved, always focused intensely on you.

The big hand on your waist drifted over your ass, cupping and squeezing the flesh. It slid further down and you let out a squeal, when he pulled you up to his chest, pulling your legs around his waist.

You dragged your lips away from him just a half an inch and whispered into his mouth.

“What is this? We shouldn’t be doing this,” you gasped, “you work for my mother.”

You were confused. He was your jailor, you shouldn’t be giving in to his advances. He chuckled and kissed you, pressing his tongue between your lips and twining it with yours. When he pulled away you were only aware of his words and his flavor, sweet cinnamon.

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window and then I’m gonna take you away from here.”

Before you could respond his thick hand jerked your dress down, snapping the thin spaghetti straps that held it up and letting your breasts pop out. He pulled your chest to his head and his mouth latched on to your nipple, kissing and suckling.

“Ahhh!” you wailed, surprised by the sudden hot, wet contact.

“Y-you sh-shouldn’t…” you tried to insist.

His mouth popped off your nipple for just a second.

“Then tell me to stop,” he growled, his nose brushing the flesh.

You just looked at him for a moment, but couldn’t bring the words to your lips. It felt too good. It didn’t matter what happened after this, you just wanted him.

He smirked and went back to laving your nipples with his tongue, pressing your back against the cool glass behind you. The only thing that came out of your mouth were moans and his name.

You felt his thick fingers fumbling with your panties until you heard a long rip. Pushing you further up the window, he shimmied your dress up your hips and attacked your pussy with long wet laps. His split tongue played with your clit and your legs instinctively wrapped around his head, pulling him closer as he drove you wild with his agile appendage.

Propped on his shoulders, he speared your cunt with his fingers. You were already soaking wet and your juices dribbled down his wrist as he pumped his digits inside of you mercilessly.

Screaming your channel clenched down on his fingers as you came with them inside. Colors flashed in your eyes and your hands clung to his head, nails making crescent dents on his skin. Pulling back, he grinned at you and spun you around to face the window.

“Do you know how many times I’ve watched you prancing around this fucking penthouse in those little booty shorts you wear, wanting to take you right here?” he growled, “I should have marked off the spot with chalk for how many times I jerked myself off, thinking about fucking you against this window. And as much as I loved rubbing one out over your pretty lips while you were sleeping, I’m gonna make this cunt mine for good.”

As alarming as that should have been, his glowing golden eyes reflected in the glass in front of you and his hot breath in your ear made your pussy leak even more at the admission and your clit sparkled with need.

He grabbed the back of your head, his fat fingers digging into your hair, and held your face against the cool glass while he freed his cock from his pants. You screamed his name as he impaled you with it in one smooth stroke, not even trying to hold back.

You had no idea but Rohan needed to take you like this. He needed to ruin you for anyone else. He’d been watching you for a year, obsessing over you, planning and plotting how he was going to take his mate. He would have already killed your mother if he thought it would get him any closer to having you. Instead he’d been collecting information on her and feeding it to lawyers he’d hired to make sure your interests were well represented.

He held you in the air with little effort, your arms and legs dangling as he pulled back and slammed into you again, all the while holding your head into the window. He’d pinned you against the glass so he wouldn't bruise your cheek as he took you as hard as he needed to. Though you felt like he was going to snap you in half each time he powered into you, your back arched.

From the edge of your vision you could see the glittering lights of the city sparkling below you. Your fingers pressed against the smooth surface because there was nothing else to hold on to as he slammed into you over and over again. Drool and your black mascara were streaking the glass.

You howled with every stroke, having never been stretched by someone so large before. His cock was long and thick, filling you to the brim and pounding your walls mercilessly.

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s it,” he groaned loudly, grunting like an animal as he thrust in and out of you, “you’re so fucking tight.”

Soon he was just growling “mine” and your name over and over again while he rutted you. You gasped and sobbed, your eyes crossed as his dick battered your G-spot.

With your pussy gushing around him, he jerked you back against his chest forcing you down over his cock a few more times before he emptied himself into you, grunting your name. The thread holding you together snapped and you orgasmed to his hot cum flooding you, barely noticing the sharp pain at your neck, where he bit you.

When he slipped out of you, he pulled you into a princess hold, folding his head down at the neck and nuzzling the bite.

“Wh-what was th-that?” you stammered.

It wasn’t bad, just unexpected.

“My mating bite,” he murmured, his voice a grumble rolling in your ear, “you’re mine.”

Your heart fluttered at that. Again, this was all so unexpected, but you didn’t find yourself upset…In fact you felt safe and supported. Like someone was finally on your team. Maybe that was foolish to assume, but as he carried you to your bedroom, you found yourself snuggling your face into his shoulder and sighing happily.

He stroked your hair as he climbed into your king sized bed with you still tucked in his arms. Arranging himself against the headboard he watched you fall asleep in his arms, gazing in awe at the bite on your neck you’d so easily accepted. Honestly, he’d worried you’d cry and fight and he’d wondered if he would have been able to hold himself back.

Your soft submission in that moment was so much sweeter and tied him to you more tightly than anything you could ever say would.

When you woke from your nap, he was going to help you pack your things to take you to a safe house where you could stay while you filed criminal charges against your mother for fraud. You were Rohan’s mate and he didn’t want to see you used as your mother’s meal ticket.

Even if legal means didn’t work, he would find illegal ones to accomplish his task. If you wanted to write soundtracks or albums or do nothing at all, he was going to keep you safe and secure till the day you died.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster smut #monster romance #x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere x reader

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hypergamiss · 7 months

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In your opinion, why do you think men choose unattractive and mean women to be their wives? I know a woman who is over 300lbs and has a horrible attitude, but her husband makes great money and he thinks she's the hottest thing around. Just imagine a very large woman, with a potty mouth, badly done tattoos and a septum piercing. They got married very young, but before him she had plenty of men interested in her. I don't get it.

I knew her briefly and quickly grew tired of being around her because she's not very nice and we just didn't have much in common. The only reason I kept her around for as long as I did, was because the business she had, gave her access to all the elites in our city--she had the best gossip. I learned about the weak spots for a lot of the upper class families, through her. But I got tired of her because every conversation, she had to remind me that she didn't have to work and that she only created her business because she got tired of being in the house all day. She's even aware of the way she comes across because she labels herself as an "asshole". She expressed that she doesn't get along with most women because she's "not interested in the things most women are interested in--like shopping." Her hobbies are smoking weed and nothing else. In other words, she's trashy lol.

Meanwhile, I'm attractive, sweet, funny, educated and have never been in a relationship. I just don't understand men at all. Women who I would think would be considered undesirable and gross by men, have great options. Men say they want a woman who's nice, attractive, and not lazy and then choose the exact opposite. I'm just confused.

She's just confident. Even if it's a "bad" type of confident, she clearly doesn't ever doubt herself and knows that she can get what she wants. I've said this before, most women think you need to be a 10/10 to be with a man that would give you the world. Literally any woman can get treated right if she plays her cards right. Yes, attractive women will always have the upper hand, but that doesn't mean the less attractive ones can't get the same outcome. If a man had to choose between me and Gigi Hadid, Gigi is winning. But no big deal, there is another man who isn't even on Gigi's radar that can give me everything I want. Think of all of the celebrities or well off women who are not attractive at all but clearly have everything they want in a partner. They didn't get it by having low self esteem and complaining about their circumstances. They decided to fully grasp the concept that women hold so much power. They have the same lady parts as the attractive women and the ability to strengthen their game in other ways that are not superficial.

She knows how to seduce.

She knows how to keep a man on his toes and keep him constantly chasing her, always trying to win her over.

She knows how to keep her boundaries and restrict access to herself when she doesn't get what she wants.

She knows how to reward her man when he does well by her.

She is selfish with her time, she doesn't lose sight of her goals and ambitions.

She puts herself first overall.

Notice how none of this has to do with looks. Looks at this point are just a cherry on top if you know how to make a man crazy about you. I'm not trying to say that she's a good person, but it's fair to give credit where it's due. She values herself and doesn't accept anything remotely close to being below her standards, even if she doesn't meet those herself. You can be a good person and still know how to play your cards right, or else I would just stay single forever because my moral compass wouldn't allow it.

Comparison is the thief of joy. Instead of wondering how she got so "lucky," study her with a grain of salt and learn how to do the same or better.

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hollywoodxwhore · 1 year

Text

Mine | Chapter One

Colson x Original Female Character

A new series for y'all because this man has me on my kneeeeees. No idea how many parts it's going to be.

Synopsis: Presley may look sinful on the outside, but deep down, she's innocent, guarded, and terrified of intimacy. Colson, on the other hand, is living up to his womanizer reputation as a way to cope with heartbreak. When his new guitarist invites his twin sister to join them on tour, Colson discovers that he's actually capable of feeling. Will Presley and Colson be able to push past all of the barriers trying to prevent them from happening?

Chapter One Warnings/Content: swearing, a little bit of smut, col being a cocky fucker

Hope y'all enjoy! I've had so much fun writing this.

Presley

I have a confession to make.

I was a Machine Gun Kelly hater back in the day.

It’s true. I believed everything the media said, and why would I have challenged it? From what I knew, his music sucked. He was a total asshole. He was a womanizer. He was a poser who switched genres.

Looking back, I’m ashamed of myself for being a follower. I wasted a lot of time judging someone I didn’t know.

I would probably still be a hater if it wasn’t for my twin brother, Cash.

Cash and I were raised by music-loving parents (if you couldn’t tell by our names). We grew up playing instruments and going to shows. Cash and I got our first tattoos on our 16th birthday, and by the time we were 19, I already had a full sleeve and Cash had a neck tat. We’ve continued to collect ink ever since, and now that we’re 23, we’re both pretty covered.

We have an impressive collection of piercings, too. We both have our nostrils pierced, though he wears two rings and I wear a stud because of my septum piercing. Cash’s lip is pierced and both of our ears are full of piercings. I have my belly button and nipples. It’s been fun growing up with such accepting parents.

We’ve both spent lots of time pursuing art in some way or another. I play guitar and sing in a few local bands, but it’s nothing serious. I prefer body art, and that’s why I’m a piercer. I pierce at a tattoo shop in the city and make bank. People in this hipster city love their piercings.

Cash and I are best friends. We run in the same friend group and spend a lot of time together. We had our rows as kids, but we’ve always gotten along and been super close. So when he got the opportunity of a lifetime, I was hugely supportive, even though it broke me knowing I wouldn’t be able to see him every day anymore.

About six months ago, someone reached out to Cash through his Instagram. He has tons of followers and he’s a super talented guitarist. The guy who messaged Cash happened to be none other than Machine Gun Kelly himself. He wanted Cash to be a part of their band and tour with them.

We were sure it was a hoax, even though it was his official account messaging Cash. We thought it was too good to be true until Colson — MGK’s real name, by the way — passed Cash’s number to his management, and the very next day, Cash had a Zoom meeting set up to meet with Colson and management.

Cash was so serious about it that he wouldn’t let me sit in on the meeting, no matter how silent I promised to be and no matter how many times I assured him that I wouldn’t be on camera. I had to settle for listening through the door. I couldn’t hear much, but I knew it was a positive meeting.

13 days later, Cash packed his stuff and flew to LA to meet up with the band. The band itself is called Machine Gun Kelly, even though the lead singer/rapper goes by that name. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but whatever.

As soon as Cash was gone and I found myself lonely as hell, I decided to check out MGK’s music. The longer I sat and listened, the more pissed off I became with myself for having deprived myself of such good music for so long. I started with Tickets to My Downfall and then got hooked on Hotel Diablo. I ventured to Bloom, Lace Up, General Admission, and then onto songs you could only find on YouTube.

Bottom line: I was obsessed.

Well, let’s not get dramatic. I fell in love with the music and developed a crush on the very man I’d hated just a month before. And I felt like an asshole for it. I still do.

I miss Cash a ton. But his life is amazing now. He’s traveling with a hugely famous band, gaining followers every single show, and better yet, he gets along with the guys great. There’s Colson, of course, and then Rook, the drummer. Baze plays the bass and Slim does a lot of keyboard and sound stuff. Justin plays guitar alongside Cash, and Colson plays, too. They party a ton, but they also go out to eat, take trips together, and hang out constantly. I’ve never heard Cash so happy when we talk on the phone.

I’ve had a shitty day. Clients were dicks, especially the guy who wanted a Prince Albert and got a little excited during the piercing process. If that wasn’t bad enough, he hit on me before one of my tattoo artists came in and dragged him out of the shop. The encounter left me feeling shaky, and by the time I get into my apartment, my hands are a trembling mess.

I sigh and toss my keys into their designated bowl, then kick off my Doc Martens, trudging to the kitchen. I grab a Mountain Dew from the fridge and find my weed pen on the counter, taking a long pull until I cough out a huge puff. I’ll feel better very soon.

After changing into comfortable clothes and washing off my makeup, my black hair tossed into a bun, I curl up on the couch with a stupid scary movie. Almost immediately, my phone lights up with a FaceTime from Cash.

I answer the call and there’s his grinning face. I don’t think we look much alike. I have my mom’s raven hair and he has our dad’s blonde curls that he wears long on top and short on the sides and in back. My jade green eyes are the opposite of his chocolaty brown ones, so dark they’re almost black. We do have the same dimples, though.

“Hey, Cash,” I greet.

“Pres!” He says happily, and I can’t help but smile. “You good, sis?”

I shrug, smiling weakly. “Rough day at work.”

Normally he’d ask, but he’s clearly not calling to chat. He has news. I can see the excitement all over his face. “Fuck that,” he says. “Can you take some time off?”

My brow arches. “For what?”

“I want you to come visit!” He says. “Ride on the tour bus with us. Come to a few shows. I miss you and everyone wants to meet you.”

My stomach flips. “Wait, seriously?” I ask warily. “The band and management are okay with this?”

“Kells suggested it!” Cash replies, eyes wide with joy. Kells — MGK, Colson. A man of many names, apparently.

I’m still skeptical. “I don’t want to impose,” I say. I’m not fun enough to hang with them. It may appear that way based on my career and the fact that I play live music, but I’m boring. All I want to do is smoke weed and maybe go out to eat. I don’t really like to drink and big crowds make me anxious.

“You wouldn’t, I swear,” Cash continues, still trying to convince me.

“Cash…” I bite down on my lip. “I don’t know.”

Cash turns his head and talks to someone but I miss what he says. My brow furrows, and then the phone is being passed. I swear to god I stop breathing when my brother’s face disappears and Colson’s takes its place.

God. This man has no business being as hot as he is. His bone structure is unreal. In another life, he could be a successful model. He’s got the height and the body for it. Covered in tattoos and piercings, he matches my vibe. His hair is bleach blonde and messy, currently, so long it almost covers his eyes until he flicks it away and pushes it back, rings glinting on his long fingers. Christ.

“Hey, Presley,” he greets like we’re old friends.”

“Um, hi,” I say after a moment. How could Cash just throw me onto FaceTime with Colson fucking Baker?! Cash doesn’t know about my crush, but still, he’s a big celebrity. I needed more time to prepare.

“What Cash isn’t saying is that it’s non-negotiable. You’re coming,” he says casually. “We’re going to be in Detroit next Saturday and you can just join us then.”

“My job—”

“Cash already told me it’s easy for you to take time off,” Colson interrupts. Dammit, Cash.

“Well, tell Cash that not all of us are famous rockstars like he is and that some of us still have rent to pay,” I say, loud enough for Cash to hear.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Colson says. “Cash already paid for your next three months’ rent.”

I blink. “Cash David Carver,” I say, tone clipped. “What the hell?”

Cash’s face pops in as he throws an arm around Colson’s shoulders with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Gotta take care of my little sister,” he explains.

“You’re 12 minutes older than me,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Still,” Cash says annoyingly. “Come on, Pres, come see me.”

I sigh. I don’t have to worry about rent for three months. Cash was right, it’s easy to take time off. It means the other piercer gets way more hours and makes more money. I’ve been there for long enough that I can do pretty much whatever I want. I chew on my lip.

“Fine,” I say, and Cash cheers. Colson smiles, and fuck, what an adorable smile. Crinkly eyes and all.

“We’ll see you next Saturday,” Cash says. “Maybe get a friend to drive you. We’ll get you both backstage passes and tickets for the show.”

Holy hell.

“Okay,” I say, head still spinning. I can’t even believe this is real.

“Alright, we gotta go. Love you, Pres,” Cash says.

“Looking forward to meeting you,” Colson says.

“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Love you, too, Cashy. See you soon.”

The FaceTime ends and I’m left sitting on my couch, knowing that in less than two weeks, I’ll be riding on Machine Gun Kelly’s tour bus. I’ll be at shows. It occurs to me that my wardrobe is not good for the paparazzi pictures in which I very well may appear.

I need to go shopping.

I need to mentally prepare.

Somehow.

Colson

“Daddy!” Her voice is almost a shriek and I smirk around the gum in my mouth as I go harder, bringing a hand down onto her ass as I do. God, she sounds like a fucking pornstar, the way she’s moaning and crying over my dick. I’m sure some of it is for show, but the way she’s clenching ain’t fake.

“Fuck,” I mutter lowly, grabbing her hips for leverage as I fuck her harder, feeling myself start to get close.

“Oh fuck, Kells!” Her back arches and her pussy seizes me as she comes, ass pressing back. Feeling her lose it gets me, too, and with a curse, I come, too.

Once I catch my breath, I pull out and get rid of the condom. Panting, she pulls her panties back up and shoves her skirt down. She tries to fix her hair, but it’s a damn mess, and there’s mascara smeared on her cheek and her lipstick is pretty much everywhere but her lips. It’s definitely on my dick, that I know for sure.

I button my jeans and smirk at her, reaching a hand out to help her up. She smiles shyly and I lead the way out of my bunk and into the main space of the tour bus.

“We gotta take off soon,” I explain, bending to kiss her cheek. “It’s been fun, Sabrina.”

Her blonde brows furrow. “Savannah,” she says flatly.

“Shit. Sorry,” I say, giving her my brightest smile. It works. She smiles, too, batting her eyelashes.

“Goodnight, Kells,” she says, fluttering her fingers in a wave as she steps off the bus.

“Goddamn, aren’t you tired?” I turn around to see Cash and Rook on the couch, grinning proudly. Cash’s question has me considering.

“Yeah. I am,” I admit, reaching into the mini fridge for a bottle of water. I plop into one of the cushy chairs and prop my feet on the table. “That’s life, though, boys.”

Rook snorts and Cash smirks as he takes a sip of his beer. I love the kid. I’m glad he’s on tour with us. He’s fucking sick on the guitar and he gets along great with all of us. He’s always down for a good time and he’s a great wingman. I think it’s those damn dimples and the curly blonde hair.

My mind flashes to Cash’s twin sister, Presley. From what I’ve seen in pictures, she looks nothing like Cash. Her hair is black and her eyes are a piercing green. She’s tatted and pierced like him, and though she’s not as tall as he is at 6’2”, she still has legs that go on for miles. She’s hot as fuck, and I’m excited she’s going to be joining the tour for a bit.

As if Cash is reading my mind, he brings her up. “I can’t wait for Pres to join us. She’s my best fucking friend, man.”

“I can’t imagine having a sister,” I say. “Especially a twin.”

“Is that telepathy shit legit?” Rook asks between puffs off a joint.

Cash plucks the joint from his fingers and takes a long drag before passing it to me. The smoke is sweet as it fills my lungs, and I follow up the first hit with another until my head tingles.

“Yeah,” he admits, nodding. “I got in a car crash when we were in high school. Broke my leg and needed stitches in my forehead. Presley had no idea but she left school with a raging headache and a limp.”

“No fucking way,” I say. “Seriously?”

“It’s crazy,” he says. “That’s kind of why I’m glad she’s coming. I can tell she’s not doing so hot.”

I frown, not liking the way his words make my stomach hurt a little. I don’t even know this chick. I shouldn’t really care. But she’s my friend’s sister, so I guess it makes sense. “What’s wrong? Shitty boyfriend?” I ask.

Cash barks such a loud laugh that Rook and I both freeze, looking at him like he’s crazy. “Sorry,” he says, chuckling and shaking his head. “Pres has never had a boyfriend.”

“How?” I blurt before I can stop myself. I clear my throat. “I mean, she’s hot. Respectfully,” I add.

Cash chuckles. “Guys want her. They’re all over her,” he says, and I notice the way his hand tightens protectively on the armrest. “She doesn’t want any of them. We tell each other everything, but she doesn’t date. Dunno why.”

“Hm,” I reply. Interesting. I don’t date either, but I do fuck. Maybe his sister is the same way. Good news for me, if so.

“So on that note,” Cash says. “She’s off limits. No hitting on my sister.”

I’m visibly disappointed and Cash narrows his eyes at me. “I mean it, Kells.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Loud and clear.”

“But what if she hits on me first,” Rook asks, and when Cash swats him, he cackles.

I sit back in the chair and take another drag off the joint. What’s the point of Cash’s sexy ass sister coming on tour if I can’t touch her? I have a feeling she’s even hotter in person. Oh well. I’ll have to deal with it. Cash is my boy and I’ll respect his wishes.

It might be a little cocky to think she’d want me back if I made a move, but I haven’t been rejected since high school. It doesn’t happen when you’re at the place I am. Hell, I don’t even have to ask anymore. Girls, quite literally, throw themselves at me, along with their panties, bras, and even a vibrator one time. That was an interesting show. Funny as fuck watching Reed pluck it off the stage.

I hear what Cash says, but there’s some weight to what Rook said, too. What if she wants me? Am I expected to reject her? Shit, I won’t be doing that. We’ll just have to see what happens.

Our Detroit show comes on fast. It’s been a crazy week, and to be honest, I haven’t been thinking about Cash’s sister at all. There are plenty of other girls to keep me occupied.

So when I’m backstage smoking a joint and Cash walks back with a couple of girls, I’m intrigued. I get up from the chair I’m in, but as I get closer, I recognize her. Cash’s sister. And fuck if she doesn’t take my breath away, as stupid as that sounds.

Because holy shit. When I say Presley Carver is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, I’m not lying. Pictures don’t do this girl justice, and her pictures are pretty damn hot. There are those gorgeous legs beneath a short leather skirt. A tiny sliver of tanned stomach is visible beneath her shirt, a simple t-shirt tied in a knot at the bottom. Black, leather boots with a heel, making those legs even longer. Her hair is left down and straight, and I can see the green of her eyes from twenty feet away.

I basically tuck my tongue back into my mouth before snuffing the joint out and going over to say hi like a gentleman. The three of them are chatting with Ashleigh and Olivia, but Presley looks up as I come over, and for the few seconds that our eyes are locked on one another, I feel a bolt of electricity shock through me. She blinks and looks away, but there’s a little smirk on her face.

“Cash, gonna introduce me?” I ask, putting a hand to Cash’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Kells, this is my sister, Presley,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” Presley says, holding out a hand.

I smirk and step forward to hug her instead. “Nah, fuck that, we hug around here,” I say, noticing the way her head tucks into my neck, inhaling the smell radiating from her hair — something sweet and sugary. She smells like fucking candy and for a second, I can’t help but wonder what she tastes like.

As I pull away, Cash gives me a warning glance, but I just smile. “And this is her friend, Sadie.”

“Hi Sadie,” I say, hugging her as well. She’s cute, but she isn’t Presley Carver. No one is.

“Thanks again for being so generous,” Presley says. God, her voice is hot, too. Sultry and low, slightly raspy. She sounds like she’d be one hell of a singer.

“No problem,” I say. “Make yourselves at home.” I need to finish my joint and take a piss before I get out onstage, and as much as I want to stay here and stare, I have shit to do. I wave and walk away. I glance over my shoulder after a few seconds and catch Presley staring. She jumps a little and immediately focuses on what Cash is saying, but she looks flustered. I notice the shape of her long black nails as she tucks her hair behind her ear and I shiver. Focus, Colson. You have a show to do.

But somehow knowing Presley is watching makes me go harder. Makes me take my shirt off and put on a good show of thrusting at my guitar. I drag my fingers down my body, grab my cock over my pants. Old Colson is coming out. The kid who used to suck tits onstage. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him. He was fun. I stopped acting that way when I met…never mind.

I like that this girl is making me find my old self onstage. I completely give into it, and it’s my best show of the entire tour. Detroit is lucky Presley Carver is in their presence.

After the show, I chug a full bottle of water, accepting daps and high fives and hugs backstage. I hate how my eyes are searching for her. Cash was very clear — hands off his sister. Which is such a dick move. Has he seen his sister? I mean, I know that’s his sister but he’s not blind. Right?

“Great show.” I jump a little when I hear that slightly raspy voice behind me, and when I turn around, my breath hitches. She looks even better a little sweaty from the show, black hair slightly mussed up.

I clear my throat and put on a smirk to hide how flustered this girl has me. “Thanks. You had fun?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, her eyes bright. “You guys put on a good show.”

I mop my face with my sweaty t-shirt and flick my hair out of my eyes. “Did you sing along to any songs?” I ask, my not-so-subtle way of figuring out whether or not she knows our music.

Her grin is a little sly. “Maybe,” she says with a little shrug.

My brow arches. “C’mon, you’re gonna leave a guy hanging?” I ask. I really want to know if she actually likes my music.

“Pres, quit acting mysterious,” Cash says when he steps up beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “She listens to your shit. She knows all the words.”

“Cash!” Presley hisses, giving him a look.

“What?” Cash blanches. “It’s true!” He turns to me. “As soon as I joined y’all she started listening.”

“So you didn’t listen before we kidnapped Cash?” I ask. For some reason, I like that she hasn’t always been a fan.

She shrugs. “Not really.” Now she looks a little sheepish. “I was missing out, though.”

“You should've heard the shit she said about you when Killshot came out,” Cash adds, and when Presley stomps on his toe, he yelps. “Ow, what the fuck!”

“Cash, you’re such a dick,” she groans. She looks up at me and smiles weakly. “He’s exaggerating.”

I’m amused as fuck. All I can do is laugh. I don’t give a fuck whose side she was on when that all went down. She’s backstage at my show now, and I saw the way she looked at me earlier. She’s into me. There’s no way she’s not.

“I’m gonna go find a bathroom,” Presley mutters, shooting one last glare at Cash before she turns on her heel and stomps away. And maybe my eyes fall on her ass, the way her waist curves out into smooth hips. Cash elbows me, and now it’s my turn to yelp.

“C’mon, I was just looking!” I insist.

“Yeah, looking at my sister like you want to fuck her,” Cash says, but he’s still grinning a little. The smile fades and he clears his throat. “Look. She’s a good girl.”

A quick burst of irritation blooms in my chest. “Are you saying I’m a bad guy?”

“No!” Cash insists, eyes widening. “Not at all. She just…she’s different, Kells. And she’s my sister. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her.”

“Taking advantage?” I blurt in outrage.

“No, Kells I — fuck.” Cash tears his hands through his messy hair. “Please.”

I sigh, the fight going out of me, and nod. “I won’t do anything,” I mutter.

“You promise?” The kid asks.

I have half a mind to make fun of him for the juvenile ass question, but I just nod. “Promise,” I sigh. Cash relaxes after that and he claps me on the back before jogging away to find some of the other guys.

I’m annoyed now. I want a shower and something to eat. And my dick is a little bit hard in my jeans. I shift and then walk stiffly outside to the tour bus.

Sure enough, a group of girls squeals when I come outside. They’re hanging near the tour bus and I quickly scan the group for the hottest one. There’s a cute brunette and I decide she’s the one. I approach the fence and reach for her hand. Her eyes twinkle.

“You busy right now?” I ask.

She looks to her friend whose eyes are bugging out of her head. “Nope,” she says.

I smirk. This will be a good distraction. Just what I need.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfic #mgk fanfic #colson baker smut #machine gun kelly smut #mgk smut #colson baker x ofc #colson x ofc #mgk x ofc #machine gun kelly x ofc

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urtranspuppyboy · 3 months

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Welcome to the Blog

DNI IF YOU ARE ANY OF THE

PHOBICS (other than ya know

valid ones like claustrophobic),

AGELESS, MINOR, ECT.

Here is my Linktree :)

You can call me whatever you want idc, my first name is River/Miles? and my middle name is Atlas. I’m still debating on names, however, so if you think another one might fit me better go for it and call me that instead.

I’m 22

I am trans masc and pre-everything (not out to anyone except my sister and my therapist)

Never been in any kind of relationship or even been close to doing something sexual/sensual with anyone irl

Uh, I mayyyy post my face/body but don’t count on it, so for that reason here’s a bit about what I look like:

Shoulder-length blonde hair, septum piercing, chubby (not confident about it and trying to motivate myself to workout more so I can be big and strong :]), 5’ 4, Depends on my dysphoria if my body is shaved or not but I don’t shave my legs a lot, I have a Jackalope tattoo on my forearm (has no meaning I just thought it was cute) and desperately want more tattoos when I can afford it, and I have light green eyes

I like reading, writing, art, making music (not good at it and not doing it currently), Roleplaying, Want to get into dnd but don’t really have any friends to do things like that with, cosplaying but not currently, Fantasy shit, Greek Mythology, Food, Shushi, ect.

Asks and dms are completely open…as of now.

Send me whatever you want on asks, however in dms pls be respectful orrrr I’ll have to close dms.

You can be as icky, disgusting, weird, friendly, funny, disrespectful, degrading, praising, mean, rude and condescending as you want in asks.

Anons so far…

❤️‍🔥👑, 🦴,🐟, 📼

here’s some things i’m into (consensually and theoretically ofc):

Guide: Absolutely 100% | I’m not completely sure yet | No. No. No.

Religion kink (aka priest type vibe)

Scat

CNC

Doctor kink

Forcemasc

Detrans kink

Somno

Mask kink

Knife/gun play

Voice Kink

Kidnapping

Vomit kink

Blood (I wanna a bloody mess for youuuu)

Orgasm control

Bondage

Military kink

Biting (both me biting you & you biting me)

Blackmail

Prince x Guard

Degradation

Sex slave

Praise

People who act like they hate me (even though i’ve been nothing but nice to them) and then fuck me like they want to kill me/use me for their pleasure only (but don’t actually hate me)

Both praise and degradation at the same time

Soft dom + Hard dom x Me (a good boy)

Gangr@pe/bang

Pee? (just not on my face or in my mouth aka pee on me/ in me literally anywhere else)

R@pe threats

Free use

Being completely controlled

I’m a masochist

And much more that I can’t think of at the moment

#puppy.txt #!!!asks!!!

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rbbrbikerthorp · 2 years

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Kidnapped (Part 6 - The Old Me Is About To Be ERASED, Forever)

The tattooing of my body had begun and I was elated. This is what I’d truly wanted since my teen years, but I had always hidden from. Bill and Jack told me I would need to return quite a few times in the next month or so to ensure my body art was completed as they had been instructed. Oh, and there will be more piercings but that will be decided for me, after my meeting later.

“See you for your next session,” Jack shouted. I was heading out of the room when my skinhead captor ordered me to stop. “Take a look at yourself boi! Finally, this is YOU, it’s what you are. It’s what you’ve always been: a pierced, inked, skinhead. Doesn’t it feel great”

I stopped. There was a full-length mirror near the exit. I could sense broad smirk appear on my face in anticipation of looking in the mirror. The reflection evidenced the transition of my pale white virgin skin into a tapestry of ink. The modification of my body was unstoppable now.

I sensed my skinhead captor and the tattooists nodding in approval.

Staring at my face, I could see the reflection of the tattoo studio lights in my septum ring. I smiled and opened my mouth to see my tongue piercing. I had rings hanging from each earlobe and steel barbells in both nipples. I looked down to see my Prince Albert sticking through the cage that was still locked on my cock. Just then I shivered. I was so focussed on my reflection that I hadn’t noticed my skinhead captor approaching me. I could feel the warm breath his breath and then he put his tongue in my ear whilst simultaneously pinching my right nipple. A shiver went up my spine and my cock strained in its confinement. He whispered, but the words were more of a statement than a question, “This is what you wanted boi,” and he grabbed my balls.

I could smell his smokey breath. Electrical sensations were going off all over my body. I turned towards him, smiled and was about to say something, but before any words could come out he stuck his tongue in my open mouth. Now I could taste his smokey mouth. I responded, it was the first time I’d not only snogged a man, but better than that it was the first time I was snogging a skinhead. He pulled away from me, “you like that boi?” My cock was not only straining but it now leaking in its cage so it was obvious to both of us what the answer to that question was. I simply nodded.

After that short distraction I felt compelled to turn back to the mirror. Under the supervision of my skinhead captor, I lifted my hands to my face, there on the back of each hand was a colourful swallow. I clenched my fists, on my knuckles, the words S-K-I-N and H-E-A-D had been tattooed. On my upper right arm the word “Oi” had been inked, together with a pair of boots underneath and on my elbow was a spiderweb. I turned to my left to see a half sleeve from my shoulder down the arm to my elbow.

I wanted to touch my new ink, but it had all been carefully wrapped by Bill and Jack. Touching my new body art would have to wait for another time. The skinhead within me was in charge of my body, or so I thought. Then, out of nowhere I got that sick feeling of regret. I thought I could hear a tiny voice at the back of my mind, “why did you let them do this to y..

My skinhead captor had been watching me closely. The BoSS had trained him to know that even towards the end of my processing to become a skinhead there was a strong chance that my old self would still try one or two final attempts to fight back and regain control. So before I could take any notice of the small voice, my skinhead captor quickly approached me. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was holding one of those handheld mirrors you see barbers use. He held it in such a way that I could see the tattoo on the back of my head, “SKIN4LIFE.” A contorted grin came across my face, and words started emanating from my mouth, “I’m a skinhead,” I said out loud. “I’ve been inked, I’ve been pierced and....”

“...you’re a smoker”, he quickly interrupted. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and placed it between my lips. Instinctively I inhaled the smoke into my lungs by taking a deep breath. In no time I’d finished the cig. “C’mon lad, this way. What are you?”

I followed my captor muttering to myself “I’m a skinhead”.

“Tell me what you are, boi?” The tone of his voice demanded a response.

“I’m a skinhead: I’ve been inked as a skinhead, I’m a skinhead: I’ve been pierced, I’m a skinhead: I smoke.” I kept repeating this mantra. Before I knew it we were back in the room with the huge TV.

“In the chair boi,” my captor ordered.

I sat down immediately. He didn’t need to restrain me this time. I was a skinhead now, so I why wouldn’t I comply with a superior skin?

“Here”, he handed me a cigarette. I put it in my mouth and he held out a lighter and I inhaled. After taking a couple of drags, I turned to my captor and spoke, “When do I get my big boots with white ladder laces? When do I get my ass tight bleachers and braces? When do I get my Fred Perry shirt and an MA1?”

“Very soon lad. There’s just a couple more things that need sorting out first boi. Now, you to watch the screen whilst I make the final preparations.” With that he pointed the remote control at the television. In a split second the screen came alive. The moment my eyes fell on the television everything was lost. The thought of closing my eyes melted away as soon as I saw the dazzling display on screen, spiralling away into infinite depths. The dazzling display filled my vision, it was all I could see.

Spirals interspersed with words caught my attention I think I remember video clips showing skins marching together, skinhead bands performing in dark clubs and the crowd wildly jumping up and down, skinheads ‘putting the boot in’, skinheads shaving their heads and getting geared up. But mixed in were pictures of skins in what could be described as ‘intimate situations’. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing skinheads snogging, getting fucked in a sling, scenes of skins pissing, cocksucking, rimming and more. I was so focussed on the screen that I failed to notice my skinhead captor and the BoSS had paid several visits to the room. Having seen my progress they knew there was no going back for me now.

Meanwhile back at my house...

Whilst my mind was being ‘adjusted’ for the final time, 'the police’ paid a visit to my home address. My wife happened to be working at home when they turned up. They informed her that a male matching the description given to them when she’d reported me missing had been found ‘in Peterborough’ and was at a police station in the town. They asked if she would be willing to accompany them in order to confirm the man was indeed me, her husband. Clearly shaken by the news, she readily agreed.

Little did she know there was no police station, it was merely a ruse set up by the BoSS. If she had known at that point what had been done to me, and that I would show no interest in her, then she’d probably not have bothered to travel all that way. Once in the ‘police car’, the other ‘police officer’ sat himself along side her in the back seat. “CLICK” the central locking engaged at which point he pulled out a wet handkerchief from his pocket and forced it over the my wife’s face. Before long she had submitted to the chloroform soaked into the hanky.

Next thing my wife was aware of was being 'manhandled’ into a building by the two officers. They ‘walked’ her down a corridor into a room, and dropped her into a chair. In front of her was a huge glass window, which had a closed curtain on the other side of the glass. At that moment the curtain began to open, and the speakers came alive.

In the next door room my wife could see a naked man, with a shaved head, tattoos, piercings and a chastity cage...

In walked a big, burly, hunk of a man, maybe two or three years older than myself. If I had to conjure up my fantasy skinhead, he’d look a lot like this alpha-male. He was a good six inches taller than me and weighed in at least 14 stone. That said, he was in great shape. His head was shaved, one arm was completely covered in tattoos, but the other only had ink on his bicep. He was wearing a white t-shirt, on top of which were red braces clipped onto a pair of tight bleachers. He wore the shiniest black boots, with steel toe-caps and white laces.

[Thank you for patiently waiting for this update, the next chapter will bring this series to a close. You will find out what happens between this ‘skinhead god’ and myself].

#kidnap fantasy #brainwash #skinhead #boots #tattoos #piercings

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livealittleoc-cb · 2 years

Text

"I can sense your anger and it excites me~"

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: Set [Seth or Seb/Sebastian Sayed]

⋆｡°✩ Egyptian God of Chaos, War and Storms

⋆｡°✩ Younger Brother of Anubis

⋆｡°✩ He works at a club in the human world and a bar in the underworld/hell

⋆｡°✩ He has no animals both Anubis and Jay have enough animals for the three of them

⋆｡°✩ He has bad mood swings, can go through 3 different emotions in one go

⋆｡°✩ He can also get overwhelmed along with easily stressed, needs cuddles to calm down

⋆｡°✩ He is very apathetic, insane and sadistic TAKE THIS INTO CONSIDERATION WHEN INTERACTING!

⋆｡°✩ Will soften up when you get close, still will be a little shit though

⋆｡°✩ In "Human" form he is Egypt, in Astria he is from Sceile [Cairo, Egypt]

⋆｡°✩ Another who doesn't care for pronouns but tends to go with He/They / Pansexual, Poly / 24 [Human Years], is as old as chaos and storms / 1/10 [Capricorn] / 5'8"

⋆｡°✩ He is:

insane

apathetic

amused

easily annoyed

easily bored

needs his interest to be kept

can be really soft when he wants to

God Information / Form Stuff

⋆｡°✩ he feeds off of chaos, storms and anger/annoyance

⋆｡°✩ chaos is the most affective for him but storms also help

⋆｡°✩ he likes sitting and listening to storms to calm down or go out on walks in them

⋆｡°✩ in old times could be seen in moments of conflict, wars, storms, floods, etc.; now you see him in modern day conflict, car crashes, crime scenes, disputes, etc.

⋆｡°✩he can be found literally anywhere, he is a roamer, so when not at ari's place, with anubis, at his house or in the underworld he is roaming some place

⋆｡°✩ when he feeds his eyes turn inky black with a white glow

⋆｡°✩ as a god he can smell and sense emotions well but the smell/sensation of anger/annoyance is the strongest he can depict

⋆｡°✩ he can also sense changes in insanity, if someone has commited a sin and read minds when he wants to; he uses this to his advantage to cause more problems and chaos

⋆｡°✩ he was not always a bad god and holds big resentment towards the ones who hurt and betrayed him

⋆｡°✩ he has more strength then a normal human and greater amount of strength compared to other gods

⋆｡°✩ he can change his "human" apperance [height, eye color, hair color, etc.]

⋆｡°✩ each god has a human name they go by, his is Seth or Sebastian/Seb

⋆｡°✩ in his god form he is 6'8"

⋆｡°✩ in his god form, his eyes are completely inky black, his skin is a lot tanner, has black and gold curls, has jackal ears and a tail as well as sharp canines, he carries a staff and bag to carry items to create more chaos with, his nails are permanently painted black and gold, his torso, arms and legs are covered in hieroglyphic tattoos

⋆｡°✩ he cries inky black and gold tears for recompense of all the bad deeds he has done

⋆｡°✩ gold/white signifies the last shreds of sanity and good he has left

⋆｡°✩ when not in astria or the human realm he resides in the underworld realm [hell, typically district 1]

⋆｡°✩ in his half and half form he is his normal 5'8", has snake bite piercings, a septum, a bar on this right ear along with other hoop ear piercings, smiley piercing only visible when he smiles && a surface piercing on top of his left hand, his eyes are either their bright blue or normal sparkly grey, curly dual dyed black && blonde/white hair and sometimes has his jackal ears, tail and canines out

⋆｡°✩ him and anubis both can turn into full jackals to blend into certain places; they also can have a jackal head and human body but they detest this form

Extras

⋆｡°✩ natural eye color: sparkly stormy grey

⋆｡°✩ eyes might glow black when amused

⋆｡°✩ he has snake bites, a septum, a bar, hoop earrings at the tops of his ears, a smiley piercing && a surface piercing on top of his left hand

⋆｡°✩ he has multiple random tattoos on both his arms

⋆｡°✩ likes: choas, pushing people's buttons, cuddles, pain, roaming around, being around ari, ace, anubis, hel and hecate, coffee && energy drinks

⋆｡°✩ dislikes: staying in one spot, being bored, being tired, sleeping, eating, goodie two shoes [selective]

⋆｡°✩languages: arabic && english, a little bit of french

NSFW

⋆｡°✩ pure switch, needs someone who is also a switch, can be a hard dom or a bratty sub, might be soft dom if he's in a soft mood; some of his kinks are pain kink, blood play, primal, bdsm, bondage, gagging, choking, oral, size kink, sadism, masochism, humiliation, degradation, hair pulling, public, diry talk

⋆｡°✩ all kinks go both ways, both recieving and giving

⋆｡°✩ as much as he likes hard kinks set would never force his partner to do anything they don't want to do

⋆｡°✩ he is open to a variety of kinks as well just ask him about it and he most possibly will be down to try, if he doesn't like it he will let you know

⋆｡°✩ he might subdrop/domdrop depending on headspace

⋆｡°✩ his eyes glow white/gold when arroused

⋆｡°✩ safe word: storm [set needs their partner to have a safe word or use the traffic light system && be told which before sex]

⋆｡°✩ he uses 🌪️ on dash

Relationship Statuses

He is in a relationship with Ari/Jay!!!

⋆｡°✩ at some forest in his jackal form and amused

⋆｡°✩ dating [2/4-5] @monsterhigh-cb Taehyung [pretty alpha🐺💜] [3.27.23], @kardpackcb BM [big bad alpha 💪🏽❤️‍🔥] [4.8.23]; uninterested [open to having fwb if his partners are okay with it]

⋆｡°✩ happily dating ari/jay [his sweetheart🍬] [him && ari will be taking ONE more partner together]

⋆｡°✩ friends:

⋆｡°✩ family:

Tags

⋆｡°✩ relationship tag(s): #💀🌪️seay [sadistic couple main tag], #💜🩶taeset [alpha ship tag], #🐺🐾pretty alpha [alpha ship tag], #❤️‍🔥🩶bmet [soft dummy ship tag], #🐺❌bad alpha [soft dummy ship tag]

⋆｡°✩ friend tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ family tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ music tag(s): #🎶set music [set music inspo], #🎵seay [set && jay music inspo], #🎼character music [all character music inspo]

⋆｡°✩ inspo tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ other tag(s): #🌪️set.txt [set text/interactions]

faceclaim: @/heir.of.atticus on instagram [the love of my life!]

#🌪️set.txt #profile.txt

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tr4umaborn · 9 months

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** IMPORTANT INFO RE: TJ HAMMOND

a study in. drug abuse / addiction, self harm, suicidal ideation / attempts, over dosing, bipolar I disorder ( which includes mania episodes, heavy depressive episodes, anxiety, and minor psychosis breaks ), bdsm / submissive behaviors, sex as a coping mechanism, in being the bad twin, the nature of growing up addicted, undiagnosed mental illness, the golden gay, an opposite role model, making music until your fingers bleed, the minor chord, living fast dying young

full name. thomas james hammond also known as. tj, teej, golden boy date of birth. 02 / 19 / 1984 age. 38 zodiac. pisces sun / libra moon / leo rising gender. male (ish) pronouns. he / they romantic orientation. homoromantic sexual orientation. homosexual occupation. pianist / influencer / model species. human birthplace. raleigh, north carolina, united states current home. new york city, ny, us nationality. he's never asked beyond being american ethnicity. just another dumbass white boy language(s). english parents. president elain barrish, former president bud hammond siblings. twin brother - douglas hammond other family members. lydia martin - basically a sister thanks significant other + children. canon: mieczyslaw stilinski-hammond (husband) @mieczlw jason stilinski-hammond (son) @jasnstilnski the bee and jenna cinematic universe: antonio dominico marcus rizzotti marvel au: bucky barnes @whtwclf faceclaim. thomas doherty hair. brown + short eyes. baby blues height. 6 ft build. as an addict: too skinny for his own good when sober: muscular from getting addicted to the gym dominant hand. left scars. one of his left arm from the singular time he shot up, plenty of scars on his chest and back for boys who were too rough both in the bedroom and in the bar tattoo. many small pieces in easily coverable places piercings. one on his right ear, many on his left ear, had an eyebrow piercing decided against it, nose stud and septum vurrent positive traits. sensitive, whimsical, romantic, charming, artistic, gentle, love of beauty and harmony negative traits. gullible, gregarious, dependent, cagey likes. giving and receiving gifts, sweets, coffee, massages, cocaine (unfortunately), fuck boys (even more unfortunately) dislike. being wrong, being proven wrong, fears & phobias. disappointment, drowning wishes & dreams. to not be in the spotlight because of his family, but instead because of himself. mbit. ESFP - The Entertainer moral alignment. neutral evil enneagram type. type 3 - the achiever

biography.

THE GOLDEN SON 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. now imagine the feeling of floating away into the nether reaches of space. imagine the way slipping up into the air would make you feel – do you feel the air around you at all? is there enough oxygen to make the trip sliding up through the sky and into the unknown worth it? or will the whole experience just leave you clawing at your own skin because it’s burning from the inside out without the attentive oxygen filling up your pores?

the headline read : 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 but there’s nothing golden about the downward decent into enveloping madness. he was not born mad ( and really is anyone? ) but had the madness set upon him by the events that took place. born ninety seconds before his twin brother douglas, thomas james hammond was smiling when he came out into the world. it may be hard to tell now, but from that first moment he has always known that he wanted to experience all that life had to offer. the happiness didn’t end much at all in the first ten years of his life ( except for when it did, but according to doctors he was simply a growing boy with a growing mind ). even through the first campaign and moving into the white house ( seven year olds still in awe that they have this much space to play in ) his smile stayed so strong. there were things that made it even brighter : his brother, his mama, telling stories with a flashlight under the blanket long past their bedtime. but there was one thing that kept him happy, kept the madness at bay when it threatened to show its burning head.

music never wanted to kill him. while it may be an artist’s curse to feel everything so fucking fully, it isn’t the art form that grabbed him with sharp jaws. he picked up his first piece of sheet music at three years old, and everyone in the family broke out the camcorders. 𝐨𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 they’d say as he banged tiny fingers on keys. those tiny fingers grew into the keys. passion and music weaved together, only those within his most inner circle allowed to see what really showed. books upon books begin to get filled through the years. music notes that look like water as they swim across the pages of score sheets. his happiness isn’t dependent on his music, but his music has always and will always provide him with natural serotonin that he chases after in the powder of small bags.

fear and loathing keep him from doing well in school. doug is the favorite twin with grades and extra curriculars that fill out the resume how every college wishes it would. he’ll go to princeton or yale or harvard or wherever the fuck he wants and tj instead knows exactly where he’s headed ( 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ) but his steps to get there are the difficult part. first he must survive high school : where his best friends are snow and addie. they provide the blanket of protection he needs when he finds himself on the wrong side of his first tmz article.

the first son is a fag? it didn’t say that, but when he read it it really may as well have. the world plucked him from the closet just before y2k ; a fifteen year old boy with a life sentence. first came tmz, then the times article, and then before he knew it he’s suddenly the country’s most famous gaybie. to america that makes him their sweetheart, but the world never knows what sweethearts do when they’re craving sweet tarts.

the same year he found himself on the wrong side of a conversation. while the world doesn’t know it, having your father be the 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚 really makes these trying times much easier to keep undisclosed, he knows the truth of it all. the good ole boy’s private school couldn’t have a drug addicted slut making a bad name for their school, so they banished him to the other realm. or you know. . . expelled him. he finds himself in the countryside of france for the next two years where catholicism is the ruling decree and drug addicts rule the halls. it’s here he rules the school with charlotte arnold by his side, and cross my heart and hope to die those two are a dangerous duo.

college isn’t for everyone, but for a hammond it is an expectation. he’ll start his education one place, and eventually end it in another. the location doesn’t matter : after all there are phones on cameras and street corners now. his antics can destroy his life no matter what he ends up. wherever he is, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

COCAINE DREAMS and what about the snow? playing in the white confection as the world keeps spinning around you. it’s comfortable, holding you and keeping you warm when the world outside is desperately freezing. why wouldn’t you jump into it’s open arms that widen more for you? it doesn’t feel good to leave it’s grasp so you stay there. where you are wanted. where you are needed. 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

he feels everything so fully that even empathy doesn’t cover it. with elders describing his symptoms as a side effect of drug abuse, tj knows the symptoms came first. 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 ( and if only when he screamed it was outside of his mind ) they wouldn’t feel the pain of every time he runs. snow opens her beautiful arms for him and through out his twenties he jumped too far into her arms. some moments were easy – someone at a party helped him sleep it off or his few friends gave him the space to grieve the loss of his sanity. other moments hurt more – nearly dying in a crackhouse in canada just over the border line from buffalo. or the time he thought a bottle of downers was a bottle of uppers and sent himself spiraling more when trying to fix his own problems. he’ll hurt those he loves with every gram that goes up his nose.

after tj and doug turned 24, elaine barrish hammond began her first campaign for president. in a never shocking turn of events, people seemed more interested in a third term of bud ( even though they knew the scandals he locked in his closet ) instead of elaine. he doesn’t care ; after all, a tour de usa means he can find a fuck in all 50 states. they want to use him as a puppet like always? not a person, not a son, but a 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞.

she ends up secretary of state, and tj ends up with a forced residency in dc once again. at 25 years old he is beginning to 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. no one notices when republican senator sean reeves of ohio begins to steal glances at the ex first son. what’s worse is the reciprocation. tj on the wrong end of those glances turns into allowing someone to devour him whole while knowing he’ll spit him up and throw him out. the details of his sobriety, and his happiness, are unfortunately unimportant ( after all, they come at the hands of a false idol ) and instead the focus shifts to the inevitable ending. our sweetheart feels the false love ooze from every pore ; it leaves him as the tears spill from his red rimmed eyes. there’s a car, and a garage, and it’s all he can think to do in a split second. how might a mother, who loves her children with all of her heart despite how she hurts them so, feel when she finds her son no longer inhaling fumes because he’s passed out? ask elaine barrish.

no one knows for over a year, names and pseudonyms being confused and dispersed. forced sobriety normally didn’t work for tj, but this time rehab seemed to get through to him. he can maintain a sense of sobriety, nothing that’s considered illegal or prescribed to others, until 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. the puppet is now a pawn, an article being published on the suicide attempt of america’s sweetheart. he watches the story unfold on the news while sharing a straw to soak up snow on his dealer’s couch.

the rest of his life will never look the same. he realizes that sobriety is a privilege he has to work for. feeling everything makes the lows lower and the highs higher. when no one will name it ( maybe one day a doctor will say the word bipolar to him outloud ) how can you treat it? mania gives him excitement, but with it comes his chest being ripped to shreds by his own mind. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭?

#** about: tj.#** headcanons: tj.#uh.... all of the things to avoid are in the top there LOL #i wrote this bio in 2022 and it's just a very good tj bio #anyway i develop a LOT of ships for tj hehe #90% of the time i write him in his addict phase from 20-27

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eldrichfuck666 · 1 year

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Get to know a simmer - summer 2023 edition (for me!) I was tagged by the amazing @lilypixels (thank you so muuuuch, you truly don't know how much I love to ramble on here and I also was so curious to know more about you! （*＾-＾*) and although I did it back in spring and you can find the old post here, I LOVE DOING SUCH UPDATES SKKSS so I'd decided I want to do it again~ Especially considering, I have a bit more mutuals and followers than then, so.. get to know me! And my love for rambling, too!

Show your wallpaper and last song you listened to (as you can see, I have a new theme! Yay! But Writer Lite still stayed here as well as Linga :') and I'm slowly going into my Hozier obssesion again, it's just mixed with Will Wood and Tally Hall!) AND YEAH I DID IT THE LAST LMAO just right now and I was just.. God why am I so slow and write so slow I-

Currently reading: I'm re-reading To Be Devoured by Sara Tantlinger once again and it's thanks to that one nonnie that made me want to go back to it and analyse every single sentence..) and I started reading Rapture by Saint Harlowe which was recommended to me by @rottengurlz - thank you SO MUCH for such amazing book rec, by far I can say that I'm getting so much Hannibal vibes for some reason? JACKSON IS SO.. OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOOD I don't know how to react and i'm fucking screaming IS IT A BOOK OF MY DREAM? The writing style, the religious references, the murderousness and both gentleness. It is... I didn't got very far, but this is very... this is a religious experience, literally! And I'm forever thankful to you for this rec!! 💕

Last movie: I might be very wrong because my memory sucks, but I feel like it was The Witch (2015)! But I'm not sure since I also watched Annihilation (2018) the same week and I don't remember which was the last I had watched 😭

Last show: Chapelwaite (2021) - I only started and I'm honesty terrified to watch it further but I think It might be worth it?

Craving: mmm, I don't really know? Maybe caramelized shrimps or WAIT Maultaschen? THEY HAVE INTERESTING STORY THOUGH!!! And they're very tasty and you probably know what's I'm going to go cook right now...

Last thing you ate: Baked Brussels sprouts with maple syrup! As you can see, I have a sweet tooth and I'd sold my soul for anything sweet, but especially for sweet vegetables!

What are you wearing right now: It's very cold (I'M NOT JOKING IT'S LITERALLY 12 DEGREES CELSIUS OUTSIDE AND THERE WERE A !!!!!!LONG THUNDERSTORM!!!!!!! AND I'M SOOOO HAPPY ABOUT IT!!!!!!!) so I'm wearing very old very fur socks that were knitted by my papa (yes, they're a gift for Christmas 2019 and I adore them and would protect them at any cost), orange woolen sweater, woolen home shorts and on top of that... I'm hiding in a very big yellowish autumny blanket with milky white stripes. I'm freezing and I still have my window open wide despite having an obvious fucking fever.

How tall are you: I figured out I'm actually 175 cm tall! It's pretty tall, right?

Piercings: None! I don't even have my ears pierced and I don't want to! There's clip-ons for that and I don't want to feel pain event for a slightest second. But piercings are really cool! I wish I didn't have this wild fear of pain or there were like... septum clip-ons if it makes sense? But yeah, still none and never will be!

Tattoos: None and I'm pretty sure there will never be any!

Glasses/contacts: I still have perfect vision, however! I STARTED KINDA COLLECTING VINTAGE GLASSES WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL SILVER CHAINS! I have three of them now help It's becoming another obsession... They just look cool and not even only on me, but just in general - even in the cabinet! And they have such beautiful and detailed cases ohhhh...

Favourite colour: Ahhh... I'm not sure but maybe... peachy pink? And that gold orange you can see on the painting Café Terrace at Night by the one and only Vincent Van Gogh. BUT PARIS GREEN IS STILL MY OBSESSION FOREVER I LOVE THIS COLOUR!!!!!!! And also, I think It's maroon and wine reds? They look so vampire I just... And so rich if it makes sense? AND GORE AND BLOOD- But aesthetic blood though!

Current obsession: Maid Of Sker & Bloodborne lore and maybe.. cosmic horror in general? Something definitely changed in me after watching Annihilation... But I also love Lovecraftian horror, so It does make a lot of sense!

Any pets: still no pet :,< And I haven't seen my parents dog for months now... I miss her so much and I know they live only couple hours away but I'm deathly scared of publicly busy places especially electric trains and trains in general. I do not have a car and don't plan to and it will be useless anyways, but I'm not ready to deal with very... unstable train schedule and everything yet. I'm just scared but I hope i'd visit them at least for Christmas.

Favourite fictional character: Umm... I don't know now, It might be still Will Graham. I love him.

Last place you traveled: does going to Augsburg which is like.. 1 hour or so from me to see its cathedral once again counts? I just love this place so much, it feels so powerful and so old (which it is, and the architecture is insane. you need to go here to understand and feel it, but It's something so beautiful and it's kinda is my comfort place so...). And yeah, because the trip wasn't as long, I had my earbuds on and was drinking tea on a train and everything went really well! It was two weeks ago and It was like one of the most beautiful 6 hours of my year so far. And, there were a slight rain when I was shopping and walking around, so it's was really amazing. 10000/10 would recommend. ALSO. I bought some handmade brooches here! Its just a comfort town for me if it makes sense? There's so much to see but just calmly walking around feel the best. AND OMG I LOVE BEING HERE WHEN IT'S RAINING OR WHEN IT'S JUST CLOUDY AHHH

I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW I'M SCARED OF TAGGING but if you read it and if you just want to do this consider yourself tagged and tag me if you want to!! I love you so much to whoever is reading this and I hope you're having a great night or day!! ❤️

#tag game

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vecnuthy · 2 years

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Snake Bites

Eddie and his partner/reader hit up the local piercing parlor for some additions. Eddie with snake bites. Eddie with snake bites!!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (use of "she" literally just once)

Language, slight suggestive language, use of "babe," bit of fluff

Notes: Indiana didn't legalize tattooing until the early 90s, set in late 80s, could be AU Eddie or Eddie survived, but no mention of UD

Eddie loved to splurge every now and then on a new tattoo after saving for a while. He would pick from a whole slew of rough sketches that he had done over the years, ready to go to give to artists as a foundation to build a design from.

Tattoos, while you adored them on people, weren't your body modification of choice. You preferred piercings, which gave you a broad range of customization that better-appealed to you. You had plans to add to your ears, especially, dreaming about the stacks you would curate, and adding a nose ring to the mix was another goal, but god, the healing time for piercings could be a bitch, and you were just really getting started.

Piercings seemed to get more fashionable in general in the late 80s, which definitely worked in your favor. The trend booming among celebrities had trickled down to the common folk, and now Hawkins had its own piercing studio that definitely didn't have an underground tattoo parlor in the back, absolutely not. Your birthday was coming up, and you decided to take the leap and start adding more as a gift to yourself. The poster on the wall listed the names and placings, and looking at it both helped and hindered you. You wanted it all, if you were being honest with yourself, but you only had a budget to stick to. You settled on an orbital conch on your left and a helix on the right with dreams of another of both and a tragus joining them in the future. And you got the nose ring.

You sat on the padded chair and held up the mirror, admiring the latest additions on your nose and your (very angry and bloodshot) ears.

"Hey babe, look," Eddie said excitedly, appearing from nowhere by your side. The underside of his forearm materialized in front of your eyes to reveal his fresh tattoo, a sensibly-sized and updated version of the Hellfire demon head he had drawn all of those years ago.

"Oh wow, they did a really good job!" you praised, admiring the line work and how intensely the red and yellow popped against the black on the fresh ink. "Demon on the forearm, I love it. Do you like how they di--" You froze when you looked up at him and saw those.

"Eddie!" you gasped out quietly, eyes big.

His face stretched into that signature cheeky grin, which made him wince. "That's gonna be fun to deal with," he remarked dryly with his fingers touching below his mouth. He was visibly pleased, though.

Your brain was buzzing as you took in the sight of the two pieces of rounded metal placed perfectly under both sides of his plump bottom lip.

"You're gonna catch a fly like that," he said, voice low and playful as he mocked how your mouth was hanging open.

"Ohh, oh no," you laughed out, taking in how he looked. "No, this is going to be a problem."

His nose scrunched as he said in faux disbelief, "What, you don't the snake bites?"

Your still-opened mouth stretched into a wide smile, your glinting eyes snapping to his. "Babe."

"Ohhh, she does like them."

You did. A lot.

"Do they hurt?"

"A little pinchy," he brushed off. "What about yours? I've gotta say, that nose ring suits you."

You smiled at him, saying, "Stingy, especially the helix. I kind of want to add a septum to the mix now, but I think I'll save up a little more for it..." You trailed off when your gaze landed back on his lips. "What's the heal time?" Your voice was casual as you stood up. Too casual. He knew that play.

"Four to six weeks, supposedly," smirking again. His fingers found yours when you moved in close.

"Mmm.....that's a shame," you murmured before brushing a feather light kiss on his lips.

"So Mr. Munson, make sure to stick wi -- oh 'm sorry," the body piercer said, averting his gaze when he came on the scene. Your knuckles brushed under your nose bashfully and you pivoted from Eddie, who was completely unfazed, if not slightly amused by the intrusion.

"Soft foods and come back in a month or so for shorter bars?"

"Yep, and, um....be sure to keep the area clean."

Eddie snorted. You mouthed oh my god and shifted awkwardly.

"If you -- either of you have any issues, just come back by. Greg will have care pamphlets and cleaning solution for you guys at the counter."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it," Eddie said, shaking the guy's hand, shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you!" you added, which he acknowledged with a nod before disappearing into the back of the store.

Eddie snorted out a couple more chuckles, wrapping you in a hug and kissing the top of your head before he realized what he was doing. He winced and hissed out, "Shit!" at the contact. "Yeah, this is gonna be a problem."

"Just wait until you think about the extent of how much of a problem they're gonna be."

He was lost in thought as you approached the counter, and he shot you a panicked look as the two of you paid. There it is, you thought and tried not to laugh when you took the bag of supplies from Greg and headed out the door.

"I fucked up," he whined out as soon as the door closed. You let the laugh loose and slipped your hand into his back pocket as you walked down the sidewalk back to the van.

"Fucked me up more like it, but look at me." He obliged. God he looked good with them. "No. No, you really didn't. Keeping them clean and unbothered, though," you laughed, "is going to be trying, to say the least, because I really just want to tackle you right now."

Eddie laughed at that, repeating "unbothered" derisively, which earned him a pinch from you through the thin material of his back pocket. He jerked forward with "Hey, buy me dinner first" and glittering eyes. "Actually, how about a stop at the diner to kick off this soft food diet of mine with a milkshake?"

"Love it, but you have to sit next to me. I can't look at you right now."

He didn't comply, of course. You should've known -- you did know better, and now there he was sitting across from you in all his Eddie Munson with snake bites glory, his arm thrown over the back of the booth for added effect. He spent the stay basking in a great deal of enjoyment at how you struggled not to smile every time you glanced at him and how the color on your cheeks bloomed when you looked away shyly.

"Babe, what are you going to do when I get little hoops for them?" he chuckled out as he pulled the straw out of his thick milkshake and stuck the bottom of it in his mouth.

A wave of cold then hot rippled through you at the thought and at the sight of what he was doing to that stupid straw. "You'll be healed by then and it'll be fair game."

His face morphed into that devilish grin that drove you insane, and you couldn't help but groan and lean your face into your hand. That contact, however, gave you a sudden, very rude reminder of the fresh addition to your nose, making you gasp out and plead, "Shit. What have we done?"

"What have we done!" he repeated dramatically in his Dungeon Master voice with his arms raised and fingers curled in the air. You laughed into your milkshake and kicked his shoe playfully under the table. "Fair game, huh?" he asked.

You cocked an eyebrow with a pointed look.

"'M looking forward to that." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Shit, me too," you said under your breath, looking off. Judging by the sound of his laugh, he definitely heard you.

#literally nobody asked for this but i can't stop thinking about eddie munson with snake bites #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson piercings #eddie munson tattoos #fic #snakebites

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kk095 · 2 years

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Road Trip

*good evening everyone! Here's a new story of mine! I also have another story on deck that I should be posting in the near future. Hope you enjoy this one!*

I can’t believe the situation I’m in right now. My girlfriend and I were on a road trip heading to the mountains for a nice, quiet, relaxing trip. Now I’m in a hospital bed in who knows where with a concussion, had my spleen removed, and some bumps and scrapes, while my girlfriend is under a sheet in the hospital morgue. I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened in the past day or two, but I have a lot to get off my chest. But before I tell you how we got here, I want to tell you about my girlfriend. I want you guys to remember her the same way I did, and not by how she died.

Her name was Chloe. She was a few years younger than me. And for reference, I’m 26 and she was 24. Chloe was a cute Asian girl, whose dad is a Vietnamese immigrant, and mother is a Chinese immigrant. She had dark, pin straight, shoulder length hair, chocolate brown eyes, and had a short, petite build. She had a nasal septum piercing, a colorful tattoo sleeve on her left arm, and wore black lipstick a lot, which drove her uptight, traditional parents crazy. They always asked her why she couldn’t be like her older brother Michael who’s a successful programming manager for Microsoft out west in Seattle, which made her feel bad.

But Chloe differed from the rest of her immediate family. Compared to her family’s uptight, traditional ways, she was more open minded, laid back, and had a go with the flow type of demeanor about her. Her older brother Michael was very ambitious and goal oriented while Chloe wanted to pursue her passions and work to live, rather then live to work. She went to college for music, but ultimately dropped out in her 2nd semester, much to her family’s disapproval. Chloe was a bass player and loved focusing on writing music, playing with her bandmates, and worked only to provide money for her passion.

And that’s how her and I met, through work. We both worked at the same hotel together, just in different departments. I work as a maintenance supervisor, while she worked at the front desk. I remember the first time I met her. I was called up to the front desk to take a look at some dripping that came from a vent. I was able to get to the bottom of the issue real quick- it was just a clogged up condensate line in the HVAC vent (something that takes 5 minutes to fix, but most HVAC repair men will have the audacity to charge you $300 bucks for. But I digress!). After I cleared that up, I asked one of my buddies at the front desk who the hot new girl was, to which he told me “yeah, that’s Claire!”, which became a bit of an inside joke between Chloe and I later on.

I started spending more time at the front desk and BSing with her, and found out her an I had a lot in common. As I mentioned, she was a bass player, while I play guitar. It turned out we were both metal heads, she liked pokemon (even had Squirtle as part of her tattoo sleeve) and complemented my Lego collection- probably the only girl in the history of the universe to do so. After we got to know each other a bit, I got her number and asked her out. And let me tell ya, I was very nervous about that first date!

The first date was at this Mexican place she wanted to go to. We got a little tipsy off some margaritas and just talked for hours, eventually losing track of time. The manager of the restaurant actually tapped me on the shoulder and told me they were closing in 20 minutes. But that’s how it should be- 5 hours felt like 5 minutes with her, and I enjoyed it very much! That first date was two and a half years ago, and everything was great in the relationship department from there on.

I felt very content and happy with my relationship with Chloe, and bought a ring, planning to propose to her on this trip, under the guise of it just being a little weekend getaway.

The hotel we were staying at was about 6 and a half hours away, so it was a manageable distance. The two of us got ready that morning and got in some comfy clothes for the car ride. She was wearing her purple pullover hoodie, some black sweats, and her go-to black and white checkered Vans. Even though she was in those baggy, comfy clothes, she still looked cute as always.

I agreed to do the driving there. I was a little tired however! I had to stay at work late the night before because a pain in the ass guest absolutely trashed a room and we had to fix all sorts of stuff. Just an FYI before we continue- if you’re unhappy with your room assignment at a hotel, just leave a bad review or something. Don’t trash the room. Someone has to fix that!

Even though I was tired from my overtime the night before, I decided to do the driving in my car. At first, we were making good time. But around the trip’s halfway point, we started to hit some traffic on the interstate. Chloe and I decided to get off at the next exit and grab a bite to eat, hit the bathroom, and gas up, hoping traffic would dissipate in a little while. We ultimately grabbed breakfast at a small diner, hit the bathroom, and went to the gas station next door to refuel. While I was pumping gas, I was yawning and felt a little tired. Chloe looked up at me and said “hey babe, why don’t I do the driving? You had a long night, you deserve a nap.” She was always sweet like that, but I replied “oh it’s ok hun, I can make it there. I’ll just crash and burn tonight when we get to the room.” Chloe then hopped over from the passenger seat and over to the driver’s seat. “too late mister! Go take a nap!” She said playfully. I laughed a little and told her “hey, I appreciate it. But you don’t have to drive.” Chloe then said “just take a nap babe! I pinky promise I’ll get us there alive.” I ultimately capitulated and thought “yeah, ya know, a nap sounds good!”

After I finished gassing up and paying an arm and a leg, I hopped in the passenger seat, get under Chloe’s baby Yoda blanket, and reclined the seat back. Once we got back on the interstate, all it took was a little highway hypnosis to knock me out. The next thing I remember is totally different. I hear Chloe scream, I heard the brakes screech, and I was thrown forward a bit, waking me right up from my nap. A large 18 wheeler truck had cut us off while changing lanes. Chloe didn’t have much time to react, and she slammed into the back bumper of the truck at a high rate of speed. I felt the lap portion of the seatbelt tighten up over my belly, feeling a tremendous amount of pressure and pain over my abdomen. My head whipped around a bit, making me feel dizzy for a few seconds. Once I regained my mental faculties, I looked over at the passenger seat to see how Chloe was doing.

Chloe was crying hysterically, and had a few cuts and scrapes on her face. I grab her right hand and ask “hey hun, you ok? What happened?” Chloe continued crying hysterically and hyperventilating a bit. “its ok baby, calm down. It’s gonna be ok!” I tell her, trying to be reassuring. “the truck… it cut me off. I didn’t have time!” she cried out to me. “he didn’t signal! I didn’t know babe, I’m sorry!” she continued, tears streaming down her face. “chloe, hun, I’m not mad at you. Are you ok?” I tell her, squeezing her hand, trying to be reassuring. “my chest… my chest hit the steering wheel!” she cried and moaned. She went on to tell me her chest hit the steering wheel hard, then was thrown back half a second later when the airbag deployed. “I got ya baby girl. Does your chest hurt?” I asked her, concerned. “yes… it hurts when I breathe… something doesn’t feel right…” she cried out, shaking her head. “alright. I’m sure help is on the way. We’re gonna be ok. We’re gonna get through this, ok?” I tell her, making eye contact with her. She nodded at me a few times, still crying and hyperventilating.

We were pinned in my car and the doors wouldn’t open. Chloe was pulling on the door handle repeatedly while crying “I don’t wanna die in here.” I placed my hand over hers and told her “nobody’s dying Chloe. We’re gonna get out of this.” She held my hand tight and said “Kenny, I’m so scared….”

I could hear sirens off in the distance, but it appeared our accident created another traffic jam. Minutes went by and it didn’t sound like the sirens were getting any closer. I’m guessing the emergency vehicles had trouble getting through the traffic jam. Several more minutes went by, which felt like hours to the two of us. “is anybody coming for us?!” Chloe shouted. “they’re coming babe. Everything’s gonna be ok!” I tell her, trying to console her again.

Finally, we see a female police officer approach the vehicle on the driver’s side. Chloe taps on the window “HEY! HELP US!”, she shouted. The officer approached the vehicle and got on her radio “hey, I have 2 occupants in vehicle 1. Female restrained driver, male restrained passenger. Both awake and alert. Gonna need the jaws of life. Driver’s side door is crunched up.” “10-4, ambo and fire are almost there.” A male voice on the radio said in response. “see Chloe, they’re here. We’re gonna be ok.” I tell her, feeling a bit relieved help was beginning to arrive.

In the next couple of minutes, more and more emergency vehicles and personnel started to surround us. The fire department began setting up their equipment, and started the extraction process within a few minutes. A loud, mechanical crunching sound surrounded Chloe and I. I could barely hear myself think, but I still had a sense of relief since the first responders were there.

Finally, the door was ripped off, and a few medics ran over to Chloe and began tending to her. They placed a c collar on her, got her on a backboard, and brought her over to a nearby ambulance to begin examining her. A second set of medics did the exact same thing with me. While being pulled out of the vehicle, I could see the medics cutting off Chloe’s purple hoodie, placing EKG leads on her chest, setting up some IVs, and making more of a commotion over her than me. “Chloe?! You ok hun?!” I shouted over, to which I received no response. “hey buddy, stay calm for us. Your girlfriend is in good hands, alright?” a medic told me in a calm tone. They did the same thing with me. They took my shirt off and started setting up a wide range of equipment. “large bruise upper left quadrant. Vitals stable, but they may wanna take a look at that in the ED.” I overheard my medic say to their partner. They shined a pen light in my eye shortly after. “pupils are reactive, but slight delay. Might be a concussion. Let’s get him prepped for transport. The two of them are getting taken to County.” I overheard my medics say.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and the ambulance doors slammed shut, and I was on my way. The whole way over, all I could think about was Chloe. She was absolutely terrified, and I just wanted her to be ok. If there was anything serious going on, I would’ve rather it happened to me than her. I looked out the back windows of the ambulance and saw another ambulance right behind us- I knew it was hers. “Please… I hope she’s ok in there.” I thought to myself, watching her ambulance speed down the highway along with mine. I was a nervous wreck on Chloe’s behalf for the rest of the ambulance ride, but I was personally doing ok all things considered.

I remember the ambulance pulling into the hospital’s entrance and pulling towards an entry door. The ambulance came to a stop, and back doors popped open. I could see two sets of people wearing yellow trauma gowns, one group by my ambulance and the other group over near Chloe’s ambulance as it pulled in. “26 year old male, restrained passenger, high speed mvc. Upper left quadrant bruising with guarding and rigidity, possible concussion. Vitals stable. Set up an IV, only gave him a little NS. Refused pain meds.” My medic told my group of people in yellow trauma gowns. I heard a female voice say “thank you, get him to trauma one. The girl in trauma two. Let’s go everyone.”

I was wheeled into the hospital, brought into a trauma room, and moved onto a table. They sat me in an upright position on the table since I was relatively stable and began asking me questions. While I was being asked questions, I heard Chloe crying while being wheeled into the exam room right next to me. “female, 24, restrained driver high speed mvc. Patient is tachy, hypotensive, diminished breath sounds on the left side, muffled heart sounds. Started fluid resuscitation and gave pain meds.” A medic told the group of yellow gowned individuals in the next room. “alright. Transfer her on my count. One… two… THREE!” one of the doctors said, while the whole team moved her onto a table, underneath a large over head light. “chloe? Is that you?!” I shouted, trying to get her attention. “kenny?! It’s me! Is that you Kenny?!” I heard Chloe say. She was on the table in a c-collar and head stabilizer, stripped down to her black sports bra and matching underwear. Her complexion had faded a bit, becoming a few shades paler, and I could see some redness and bruising on her chest, probably from where her chest hit the steering wheel.

“Sir? Look at us, ok? We’ve got some questions for ya!” A nurse said to me. I paused for a second and looked back over, replying “yeah… yeah, of course.” The nurse was holding a clipboard, then asked me “ok! Do you have any drug allergies?” I replied “yeah, just penicillin. It gave hives this one time when I was a kid…” The nurse jotted some stuff down. “ok… do you have any prior medical history? Any history of surgeries?” she asked me. “oh no, nothing I can think of. Never had surgery either.” I replied. She jotted some more stuff down on her clip board, then continued her questions. “can you tell me where it hurts for me?” she continued. “my belly. Over where the seatbelt tightened up. I’m a little dizzy too, but that’s it.” I said to her. “ok, abdominal pain…” the nurse repeated back, thinking out loud. While that was going on, I heard a blood curdling yelp come from next door- a sound I never heard from Chloe before, and one that I’ll always remember. “chest tube’s in, vitals still dropping.” I heard a voice say in Chloe’s room. “what was that? Is she ok?!” I shouted, popping up a bit, trying to get a better view of the room Chloe was in. “whoa whoa whoa, sit back and relax mister. We have to focus on you.” Another nurse said, gently forcing me back into my previous position. I could hear Chloe cry next door. “please… I don’t wanna die…” I heard her cry out, practically begging the doctors and nurses in her room.

While the team in Chloe’s room was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, my team was doing things at a more relaxed pace. The nurses were setting up an ultrasound machine to take a look at what was going on in my belly from the seatbelt injury. While that was going on, I asked “is Chloe gonna be ok? Can someone tell me what’s going on?” One of the nurses replied “we’ll let you know a little later. We assure you, the best doctors in the hospital are taking care of her.” I didn’t have much of a response. They didn’t want to tell me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was very nervous about how she was doing. Everyone seemed more concerned about her than they did with me, so I knew it had to be something more serious.

I heard plenty of commotion next door over the next couple minutes. While that was going on, my ER team squirted cool, conductive ultrasound gel on my belly. An ultrasound wand was put on my belly and spread the gel around a bit. Then the wand was moved over the area that was bothering me most. I winced in pain, feeling a lot of tenderness while the wand was over the affected area. “splenic lac, but minimal blood loss. His vitals are stable, let’s get a surgical consult and see what they say about this.” One of my doctors said. Just after they said that, I heard “vitals still dropping. Get me an intubation tray! 7.0 ET and a laryngoscope!” At that point, I didn’t hear Chloe crying, moaning, or talking anymore. I looked over and saw Chloe asleep on the table while they were maneuvering a plastic breathing tube down her throat. “trachea might be deviated Cricoid pressure please.” A voice shouted. I saw one person place a few fingers on the front of my girl’s neck, while the breathing tube was finally placed properly. The tube was held in place with some tape, and a light blue ambu bag was attached. “Alrighty, breath sounds present.” One of the nurses next door said, with a stethoscope up against Chloe’s bare chest.

Suddenly, Chloe’s breathing tube became clogged up with a large amount of blood. The heart monitors started chirping and beeping loudly. “suction!” I heard a nurse shout. “no pulse, starting compressions!” another nurse said. One nurse was suctioning out Chloe’s breathing tube while another started delivered deep, violent chest compressions. Chloe’s petite, skinny chest caved in and her belly bounced out from the residual force of the compressions. Her head bobbed and lolled while they tried to suction out the blood from her breathing tube, creating a moving target. A liquidy, slurping sound was heard while the nurse pumped away at my baby girl’s chest. “oh god… come on Chloe…” I thought to myself while watching. “meds are in!” one nurse said after injecting something into Chloe’s IV.

Chloe’s breathing tube was cleared of blood and the ET tube was reattached. But I could see that her pearly white teeth were now stained red with blood. “charging to 250.” A doctor shouted, while an electrical whirring sound was heard. The defibrillator paddles were then pressed up against Chloe’s chest, and a shock was delivered. I watched in horror as my girlfriend’s body jolted so violently on the table next door. “no change, resuming compressions.” A nurse replied, who started pumping her chest a second later. The defib paddles were charged to 300 joules this time, pressed up against her chest, and the next shock was delivered. The same violent, thrashing motion was seen, but Chloe’s eyes opened slightly. But her eyes were completely dull and lifeless, staring up above at the ceiling. Her eyes remained open from then on out. When the resumed CPR, I saw her head bobbing again, with her eyes half open eyes blankly staring off. The next shock took place shortly after a cycle of chest compressions. This time, I saw her feet kick up on the other end of the table and slam back down. When her feet slammed back down, I could see all the deep, soft, silky, prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of her tiny size 5 feet. I lucked out in that department- Chloe had pretty feet and could’ve made a gazillion dollars on only fans with her cute wrinkly soles if she ever wanted to.

After the third shock, I heard a doctor shout “ok. Get me a thoracotomy tray !” A what? A thoracotomy? What’s that? What’re they gonna do to my girl?!, I thought to myself, my mind beginning to race. Let me tell you, you definitely don’t want to see your girlfriend get a thoracotomy done on them. They made a big cut in her chest. It started at her sternum, they extended it across the left side of her chest, underneath her left nipple, and all the way out near her left armpit. They then cut apart the tissue and fat below her skin. Then they placed a big metal thing inside the cut, and started turning some knobs. I heard a loud cracking and popping sound, and saw her chest become more and more open. After turning those knobs a couple more times, I could see Chloe’s heart in plain sight. But it wasn’t beating, it looked more like it was kind of twitching or fidgeting. The doctors and nurses placed a few things in Chloe’s chest, and then I started to see blood come out of the big cut in her chest, which pooled on the right side of her chest and dripped down to her belly a little. “jesus… what a mess… suction please!” I heard a doctor say. I don’t know what they were looking at, but they didn’t like what they saw. I heard some commotion over the next minute or two, but I’m not sure what that they were doing. All I heard was something about internal compressions.

“Ok, charge the internal paddles to 20.” I heard the doctor say. I heard the same electric whirring sound as the defibrillator paddles, but these defibrillator paddles looked differed. They were these long, skinny things that looked kind of like a giant serving spoon. The placed the spoon part of the paddles around each side of Chloe’s twitching, fidgeting heart, and they delivered a shock. This shock sounded differed. It had a dull, wet, muffled type of sound. I saw Chloe’s torso twitch around in response. “no pulse, v-fib on the monitors.” I heard a voice say after that shock. The large spoon looking objects were recharged to a higher intensity, placed back into her exposed chest cavity, and another shock was delivered. I heard that same dull, wet ka-thunk like with the first one. On the other end of the table, I saw Chloe’s toes curl, showing of her fresh, jet black nail polish and her wrinkly soles that I droned on about earlier.

After I see them reach back into her chest and do who knows what, I’m interrupted by the surgeon who was summoned by my team earlier. The surgeon took a look at my ultrasound, and even though my spleen injury was relatively stable, the surgeon felt the best move was to remove it. The reason is that the injury could potentially get worse without treatment, and they’d have to remove it anyway at that point. I then agree to do surgery, they make me sign a paper, and I can hear my team making calls to the operating room in regards to my upcoming surgery. My team was injecting some stuff in my IV, going over my vital signs, and trying to coordinate with the operating room. After a few minutes of commotion, I’m finally able to look back over at Chloe and see what’s going on.

I heard another dull, wet, KATHUMP, followed by a droning high pitched sound. “that’s it, she’s gone. Time of death, 11:57am.” Wait, what?! Did I just hear what I thought I heard?! “hey, what happened?! Is Chloe ok?!” I shout to my ER team as they start wheeling me out of the ER room and over to an elevator. I start getting ready eyed, with a lump in my throat: “did Chloe die?!” I asked, almost pleading with the doctors and nurses to tell me something. I saw them look at each other, not sure of what to say. “we’re not sure, you’ll find out after your surgery.” I was told. I kept bugging my doctors and nurses to tell me anything they could, and they wouldn’t. Eventually, it was time for my surgery, and that was that.

I woke up several hours later in the room I’m in now. My belly with all sorts of stitches and staples in it- I could probably set off a metal detector with all these metal staples. I felt a little groggy, my mouth was dry, and I was terribly thirsty. I felt a little sore, but it was certainly tolerable. A little while after I awoke, a doctor came in my room. It was a familiar face- one of the yellow gowned individuals in Chloe’s room. “hey! You worked on Chloe! What happened?!” I asked anxiously. The woman sighed, looked down at the floor for a second and grabbed a seat in the room. “so Chloe was hurt very bad in that accident. She had a collapsed lung, and one of her ribs broke off and sliced into her heart…” they told me. “oh jeez. What happened after they took me away? Is she dead?!” I asked, teary eyed. The doctor paused, then said “these type of injuries are usually quite severe. This caused Chloe’s heart to stop beating. We did cpr, we opened her chest, and did everything we could, but her heart just wouldn’t restart for us. I’m sorry, but she passed away in our ER.” I was shocked. I was completely consumed with all sorts of emotions I never felt before, and hope I never feel again. I let out a wail, and began crying like a little baby. What was supposed to be the best day of my life turned into the worst day of my life. I was hoping to propose to Chloe, and now I find out she’s dead. I also began to feel guilty. “Why did I have to plan this stupid trip?!” “why couldn’t I drive the rest of the way?!” “we should’ve waited a little longer at the gas station!” were some of the thoughts consuming my mind.

I don’t know the end result of all this yet. I’m still gonna be in the hospital a few more days myself. I know the ER people reached out to both my family and Chloe’s family, but I have no clue when anyone’s gonna get here. Regardless of what’s to come, I’m glad you all listened and let me ramble a bit and talk this over. I hope you’re all having a much better day than me.

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backbeaten · 2 years

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( BENJAMIN WADSWORTH | CIS-MAN | HE/HIM | TWENTY-TWO ) — — — it's just been another long week in boring - ass hawkins. isn't that right, GARETH EMERSON ? shit, i guess they can't hear me over LOVE BITES by JUDAS PRIEST playing through the headphones of their walkman. it looks like they're gonna be late for WORK at RADIO SHACK. did you know GRIZZ has been in hawkins for SEVENTEEN YEARS ? yeah, their family and friends describe them as CREATIVE, but i've seen them be SELF-DESTRUCTIVE too ! i would also say they remind me of neon gas station lights on wet asphalt, liquorice rolling papers, skinned knees, sweat running into your eyes during a drum solo, leaning tight into corners astride a motorbike, briefly defying gravity. but is that weird ? i guess nothing's too weird for this little town, huh ? — — —

name : gareth jason emerson

nicknames : grizz, gar, gar-bear, grizzly-adams

age : twenty-two

pronouns : he/him

sexuality : bisexual

birthday : august 30th

birthplace : hawkins, indiana

family : jolene emerson (mother), graham emerson (father), whitney emerson (y. sister), archie emerson † (y. brother)

tattoos & piercings : septum and tongue pierced though mostly hides these unless he’s partying in indianapolis or chicago or with the freaks. inner bicep piece of a black dragon curled around a great sword, roman numerals of archie & whitney’s birthdays on his left wrist, a tiny banana between his pointer finger on the right hand for monkey, his dog. a few ugly stick and pokes and some newer ones that are way less ugly.

aesthetics : room temperature pizza, spending half your pay check on polaroid film, a wave of good aftershave, headbanging until your neck feels like it’ll snap, letting your little sister paint your nails, engine oil in denim, love bites by judas priest playing faintly from a pair of headphones, dappled sunlight through forest leaves, sweat in your eyes, broken drumsticks, slinging your arm round the neck of your friend who can’t stop laughing, purple red bruises blooming like a valentines bouquet across your ribs, lovingly restoring old vinyl in the garage, the cold brush of a chain dangling from your lover’s neck against your racing pulse, smashing your fist into concrete until the knuckles split, the scent of old paper, cracked spines and well loved books.

never worn a matching pair of socks in his life, gareth liked garage sale paperbacks, pizza rolls and not much else. back in the day, the first five or six years of gareth’s miserable existence, the family had had a nice ranch style place by the woods but then his dad lost his job and they lost the house. from then on the family were usually too on top of one another, grizz always seeming to end up underfoot.

rock and roll’s the devil’s work, obviously. has soundproofed part of their small basement to practice drumming without getting yelled at.

[family death cw] though he never talks about it at all any more, about twelve years ago grizz’s five year old little brother drowned in lake tippecanoe when his dad briefly took his eyes off them. this kind of tore the family up. his mom left when grizz was fourteen, leaving a wad of cash in an envelope in his dresser and asking him to promise to be a ‘good boy’ until she came back. still waiting.

got a job the second he could during high school and has stayed employed ever since, though bounced around a fair bit.

[child abuse cw] his dad rarely goes a couple weeks without spiralling into a rage and physically attacking grizz which has been the same since his sophomore year, he’s just about to try and move out and find his own place after saving for a few years out of high school but he doesn’t want to leave his sixteen year old sister in the house.

used to be on the track team, a very fast runner.

held average grades at the start of high school, got some special attention from his english teacher who believed sincerely that he could do better if he just focused. managed to do pretty well by graduation but lost confidence in himself and his ability to adapt to living anywhere but hawkins because of his inability to pick a college. feels kind of cursed and stuck in roane county.

corroded coffin is his outlet, along with the ice hockey league he sometimes plays in a town over. has a notebook full of polaroids, quotes or lyric ideas scrawled on diner napkins, drive-in theatre tickets, the stamp from clubs in indianapolis and anything else you can think of, that is usually stuffed in the small of his back.

wears a lot of flannel and his extremely battered leather jacket basically every day of the year.

spends tooooons of time carefully painting the miniatures with tiny brushes for eddie’s d&d campaigns. usually plays a monk or a druid.

has a dog that is a mongrel of too many breeds to count named monkey, he has a neckerchief.

drums on every surface. all. the. time.

built a tree house and dugout in the middle of the forest for his friends from fifth to eighth grade, grizz’s dad is a carpenter by trade so he knows his way around.

makes a meaannnnn mac & cheese, is pretty much always down to clown.

pretty handy at fixing most types of motorbike, has been the only person to touch his own bike for about three years.

#hwkinsfm.intro

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