#bmw wolf

[neonfeel]

Wolfs (2024)

[celestialmaidenshipper]

Now I want to get a BMW, use my turning signal just to give people hope.

my dark twisted secret is i always use my turn signals whenever possible because i believe they were included in vehicles for a reason. i’m a bit of a freak this way. a weirdo

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

���Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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

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

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this series switches pov’s between reader and eddie, thank you to @succubusmunson @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me read through the first chapter, helped me brainstorm etc i love you

there are two easter eggs in this let me know if you catch em! like pokémon only not

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

masterlist

Stupid fucking bitch.

One dial tone waned into another, a monotonous wave taunting you from the end of the receiver. Your fingers tap impatiently against the counter. How long could a phone actually ring before it stopped or someone finally answered?

Too damn long apparently. 

Giving up and counting your losses, you slam the receiver back on the wall, muttering more choice words as you skirt your hips behind the wooden bar, thumbing through the blue lined notebook schedule.   

Work was packed. More-so than any other Friday night, but since it was the beginning of graduation weekend for Hawkins High— every Sam, Dick, and Harry had wandered into the bar looking for a cheap escape and a sugary drink. 

Lucky for them, that was exactly what Queen of Hearts had on the menu. And if you talked to the right person, the luck didn’t stop there. 

“No answer?” Jolene called over her shoulder, hands full with a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

Scribbling an angry dark mark through the name Ginger on the schedule, you toss the notebook back into the drawer shutting it with your hip.

“Just rang and rang,”  you say, annoyingly jumping in to help her finish pouring three Jack & Cokes. The soda fizzes under your thumb, “and before you try to cover for her, this is the fourth time she’s done this.” 

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, taking the cans from you and tossing them into the trash.

“Really thought this one would work out,” her long legs cross behind you to slot the liquor bottle back in its designated spot, “she had kids.. poor thing needed the cash.” 

The familiar ache of neglect radiated through you, “I found a babysitter for the nights she was working, told her I’d help pay… that asshole she keeps around probably found out she was working here.” 

Jolene raises her eyebrows. Her slender fingers hold the three drinks with ease, setting them on a tray.

“Can’t believe Jackie skipped town with that rich salesman,” she sighs heavily, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar, “lucky girl, something like that would never happen to me.” 

Jealousy pings in your chest but you shake it off, “he was really dreamy huh? Those beauty marks? His hair? His ass?” You wolf whistle, “cut me a slice.” 

You weren’t jealous that Jackie was now probably driving a BMW, that her life would be nothing but luxurious from here on out, or even that her boyfriend was movie star hot. 

What made your blood boil over was the fact that she got out, and you were still stuck here like hardened gum underneath a table. 

The club was a part of you. Like an unwanted birthmark, this lifestyle was something you couldn’t get away from. Understanding at a young age, when most girls were playing with dolls, just exactly the kind of life you were destined to live, and unfortunately it wasn’t outside of these four walls.

“Your time will come,” Jolene smiled, looking into a compact and wiping a smudge of lipstick from her teeth, “you’re still young, Miss Assistant.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing the tray on her awaiting palm. Since Jackie was gone, her job was now yours.  Tacking on added responsibilities with no pay raise in sight. You found out all too soon what a fucking joke that title of ‘assistant’ actually was. 

“Told him I didn’t want it, but you know how that went.” 

“I do kid,” she sighs, looking down at you, her eyes sweeping over the still pink scar in your eyebrow, “I really… oh honey, you’re gonna be a busy little bee tonight!” 

You breathe heavily through your nose, dragging your hands down your face, “don’t remind me.” 

“I’ll help out wherever, ‘kay?” 

Jolene had taken you under her wing when you first walked into Queen of Hearts. Freshly eighteen almost down to the hour, naive waters brimming your eyes, forced into this life. 

Her motherly ways comforted everyone, only thirty-three but in this industry that was practically ninety. Just like you, Jolene had deep roots in this place. 

Her tall frame slinks over to the waiting guys sitting at the stage, a pleasant smile on her lips. Twirling the ends of her black hair twisted into schoolgirl pigtails, laying the charm on thick. 

Staring over at her in a forlorn gaze, you hated to think of yourself still here ten years from now, a permanent fixture to this place, like Jolene. The lemons of life were squeezed and you had made the lemonade, but it was sour, bitter.. you longed for something sweeter. 

The bubbly fantasy is popped when Mickey Fritz’ oversized hand hits the counter like he’s a toddler in a highchair.

“Hey sugar tits, I’m empty o’er here!”

Your nightmare reality comes back into view. 

The walls at Queen of Hearts were draped in deep shades of red velour, a cozy ambiance to invite strangers and locals alike. The bar was backlit and stocked with a decent selection of polished bottles of whiskey, gin and bourbon. 

His boots clapped along the wood floor as the pair walked further inside, leaving a plume of smoke in their wake, catching on the neon lights and creating a smoked crimson haze across the dark club.

The raised stage was centered, creating an aisle on either side of it, clad with leather backed red chairs surrounding it at every angle. For a night club in the middle of Indiana, it wasn’t half bad compared to the places he was used to out East. 

A row of booths were tucked onto the left side of the club, high top tables stood crowded with drunk college students, yelling loudly and making asses of themselves to impress the working girls. 

The music blaring over the speakers was a little cliche and too “pop” for his liking—fuck, had he really turned into one of those guys, questioning what a strip club was playing for music? 

He rolls his eyes at his own false pretentiousness, turning it into a wink at a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of plastic flutes filled with a gut rot of pink liqueur. The gold thong she was wearing sat high on her hips, matching the cheap glittery cowboy hat on her blonde curls. 

Dark eyes follow her long legs to a nearby table, a fist to his mouth as he whistles and licks his chomps.

“Damn! Can you believe this used to be the Hideout?” Jeff squawked, not so casually adjusting himself as they slid into an open booth, ���that was Gareth Emerson’s twin sister, she really grew up huh, remember him?”

He didn’t.

Much like anyone else Jeff had tried to bring up since he had agreed to meet up for a drink on the occasion that they were both home, he hadn’t given high school a second thought since the night he left. 

“Nah, man,” he said, grabbing for the sticky menu on the black table top, “I don’t.”

It had been years since he had seen Jeff, and he was surprised that he had recognized him at the gas station last night when he was filling up his motorcycle. 

His own appearance hadn’t changed much, dressed a little better, wore cologne now, normal shit that came along with getting out of puberty. 

Back then Jeff still had braces, a small lisp when he got really drunk. Now, he was a grown man. Living in Phoenix with a big important job at some company, home for the weekend to visit his parents, and watch his youngest brother graduate.

There would be no visiting family or old friends for him on this trip back to Hawkins. The thought of running into anyone he knew and having that painfully awkward small talk about the ‘good old days as a Tiger!’ made him cringe, as if that ever were the case for him. 

Having left this shit hole in the middle of the night seven years ago, he took nothing with him but some saved cash, his guitar, a full tank of gas and the clothes on his back. 

The heavy ache in his chest, brim filled with remorse, was an added carry on, something that didn’t go away with the miles he had put between him and Hawkins. 

He had planned to keep this town in the rearview, but life, probably karma, had other plans. 

Back in Hawkins strictly on “business,” that's what he told Jeff when the smiley old friend grabbed him into a bear hug in the checkout line, crushing the chips he was carrying to a powder in its aluminum bag. 

Technically, it was family business. But he hadn’t mentioned that to Jeff. He didn’t want the questions, didn’t want the pity.

He barely even knew his uncle that well anyway, but being the only living relative of the deceased, he didn’t have a choice when the call came through that he had passed. 

A week. That was the timeframe he told his job that he’d be gone for. Leaving just enough time to plan the funeral, and sell the trailer. 

Coming home to the haunting shadows of Hawkins was like playing in a graveyard filled with demons of his past. Sorrow filled every dark corner, looming around him like a fog, making him unable to forget the damage left behind. 

For years it had worked out fine, he had moved on. But every now and then, he had to push his inner demons down, and still to this day, years after the fact, they kept trying to crawl back up. The shame of his past coming to the forefront.

The music changes to another upbeat song that was popular on the radio, Jeff nods along to the beat, strumming his fingers against his belly like he was playing the guitar. 

He looked over at his old highschool friend and smiled for the first time since being back here, “still play?”

Jeff stretched a wide grin across his face, chuckling a little too loud, “only in my dreams… working seventy-hour weeks doesn’t really allow me to have that kinda freedom.” He nodded and smiled a little at the waitress who was coming to take their drink orders, “so what have you been up to man? It’s been years!”

He knew all too well about not having free time to spend the way he had wanted to. He didn’t even own a guitar anymore. The last time he saw his Warlock, it was sitting in a pawn shop in Nashville— the last of his many possessions sold to make ends meet. 

Ordering a beer, he counts his budget for this trip in his head, deciding to buy Jeff’s drink too. Maybe being back wouldn’t be so bad after a drink or two, a little liquid courage to get him through the night at least.

The pleather seat creaks beneath his weight when he leans back further into the booth, stretching his arms out wide. Trying to gain a sliver of comfort since being home. 

Working the pole to Ginger’s song of choice, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, you found it hard to get into music you could care less about. But you didn’t have time to complain. 

Legs crossed and spinning upside down, bare besides a face full of makeup and a red thong, you pretended that you were anywhere else but there. 

How nice it would be to not have to crawl across dirty dollar bills, teasing a faceless man with your body so that he would be eager enough to slip a twenty into your g-string.

Collecting your tips from your set, you tap them against your vanity in the dressing room, counting out loud your mind already knowing how much money will be put away after bills are paid. 

The long jagged crack in your mirror served as the only looking glass you liked to look in. The warped shapes of your face looking back at you made it easier to swallow the life you were living, as if it were a fever dream, a disturbed Alice in Wonderland type reality. 

In the mirror you weren’t a dancer at Queen of Hearts. You could be a nurse, a librarian, a cook in a shitty home town restaurant who went home smelling like grease instead of men’s cologne and wearing suspicious stains. 

It could be easy, simple really. Bus tickets weren’t terribly expensive. Going to any city, a map in your hand and the saved coffee can of cash tucked into your purse. You could almost imagine the taste of the ocean. The thought of even stepping outside of Indiana was enough to power you for the rest of the night. 

As easily as the daydream came it fluttered away when the boss stepped into the dressing room. 

His eyes loomed in a dead stare, sweat pooling on his temples. The ice in his glass shifted as it melted into the whiskey. A Colombian cigar tucked into his fat mouth had an inch long ash waiting to fall. 

He wasn’t much taller than you, barely older, but his attitude and small dick made him seem eight feet tall. 

“The hell are you doing in here? Fucking Christ woman, the girls are drowning out there, those needle dick college fucks are about to swing fists and you’re in here staring at yourself?”

“Just takin’ a little break Tommy, I gotta change.” 

“I don’t need any lip from you, better watch it before I match that other scar y’ hear me?” 

His threats didn’t scare you, it was who he answered to that made you terrified. A bad report to the big boss and you’d be drinking your meals through a straw. You knew because it’s already happened. Turns out you don’t need your mouth to swing around a pole. 

“Loud and clear.” 

This type of life was the only one you had ever known. You quite literally grew up with this environment right under your nose, and everyone at the club knew it. 

The romance novels you kept in your purse were full of knights in shining armor type of men, another fallacy to your looking glass. 

The thought of anything else was only real in your daydreams. Escaping the festering wound of Hawkins was impossible, almost unheard of. No one with your background got out. 

But he did.

Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing in sideways with grimy singles fisted in their hands, the club was stuffed to the hilt with sweaty, drunk, and extremely horny men. 

“… here!” you slam two more drinks onto the heaping tray and shove it into Wendy’s hands, “take this to those asshats and tell them we are out of triple sec, no more Long Island Ice Teas, if they want a drink they can order beer like everyone else.”

Wendy swung her hips with the Long Islands in tow over  to soften the hearts of the college boys. Batting her lashes, sitting topless on their laps and letting them tell her stories of the parties they went to, the classes they skipped and the girls they fucked. Anything to keep them from hollering and starting a fight with the locals. 

Lisa Ann was working over the business men from out of town, their briefcases shining with a matte patent leather, expensive watches adorning their wrists. Her pretty Marilyn Monroe smile on display as she brought over their drinks, tussling their hair between her pink fingernails, putty at her fingertips.  

Between the rest of you rotating between pouring drinks, collecting payments and trying to wiggle past the grabby hands of Donny, the roar of the busy hour had started to lull. 

All of you were tired and crabby, legs cramping and toes pinched in uncomfortable shoes. Jolene wiped her brow and blew out a deep breath. 

“Take fifteen,” you said to her, “I got it from here.” 

She shot you a wink and disappeared into the dressing room. 

Peeling the soles of your boots from the floor you lean your back against the shelf of liquor bottles. Working your hands on the base of your neck behind your head.

The usual crink that ached when you were stressed was flaring up again. Causing your shoulders to tense up and sending a pinched dull ache from your back up to your throbbing temples. Radiating your jaw, with a heat so fierce it could melt glass and it wasn’t even eleven o’ clock yet. 

Your eyes are pressed closed in a tight squeeze, maybe you could shut the pain out by pretending it wasn’t there.

“Tiffs just about done in room D,” Veronica chirped, her bracelets jingling in a metallic tune, “the ‘doctor’ again,” she explains with air quotes chuckling to herself.

“He’s only here on nights she’s workin’” you say exhaustedly,  “she’s his favorite.” 

Being one of the few regulars that wasn’t married, he was somehow the slimiest worm in the dirt. Tall and slender framed with icy white hair, he seemed to stare down his nose at the girls, his voice an eerily calm when he asked for Tiff, handing over the crisp fifties to secure her for the allotted amount of time. 

Beads click together as she stumbles in from the back, adjusting her lipstick and holding the ripped strap of her bra, followed behind her like clockwork was the doctor, tucking his oxford shirt into his slacks. 

Your jaw felt like it was going to ignite, as if it were covered in tension rods and the gears were  cranking it tighter and tighter, sweat beginning to form on your back, “can you hand me my purse?” 

Rustling your bag from underneath the bar, Veronica hands over the canvas tote, her emerald eyes staring at you expectantly like a serpent watching its prey, “care to share those little party favors?” 

Rolling your eyes, you move your hand through the contents inside. Pushing past a checkbook, lipsticks, and the papered corner of a tampon. Finally your fingers close around the smooth unlabeled bottle. 

Two tablets land in your palm when you pop the cap, and you shake it begrudgingly to release another tablet from the bottle for Veronica.

She giggles and grabs two shot glasses, pouring bourbon into them both. 

“Only one,” you instruct, a serious look in your eyes, “I’m not picking you up from the floor later.” 

A coy little smile on her lips, she brings the shot glasses over, handing one to you, “you worry too much.” 

Placing the pill in her free palm, you clink the glasses together in a little cheer. 

“To us,” Veronica grins, “may our titties stay perky, our asses juicy, the boys pockets fat and our kitties not loosey.” 

You roll your eyes and she laughs, her lips close around the glass the same as yours, and you swallow down the liquor, wincing at the taste. 

Within fifteen minutes the temporary high coats your brain like a warm blanket, floating you to a place far away from shiny poles, 6 inch heels, and ass slaps, away from Hawkins. 

Jeff listens intently as he explains a very bland and watered down version of how he left Hawkins and traveled east, working odd jobs. 

Skipping the part about how he lied about his age to find work, and how he spent an entire month getting his ass kicked after dishwashing shifts at some swanky restaurant outside of Raleigh. 

He explained the good stuff, how he worked part time at a tattoo shop for one of his buddies he met in Philly. His full time gig being a lead shift at a factory. 

It wasn’t that impressive, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit what anyone thought of him. For only being twenty-three, he was proud of having a paycheck every two weeks from a legit place. 

The click of the waitresses shoes on the floor had Jeff looking up, thanking her for the drinks. She was dressed a little more conservative than the other waitresses had been, wearing a black mini skirt and a see-through red long sleeved top, showing off black sparkly stickers that covered her nipples. 

But that wasn’t what had him taking a second look. At first glance he thought maybe it was just a note written in pen, a reminder of some sort on the top of her hand, lots of people wrote on their hands right? But when she set the drinks down, reaching past them and across the table to grab a napkin, sopping up spilled beer, he almost choked on air.

It wasn’t something written in pen, or a weird unlucky shaped birthmark. The marks on her hand were two small symbols, they had faded with time and were blown out a little on the edges. 

Of course they were, because the identical marks on his hand were blurred the exact same way. Two little symbols, done on the hottest day in July. The smell of his childhood room stung his nose as he thought of that day. 

A day when you were both only thirteen. 

The regulars were bellied up to the bar holding an aluminum can toast to their long gone friend, hollering for you to play some David Allen Coe in a final goodbye. 

Flicking through the jukebox to find “Never Even Called Me By My Name,” you were too busy to pay any attention to the toast of the deceased buddy.

Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been completely blindsided. 

“Clovie?” A disgustingly sweet saccharine voice laced between bubble gum pink lips sang out from behind you, tapping you simultaneously on the shoulder, “be a dolly and run the drinks over to table 8, would ya?”

“Why c—”

Tiff was already gone, the door to the dressing room swinging shut in a shower of White Diamond perfume before you could even spin around and tell her where she could shove those aforementioned drinks. 

Outside of collecting her own tips, and pleasuring the doctor, Tiff never lifted a finger to help. 

Wiping your hands on the cleanest towel you could find, your muttering goes unheard as you cross back over to the bar and grab the cracked black plastic tray set with two large overflowing mugs of draft beer. 

The ground was sticky under your boots, like walking in half dried paint, sometimes you wondered if Wendy actually served a full drink to anyone. 

Balancing the heavy tray on your palm and shoulder, you pray that it won’t snap before you’re able to place the drinks down. 

Table 8 was occupied by a guy you had seen before but couldn’t remember from where, and a long dark curly haired woman who was facing away from you. 

The smile on your face was the fakest one you could make, hoping to maybe get a good tip before Tiff could notice and take her claim. 

“Alrighty,” your customer service voice sang with a false sweet sincerity, “looks like we have two Busch Lights?” 

The guy you had greeted smiled eagerly, moving his elbows from the table allowing room for the frosty mugs to be placed. 

Your fingers work gingerly to set the ruby colored drink napkins down first. The beer was placed carefully, his greedy fingers grabbing the handle before you could barely remove your hand from it. 

The second beer started to slide on the tray, and you over corrected causing it to land with a thud on the table, sloshing the pale ale all over the table—luckily not on the woman. 

So much for a tip, huh?

Apologizing quickly, you lean across the table and reach for the paper napkins. Wiping up the mess hastily you toss the wet heap onto your tray. 

Turning to the woman to offer her a look that’ll hopefully get you in her good graces— well enough that maybe her husband would reconsider tipping, “I’ll go fetch a rag and come back with another beer free of charge sweetheart,” you start to smile sheepishly, “I’m so s—”

The eyes you were met with were the deepest shade of brown, struck with astonishment, crowded by a grove of thick lashes, a look of dismay etched into them. 

Blinking once, twice, you couldn’t register if you were truly seeing this or hallucinating. 

You hadn’t seen those eyes in years, a flash of recognition drops on your face and the perky smile fades. Heart falling to the well of your stomach, punching the air from your lungs, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks. 

In an instant, you’re brought back to many years before tonight. When those eyes were younger, full of teenage angst and rebellion. 

Hell must’ve froze over, pigs were without a doubt flying overhead: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

[lordprettyflackotara]

big bad wolf || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: drug lord!sam, drug dealer!reader, aggressive sex, orgasm denial, bickering, talk of drugs. a key is basically a fuckton of coke guys LOL. (i’ve been watching too much snowfall), choking, there’s a gun involved but no gun play

With a quick flick of his lighter, Sam Golbach watched the end of his cigarette spark to life. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent feeling of tobacco swirl around his lungs. Cigarettes were Sam’s bad habit. One he only allowed himself to take part in when he was extremely stressed.

As he sat outside of your house in his BMW, the stress was practically suffocating. He loved Colby. Colby was a good friend, communicator, and most importantly, a good business partner. Sam would do anything for him, the two building an undeniable drug empire over the last four years. The blonde exhaled the smoke, ignoring the haziness it was creating.

Sam and Colby were the perfect duo to run what they did. Sam was ambitious and a perfectionist. The numbers he crunched were light work. He practically ran laps around them. Colby was almost the opposite, his mind never able to wrap itself around the logistics. But his silver tongue made the boys connections that Sam would’ve never gained on his own. He was too paranoid, his distaste for others often written all over his face. But Colby saved face, his smile and soothing words gaining them lifelong business connections and mutual respect.

The boys agreed on almost everything, except for one tiny little thing. Once a month Colby returned to their home town in Ohio, doing runs to their original client base. Once they sold their first few keys of coke Sam never saw the point. But Colby refused to abandoned the people who believed in them from the start. Sam never went with him and opted out of any opportunity to return to where it all started. That was until Colby had a solo meeting he had to attend in Mexico. The potential business partners weren’t fond of Sam, Colby’s charm the biggest selling point.

Imagine his distain when Colby asked him to do his hometown runs for him. If it wasn’t for the possible new extension of an entirely new product, Sam would’ve said no. Truthfully he was just making himself miserable. His eyes narrowed as he confirmed the address that was scribbled on the piece of crumbled paper in between his fingertips. It was the right address, it was yours.

The blonde glanced at the clock, sighing. You were supposed to come out at 1:00 am on the dot, the time 12:59. As Sam inhaled another deep breath of his cigarette he decided that if you weren’t there by 1:01 he’d bail. He perked up at the sound of your front door closing, your appearance a sight for sore eyes. Leggings hugged your curves, filthy converse covering your feet. A tight black jacket covered your torso, the zipper down just enough to show your breast bouncing ever so slightly as you walked. As attractive as you were, Sam only had one thought: Colby was definitely fucking you.

Confidently you strode up to the window, knocking gently on the tinted glass. Sam rolled down his window, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “You’re not Colby,” You point out flatly. Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he shifted ever so slightly in his seat. “Great observation. What do you usually buy?” Sam asked, wanting to get this over with. The orders for the small pool of clients here were never massive. The blonde was able to get by with his stock being in a simple black backpack. “I’ll take a key,” You respond confidently. Sam began to dig around in his backpack, shoving his pre-weighed bags of weed to the side.

“Colby sick or something?” You questioned. Sam wanted to ignore you, his cigarette hanging from his lips. “No he’s just busy, so today you get me,” He huffed. He pulled out the key, his eyes flickering over to your black purse. You reached into it, presenting him with five sheets of tabs of acid. Sam blinked a few times, firmly believing his eyes were deceiving him. “What the fuck is this?” He snapped. You were taken aback by his response. “What I trade Colby for the key,” You replied. Sam audibly scoffed, removing his cigarette from his lips.

“You are out of your mind. We only accept cash, no trades, no bullshit,” Sam argued. He had to admit your attempt to trade was amusing, your confidence unmatched. “Colby always lets me trade. Why don’t you grab an ehrich’s reagent and test my shit if you’re so hesitant?” You countered. Sam didn’t care about testing your tabs for quality. “Dont be such a pussy. I have good product here. Real intense shit,” You debated. Your insistence was beginning to annoy the blonde in front of you. He flickered the kash of his cigarette out of his window, attempting to maintain his composure. How had Colby let this go on for so long? How many keys was he pissing away just for some pussy? Cocaine wasn’t cheap. Sam avoided eye contact with you, afraid his emotions would be written all over his face.

You were beginning to grow impatient. “I have people who are ready to buy my product and you’re currently wasting my time and money. Hand it over,” You say impatiently. Sam frowned and boldly met your fire filled gaze. “Your product?” He echoed. He found himself sarcastically laughing, unable to comprehend your boldness. “You don’t cook it the way I do, therefore it’s mine,” You debated. Sam took one last inhale of his cigarette, before flicking it out of the window beside you. “Look I understand you let Colby fuck you and that’s how you got away with this shit but listen closely. I don’t think with my dick, so you’re not getting our premium shit for some Ohio LSD,” Sam spat.

He could visibly see your confidence falter, your crossed arms falling. “Now if you’ll excuse me you’ve wasted enough of my time,” Sam huffed harshly, grabbing the stick of his car and shoving it into reverse. In a split second you had thrown your acid in the car, the sheets landing against the passenger side door. “What the fuck are you-” He began to question, the weight of your body surprising him. You had thrown yourself into his car through the drivers window. You were not one to play games, not when it came to a deal. “You bitch! The fuck-” Sam hissed, watching in shock as you crawled over him and into the passengers seat. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not leaving this car until you give me my shit,” You spat, venom lacing every last word. Sam gritted his teeth, growing rather annoyed. This was the clientele that Colby was running around for? The blonde made a mental note to put his ass through the wringer for making him put up with you. “Get out of my car,” Sam barked. Your eyes shot daggers, your position firm.

“No.”

Sam rolled up his window, throwing his cigarette bud out of it before it rolled shut. “Why don’t you try my product if you don’t believe me?” You counter offered. Sam scoffed, putting the car in reverse. The last thing your neighbors needed to notice was his presence everlasting in your driveway. “I don’t do drugs. Kind of the rule of thumb if you’re going to be in this line of work,” Sam huffed. You grumbled to yourself as you put on your seatbelt. “Cute and smart. Only thing you’re lacking is a goddamn personality. How did Colby wind up with you?” You questioned, mainly talking to yourself. Sam quickly sped out of your neighborhood, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to drive like the fast and furious to scare me, it’s not gonna work,” You snapped. Sam rubbed his temple. What the hell was he going to do with you? He couldn’t exactly let you ride around with him all night. Murdering you wasn’t an option either. Not only was it too much work to clean up, but Colby would be pissed. He strummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, pondering to himself. You glared out of the passengers window, silently wondering to yourself what exactly was going to happen to you if you kept this charade up. There was only so long you could pretend to be as put together as a drug lord.

Sam’s mind was running in circles. He pulled out of your neighborhood, putting the car into sport mode. He slammed his foot on the gas, causing you to grip the seat. “Could you slow the fuck down?” You asked. Sam flew down the empty street, chuckling to himself. “Could you get the fuck out of my car?” He countered. For a brief moment he saw a flash of fear spread across your face, the sight giving him an idea. He slowed down, pulling into a side dirt road that connected a forest. Sam put the car into park, reaching over you and digging in his glovebox. He pulled out a small black pistol, clicking off the safety and pointing it at your head. “Take your shitty acid and get the fuck out of my car,” He barked. You froze momentarily, before taking off your seatbelt and turning to him. You closed the gap of space between you and the end of the pistol, the cool metal pressing against your forehead. “Go on, do it,” You whispered. Sam’s eyes widened, his hardened facade faltering. “Are you deadass?” He questioned. Your eyes flickered to his, causing him to gulp nervously. There was something oddly attractive about that look in your eyes, causing him to freeze. You didn’t reply, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Son of a bitch, you’re out of your mind,” He grumbled, removing the gun from your temple. How could he find you so hot for challenging him? Fuck he was growing weak. You smirked to yourself, fighting a giggle. “Says the one who just threatened to shoot me,” You say, a small giggle escaping your lips. Sam turned the safety back on, chucking it back in his glovebox. You nervously played with your hair, pulling at a random strand with your fingers. “You know, you look kinda cute holding a gun like that. Real God Father of you,” You complimented, attempting to lighten the mood. The sooner he warmed up to you, the sooner you could get your key and bounce. “You looked kinda cute having a gun to your head if that’s any constellation,” He said, attempting to be nice. You had an attractive aura about you, one that Sam was starting to see the longer you weren’t fazed by who he was. Maybe in a different life he’d take you out on a date. “If i’m telling the truth this acid belonged to my ex boyfriend, it’s probably shitty,” You admitted, holding up the tab. Sam muttered a snarky ‘I knew it’, which caused you to roll your eyes. “I’m not lying to Colby about it though. He just pretends he doesn’t notice. He does it as a favor to me to help me keep a roof over my head,” You explained.

Sam scoffed, “Can’t you just work at Waffle House or something?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

There was a brief silence, before Sam chuckled. “So you’re not fucking Colby then?” He questioned. You let out a fake gag. “Seriously? Hell no i’m not fucking him. You only think that because i’m pretty,” You argued. Sam rolled his eyes, his annoyance growing once more. “I never called you pretty,” He debated. You could’ve laughed in his face if his audacity hadn’t frustrated you. “With the way you’ve been staring at me? You don’t have to,” You barked. Sam readjusted in his seat, turning to you. “And what if I do think you’re pretty? Huh? What if I told you I wanted to fuck you senseless right here and right now? What would you do then hotshot?” Sam bickered. You uncrossed your arms, unzipping your jacket. “You don’t even have to ask,” You mumbled, crawling over into his seat. You straddled his lap, your face an inch away from his. Sam could feel his face growing hot, watching as you shrugged your jacket off of your shoulders. It left you in nothing but a bra, your breast begging to be touched.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting the key,” Sam whispered, glancing down at your plump lips. You rolled your eyes, rolling your hips against his. “Shut up and kiss me,” You replied, the blonde eagerly crashing his lips onto yours. He grabbed the mounds of your ass, gripping the flesh harshly. You groaned into his mouth, his lips suffocating in the best way. He guided you to continue grinding against him, his cock already growing harder through his jeans. You teasingly grinned at the sight. “Awe is someone hard for me? I knew you’d be easy, slut,” You mocked. Sam bit your bottom lip, causing you to whine. He reached around and unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. “I’m the easy one? You’re fucking your drug dealer,” Sam sneered, grabbing one of your breast and rolling your nub in between his index and middle finger. You groaned, meeting his icy gaze. “You’re not my drug dealer, Colby is,” You barked. Sam brought his mouth to your other nipple, sucking at it harshly. You tugged at his blonde hair, your back arching at the sensation.

You could only feel yourself growing wetter, your body aching for the bastard beneath you. Sam released your nipple with a pop, admiring how hard it grew from the exposure to the cool air. “So you let Colby fuck you too then? Whore,” Sam growled. He began to tug down your leggings, yanking your panties down with him. You awkwardly tried to assist, your head hitting the roof of the car. “For such an expensive car it sure is small, just like i’m sure your dick will be,” You hissed, the cool night air hitting your exposed slick. Sam ran two fingers up your folds, gathering your wetness. “You’re really turned on for a stranger. You really that lonely?” Sam jarred. You aggressively yanked at his belt, fiddling with the damned buckle. Sam continued rubbing your clit is teasingly slow circles, enjoying watching your face turn red. “I could say the same to you Sammy,” You argued weakly, helping the blonde shove down his pants and boxers. You whimpered as he rubbed faster circles around your clit, your anger facade faltering. You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, your insults replaced with moans. “Dont call me that. Shut up and moan for me,” Sam ordered darkly, a sadistic smile crawling up his lips.

It was like he read your body like a book, the cord inside of you growing too fast. You grabbed his wrist, the blonde refusing to slow down. “Holy fuck, gonna cum,” You whined, your warning only causing the sensation to stop. You immediately grew angry, glaring at the drug lord below you. “Bad sluts don’t get to cum, unless it’s on my dick of course,” He smirked up at you. You gritted your teeth, grabbing his length and aligning it with your entrance. You began to sink onto it, both of you letting out a moan of relief in unison. Your gummy walls were clinging to his cock, begging for more as you bottomed out. Sam bit his bottom lip, watching you eagerly swallow him whole. “Not so cocky now huh?” You giggled, earning an eye roll from Sam. He gripped your hips, before guiding you to bounce up and down on his cock. All cockiness and anger had faded away, the two of you moaning unison as his tip brushed against your g spot. You couldn’t control your sinful noises, the car windows beginning to fog as you tilted your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that babygirl, fuck,” Sam panted. For a brief second the drugs didn’t even matter, the big bad wolf facade you both demonstrated had vanished. Sam’s frustration towards Colby, your desperation to feel something after your break up. None of it mattered, all that mattered was his cock sliding in and out of you, abusing your sex as he pleased. “Feels so good Sammy,” You whined. Sam grunted, using one of his hands to slither up to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing at he fucked upwards into you. He could feel your walls squeeze his cock tighter, a mischievous grin growing. “You like that huh? Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam grunted. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your thighs trembling. You brought your hand to Sam’s throat, mimicking his actions. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a lazy laugh escaping your lips. You both were becoming spent, your orgasms growing nearer. “I’m so close, let me cum,” You pleaded, squeezing his neck. You maintained intense eye contact with him, the blonde obsessed with the way you moaned his name.

“Cum with me, cum now.”

His words sent you over the edge, the two of you a sweaty mess piled together. Both of your hands fell, the struggle for dominance now completely over. Sam peered at the exhausted girl laying on his shoulder, sighing when he came to a realization.

He’d have to come to Ohio more often.

[newkatzkafe2023]

can we see the wukongs reactions to the reader in THE DRESS maybe at a party they were going to and her coming out all shy with her hair and makeup done all pretty in gold and fluffy done hair in heels and the dress " im ready~.. " * wukong dying and them absolutely not even leaving he needs it off NOWWWW *

Ohhhhhhhhh Let's knock them dead.

(Lmk Wukong) He was waiting for you to get dress for date night, he said he would take you to see the fireworks and he's gonna keep his promise. That was until he saw your evening wear and let me tell you, he started drooling like a dog. His face was red, his tail became a Propeller, he was chirping and squeaking and Wolf whistling. He was just malfunctioning so bad and then you go and Shyly ask if he likes the dress, well He'll give you a straight answer once he's done making his own fireworks in your bed.

(HIB Wukong) You know, despite being married to you for CENTURIES, he's mad nervous about date night. Wukong patiently waits for you to get ready to go out, and he said He's totally okay with an indoor date. In case you're uncomfortable, but you insisted on going out with him, so when you told him you were ready to go. Wukong felt his like he developed a brain bleed. You just stood their in that Scandalous get up SHYLY asking if you look ok. Well, I'm sure him ripping that dress off and doing you on the couch is all the compliment you need😉

(MKR Wukong) NOW HEAR ME OUT! he's angry, but he is not for a reason, you think. You made him wait hours in an uncomfortable suit, as you got your hair and makeup done, which really shouldn't take too long but you know woman's stuff. Now when your ready you struts out of your shared bedroom, in that little sexy dress and attractive high heels Nervously asking if you look okay enough to go out. NOW AFTER BUFFERING SO HARD HIS BRAIN BLEW RIGHT OUT OF HIS HEAD!!! he has to take you right back to the bedroom and ripping into you all night long...in other words He loves it just don't let anybody else see you wear it.

(NR Wukong) OH MY GOD I don't think he would even survive long enough to tell you if he likes your dress or not. He's taking you out to the club to kick off the weekend, you decide it was a good time to try out the new dress you bought the other day. So when he got ready and now he's waiting for you, and you came out in your new dress you shyly asked Wukong if he liked it.........Wukong felt himself flatline out of his body. The blood was rushing everywhere at once he's having a nosebleed, a boner, red face, light headedness the whole shebang. I'm also sure him rocking your world so hard the entire house shook, would be a big compliment....well there's always Saturday night.

(Netflix Wukong) You made his heart come right out of his chest with your new dress. Wukong didn't even want to go out tonight but he's doing it anyway as a way to impress you, and the fact that you practically begged him to with your pretty sad eyes. So on the night of the date he waited for you until you finally came out in your dress, and when Wukong looked over his jaw was on the floor. You wore this beautiful dress and let me tell you Wukong Was genuinely feeling bad about looking but at the same time you were so damn hot. You nervously asked him if he liked your new dress, after a long silence he had practically tackled you. Smothering you will kisses and yanking that dress off to get to the sweet spots, well then😏

(BMW Wukong) Well i say you lived a fairly good life, so you have chosen to enter an s*x induced coma which is the most appropriate answer you can get from him. Wukong never liked to leave his mountain for to long, so you decided to go have a picnic by candlelight. Well that was the plan until you came out in that provocative dress looking like your the lady of the night. Well it's gonna be a very good night for hi., You didn't even have to ask him if he likes it, the fact that he spend till sunrise between your legs is all the answers you need.

(Destined one) WOW it is not often for the Destined one to lose his composure his sanity maybe, but not his composure. You asked your husband to go with you to this food festival in the village, and the Destined one was not against it. That was until he saw your dress for the nights activities, his brain melted out of his ears and his "other" staff is up and ready for action. You shyly and innocently asked if he liked it, and well the Destined one was a very different beast that same night in your bedroom.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[soapdi-spencer]

TMA Headcanons

I finished listening to The Magnus Archives a few weeks ago and have been discussing it at length with my friend, @lezalla . We've come up with quite a few headcanons so I thought I'd share some of my favourites! Be warned! There are mild to heavy spoilers for seasons 1 through 4. -Elias is pretty into yoga and staff members have walked in on him practicing his moves several times. His yoga mat is that One Specific Shade of Magnus Archives Green and has an eye motif. -Tim has found Elias' Tinder profile and it features a picture in which Peter Lukas has been poorly cropped out. Martin and Sasha have also seen the profile and it has become an in-joke. -Daisy was that kid who pretended to be a wolf on the playground. She also probably barked at people. -Jon can offer pretty good dating advice. -When Jonah first took over Elas' body, he decided to smoke weed to try it out. Since he was alive in the 19th century, he feels like it lacks any sort of oomph. -Martin has a thing for emotionally unavailable men, and that's why he started crushing on Jon in the first place. -Daisy bleached her hair at home in the bath and Basira helped her do it. -Tim went through a phase of dying his hair an assortment of eye-wateringly bright colours. -Martin is a big fan of 80s music, especially Wham!. Also a fan of David Bowie and Queen. -Jon insisted on only playing classical music on the drive to Scotland. When he wasn't in the driver's seat, he was clinging to the grab handle for dear life. -Tim and Martin can't drive. If Tim could drive, he'd have a convertible BMW. Martin would have 1988 Toyota Corolla. In conclusion, I love thinking about these characters and will Probably make more posts like this in the future <3

[stevesjockstrap]

kinktober day 12: Steve/Eddie

& competence kink

read on ao3

MDNI - rated: E

Eddie shoved his van into park and grabbed his keys. Then he turned to stare back at the vision in front of him. He had to be higher than he thought, or maybe he’d gotten in a car accident on the way and this was heaven. He rubbed his eyes and smacked himself in the face. Closing and reopening his eyes again, the sight remained the same in front of him. 

Steve Harrington, covered in grease and grime, wearing his tiny Hawkins-gym-class-issued shorts, bent over the engine of his BMW. He wolf whistled as he approached, unable to pull his eyes away from the vision in front of him for a moment until an even better view took its place. Steve stood and turned, showing off his hairy chest and the slightly pudgy belly that had been forming now that Steve wasn’t doing school sports or chasing monsters. Eddie wanted to bite it. Or rut his hard- 

“Hey, Eds.” Eddie ripped his attention away from the source of his impure thoughts and up to his eyes. Well, there was a detour first to his sinful lips and then to a smear of dirt across his stubbled jaw that his fingers itched to touch. 

“Hey yourself. What are you getting up to here?” 

“Oh, a mystery squeak,” Steve frowned and waved a hand behind him at the open hood. “I’ve already greased everything I can find, all the belts are fine. Changed out the water pump pulley’s bearings. Added some power steering fluids. I can’t figure it out.” He rubbed more grease from his hand across his brow. 

Eddie’s jaw dropped. His pants were tighter than he remembered them being. He had never gotten hard listening to someone talk about cars to him before. Wayne had shown him small things here and there, he could change the oil on his van so he didn’t have to waste precious money on taking it in, he’d watched Wayne change headlights and the battery. Steve’s level of knowledge seemed way above that. 

“Uhhh, that sounds great, Stevie. I didn’t know you knew this much about cars.” 

“Yeah, I’m good with my hands,” he winked. Eddie almost hit the ground. 

“Fuuuck, I bet you are,” slid through his lips before he could stop it. They eyed each other for a moment, Steve rubbing his hands on a towel that appeared out of no where. Eddie chewed on his lip, waiting to see what was going to happen next. 

“I could take a break, get a drink… or something.” Steve stepped forward slowly, Eddie taking steps backwards, letting him direct them to his front door.

Eddie pulled him to straddle his lap on the couch. He couldn’t wait. He slid his hands up his thighs and under the tiny shorts. 

“Oh fuck, baby. No underwear?” He groaned. Steve shook his head and leaned down to meet his lips again. Eddie teased the seam of his leg, inching closer to his goal. He desperately wanted to rip these infuriatingly small shorts from his body. But he needed Steve in them again, maybe bent over some other surfaces. He pulled his hands out of his shorts, grabbing onto his hips instead, using his hold to encourage Steve to rock them forward. 

“Oh, oh shit, Eds.” Steve broke the kiss to pant against his lips. 

“You gunna come in your little slutty shorts, honey?” Steve shook his head but continued rubbing himself against his belly. Staring unseeingly as he grabbed his shoulders for more leverage. 

“Looked so good out there. Showing off for me, huh? All hot and dirty and competent. Knew I was coming over, Stevie. You think you had to go through all that trouble for me? Like I’m not always ready to bend you over any available surface any second of any day?” Steve whined and he pulled his hips faster. “C’mon, make a mess for me.” 

Steve bit his lip, muffling his little noises as he chased his climax. Eddie pulled on his chin so he released his lip. “Uh uh, let me hear you. That’s it.” Eddie traced through his chest hair, pinching his nipple then scratching his nails across that little roll of fat under his belly button. Steve’s thrusts got wild and he made the hottest little grunting noises as he spilled into his shorts.

Eddie washed off all his dirt and grease marks after he fucked him into the shower wall. 

@lighthousebeams

[bluemoonperegrine]

A Friend Indeed

This is my foray into the obligatory "Jack staggers up to Bloodstone Manor on death's doorstep in need of Elsa's aid" genre.

The thing is that I'm not terribly sure what happens next, so if anyone wants to take a stab at it, feel free! I think it would be great if multiple people did. I have some ideas about exactly why Jack is in such bad shape. If you want to hear them, DM me. If you want to make it up, that's fine too.

Rating: Gen Characters: Jack Russell, Elsa Bloodstone, original characters Word Count (so far): ~1500 Warnings: None

The sedan hit a pothole hard enough to make Jack’s stomach lurch. Keeping his eyes closed, he inhaled sharply and tried not to retch.

“Do NOT vomit in my car, Terry,” Athena said to his left.

Jack had disliked the vampire soon after meeting her at an I-495 truck stop outside Hudson, Massachussetts as the half-full moon brightened deepening twilight. Plump and shorter than he was, the curly-haired woman of Greek descent had informed Jack that his vampire-werewolf niece Nina was the only reason she was giving him a lift. “I’d insist on a drink,” Athena had said while eyeing the part of his neck not covered by his winter coat and scarf, “but your kind tastes… gamey.”

That had been two hours earlier when he’d only had a high fever and moderate pain from the bandaged slash across his right forearm. Jack had had enough willpower to bite back a retort and give the hateful creature a curt nod. Now his arm and head throbbed as lightheadedness crept in. 

“Doing my best,” Jack replied. “And enough with ‘Terry.’” It wasn’t even an original taunt: Jack Russell Terrier to “Terry”. Ha ha. At least he was alive and not a parasite.

In his mind’s eye Nina raised a manicured eyebrow. His niece wasn’t a parasite. She’d struggled but had found her own path. Nina fed on human predators, usually ones able to evade the law. It was ugly business, but the world was better for it.

Athena sniffed. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? Werewolves heal fast.”

“The… thing I was hunting got a few hits in,” Jack said. “One slash broke the skin. It was healing. I called Nina when I started feeling sick.”

“So the ‘thing’ got away.”

Jack snarled, then caught himself and stopped. “I killed it. It won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Ah,” Athena said as she glanced at her iPhone propped on the dashboard. The blue arrow marking their location inched west from the rural town of New Braintree. Jack didn’t recognize the two-lane road Athena was taking, but it had already been dark when he’d approached Bloodstone Manor last fall and he’d been sick with worry. 

Rescuing Ted had nearly ended in disaster. The swamp creature had gleefully told Jack how he’d crashed through the trophy room’s stained-glass ceiling and incinerated Verussa, who’d been about to kill her own stepdaughter. 

How Elsa had survived the wolf Jack didn’t know. Presumably it was a combination of that side of him remembering her scent, and her bravery and intelligence. How fitting that the remarkable woman’s address was Braintree.

“…time to check with contacts, but I think— Russell!” the vampire snapped. 

Jack managed a grin as a reward for not calling him Terry. “Hmm?”

“Pay attention! We’re almost there.”

Jack nodded, which prompted a fresh wave of nausea. 

She gestured at the woods on the north side of the road. “The fence bounding the property is twenty feet that way. Good luck with security.” She leaned forward and scrutinized the dirt shoulder topped with a thin layer of snow. “Once I find a good place to pull over, my debt to Nina is paid in full.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jack said. 

Light from the phone’s display showed Athena’s scowl. “‘Nuh-uh?’”

“You agreed to get me inside. Don’t vampires fly?”

Athena’s eyes flashed red as brought the BMW to an abrupt halt. The motion made Jack’s head swim. “No. But you do.”

Through pain and dizziness Jack was vaguely aware of cold hands hauling him out of the car and through underbrush. “What?” he asked at least once.

They stopped with Athena holding Jack up by a handful of his coat in front of a wrought-iron fence stretching left and right into forest. Jack squinted at the tall, closely spaced bars. He was in no condition to jump or climb. 

He was about to ask Athena to give him a boost when she said, “The manor is due north.” She gave him a fanged smirk, and he was sailing over the fence. 

The ground rushed up and punched him in the head.

Athena chuckled as Jack vomited into leaf litter. “Give Nina my regards, if you survive.”

Jack heard her retreating footsteps between dry heaves. Pinche vampiros.

The next thing Jack knew he was laying on his back and the moon had set.

That didn’t make sense. How had it moved so fast?

You passed out, Ted said in his mind.

“Ted? How did you get here?”

Doesn’t matter, his friend—more than a friend—said. Get up. You must get up.

Groaning, Jack pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Why?”

To see Elsa.

Jack’s right arm buckled, and he nearly fell back. His right arm burned, and he couldn’t feel that hand. “Okay,” he replied.

With his breath forming frosty clouds, Jack got his feet under him and followed Ted’s directions. The dense woods were a godsend; the trees helped him stay upright as he put one foot in front of the other.

Jack grinned when bright lights shone through the trees and shrubs ahead. The manor was close. Elsa was close. He regretted leaving the day after the funeral-turned-battle-royale, but Ted needed to go home, and his other side had killed nearly everyone in the trophy room. The exceptions were Verussa, whom Ted had taken care of, and Elsa. Fierce, beautiful Elsa, the woman he dreamed of since that night but was too ashamed to approach. 

It had taken a wound inflicted by a supposed demon to make Jack seek out the Bloodstone heiress. After slaying the pale, four-foot-tall, spindly-armed humanoid that was stronger and faster than it appeared, he’d made his way through the abandoned industrial area it had called home. The slash its claws had made through his coat into flesh wasn’t healing. His gut said he was in trouble, so he’d tightly wrapped the wound and called Nina. He needed to get to Elsa, he told her.

After declaring Jack an idiot for wanting to go to Hunter Central, Nina had said to get to his car and sit tight. She couldn’t help directly from her flat in Bolivia, but she’d call in some favors.

Leaning against a white birch, Jack peered ahead. Across 100 feet of manicured lawn was the imposing facade of Bloodstone Manor. 

Mustering his remaining strength, Jack stood up straight and started toward Elsa. Leaves and patches of snow crunched underfoot as he continued through the woods.

Where are you going? Ted asked.

Jack swiped away sweat stinging his eyes as he trudged onward. “Elsa.” 

The manor’s north! You’re going the wrong way!

Jack shook his head. The resulting wave of pain made him cry out. 

A gunshot made his ears ring. The shock of it brought him to his knees.

“This is private property!” a woman shouted a short distance ahead.

“Elsa!” Jack laughed. “Why are you in the woods?” Then he frowned; he wasn’t sure if he’d said that in English or Spanish.

He was about to repeat the question in English when leaves rustled and twigs snapped as a lithe form moved closer. Elsa’s familiar scent carried on the light breeze. “Who…” she called. “Jack?”

“Yes!” he said, struggling to stand upright with the help of another tree. “I’d have called but—”

Elsa, dressed in practical outdoor clothing with a hunting rifle in one hand, rushed up to him, radiant and full of life. Even with her gaping at him, she seemed lighter than when he’d last seen her. Which made sense considering his other side was about to tear her apart then, but—

“How did you get here?!” Elsa demanded.

Jack interrupted his smiling with a reply. “Pinche vampira.”

She blinked at him, then looked around with alarm.

“She left,” Jack assured her. “BMW. I’m to give Nina her regards if I survive.” His last few words had come out slurred, and the night was getting darker.

“Survive what?!”

Jack fumbled for the nearest tree for support, but found Elsa instead. He smiled, happy to lean into her with her scent all around as dizziness returned. “Dover Demon,” Jack said as Elsa shifted to get his left arm over her shoulders. He moved his wounded arm forward. Blood had soaked through his makeshift bandage and darkened the lower half of his coat’s sleeve. “Not silver,” he murmured as his eyelids grew heavy.

“Oh no no no no,” Elsa said, dragging him forward. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Jack… What is your full name?”

“Me llamo Jack Russell.”

They stopped short, which made Jack’s head swim. “You’re having me on.”

“¡Es verdad!” Jack said as he got his feet under him. “Wasn’t about to change my name because of a new dog breed.”

Elsa looked at him askance. Jack picked one of the three of her he saw and gave her his best smile.

“Right,” she said, all business again. “Walk with me, Russell. We’re—”

“Jack,” he corrected.

Elsa sighed. “Fine, Jack. Let’s get you inside so you survive.”

Jack’s heart melted a little. That was one of the nicest things he’d heard in decades.

---------------

To be clear(ish), Ted may or may not have been communicating with Jack psychically. I left it ambiguous. Jack's sick as a dog (pun intended) so he might be hallucinating.

[nyan-koii]

ive lots of ideas i cant concentrate on which one should i give more attention to and start first so please vote guyss 🙏

i. its the one that i mention ! this one will have dubcon, loss of virginity, hate sex and just mark being so fucking mean to seb he couldnt stop crying

ii. Bmw seb with ferrari michael where seb is stuck in a hole he found and michael took advantage of the situation. Noncon, loss of virginity with a twist at the end

iii. Based on this image. Probably alternate universe too where seb is in abusive relationship with mark and jense wants to help him out but seb is confused so so confused he doesnt know if he should risk the losing the love of his life for someone who loved him

iv. Seb pining on michael and begging the older to take away his virginity. Very possessive and hero worshipping. Sebs a stalker in here too and is very clingy and michael tries to avoid him

Im still going to publish all three of it so dont worryy !

[neonfeel]

Wolfs (2024)

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (4-5)

parts 4 & 5 of ?? | 863 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Eddie hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for days, simply because he doesn’t have time. He’s picked up a part time job at Thatcher Tire after school and weekends, and when he isn’t there or dozing through his classes at good ol’ Hawkins High he’s making drops all over town.  It’s just enough to make up for his uncle not being able to work right now, but barely.

4.

Eddie hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time for days, simply because he doesn’t have time. He’s picked up a part time job at Thatcher Tire after school and weekends, and when he isn’t there or dozing through his classes at good ol’ Hawkins High he’s making drops all over town. 

It’s just enough to make up for his uncle not being able to work right now, but barely. 

And dear god, does he need a fucking break. It’s stupid, and irresponsible, and he absolutely lied to Wayne about where he was headed tonight, but he needs to let off some steam. 

He’s wound up tight as a spring as he pulls up by the club, and sees Steve fucking Harrington going inside. It’s definitely him, too; Eddie peers in the windows of a nearby burgundy BMW he recognizes from around Hawkins. There's a gym bag in the back seat with HARRINGTON written on it, clear as day. 

The spring winches even tighter, until something goes twang. 

Because he can’t go in now. How could he possibly go in now, and share stagnant air with King Steve? Admittedly not the worst of the bullies on campus before graduating last year, but everyone had heard about what he’d called Jonathan Byers the winter semester of ‘83. So a hypocrite, at the very least—a freak in wolf’s clothing. 

(And god, the clothing. The way the sleeves of his tight t-shirt cling to his biceps. His ass in dark jeans. His signature hair starting to get a little long in the back, as though he’s been foregoing haircuts lately, still big and swoopy like a cartoon character but in a more tousled way than he’d worn it in school—)

All of it makes Eddie’s blood pop and fizz in his veins, on top of everything else right now. . . . Then Eddie has an idea. Eddie has a wonderful, awful idea.

5.

Over the course of several hours of waiting, Eddie comes to a conclusion that he doesn’t like, but . . . desperate times. It’s only been a few months and he’s already fraying at the edges. What happens when Wayne gets worse? When Wayne. . . ?

No. Nope, he’s not going to think about it, because if he thinks about it right now then he’s going to have a breakdown on the hood of Harrington’s fucking car. Instead, he works his way through an entire pack of cigarettes while talking himself in and out of the gradually forming plan by turns. 

And he happens to be talked into it when Harrington comes out of the club, sweaty and pretty and careless as you please, strolling up to the car like it’s no big deal. 

Eddie breathes out smoke and stops grinding his teeth long enough to say, “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this, huh?”

“I was just leaving, actually,” Harrington says, eyeing him as though trying to decide what he wants without actually having to ask. Wary, but not terribly concerned. 

Which is just such a fucking insult. (But why wouldn’t it be? Even as hot as he is, even if he swings the right way, it’s not like Eddie had a shot with someone like this. It’s not like he’s about to torpedo anything.) Eddie has dirt on him now—even if it’s all terrible societal crap and pressure and bullshit, there’s no point in not calling a spade a spade. But the thing is. . . .

The thing is, everyone knows the Harringtons are loaded. They can afford to save a man’s life. If Eddie squints at it just right, what he’s about to do is basically tricking King Steve into good karma. 

“Yeah, I should probably head out too,” Eddie says with forced casualness. “Say, does your girlfriend know you’re out here?”

“My what?”

Eddie’s lips tighten briefly around his cigarette. “You know, Robin? Bit of a motor mouth, about yea high—” he gestures with a flourish “—and usually attached to you at the hip outside of school hours?”

It takes longer than he expected for the reality of the blackmail to click, and even then, Harrington’s reaction is underwhelming. All Eddie gets is a slight rise of the eyebrows and a heavy sigh, almost no apparent anxiety. 

Fucking arrogant. Does this guy really think he’s that untouchable?

“Is there something you want?” Harrington asks flatly. 

And fine, there’s no point in not being direct. They’re not friends, and King Steve has always been an asshole who needs taking down a peg. 

“Yep.” Eddie ashes his cigarette just shy of hitting the car’s pristine paint job, then stands to go. “Woods behind the field, there’s a picnic table back there. You know it?”

Harrington gives a curt nod. 

“Great. Be there tomorrow after school.”

“I have work.”

“So? Call out sick, pretty boy, or Robin hears all about this little nighttime excursion.”

He doesn’t wait for anything else, turning away before his face has a chance to break into a grimace where Harrington can see. This is something he’s going to absolutely loathe himself for, but if it works? If it helps Wayne get better? Eddie can fucking live with that.

[junrods]

We are live register now don't miss it ABS LIVE FREE If you haven't done so yet, click the link below. https://junrods.com/abs-live-registration

[strictlybm-pasopaguluva]

The Original Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

The BMW e28 M5

My Ultimate Dream Car

Plant Rosslyn was the only place outside of Germany that produced BMWs not just for SA but worldwide.

Find out why the SA Spec M5 was better than the Euro production versions.

Click on the link below to order your book:

https://vantagefineautoart.com/bmw-sa-book/

Follow:

@strictlybm_pasopaguluva

@fresh_auto_inc

@exlv_proudlysa

@classic_car_road_tests

Brought to you by @lendl_325

#bmw #bmwclassic #e28 #m5 #bmwe28 #m88 #bmwm5 #e28m5 #mtech #mtechnic #mpower #50yearsofm #bmwm #southafrica #strictlybm_pasopaguluva

[justelib]

Fandoms I write for <3

(All characters Except Dr Brenner.)

(All characters.)

(All characters & all movies.)

(I also write for the marauders because WOO 🙌)

Nancy drew.

(All characters.)

(All characters.)

•only males for Kevin, Joaquin & all other gay character if it’s romantic. The same goes for only female for Cheryl.•

(All characters)

•only male for Jake & Devon•

(All characters.)

TUA

(All characters.)

•I will only write for Viktor•

(All characters)

•I strongly headcanon Stu & Billy being Gay -for each other- but I’ll take female requests•

BMW

(All characters.)

•Especially Shawn hunter 😍•

Fear street

(All characters)

•only female request for Deena and Sam•

JATP

(All characters)

•only male request for Alex & Willie.•

The babysitters club.

•all characters•

ZOMBIES

(All characters)

•no male request for Willa or A-spen because as far as I know Both of them are lesbian•

Heartstopper

(Only male request for Charlie and only female request for Darcy & Tara)

ASOUE

(All characters excepts Olaf and his troop)

AWAE

(All characters except Mr Philips 😵‍💫)

•only male request for Cole•

WOLFBLOOD

(All characters)

NARNIA

(All characters)

TEEN WOLF

(All characters)

•only male request for Danny, Ethan and Jackson•

NOWHERE BOYS

(All characters)

CHARMED

(All characters)

^ the fact I’m only adding this fandom because of Chris XD

ENOLA HOLMES

(All characters)

OUAT

(All characters)

FREE REIN

(All characters)

H2O

(All characters)

STEVEN UNIVERSE

(All characters, but I plan on writing for Steven & Lars the most.)

HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA

(All characters)

TMNT 2012

(All characters)

TOH

(All characters.)

•only female request for Amity & Raine•

AMPHIBIA

(All characters)

NINJAGO

(All characters)

•they’re obviously humanised•

TALES OF ARCADIA

(All characters)

Monster high

(All characters)

•only female request for Clawdeen, Only male request for Kieran Valentine.•

(Please specify if you want live account or the animation so I know what pronouns to use for Frankie!)

THE HOLLOW -Netflix original-

(All characters)

•only male request for Adam•

SPIDERMAN + SPIDERMAN - ITSV & ATSV

(All characters)

•I only write for Tom hollands Spider-Man•

Kipo ATAOW

(All characters)

•only male request for Benson & Troy•

GRAVITY FALLS

(All characters)

SVTFOE

(All characters)

SPIRIT RIDING FREE

(All characters)

DISNEY & PIXAR.

(There’s some I haven’t watched though.)

(If there isn’t a fandom on here that you’d like to request from, just ask and if I’ve seen it I’ll most likely write for it!)

HTTYD

(All characters)

GOOSEBUMPS 2023

(All characters)

(Only male request for my bby James.)

TROLLS

MY HERO ACADEMIA

PJO

(I will also gladly write for Rodrick Heffley 😍😍)

I also take match up request!