#boot cut rockers

[taintandviolent]

Turbo Lover ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: After getting fed up with Jason Carver and his gross attitude, reader decides to take him up on a dare. That dare, is kissing Eddie Munson on the mouth. Something she's been longing to do since she arrived in Hawkins.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, handjobs.

a/n: started writing this back in *checks watch* july of 2022....... ahem. finished writing this to turbo lover by judas priest, if you wanna listen! just felt like an eddie song to me, don't ask for clarification. this could possibly be a multi-parter, haven't decided yet. my first (technically) eddie fic...... do not come for my throat, thanks. not beta-read, yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“Oh, choke on it, Jason.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Mrs. Cowan for a replacement lab partner.”

Rolling your eyes, you resist the urge to fling your forkful of corn at him. “Hah! Please do. I’d rather stick my tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat and spend the weekend with mono than spend another blissful second trying to watch you figure out anatomy, dipshit.”

“Go do it then. I dare you.” Jason barks, nostrils flaring. He was going to call your bluff. There was no way that you were going to go over to that weird satanist’s table. Being more of a rocker, you weren’t posh and cute like Chrissy was, but you still had boundaries. And a good head on your shoulders. He knew you did. He hoped you did.

“Fine,” you snap, slamming both palms onto the table. “I hope you fail your science project.” Jason’s confident expression falls. Your rings scrape against the plastic as you push yourself up. With more determination than you’d had the entire semester, you swing both your legs over the bench and head for Eddie’s table, navigating around the other tables. The rest of his little dungeon buddies are already gawking at you as they’d been paying attention to the shouting. Confidently, you take a running leap up onto the table, and stomp your way down its length like a soldier marching towards enemy fire. The target, Eddie Munson, was staring at you with wide eyes and brows lifted.

“Outta my way.” The pointed tip of your boot sends an empty lunch tray flying off the table and clattering onto the floor.

“Hey, Munson!” You drop down onto your haunches, and now, eye-level with him, grab his face and pull it towards you, crushing your lips against his. The roll he’s holding drops from his grasp, falling lifelessly onto his tray. As soon as his plush lips press into yours, giving way to your tugging, your shoulders relax, melting into the kiss. You had been waiting for an excuse to get his attention since you’d sat down in your first class at Hawkins High, daydreaming about talking to him. You’d spent many a class period staring at Eddie’s lips, so you expected the kiss would be enjoyable… but not like this.

At first, both of your lips were closed, smushed together in the hurriedness of the moment, but when you exhale and his lips part, your tongue delves into his mouth, sweeping along his. To your surprise, he reciprocates the action, and presses his chin up into yours, asserting a new sort of need. Despondent groans and laughs of shock pepper the cafeteria around you, and from behind you, came the confusion of the other residents of the table. As you take Eddie Munson in literal mouthfuls, you felt something shift in him, and the noise started to fade away. You tilt your head, and push deeper into the kiss.

“Who the hell is she?” One of the boys asks, clearly as confused as everyone else was.

You shudder against him, feeling a burning heat between your legs, and immediately pull away to stand up, turning to face the far table. Jason was staring at you, looking more embarrassed than disgusted, but he did well hiding it with his scholarship scowl. You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, drawing your — Eddie’s— the mutual saliva across your cheek. Triumphantly, you hold your arms out, daring the blonde haired moron to say anything further. He doesn’t. 

With a proud smirk on your face, you pivot back to Eddie, lips parted to speak, maybe to apologize to him for being so forward. All that comes out though, is the jarring echo of the lunch bell as it rings loudly through the cafeteria. You take that as an excuse to get out of the situation, and step down onto the bench between two of his little minions, then onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest like a drum, you make a beeline for the lockers. You’re practically running down the halls, and for what? To get away from Eddie? The guy you had just swapped spit with? And liked it?  

After shaking his head free of the shock, Eddie hurriedly bins his lunch and takes off after you, leaving the boys to their own devices. He was panting quietly once he’d finally caught up to you. “Hey, just wait a minute, okay?”

You say nothing, and keep digging in your locker for a book you knew wasn’t there. You’d left it at home, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Come on, you can’t just plant something like that on me and run away, man.” You hear a thump against the locker next to you, and out of the corner of your eye, see him leaning his shoulder into it. You huff and keep digging.

“You really think I’d give you mono?” He asks, sounding hurt.

Forcing your breath out through your teeth, you stop digging, and lean back to look at him. Those puppy eyes…

“No,” you say, feeling bad that he even heard that to begin with. You shut the locker. “I don’t. But the point was that I’d rather suffer with y— errr suffer any sort of wicked sickness than be even remotely happy around him.”

“So… why’d you stop? Was it that bad?”

“No, actually. It wasn’t. I stopped because I… um, the bell was going to ring.” That was a lie. You stopped because your beating heart had sunk between your legs. Kissing him was a massive turn-on, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“That it did…” he starts, absentmindedly playing with a strand of his own hair. “And now we’re late.”

You narrow your eyes. His brows flick upwards and the tip of his tongue presses pointedly into his lower lip, a little glimmer of mischief in his expression. Ready to prove him wrong, your eyes dart to the clock above the lockers, the visual causing you to curse under your breath. You hadn’t even heard the second bell, but he was right. Three minutes past. And Mr. Jenkins? Didn’t let anyone in after the bell rang. Fucker. Eddie shimmies closer, his soft, brown eyes falling to your lips. He was smiling, watching you and looking like he was daydreaming about having those soft lips against his again. 

“You wanna’... maybe show me what else you’d rather be doing than spending your time with brainless Ken dolls?”

You considered the offer for a moment. You had been pining after him since your first English class with him, and now… your split decision had thrown open the door to opportunity. When you’d tried to close it, Eddie had put his dirty white Reebok right in the way.

“Screw it, let’s go.” 

“Yeah?” He confirms, excited.

“Yeah.” 

Eddie wastes no time, taking hold of your hand as he passes you, towing you in the direction of the doors and out into the parking lot. 

How did you end up here? In retrospect; you’d probably have to thank Jason for pissing you off that day, in that particular way that really drove you over the edge. Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been crawling into the back of Eddie Munson’s van while he stood behind you, looking at the gentle curve of your ass.

After throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, making sure there weren’t any prying eyes watching the two of you, Eddie follows you inside and pulls the door shut behind him, the metal squeaking loudly. You sit down and cross your legs, resting against the interior wall. The inside of his van is warm, having baked in the sun all afternoon. Cassette tapes litter the floor behind the seats, and a Judas Priest shirt hangs over the headrest of the passenger seat. A few undisclosed cables are wadded up in the corner, you assume they were musical in nature. He seemed like the type. It’s exactly what you’d pictured his van to look like. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry about the… mess.” 

You chuckle, looking brightly at him. “I don’t care. Plus, Judas Priest is rad. That song that came out last month… Turbo Lover? Gets stuck in my head all the time.” 

Delighted by this reaction, Eddie knee-walks over to you, that same mischievous smile on his face as before. He leans down, exhaling over your lips before looking into your eyes with a burning curiosity.

“Why were you sitting at his table anyway? You don’t seem like his type.” 

“His type? Gah, gross. No. We’re lab partners. Regrettably. Turns out, he’s kind of a massive dolt when it comes to science.” You pause and heave a sigh, your breath rushing out over his cheeks. He blinks. “I really don’t want to talk about Jason right now, Eddie.” 

“Oh yeah, totally.” With that, his hand snaps to your jaw, where he holds it gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You wanna’ makeout or something?” 

You can’t help but laugh, unsure if it’s because of the butterflies in your stomach, or because he’s kind of a dork. Smooth and very charming, but a dork all the same. You chalk it up to a combination of both and lean forward until the tips of your noses touch. “Yeah, Eddie, I wanna’ makeout. Again.”

This time, Eddie is the one to initiate the kiss. He presses his lips against yours softly a few times, your lips sticking together each time he pulls away. Relishing in the taste of you, he hums into the kiss, pressing himself closer to you. After a few moments, he breaks the kiss to readjust his position. The break is too long, it seems, because before you know it, he’s back to leaning over you and craning his neck down to kiss you from above. His hands drop to find your neck, his thumb trailing down over the front of it while the others stay tenderly wrapped around the side, squeezing slightly. The motion sends a deep shiver down your spine, reigniting the embers of your arousal. Eddie laughed breathily into the kiss. 

“Quite the reaction…” he murmurs over your lips.

“Oh, shuttup.” Your hand makes a fist in his shirt, pulling him back onto you. “Keep kissing me.” 

“As you wish.” He says dreamily, with lust woozying his speech. His voice is slightly deeper now, laced with hunger, and you whimper, pressing your knees together. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie notices this, and moves his free hand to your kneecaps, wriggling in between them to separate them. They fall apart with no resistance, and again, Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against your lips, sending a tickling wave over them. Your willingness almost embarrasses you, but when Eddie says nothing, only moves to slot himself in between your thighs, you realize that he’s into it. 

“No need to be shy here, princess. Just you and me.”

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers splaying out over his back. “God, you’re cute.” 

“So are you.” 

“No, you’re really cute.” 

Eddie pulls away, furrowing his brow as if he’s confused. He is – he’s confused on whether or not you realize he thinks you’re a catch, too. You sense the confusion, and roll your hips up against his. His breath hitches in his throat, eyeing you pleadingly. It’s a warning – you can’t do things like that lest he lose control.  

“Uuughh,” you moan. “I don’t know why it took me this long to kiss you.” 

“Me neither.” 

He presses his lips against yours again, his tongue slipping past the two plush pillows, tasting the waxiness of your lipstick. Swiping his tongue along yours, he deepened the kiss, enticing you to join in a painfully erotic dance of spit-swapping. He exhales hotly over your mouth and grinds his hips against yours, groaning softly into your mouth. You grind back, knowing exactly what you’re doing. You can feel what you’re doing to him; it was currently pressed against your inner thigh. 

You reach down between your bodies, finding the warm bulge in the front of his black jeans and give him a soft squeeze. The sudden contact makes him lurch forward, crushing himself somehow further against you. He can’t get any closer to you without melting into your body which, in truth, makes him crazy. He makes a sound — something between a whine and a gasp — and ruts his hips against your center. The pressure has you reeling, pressing your back against the inside of the van. 

“Eddie, fuck…” 

“Yeah,” he echoes your sentiment, nodding his head so enthusiastically that his soft brown hair flutters. 

“Can I…?” 

He grins. “You can if I can. It’s only fair.” 

You let your legs fall farther apart, granting him access. With a newfound urgency, you quickly yank on his waistband, pull the silver button from its slit and maneuver your hand inside the elastic of his boxers. On the way down, you rake your fingers through the thatch of brown hair above his cock. Eddie responds by tightening his grip on your neck instinctively. The tips of your fingers find the searing hot head of his cock, precum leaking from the slit. With an audible mmmm, you swipe your thumb over it, smearing around the underside of the tip. Eddie hisses through his teeth, rutting his hips over and over again – forcing you to jerk him off a little. The tip slides through your fist, slippery and warm and you can’t help but let out a satisfied sound. 

“Wow,” you breathe, in awe. You weren’t sure what you expected, but feeling a cock this heavy wasn’t on the menu. You’d been with a few metalheads before, and they were all average at best. You thought he’d follow suit. Not heavy in your hand. But he is. God, he is. Eddie licks hungrily at your mouth before running his tongue along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth, biting down slightly. You groan, pressing your head back against the wall. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you say, breathlessly before squeezing his cock again. It twitches in your grip, hardening just a little bit further. You can feel the tension in his lower abdomen every time you slip your hand deeper into his boxers, tugging at his cock as you slide back up. 

His hands drop from your neck to your waist to your hips, his thumb making circles on the strip of exposed stomach flesh between your black leather skirt and your shirt. One hand sinks lower,  moving from your hip to your leg, sliding against the pillowy, cream soft flesh of your inner thigh.  It slides up your skirt, pressing against the nylons, and grazing your cunt from the outside. Inside his jeans, your hand starts to go slack, but Eddie quickly snaps you back to attention.

“I’m gonna’ need you to stay focused, baby. Don’t stop.”  

“S-sorry.” You pick up the pace, stroking his cock again at a much steadier speed. He lets out a soft groan, the feeling of your hand gently stroking his dick sending him into a haze of pleasure. But, he, too, has to focus. 

Eddie gets back to work, carefully undoing the zipper on the side of your skirt. He tugs, shimmying the skirt down over your hips and continues pulling until he pauses to pull your legs from the black circle, tossing it towards the van doors. Now, the only thing between him and your cunt is the fabric of your tights and your white satin underwear. You’re painfully aware of this fact and so is Eddie – the look on his face says it all. He sweeps you into another kiss. 

It’s almost as if he was using the kiss as a distraction from the adept way he’s rolling your nylons off your hips and down your thighs. You almost don’t feel it and don’t notice until he’s got them down around your ankles. 

“May I?” 

“May you? What is this –” You asked, trying to tease him, but your voice is so high pitched, so feathery with lust, that it just sounds ridiculous. You huff and nod, giving him whatever permission he felt he needed. 

His middle finger traces the visible slit in your underwear and embarrassingly, your whole body responds. From your legs snapping shut on his hand to the utterly humiliating moan that tumbled off your lips, there’s no coming back from that reaction. Eddie laughs quietly, almost devilishly and you relax your legs again. 

“Sorry, I’ve… I’ve been…. Um…” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, fuck… I’ve kinda’ sorta’ had a thing for you since English with M–”

“Mrs. Lawrence? Last semester.” 

Your mouth hung slack. He knew? 

“You really thought you’d walk in, looking the way you do, and I wouldn’t remember?” 

Your stomach tightens underneath your shirt; butterflies are erupting beneath the skin. Any further jabs to your heart and they actually might rupture through your ribcage.

His finger sweeps along your center again, before hooking around the scalloped edge of the panties and pulling them down over the curve of your hip. A clear, slick strand stretches between your cunt and the fabric before snapping. Eddie growls, a deeply pleased sound erupting from his throat. 

Two fingers part your folds, sweeping tantalizingly at the underside of your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He prods the opening with his middle first, making tiny circles and spreading your arousal around your cunt. Finally, he inserts both fingers, sinking them to the knuckle. Moving his arm, you watch as the bats literally fly back and forth and let out a small, breathy laugh. The way he was working you felt so good, your hand instinctively tightened around his cock. Eddie shuffled closer, his knee in front of your cunt. Before you have time to react, Eddie abruptly takes hold of your left hand and brings it above your head, holding it tight against the wall of his van, his rings pressing into your fingers. Your digits tangle with his and he flays them open.

He continues thrusting his fingers in and out, watching your every move. You looked up and whined loudly; the sight of your smaller hand entangled with his larger one was divine, and sent another shockwave through your core. The coil in your stomach wound tighter, and tighter. Your body flushed with heat, and you were suddenly wishing you were naked underneath him. Eddie suddenly leans over you, pressing the side of his face against yours. 

“I’m your turbo lover…” He sings quietly in your ear, his tone honeyed and low, absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Your eyes roll back in your head, your jaw falling open. “...tell me there’s no other…” 

“Oh fuck, Eddie, oh my god-!”

At the singing, your needy pussy clenched around his digits, shivering violently. His thumb moves to your swollen, tender clit, rubbing it back and forth expertly. The coil snaps, and you moan loudly, banging your head against the wall a few times. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

You shouldn’t have found it so hot, but the way he sung the lyrics into your ear sent a wave of electricity through your entire body. As the sound of your moans reach his ears, Eddie groans and bucks his hips rhythmically, pumping himself closer to the edge of orgasm. 

After a few more pumps from you, his back arches and he groans your name – another surprise that he knows that – as his hot, sticky release coats your fingers as wave after wave of pleasure surges through him. The flushed, pink tip was exposed enough that when he does finally lose it, the first spurts of cum find their way onto your shirt. He doesn’t notice right away, still thrusting his hips into your loose fist. Finally, he brings his head forward to look at you again. His chest is heaving, panting from the exertion, and his eyes trail from your face down to your shirt. The wanton look is replaced with one of horror. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry! Here uh,” Eddie paused, stretching over to yank the shirt from the seat. “Wear this. I promise it’s clean. Decently… uh… clean.” 

You didn’t care if it wasn’t. The fact that he had given you his shirt because he accidentally came on yours was single handedly the cutest thing you’d ever had a guy do for you. You withdrew your hand from his boxers, and he let go of your other hand. Quickly, you pulled your shirt over your head and wadded it up in a ball, setting it next to you. His shirt was baggy, but you quickly remedy that by tying the front in a knot. The way that Eddie’s eyes skirted over your breasts wasn’t lost on you. You smirk. 

“Think Mr. Jenkins noticed we were both gone?” He asks as you fluff your hair. 

“Probably. F’s for both of us.” 

Eddie smiles.

You look down at the shirt, trying to talk your blushing cheeks down. “I’ll give this back to you. Remind me.” 

“Sure,” he says, not fully convinced he wants it back. He likes the idea of you wearing his shirt around school. A dirty little reminder of what occurred. “You should come to one of our meetings.” 

“Meetings?” You ask, quirking a brow. 

“Yeah,” he says, plucking his shirt. Your eyes drift down to the red, snarling demon on his chest. The words Hellfire Club crown the demon, decorated with medieval looking weapons.

“Right, right. Dungeons and Dragons… I’ve never played it.”

“I’ll teach you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

[PART TWO HERE]

[webdollzz]

BATTERED 'N' BRUISED

WARNINGS: blood kink!! dom!hobie x f!reader. mirror sex, penetrative sex, accidental creampie, fingering, hair pulling, forced eye contact, manhandling, swears (obviously), semi public sex, darcyphila, multiple orgasms. r described as easily bruised

AUTHORS NOTE: those warnings...this also came to me in a dream. unhinged dream.

Hobie had taken you to your first punk rock concert with him, as it was his turn to plan a date, and this was his idea of a date. you didn't complain, though. it made him happy. you tried to match the vibe as best as you could, putting on messily good black makeup, short denim skirt, torn fishnets, big clompy boots — the works.

you tried your best to fit in with the crowd, and you certainly did in hobie's eyes. he had you pressed against the barricade with him behind you, protecting you from the hits and shoves from the crowd, his back and sides taking them instead so you could enjoy the concert with him. you looked over to your left as you heard particularly louder screaming, seeing a mosh pit beginning to form. you lean back against hobie's chest, tugging him down by one of his necklaces so his ear was level to your mouth. it was the only way he'd hear you between the loud singing and music.

"the fuck is that?!" you asked, gesturing to the violent circle within the crowd. he glanced over, smirking as he leaned down into your ear.

"mosh pi', luv. basically everybody hittin' everybody." he shrugged, his hands running up and down your sides, looking at the way you stared at it. "wha'? you wanna go in?" you nod, and he snorts. "a'ight — c'mere." he said, gripping your waist with a grin, pulling you through the crowd. he knew he probably shouldn't get you in a mosh pit when it's your first concert, and because you already bruise like a peach. but how could he deny his girl? he couldn't.

so he hauled you with him, talking loudly in your ear. "so, rule one. someone falls, ya' help 'em up. two, palms, not actual fists. no throwin' punches —" He continued to walk you through the unspoken rules of proper mosh etiquette, and you tried to listen, but it was hard. but he said this one a little louder, the most important one, as he put it.

"numba' six – don't move a single inch from me. wors' place ta' lose ya' would be a mosh." he said, gently kissing your lips before yanking you into the pit with him. one, two — three songs later, the pit finally dissipated. and what happened half way through song two? you got lost in the pit. the concert was still going, so he couldn't exactly call for you. it was only half way done, so he couldn't call for you for a while. he was worried sick – there was easily over a thousand people at this venue. easy. he wouldn't find you in the floods of people, he'd just have to wait until you both met back up at your car outside.

his train of thought was interrupted by much older rocker – 40s – tapping on his shoulder. "this yours?" He yelled over the music with a laugh, presenting a very bloody you. you were grinning like a mad woman, your nose profusely bleeding and dripping down your mouth, chin, neck, chest — pretty much your entire front was covered. and you didn't give a single fuck. his brows furrowed with concern, a pit forming in his stomach.

"fuckin' 'ell – yeah! thanks, mate." the guy wandered off with a grin and a nod, giving him a small thumbs up.

"doll, are you alr–" "that was the best fucking thing ever!" you interrupted him with a yell, and he got more confused. you enjoyed it? your nose was pouring with blood! admittedly, seeing your torn, low cut shirt and blood covered cleavage stirred something in him, but he pushed it aside.

"wha'?!" he had to make sure he heard that right. you briefly spat out some blood by your feet, smiling back up at him. "I had fun!" you exclaimed, your nose still dripping. it must've been a pretty brutal hit. "so, you're a'ight?.." he asked cautiously, gently poking your nose to make sure it wasn't broken or anything, the bleeding was really bad. "yeah! I'm fine!" he grabbed your inner elbow gently, dragging you towards the bathrooms at the back. once he made sure you were okay, his skinny jeans began to get a whole lot tighter. you frowned, stumbling along with him.

"why are we leavin'?" you asked as he pulled you into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you two. he shrugged, pinning you between him and the sink.

"cus' m'hard as fuck righ' now." your eyes widened as his head dipped down to nip and kiss at the sides of your neck that isn't covered in blood. so, he got turned on by blood now? that's new.

"hob.." you gasped as he sucked a hickey onto the side of your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh to rub it gently, before his forefinger went to draw lazy circles on your clit through your panties.

"hmm?" he hummed quietly, kicking your legs apart so he can stand between them easier. your breath hitches quietly, your hips pushing down against his finger for more.

"more...please." he grabbed your fishnets and tore them at your pussy with ease, making you jolt slightly. you opened your mouth to complain about it but it dribbled back down your throat when he pushed your panties to the side to rub at your clit again, just with no barriers. you huffed out a moan, your head tipping back. he slid his finger to your entrance, teasing it for a short moment before he slipped it into you, curling it to your sweet spot. you moaned, unaware of how much he was staring a your blood covered neck until his head dipped forward.

his tongue licked up the length of your neck, to your chin and mouth. he gripped your hair with his free hand, tugging your head back up to face him.

you whimpered softly, but your eyes widened when you saw him smiling at you with his mouth covered in your blood.

"hob, what'r you do-" you were cut short when his lips smashed against yours, pulling your hair roughly as his fingers sped up. the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue as he kissed you with a lip bruising fervour, disgustingly brought you closer to the edge. and fast.

it smeared your blood all over your lips, the now occasional drip of blood from your nose making it messy. you were whimpering into the kiss, rolling your hips against his hand as he added another finger. the iron taste of your blood in your mouth, his thumb pressing against your throbbing clit and the two fingers curling into your sweet spot had you crying out.

he left the kiss, trailing from your cheek cheek your jaw, to your neck where he stayed. he kissed where the blood was — some dried, some not. he didn't care, it was all fucking with his head. your hand gripped his bicep as your let out a moan that was higher in pitch than the band. he stopped kissing your neck, and you could feel the way he smirked against your stained skin at the volume of your moans.

"gooood girl.. " he praised lowly in your ear, the sound of his rough voice making you whimper. his fingers didn't stop, working you through and past your orgasm, overstimulation painfully sweet. you tried to grab his wrist, but he swatted you away and shook his head as he began kissing your neck again.

"nah, chill out. we ain' done, love." he hissed, and you choked back cries as you pushed at his arm. "ple-please.." you whispered, and he sighed quietly, understanding your limit. he removed his fingers slowly and you sunk into him gratefully, silently thanking him. he slowly began wrapping an arm around your waist, and you assumed it was to support you, but what actually happened was he flipped you round to face the mirror, your hip bone pressing into the clean cut curve of the countertop.

you yelped as his hand went into your hair, gently wrapping it around his hand and craning your head back. the look in his eyes showed something you've barely seen a glimpse of — he rarely got rough with you. he leaned into your ear, hand still in your hair and the other on the middle of your back to force an arch.

"you a'ight?" He asked you quietly, nudging the side of your head with his nose as his low eyes stayed on yours through the reflection. you nodded best you could, making him tug your hair.

"words." "yes, m'okay." you whispered, and he nodded softly, his hand on your back rubbing small circles for comfort. his nose nudged your cheek before he kissed your temple softly.

"good, we ain' done." he mumbled, kicking your legs apart and pushing your back down so your tummy touched the cold, marble sink top. he grabbed your panties and the hem of your fishnets and practically ripped them off your body. you always underestimated his strength.

"those were my nice pair.." You mumbled softly with a frown, as if that was the biggest thing right now. he rolled his eyes, undoing his belt with one hand as the other stayed firmly in your hair.

"ll'steal ya another. now shut i'." he kissed your shoulder, still peering at you. his belt clattered against the floor, and he unbuttoned his jeans to shimmy them down just enough to pull out his dick.

"deep breath, c'mon." he shook your head a little with his hand in your hair, and you took in a little breath before he pushed in, making you splutter out that breath with a whimper. you never adjusted to the size and girth of him, it's like he was made to hurt you.

"should'a done a deep breath." he shrugged, burying himself to the hilt as you gripped the sink. his hand left your hair to slip to your hip, lifting you towards him a little, which makes you now uncomfortaby on your tippy toes. he began a slow pace, which made you take a deep breath — finally — and dip your head forward. he huffed softly, looking down at where you connect, seeing how quickly you covered his cock in your slick, making it easy for him to speed up.

your jaw fell slack, your arms sliding up the sink to try and stabilise yourself as you moaned with each thrust. he smiled to himself, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing harshly, making you huff at him.

"perv." you mumbled, and he just laughed at you, purposefully tilting his hips to adjust his thrusts towards your sweet spot, making you cry out as your eyes closed. his arm went over your stomach and up to your shoulders, forcing you to his chest.

"look." he whispered gruffly against your hair, his eyes glued onto your face. you fluttered your eyes open, seeing him staring at you and you mewled, the eye contact making you feel nervous and try to hide your face in his neck — as if he isn't 7inches deep right now. his hand grabbed where your jaw meets your neck, snapping it back to the mirror.

"fuckin' look. y'r a mess." He laughed, his other hand going from your hip to your clit, drawing quick figure eights which quickly made tears meet your waterline before they ran down your cheeks.

"n-no, I'm not." you tried to defend yourself, but your eyes went from him to your own form. jaw slack, eyes having difficulty staying open, legs shaking. you were a mess. he just hummed quietly, looking back down at where he is pounding into you, seeing the way you stretch to accommodate him and yet still struggle.

you cried out, clawing at his arm that was holding your jaw to the mirror, tears rolling down your cheeks. his fingers sped up on your clit to match the pace of his brutal thrusts, making your eyes roll back with a loud whine.

he looked back up at you, and his breath hitched. black make up smudged and smeared, running down your face from your waterworks, jaw slack, eyes rolled back and the remaining of the blood stuck to your skin.

he couldn't help it, he knew better. but that didn't stop him from filling you to the brim, the sight of you destroyed and a mess making him milk himself dry. you gasped at the feeling of him cumming inside you, the warmth triggering your own orgasm as you cried loudly.

he groaned breathily, slowing his thrusts. he pulled his hand from you, instead wrapping them both around your waist to keep you steady as he gently lowered you to the flats of your feet.

"did you actually just —" you breathed, staring at him in the mirror. he just shrugged, smiling like a cocky bastard at you.

"rule breaker, innit."

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[punk-in-docs]

🕸️ Pretty Girls Make Graves 🕸️

Eddie x Pencils - 🎃 Halloween 🎃one shot

2.7k words

Summary: pretty much what it says on the tin. Halloween one shot with our dearest Eddie x Pencils. Enjoy. Pure fluff. A tiny suggestion of smut at the end. Inspired by this lovely photo set & this prompt post that got me off my ass to write again.

Also another shoutout to the gorgeous @tvserie-s-world who made this amazing Eddie x Pencils edit that I’m still gooey over. 🖤

“So, what brings you to my dark and creepy neck of the woods?”Came a cocky taunt as soon as the trailer door swung open after your knock.

It’s usual rusty-screeching melody preceding its occupants flirty remark. The sound of the Smiths comes slithering out the creaking door behind him. The tape you bought that got lost in the avalanche of both your cassettes that slide and slip, congregate on his passenger seat.

He will not smile for anyone. And pretty girls make graves.

The lanky shadow of your boyfriend cuts across the warm yellow glow of the lights that slant out the doorway behind him. His costume makes you grin. Sheer moronic love.

You stood halfway up the steps. Candles flickering and throwing dozy pools orange in Jack-o-lanterns across the toes of your boots. They’re all wonky and have imperfect slanted mouths and jagged eyes. Loping together on the uneven porch steps. Fat orange gourds all drunk with gravity.

The very same pumpkins you’d helped him carve a week ago, after a misty morning weekend trip to Merill’s pumpkin farm. Eddie had the rather dastardly and determined habit of choosing pumpkins bigger and heavier than his actual van tires. You ended up with so many.

Your kitchen has smelt like squelchy pumpkin innards all week. You’re still finding seeds cropping up under the toaster or in the corner of the cabinets. As per Eddie’s way with most things, It wasn’t exactly a neat process.

You can’t help but laugh at his greeting too.

“I distinctly remember making plans to invade the spooky neck of your woods tonight, my little death trap.” You smile as you edge your way up the sloping steps. Holding a huge pumpkin shaped bucket of candy in your arms. The contents rustle as you move.

Everyone’s touting pumpkin buckets tonight. Driving in and even on the street back home, you saw a load of elementary kids walking around the park in their costumes. Ghosts in bedsheets. Aliens. Bats. One very ambitious papier maché pumpkin. Superhero’s. Clowns. Home made astronauts clad in crinkly tin foil and bulbous helmets. All wandering with an adult in tow and buckets clutched in their hands, ready to be filled.

You opted for a simple witch costume. Stripy tights and your dark thrifted docs. A black dress with a little cape tied around your shoulders and a witches hat. You applied dark purple-plum lipstick and dark smudgey grey eyeshadow, and liner. Your eyelids glitter like purple constellations. He finds stars to gaze at so often in those pretty eyes.

Eddie had gone for an Alice Cooper inspired look. Top hat. The dripping dark eye makeup that you’re amazed he managed all on his own. Hair it’s usual long rocker mess. Gothic black and lots of it. A huge goth belt with studs and buckles. You spy a cane grasped by his side too. A fake toy snake looped around his neck. Just like the man himself. He really does go all out.

The fringe benefit being he looks hot as hell to your eyes.

“You’ve got me under your spell, O’ bewitching one. How could I possibly resist.” He opened his arms out to you as you came to the last step.

“Bet you say that to every witch who shows up at your door on hallows eve.” You smile. Unashamedly grab the snake that’s looped around his neck and reel him in by it.

“Only ones who bought me jolly ranchers.” He preens. He can see the multi coloured hue of the wrapped candy in the huge bowl you’re carrying.

At the same time, he plucks the flimsy pointed witches hat off your head so the brim doesn’t get in his way. You unconsciously move towards the same goal together. It’s spooky. Sometimes it’s like you have the same brain. You’re one entity mashed together in a frenzy of melding hearts, music mania and relentless adolescent infatuation.

He lopes forwards and gladly slots his slanting smirk onto yours. Tasting of orange sweet candy corn and beer. His thumb and forefinger meet on your chin. Your hand slid for his neck. Fingertips along his jaw as you share a giddying kiss. You mouth at the plushness of his lips. He does the same to you.

You pull back before he makes you swoon dangerously down these steps. His kiss should come with a warning sign; dangerously addictive metal head. May possess body and soul.

You can tell already that you’ll have to wave goodbye to this lipstick. It’s now smeared all around your mouth and most of his. Now he looks like Alice Cooper doing nine to ten in Arkham Asylum.

“Hello.” You beam. Rubbing smudged purple off his lips. Vamptastic Plum the colour name.

“Hi.” He smirks like a lunatic. End of his nose rubbing into yours where he gazes at you.

He does it a lot. It’s honestly so lovesick you should be kinda nauseated.

When you’re studying. Watching a movie. Eating popcorn or pizza. Every now and again he’ll just rest his chin in his hand and smile all warm and stupid at you. Cheeks bunched and crows feet at his eyes. Even when you have paint flecked across your forehead. Or pizza cheese slung in a string across your chin. Or when you’re frowning at your fingers when you smear your nail drying polish. He loves watching you just be near him.

It always ends the same way. You’ll feel his eyes burning their fond cinnamon gaze into you. You’ll turn and meet his eyes. And that smile lopes even wider. He’ll loop a pinky though yours and kiss the back of your hand. Or your forehead.

“Permission to enter your lair?” You seek.

“Thought only vamps had to ask permission to come in?” He flirts with you. Eyes on your mouth again. Your lips all kiss bruised makes him ache. In fact, makes another sort of serpent twitch in his jeans.

“Misdirection. I am actually a vampire. The witch outfit is a clever disguise to work my cunning way into unsuspecting trailers.” You raise your brows naughtily.

He grins. “Clever subterfuge.”

He slips aside from the door to let you come in. Another kiss pressed to your lips before he lets you sidle on past him. He hangs your witches hat on the coat rack with his spare jacket and Wayne’s denim.

“Need me to park your broom?” He jests.

“Left it in the car with my black cat. You’re safe.”

“How many more witchy jokes could we stretch this out too?”

“I reckon I’ve a few left knocking around…” you guess. Placing the bucket of candy on the kitchen counter. Hopefully Eddie doesn’t pilfer the whole lot before Wayne’s home. You hope he leaves his uncle a treat or two. And doesn’t scarf the lot like a damn seagull.

This trailer hugs you any time you enter. You thought that when you and Eddie started dating. And you still think it now. Capital H home. This place. Filled with his and Wayne’s memorabilia. And a few more other things tonight;

You haven’t seen your boyfriend as much of late. He’s been out hitting the teenage party circuits with his metal lunchbox. Making a healthy chunk of change by the looks of it. He’s strung up plenty of decorations to help pep this place up with Halloween spirit.

There’s pumpkin paper garlands arced in loops up high. Orange and black twisting streamers over the mug shelves. Fake rubbery bats hanging down from the kitchen island cupboards. Dancing skeletons hanging on the little spare space the walls have to offer. The coffee table is cleared of its usual junk and absolutely heaped in candy and snacks.

Butterfingers. Butter popcorn. Pretzels. Red vines. Cheez balls. Mallomars. All of which happen to be your favourites. He has two cold beers side by side. And a fat tight joint sits waiting in the ashtray too.

He’s even bought those fake filmy cobwebs to spread in a few places with fake plastic spiders - to join in with the real ones dusted around in forgotten corners.

All your tensions melt down right to your toes. All is right with the world. Halloween night. No school tomorrow. And Eddie. And a whole uninterrupted night of movies and bliss. You’ve lost count of the amount of times a movie night has ended up getting dirty on his couch. Tape flicking to the end whilst you’re attached lip to lip with wandering hands.

You sigh gladly as you stand to toe off your shoes. Putting them aside. Heat slides into your stomach all squirly and scorching as he stands from behind you and his hand reach around and skilfully undo the cape around your shoulders.

“Let’s get you comfy my temptress of the night. Beer?” He seeks. Throwing your cape over his shoulder. It lands nowhere even near the coat rack.

“Yes please my lovable nightmare.” You sass. You walk over to the couch. Spying an absolute mound of VHS’s ready to go by the TV. The colour seemed to dip in and out sometimes. The set was old. Eddie had to whack the side sometimes to get it to behave. You find it more endearing than a set that worked seamlessly.

You pluck pieces of popcorn out the bowl and throw them onto your tongue. Crunch them down as you sit with your knees tucked under you.

Eddie kills the music and slings himself down next to you on the lumpy couch. Frame squeaking and rattling as he settles.

“Damn. You got a great selection, Munson. What did you do, bribe Harrington with your soul to score all this?” You remark as you peer at the videos on the coffee table.

1941 Wolfman. Christopher Lee’s Dracula. The Fog. Halloween. House on Haunted Hill. And Friday the 13th. You loved old school movies as much as he did. The old swelling suspense of a good black and white.

“Nothin major. Just a little selling of my body and charms. Deviant sexual acts. Just so you know I’ll have raw knees for a month.”

“Mm you filthy slut.” You hush. Impressed.

“Finest slut in the Midwest.”

“So I’ve heard.” You grin. Leaning in to kiss him. Seemed too infeasible not too. He cups the back of your head as you do. Keeping you close as he dares. Sweet kiss like icing sugar dusted across your lips.

He makes a small ‘mmm’ noise before you pull back.

“Besides. I consider The Fog a film that makes me think fondly of our very early courtship.” He remarks.

Snoopy bed shorts. A tin of Campbells. His lunatic escapades of climbing in your window late at night.

“And, well, only the best for you, Pencils.” He grins.

You tilt your head. A sigh caught in your throat.

“You must’ve busted your ass to get all this. You didn’t need too. You know I don’t need all this. I’m happy just to watch crappy reruns with you and order a pizza.” You tell him.

Concerned about the cash he would’ve laid out for tonight. The decor. The snacks. The primo shit from Rick. All must’ve cost a pretty penny.

“You’re worth every damn cent. When you’re dating a spooky awesome girl you gotta put in the ultimate spooky effort.” He tells you. Gripping his beer bottle and leaning back.

You clink your beer bottle to his.

“Please tell me you overcharged those meathead jocks for your product.”

“…. And then some.” He winks.

That’s my boy. You couldn’t be more proud.

“I’ll drink to that.” You murmur. Taking a pull on your cold beer. Cool heaven sliding down your throat.

“Thanks to Tina’s party last week, I mean, man, I scored big time. So many stoners invited. Walk in the park.” He smiled.

That deserved a kiss. Which you gladly give.

“Kinda love you for that.” You suppose. But there were no two ways about it - you were completly head over heels for him.

“Good to know.” He supplies. Hand rubbing your back.

“We better put a video on before I maul you.” You threaten with a great deal of flirt. Dragging your purple painted fingernails down the front of his top.

“Mmm kinky.” He grins. Leaning over to press a spitty kiss to your cheek. Before diving for the pile of VHS.

“Ok, roughly how long do you wanna argue about which one we watch first?” He seeks.

You narrow your eyes. Taking a sip back of your beer. “Depends if I win or not.” You look at him all cunning.

“House on haunted hill?” He bargains. Crouching and pointing the VHS at you.

“Don’t point that thing at me.” You smile. Stealing another handful of popcorn. Eating it with a grin.

Let the bickering commence…

~

The credits rolled to your third film of the night. Halloween the 1978 original. Orange twinkle lights flicker in the warm yellow lights near the kitchen. The rest of the trailer in dozy darkness. The sounds of kids trick or treating and laughing, batter against the trailer side in the night air.

You magnanimously let him pick the film. Maybe you’re growing soft in your old age.

This found you and Eddie slumped down together on the ratty couch. Limbs tangled. Joint smouldering in the ashtray. Verdant smoke in the air. Beer bottles empty. Only popcorn kernels left in the bottom of the bowl. The snacks had been pilfered and pinched at your leisure.

Eddie was pressed down onto you like a lanky weighted blanket. Snoozing happily with a belly full of beer and cheez balls. Socked feet hanging off the end of the couch. Hands slung all over you like a gangly octopus. He’s currently letting out content little breathy snores with his head cushioned against your boobs. A little spit of drool by the side of his mouth.

He’d nodded off sometime around Michael Myers fifth victim with the boyfriend and the blonde pigtails. You’d been carding your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. Made his eyes flick back in his head.

You swear he was one step away from twitching his foot in contentment like a canine at the work of your hands. Made his brain short circuit.

More so when he was on Indica. Just the kinda hit he needed for a slow sleepy and spooky night in. You can’t deny you’re fighting the effects of it yourself.

A couple of puffs. Eyelids drowsy. Your limbs feeling like cotton stuffed pillows. Indolent and slow. And now you’ve got your perfect metal head keeping you pressed down.

“Guess the party circuit wiped you for six, huh babe?” You smile. Thumbing his cheek. He mumbled something incomprehensible.

You shift your leg up. Which tumbles his knee more into your lap. He snuffled. Nuzzling his head further onto you. His breath was all sugary red vines, and fruity weed.

You kept on stroking his hair. Leaning forward to nuzzle a kiss to the crown of his messy hair. Apple shampoo and that lost tang of American spirits.

“Edward?” You ask.

You get a sleepy, sticky gurgle from him.

“I’ve got a really nice bra and panties set on under this dress, y’know.” You whisper at him.

Another mumble. You smile and rest your cheek on his warm head.

“You’ll have to let me move to put the next movie in, babe.” You tell.

“No. S’comfy.”

Then you hear him grumble. “Boobs.”

“Great boobs.”

You chuckle. Honestly.

“Knock yourself out. Munson. You smile.

Shifting down to let sleep come and gently take you too.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween.” You add. Letting your eyes close. Letting the static at the end of the video ebb you softly into dreams. Along with the sound of wind kindly rattling the roof. Brushing along the walls outside. All the trick or treaters have been coerced indoors. Safe inside with their candy spoils.

Much later on. You hear the rustle of clothes and feel the heat of his breath. The warmth of his limbs leeches off you when he moves. Coldness sneaks in.

You wake with bleary-sticky eyes to those brown ones staring back at you. Cheeks all flushed. The tell-tale sign of a tented zipper bursting at his crotch.

That dripping eye make up looks smeared and downright dangerous. He looks absolutely ravishing and you suddenly shake off your tiredness to see him looking so good like this.

“You said something about a bra, Pencils…” he smiles. “Be a shame not to show it off now-“ He beams. Waggles his brows.

“Heard that did you?” Your brow crooks.

Happy Halloween, indeed.

This is for everyone; but especially for @tvserie-s-world @lunatictardis @heyndrix @callmeloverr @joequinnswhore @atabigail @thewrathoffemalerage @lurkingprincess @songforeddiemunson @palomahasenteredthechat @babybluebex

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ ｓｔｒａｗｂｅｒｒｙ ｊｕｌｉｕｓ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x chubby!fem!reader x boyfriend!namjoon

୨୧ Genre: fluff, smut, rocker au/crime au combo

୨୧ Summary: The night of an event you've been stressing out about for weeks, you find stress relief in an unexpected but welcome place.

୨୧ Word Count: 2.4k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: unprotected sex, double penetration, double creampie, anal, light choking, dirty talk, pet names, strong language (I can be a potty mouth, sry), pet names (love, baby), dom vibes if you squint, & that's all I think.

୨୧ A/N: I really wanted to mix two of my favorite au's with two of my favorite people so here we are. There's definitely gonna be a part two because my brain won't shut up about this. Anyway, I hope you like it my loves 🖤

Punk music blares from the speakers in your living room, the distorted strumming of guitars and brutal drumming enough to shake the walls of your two story home. Playing your music as loud as you want whenever you want. One of the few perks that come with living on the edge of the city where your nearest neighbor's an elderly woman a mile down the road who never uses her hearing aid.

A hearing aid. You’ll need one any day now if you keep this up but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re having the time of your life fresh out of the shower, dancing around in your towel while you tear your closet apart to find an outfit for the party tonight. Everything has to be perfect. Your hair. Your outfit. Your makeup. Jungkook says you’re perfect already. That everything else is just decoration.

With all the effort he put into getting your band invited to this party, your “decoration” needs to be more memorable than ever. Everyone who’s anyone on the punk scene will be there tonight. From journalists to producers to some of the women who inspired you to start a band to begin with. The pressure to make a lasting impression is insane and the precise reason you’re running on 4 hours of sleep right now. You’ve been moving non-stop since this morning, trying to outrun your doubts and insecurities.

“Love, slow down. Let me help you” Jungkook whispered in those moments he caught you burning yourself out. You don't know what you'd do without the sweetheart that he is. Digging through your top drawer you pull out a pair of fishnets, the ones he can't get enough of, and you're instantly reminded of the other side of him. Thoughts of all the filthy things you’ve done in these fishnets bring a tingle to your cheeks that spreads between your thighs like wildfire. 

“Not tonight” you say to yourself, tossing them back in, “I’ll never be able to focus.” Shaking off vivid memories of being fucked against the questionably clean mirror of a dive bar last weekend, you continue to raid your closet, carelessly making a mess that’ll be a problem for future you to deal with.

“Baby!” Jungkook shouts, stepping through the front door twirling his keys around his fingers. His heavy black combat boots hit the hardwood like the steps of a giant as he marches over to the speaker and turns the music down. “Baby! Where are you?” There’s an adorable pitter patter of feet from above before your voice sounds from the top of the stairs. “I’m here! Get everything you needed from the store?” 

His brain glitches. The store? Oh, yeah. That lie he told you about needing to run to the store for something. You never pressed him for specifics. A testament to the level of trust you have in him. Trust that hopefully won’t be shattered by the fact that he lied his ass off. He cuts his eyes at the tall man looming by the door, knowing that his presence is the only thing that’ll redeem him. 

“Uh, yeah, I did” he lies, appearing at the bottom of the stairs, “Could you come here for a second?” Without bothering to answer, you skip down the stairs, only hitting the second to last step before he has his arms around your plush figure. The towel bunches up around your waist, raising your towel just enough to allow your ass to poke out the bottom. He can’t resist brushing his fingers along the softness of your ass.

A move that reignites that tingling you felt earlier and has your lips latching onto his before he can say another word. Jungkook dives right in, shoving his hands beneath your towel to hungrily grip handfuls of your curves. There’s no time for this but he’ll make it. He has to. Something about you drowns out his reason. He’d postpone his own funeral if it meant he got to touch you one last time. 

“Does everyone who comes over get to watch or am I just special?” Namjoon teases, slamming the front door shut. Jungkook’s stomach sinks, suddenly remembering what he’d actually left the house to pick up. Yours sinks even lower. That voice. It hasn’t lived within these walls for years. Jungkook steps back, waving Joon over. “I, uh, got something extra from the store.” 

A half dozen emotions brew inside of you, none of them identifiable. You only know that your feet are glued to the ground. That your mouth is drier than it's ever been and your heart’s beating in your throat. Joon approaches you, his arms outstretched to welcome you into a hug. When you don’t budge, your pouty bottom lip the only part of you able to move, he pulls you into his arms anyway.

The strength of his hug, the love laced within it, heals something inside of you that has your vision going hazy with tears. Lifting you from the stairs, Joon brings you between him and Jungkook. They hug you from both sides the way they used to before Joon went away. 4 years in prison. Light work for washing dirty money but an eternity for your close knit trio. You haven’t laid eyes on him since that last day in court.

He’d only let Jungkook come visit, insisting that you shouldn’t be in a place like that. You lost count of the hours you spent in tears hating him for keeping you away but loving him too much for the feeling to ever stick. Your Joon didn’t belong locked away with killers and god knows who else. Everything he did, everything you did together, was to survive. He'd never hurt anyone and knowing he might be surrounded by people who would made being kept at a distance sting that much more.

There was no way you and Jungkook would’ve survived without each other. Him losing his best friend and you losing one of your loves. No matter how far your careers advanced, how nice this house was, or how much money you had tucked under the floorboards in the attic, nothing could change how incomplete you feel. How incomplete you felt.

“Ouch!” Joon cries, jumping when you pinch his side, “What was that for?” “What the fuck are you doing here?” you shout, wiping the tears from your eyes. Joon just laughs, “I still live here don’t I?” “Duh, you idiot! But you’re not supposed to—your release is months away—I thought—” You turn to Jungkook who grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours before you pinch him too.

“Early release. I was gonna tell you, I just thought it’d be a fun surprise. Plus you were so freaked out about tonight. I just didn’t wanna psych you out. You mad at me?” Jungkook pouts, those brown puppy dog eyes pulling you in like they always do. “I’m not mad” you huff, rolling your eyes while leaning in to let him peck you on the cheek. Joon kisses you on the neck from behind, his large smooth hands massaging your tense shoulders.

You reach back, running your palm across his buzz cut hair, “I like the new hair. It’s kinda hot.” “Only kinda?” he asks, nipping at your neck, revenge for that pinch earlier. His hands slide down, patiently rounding your curves to reach your exposed thighs. “Stop” you giggle, a chill running up your spine, “I have to get ready.” Jungkook pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. “We can always help you get ready” he grins, pushing his knee between your thighs to make enough space for Joon to run two fingers over your slit.

“It’s so wet down there” Joon hums, “Is that just from the shower or—.” Twisting free, you rush back up the stairs, stopping halfway up to glance back at them. “I still need to do my hair.” Jungkook shrugs, taking two steps toward you, “I’m pretty good with hair.” You swallow hard, wiping your sweaty palms on your towel. “And…and my makeup.” Joon tilts his head to see you better, “I can do that.”

Why are they like this? So annoyingly persistent. It’s not like you don’t want it. The thought had crossed your mind to have a quickie with Jungkook when you were standing in your bedroom zoning out with those fishnets in your hand. With Joon back you find yourself wanting it even more. Those feelings that overcame you are much clearer now. Passion. Love. Lust. Joy. All fighting for dominance and right now one in particular’s winning.

Look at them. They’re both so fucking handsome. And the closer they get the harder it is to ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in. “Just a kiss” it whispers as Jungkook catches up to you, his lips dangerously close to yours. You close your eyes as your lips meet, his tongue snaking against yours. One kiss. Just one.

Joon dreamt of being with you like this again. Him lying across the bed, pillows beneath him to keep him at the perfect angle to lower you into his lap. Fingers digging into the plush of your hips, he guides his length, coated in lube from base to tip, to that gorgeous ass he got a few nibbles of when you first took your towel off. “Joon…ah” you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip as the warm tip penetrates your tight hole.

Anal was never Jungkook’s thing. Seeing those cute heart shaped butt plugs you liked to wear when he had you bent over was the extent of his interest. Joon on the other hand had always been insatiable and time hasn’t changed that. “Fuck, still so tight for me” he groans out in pleasure, the tightness of your ass choking his dick the deeper he goes.

When he finally bottoms out, you fall back onto his bare chest moaning weakly, drool already leaking from the corners of your mouth. Earlier your body wouldn't even move. Now you can’t stop it from trembling, the fullness overwhelming you enough to turn your brain to soup.  Joon locks an arm around your waist, the other coming around so he can palm your breast. 

“Missed you” he whispers, rocking beneath you at a pace slow enough for his and your sanity. Your hand skims his forearm, nails digging in when he does a slight bounce to mess with you. He’s definitely put on some weight while he was away. Whatever they were feeding him, whatever weights he was lifting, you approve because he’s stronger than you ever knew him to be and you’re loving it.

“You sure you can take both of us?” Jungkook taunts, shifting his weight on the bed to hover between your legs. He places a hand on your knee, dipping two fingers into your core. He's achingly hard, twitching, leaking precum on the blankets at the sight of how wet you are. Your pussy glistens so beautifully, your walls clenching around his fingers while Joon fucks your other hole. Jungkook awaits your answer but he’s only met with your needy moans and cries.

“You have to say something, baby” he says, his thumb strumming your clit, “Tell me what you want.” The hand on your knee comes around your neck, his hold on you firm yet gentle. Joon slows his movements, offering you a second—and only that—to get your thoughts together. “Come on, you can do it. Tell us what you want.” Jungkook’s fingers are still working inside of you, mercilessly milking your g-spot.

“I…I can take it” you whine, forcing the words from your throat, “Fill me up. Please. Want it so bad. So bad.” “That’s my girl” Jungkook smiles, popping his fingers out of you. You watch as he strokes himself, using your arousal as lubricant. Joon’s hips begin to move again, leaving you pulsing in two places at once. Your clit stiffens as Jungkook rubs his tip between the silken folds of your warmth, sinking into you without warning. 

They take turns thrusting into you, one then the other, making sure you feel every arch and defining vein along their shafts. This perfect dance of pleasure and overstimulation has you crying out, tears leaking from watery eyes. Incoherent moans flow out into the ether and it’s not just you, it's them too. You can’t get enough of it, rotating your hips as best you can to pull the dirtiest noises out of them. Joon pulls your head back to kiss you and the moment you break for air Jungkook’s kissing you too, suspending you in a constant state of breathlessness. 

You’ve forgotten all about the party, your worries reduced to nothing by the ecstasy of this unexpected reunion. There’s nowhere else you want to be but here between the men you love, tension winding in your belly. You whine something between Joon’s lips and they just know what it is. Letting go of your throat, Jungkook slips his hand between your waist and his, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” you scream, ears ringing as juices stream from your core, making the sound of your bodies snapping together even sharper. 

You feel weightless, disembodied, floating above yourself, jerked back to reality only by the pressure of Joon coming inside of you. You hold his hand, pressing down onto him as you kiss him over your shoulder. At the same time you’re tugging at Jungkook’s hair, keeping him flush against you. “Harder” he begs, his thrusts growing sloppier the harder you pull. One final tug has him unraveling, another wave of warmth filling you just as the other fades away.

The energy in the room gradually comes down, heavy panting turning to light breaths as you cuddle beside each other, your sweat slicked bodies still tangled together. “Still need help with your hair?” Jungkook asks, lovingly petting your head. Joon peeks over to find you sleeping more peacefully than you have in years. He kisses you on the forehead, pulling the blanket over you. “I don’t think so.”

[shojizbae]

My Rave Babies

Spencer Reid x Reader

rave baby part two

For three weeks, your coworkers had been barraged nonstop about your scandalous habits. "So, listen to any good EDM?" or " Going to any parties?" had been ringing in my ears all week. The team had managed to sneak in puns during a case.

"Well, that sheriff was just raving, man." Derek leaned against the counter and brought a paper cup to his mouth

"Enough," I groan and toss my head back

"C'mon, you can't just tell us you used to go to raves and then not take us," Emily explains

"We are in the dead of the midwest. Will a serial rapist be on the loose, and you're thinking about going to a rave?" I fill up a paper cup with coffee

"Well, do you know of any back home?" JJ offers, sliding effortlessly into the conversation.

"JJ, you have kids," I whine

"Will can watch them for the night." She refutes

"I can't. I'm going back to the murder case before this town is traumatized further." It's a less effective duck-out, but it draws attention away. Hotch gives me a bit of a look as I rejoin a discussion with an exhausted look.

"I hope you didn't stay up all night partying." He teases

"No, I got a full night's rest. I'm ready to take this guy in." Deny. Deny. Deny.

The case came to a close two days later, with the man castrating himself and then slitting his throat. Unfortunately, the connection that all of the victims had was that they frequented the same club. An EDM / Rocker club with very Rave-like vibes. The jokes flew on the plane ride home.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'm going to call my old friend. She'll let me know what's going on in town."

"Really?" Morgan jumps at the statement

"Yeah, don't make me regret this."

~

It was four days later that a festival would be in town for the weekend. I informed the team that tickets needed to be bought. I also let them know they should be on high alert for roofies and perverts. Skimpy clothes and loud music were catalysts for freaks.

"So you're really knocking the dust off?" Morgan holds an FBI mug up to his lips. He's got an all too-full-of-himself grin on his smug little face.

"Yeah, you're coming too?"

"Yeah, so is Emily."

"And me!" JJ holds each of my shoulders, "I'm so excited, Will hasn't stopped ogling the outfit in my closet. He said he needed to borrow some floss and held it up on the hanger."

"Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, Penelope and Spencer," Emily says

"Reid?" I nearly snort my coffee out

"That's my name." He traipses into the kitchen and dumps half the can of sugar into his mug.

"I figured a rave would be a little out of your comfort zone. You're really coming?"

"I-i-It is. But I'm trying some exposure therapy."

"I thought that has been disproven." Emily counters

"Clinically, yes. But some of the results of those who have conquered fear through exposure therapy are too nice to pass up. You know, in recent studies-"

"Yeah, we get it you're going." Derek cuts him off

"So, have you picked out an outfit?"

"It's no Halloween, but I figured I should just wear what I always do."

"What?"

~

The night came faster than I had expected. One night, I was filling out a report on a serial arsonist; the next, I was tying myself into a bikini and zipping up giant platform boots. I put on a silky kimono to disguise the scandalous outfit. We all taxied to the nearby party meeting to get our tickets and a wristband checked. Emily and JJ looked phenomenal. Penelope was show-stopping, though. A galaxy-printed dress, giant boots, and fishnets, bejeweled with bracelets and a bucket hat.

Derek was primarily shirtless, though he found a neon fishnet shirt and tactical boots over some burning man cargo shorts. Finally, Reid was the last of the group. Surrounded by a thousand people in their skivvies, he stuck out like a sore thumb in gray slacks, a purple pinstripe button-down, and a sweater vest. The most crazy part of his outfit was his mismatched DC and Marvel socks.

"Wow, you look-"

"You look," I motion up and down at him. "You know, for the youngest on the team, you look like you're babysitting." He laughs, but it seems like he's shriveling on himself.

"Don't worry, you look great," I reassure and slide my hand up and down his bicep reassuringly. Even if I'm typically a touchy person that gesture might seem too forward for coworkers so I retract my arm awkwardly.

"Dang, (Y/n), where were you hiding that body?" Emily came and patted me on the ass and then slung her arm over my shoulder.

"Ok, tipsy, why don't we get you some water?" I unfurl her from me

"That sounds great," Reid clears his throat. "My throat is feeling a little dry." Emily wraps herself around me, and JJ slings an arm over Reid's shoulder. Morgan follows behind us, and we find some bottles of water that are way overpriced. Music begins to bump behind us, and I drag the group into the heart of the crowd. Morgan rears off when he finds some girls eyeballing him. Penelope follows Derek to a group of fun.

JJ and Emily stay close by but jump and sway with the thrumming music. Reid looks out of place like a black sheep.

"DOC!" I shout over the loud music

"Yeah!"

"You look stiff!" I jump around and scream at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer. Maybe I should just go home."

"What?" I stop jumping. C'mon, you've just got to feel the music." I take a step closer. Thanks to the giant shoes I wear, I'm much closer to his face than I usually am. I loop my fingers into the belt loops on his hips and take another step closer. "C'mon, man, you've just got to feel the rhythm." with my hands, I make him sway his hips to the beat. With a bit of encouragement, he starts to do so by himself.

"Ok, just jump around. Let yourself feel free." I twist and jump to the ear-splitting music. He raises his arms apprehensively, and I fling mine on top of him to show him it's fine. With my permission, he raises them and starts to flail freely.

"Alright, pretty boy, get into it." Derek teases

"Don't listen to him. You look great." I jump and swing my arms like a toddler. Lost in the moment, I spin around to show off my back and shake my hips. I lose my control and dance like a maniac. I back up onto Reid and sway with him. As I feel eyes on us, Reid jumps away from me.

"Are you two having fun?" JJ drawls

"Have you been drinking?" I shout

"A lot!" She responds

"I'm having so much fun. Why did you stop this?" Emily screams

"The hangover you'll have tomorrow? Yeah, have fun taking a jet ride with your ears trying to compress into your skull. And one time I caught a nasty STI from hooking up with someone in a port-a-potty."

"What ew," Emily fake retches.

"Don't worry, I took antibiotics." The music came thrumming through the speakers as a new DJ started their set. Immediately, I recognized her and started leaping like a manic shrimp. "Oh my god, I love this song!" I twisted around and grabbed each of Reid's wrists.

"C'mon, dance with me!" my mind disappeared in the bass. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of my feet pounding into the dirt and the occasional collision of Spencer's limbs. Slowly, the thrumming of the tempo migrated to my ankles.

"Alright, it has been a long time since I've danced like this. I need a break."

"Yeah, I don't think these are the best dance shoes either." there's sweat on his brow, but he holds up one of his feet to show off the brown loafers.

"Let's find the rest of the group," I whisper scream in his ear. In the proximity, I feel my torso press to his. I nearly roll my ankle and he catches me by my hip. He stands me back up and steadies my hips.

"Ok, let's get you to a cab," We find Derek quickly. He only has one girl who won't let go of his bicep tonight. Emily, JJ, and Penelope cling back to us, and we leave the grounds all slightly limping. We all file into a taxi and people filter out of the car slowly.

"I think I'm going to get out here and just take the metro home." JJ and I are the only two left in the vehicle as Penelope gets out of the car.

"What no, just stay in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, that's far too much."

"I could drive you home." JJ offers as we turn down the corner of her street."

"No, you live further than her."

"Reid, I'll drive you home," I demand.

"Alright, you two have a good night." JJ slinks out of the cab, and we watch Will open the door, and she leaps into his arms.

'the kids are sleeping.' I read from his lips

"They're going to have a fun night." I snort. Reid shrinks on himself again. "C'mon, you've had to have some sort of fun like this."

"No,"

"No?" The cab takes us to my neighborhood, and we get out. Reid insists on paying the driver. I let him in and opened the front door. He takes the same space on my couch and groans from the pain. I bring two cans of lemon seltzer water and slump down with my legs across his lap on the couch. I crack the cans and hand one to him.

"Oh, thank you," he takes it, and I take a big slurp of mine. I extend a foot up and put my ankle near his face

"Could you unzip me?"

Uh, uh, sure." He holds my ankle and tugs the zipper down the inside of my calf. Once it's down, I use my other foot to push it off with my other foot. I hold up the second foot and he obeys, tugging off himself.

"Thank you, I roll, crack my ankles, and sigh in relief. "Whew, those were killing me." I start to roll down my thigh-high fishnets.

"Uh, would you like to go to the bedroom to get changed?"

"No, I'm fine like this." I pull the second sock off. I readjust the slipper kimono and tug one of my blankets up my shoulders. I twist around to lie on Reid's chest, straddling his leg.

"Uh, what are you,"

"I'm tired, Spencer." I dig into his chest with my own and loop my arms around his neck. I readjust myself even more around him. His tie stabbed me in my temple, and I tugged it off his chest.

"Uh (Y/n), what are you-"

"Calm down," I say, undoing his top buttons for the skin-to-skin contact my body craves. Your chest is warm." I cuddle into it and kiss his collar.

"I had a good night, Spencer," I sink further into his frame and pull the blanket on harder. I feel a hand thread its way into my hair but dreamland takes me away.

"I had a good night too."

[kitashousewife]

you started dating kita shinsuke your second year of high school.

you met him at the beginning of the school year when you asked him for help with your math homework. he happily obliged, and by the end of it he had earned your phone number.

the next few weeks were filled with late nights texting each other, talking about nothing at all. you learned his favorite color, and you told him about your favorite songs. he asked you to be his girlfriend a month after.

that was eight years ago. red is still his favorite color, and he still has your favorite songs on his playlist.

the first two years of your relationship was filled with tests, study sessions under his grandma’s blossom tree, and many volleyball matches. you never missed a game, not even the far away ones. always in the crowd to cheer him on while he gave you a small smile, ears red and cheeks pink.

kita picked you up for your first date in a old farm truck. you heard him coming yards away as the engine hummed through the neighborhood. the paint chipped and exhaust sputtering as he parked in the driveway, palms a little sweaty as he fixed his hair in the rear view. he about jumped out of his skin when he saw that you were already at his door. he still drives that truck, using it for chores and deliveries, but you’ll never say no to a ride when he asks.

that same truck got the two of you into trouble. the sound alone made it almost impossible to stay out late, cutting sneaky last minute kisses on your front porch short. one particular night, you had begged your mom to let you stay out late, to which she agreed as long as you were home by midnight. at 11:59, in a fit of giggles, the two of you came racing into the driveway.

kita pulled you in for a kiss, only to be illuminated by the the kitchen light flicking on. you jumped out of the truck, running into the house with a dopey grin on your face while you made up an excuse to your mom, blaming non existent traffic for slowing you down.

kita wasn’t off the hook either that night. gran heard him coming from down the road, waiting for him in her rocker with raised eyebrows.

after graduation, the two of you spent every moment you could together. delivering kita snacks while he worked in the fields, having picnics under the stars, even joining his friends on trips to the lake.

when it was time to head to university, kita was the first to offer to help you pack. he calmed your nerves and dried your tears, promising to be there for you whenever you needed.

he called you every day while you were at university, even traveling to see you between holidays.

after you got your degree, gran so graciously offered to let you live with her. your family had moved away, and you couldn’t bear to be away from kita any longer. you spent your days at work, only to come home and enjoy dinner cooked by gran with the man who had your entire heart.

as if you had any more to give, kita asked for the rest of your heart at the end of harvest a couple years ago, proposing with a family ring that he had been saving. you could only nod as tears streamed down your face, being spun around under the evening sun. kita didn’t even change, still wearing the work pants and stained t shirt, dusty boots and sun hat that he donned earlier that morning. he couldn’t wait any longer.

your wedding was everything you could have imagined. full of friends and family, dancing and food. kita spent weeks with his friends fixing up the yard, making it fit for a queen and her king on their big day. lights hung from the trees, flowers from your garden littering the grass and tables, all while your friends laughed and sang along to soundtrack to your love.

three years later, you and kita sit in the back yard after dinner in an attempt to cool off after a long day preparing for harvest. the summer sun hung low in the air while you filled kita in on the phone call you had with your mother.

“she found a few boxes of my things,” you sighed. “stuff from school, photos and things. i told her to set them aside.”

“anything good?” kita’s back is on the grass, and his feet are flat on the ground. the knees of his pants are soiled brown from the fields.

“photo albums, note books, random odds and ends i think. i’ll grab them from her eventually,” you pick at the blades of grass at your feet. “i’m sure we could have a good laugh at some of them.”

your husbands mud stained hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“do ya remember when i first brought ya home to gran?”

you smile. it was an absolute disaster.

“i thought i would never be welcomed back,” you laugh, and kita snorts.

“she loves ya too much,” he closes his eyes as you play with his hands. “what did ya break again? a plate?”

“a drinking glass,” you nod. the memory is as vivid as ever. you had offered to help with dinner, but while you were turning to grab a hot pad you ended up knocking a drinking glass off of the counter. you apologized over and over, no matter how much gran waved you off and assured you that it wasn’t a big deal. i’ve got a cupboard full of them, she said.

“ya know what she told me after i dropped ya off that night?”

“bubble wrap her next time?”

“no,” he playfully flicks your leg. “she said how much she liked ya, how she thought ya had great manners. she loved how sweet ya were too,” he says. “gran told me that night that i would never be bored with ya,”

you grin. “and gave you been bored?”

“not recently,” he teases. “i have never been bored with you. i love sharin’ this life with ya, no matter what we’re doin’,” he sits up next to you and wraps his arm around you.

“even dishes?” you rest your head on his shoulder and he chuckles. as long as you’ve known him, that’s been his least favorite chore.

“even dishes,” he nods and takes a sip from his glass. “do ya wanna go for a drive?”

you eye his truck, still as faded and beat up as the first time you saw it. except of course for the scratch on the tailgate from when you tried to drive it for the first time.

“always, shin. where are we heading tonight?” you dust off your legs and his before you walk towards the driveway.

“i didn’t have anywhere in mind,” he opens the door for you, as always, shutting it before walking to the drivers side. “is that alright?”

“it’s perfect,” you look out towards the fields, now slightly golden from the sinking sun. the irrigation sprinklers would be going off soon. “maybe we can stop by gran. i have some things from the garden to give her,”

kita nods, placing his hand on your thigh. the middle seat between the two of you won’t be empty for long. usually after a few minutes, you slide over to sit right next to him.

the two of you pull out of the driveway and down the road, taking in the farm land around you. rows and rows of corn, grass, wheat, and rice. some fields of livestock, some empty for the season. kita drives with one hand, and you can’t help but smile when the light catches his sparkling wedding band as it shines against his tan fingers.

you don’t know how you got so incredibly lucky all of those years ago. you’ve never wanted anyone else. no matter what, no matter where, you’re always going to choose kita. the man who holds your bags for you, picks you a flower on his walk from the fields, the man who has a polaroid of you on the dash of his truck.

the man who has loved you fully from the start.

[heterophobicdyke]

Girl I'm struggling and you're so smart so I thought I'd get your thoughts. I genuinely love dressing very feminine, like I love flowery dresses and ribbons and satin and pink. I know that femininity is objectively a constructed force to oppress women, and it depends on overconsumption. I've tried just wearing the more unisex things in my wardrobe, like a plain tee and jeans, but it doesn't feel like me. To an extent, that's definitely because the definition of a woman's identity is so constructed around femininity and clothes, but another big part of it is just taste. I've genuinely always loved feminine things despite being rough in my personality and being a lesbian. And despite my very anti-femininity mother (she is amazing bless her). In your opinion, do I have a responsibility to push out of my comfort and tastes to reject femininity? Because I am open to that being the answer. I know there's nothing subversive or feminist about my style.

I don’t think there’s inherently anything anti-feminist about satin, lace, ribbons, dresses, flowers and the colour pink. The sort of femininity that’s actually oppressive is that which literally restricts women - fake nails, fake lashes, botox, diet culture, submissiveness, doing all the cooking/cleaning, thick makeup that distorts the way you look, etc.

I spent many years trying to deny that I was actually quite feminine - I’m rough in personality, like you, but I tried to be more Masc than I actually feel is Me (I also wanted to be flagged as a lesbian, another reason).

Now I wear what makes me feel sexy and like my femme lesbian self, in the same way butches feel (and are!) sexy in more masculine dress. I don’t wear makeup but I will wear a long dress or skirt with combat boots. I’ll paint my natural nails bright colours while watching TV but I won’t get fake ones put on. I cut my own hair but it’s long. I feel like my “feminine style” is like female rockers from the 70s - not submissive or delicate at all! I don’t claim what I wear IS feminist, but it’s not anti-feminist either. There is a clear difference between harmful feminine expectations and harmless thing associated with women so therefore viewed as feminine.

Honestly, there’s a big difference between femme lesbian style and feminine heterosexual style. The latter involves much more of the harmful shit because men are attracted to shit that literally harms women. If it doesn’t harm, restrict or hide you then you’re good.

[thewriterg]

drowning, falling into you

pairing(s): miles morales x black!reader, mace morales (earth!42 miles) x black!reader, rio morales x black!reader, morales twins x punk!reader,

summary: In no shape or form did you see yourself in or wanting to go to Visions academy but you didn’t have much of a choice did you welcome the change with open arms? Hell no you happened to be angry at the world actually and you made sure to make it just about everyone’s problem

word count: 2.0k

warning(s): RUSTY Spanish, semi bullying, rocker reader, twins are like 17 pushing 18, descriptions of violence, stealing, reader can be read w an accent, wounds, and language

playlist; fiction (dreams in digital) by orgy,

A/n;—Pics from Pinterest— new series!? 🙀

she’s lost in coma where it’s beautiful, intoxicated from the deep sleep

You hummed out a response at your tour guide that you had been paying little to no mind to as the boy Kayden or Kyle you couldn’t quite care to remember showed you around your new school looking over a copy of your schedule accordingly and showing you which classrooms you had to make it to neither were you offended at the look you got when he saw all of your core classes were indeed AP

You walked behind the blonde with a slight stride in your step you were about an inch or two taller than him with the boots you wore giving you a boost in height also your electric guitar swayed gently on your back the neck of it peering over your shoulder while the body sat against the back of your thighs

“Well you’ve already got your dorm information, your locker, I think you’re all set” You now we’re in front of your first class how the hell were you going to get through a precalculus class as a junior at eight o’clock in the morning for the next seven months was beyond your comprehension

“Yeah, ‘preciate it mate” You muttered before taking a step into the classroom and just like every corny, cliche high school Disney movie eyes were on you but instead in usual desks they were all standing in various places of the classroom as the teacher a heavier dark skinned woman her gray locs pinned into a bun at the crown of her head as she stood with a clipboard originally reading off names before your presence interrupted

“You must be Miss y/l/n it’s wonderful to have you with us” The middle aged woman greeted not before double backing at your outfit that was no where near school uniform you stuck out like a sore thumb with your black leather jacket pins littering the the front and collar, your a size too big straight cut jeans black washed, and a old ripped in some places long sleeve shirt for the cooler November weather

“Y/n is fine mam, and I would say feelings mutual but I would be lying through my teeth” You could hear various snickers and giggles from around the room which you ignored waiting for further direction from the woman who sighed in tiredness any other time you would feel a slight bit of remorse for teachers who were not paid enough to do the job they did but today you couldn’t seem to care hell the school system was corrupted and narcissistic anyhow

“Well we’re in the middle of our seating arrangement change and who you’ll be sitting next to is the person you’ll be working with for the rest of the year” Not like you would be working with the poor lad anyway as time passed the occupation of seats were filled up some silently cheered at their shoulder partner while others groaned and soon you knew it your name was finally called

“Lastly we have Miss Y/l/n and Mr Morales” Mrs Brinker you had learned the woman’s name easily when it was being called over forty times in requests of a seat change called out directing you to your seat which you opted closest to the wall making sure to sling your guitar off your shoulder to sit it against it

“Hey I’m Miles! I know you’re new and if you want I can help you out and—” You watched the toffee toned boy with attentiveness which on his side looked like you were just glaring him down before you kissed your teeth opting your line of sight to the front of the classroom

“Okay” The brunette muttered awkwardly taking his seat next to you directing his attention to the smart board he had to admit that you reminded him of his twin a lot but he was still determined on getting you to speak to him… eventually

Whispering small comments to himself as Mrs Brinker went over practice problems over the board to refresh their memory over the weekend a sheet of paper was eventually passed back to you both with the instructions of one partner gets odd numbers one gets even and to finish the paper by the end of the class bell

Miles had never struggled with math but this section in particular was very difficult for him luckily it was only the second section but something about the law of sines and cosines didn’t seem to want to stick in his head so opting to look over at you and instead of working on your problems you were writing in some type of journal tapping your foot steadily even your resting face looked unapproachable

You and Mace would get along great

“Uhm do you mind helping on these last few problems… please?” The boy spoke out his last few words pleading as a squeak slipping through his teeth and he watched as you turn your body towards him a slight sigh resting on your lips as you did so

“X=1 so carry the X or the 1 whatever works best for your mental, over your total and then sum it together…” Suddenly in the middle of your explanation Miles forced himself to focus in on your voice scolding himself when his eyes drifted on your side of the two seat table along with the discovery of the small notebook had realized you’d finished your problems with the piece of paper he had to give you, he noticed you chose all odd number instead of even opposite of him who fought as if he was in war when it came to even numbers

Hed liked to think that you'd both get along fine… if he could get over the fear that settled in him when you looked at him with siren like eyes that had squeaks and helium sounds produced from his vocal chords the dark eyeliner around your eyes just enhancing the fact so with the missing part to his formula he finished the rest of his problems quicker than usual soon taking his and your paper up to the turn in bin making sure to staple it together before the fact just in time for the bell to ring

While students blared through the door out of the classroom when he was finally able to return back to his seat to get his books you were gone without a trace he didn't have time to dwell on it before he heard police sirens blaring in the distance he huffed looking up on the wall watching as the clock read 12;17 the longer red hand moving around the face faster than any other he had a conference at 12;45 as he contemplated his decisions

He could make it

💌💌💌💌

He could not make it.

“What took you so long?” He heard the distorted voice coming from a mask that could have sent chills down his spine, the looming presence that could make goosebumps rise up on his skin, could even make his knees shake.

“Got caught up in… traffic” The boy muttered the spandex of his suit clinging to his body while he could hear a deep chuckle from under the mask that made him huff

“Yeah well tell moms that you ‘just got caught up in traffic’ when she kicks your ass for being late” Miles could feel the eyeroll from under his twins mask as his claw swung slightly at his side his double braids sitting on his shoulders neatly

“Hah, so funny. What’s going on?” The slightly taller boy questions balancing off the balls of his feet as he scanned the street listening to Mace huff out a grunt in a response

“Some cow lookin’ joint, calls himself the spot. Perdiendo mi maldito tiempo, pregúntame.” The last fraise was muttered under his breath before he dropped down off the building his low gravity boots helping land smoothly and soon Miles was following after checking the time on his watch

12:27

The twins watched as the the… spotted being struggled to steal from an ATM politely asking the store owner who they referred to as “pa” to let him rob him… in peace chase him around the store with a bat in amusement Miles slipped a beef patty from the case into the microwave waiting for it to heat up while Mace simply watched the scene unfold sitting on the counter in front of the register eyes squinting behind the mask

“Why do people say ATM machine? The ‘M’ stands for machine.” Miles hung from the ceiling biting down on his snack mask pulled just over his nose watching as the… being scrambled to stand tall in his presence which sent him through another one of his own portals in response the teen jumped down from his place above the floor pushing the half of pa Lenny that wasn’t with the rest of him

“Ayo pa, how much we owe you for a beef patty and these chips man” Mace called voice even more gruff as his accent mixed with how distortion of the mask

“Prow, Spidey if you catch him? It’s on the house.”

“Woah Spiderman! This is real.” The spot hyped himself jogging in black while Miles watched him In nothing more than curiosity after he turned the isle to be faced to… black hole with him

“So are you like a Cow or… a Dalmatian?” He questioned in genuine curiosity causing a small chuckle from his twin that he wouldn’t have been able to catch without his enhanced abilities his attention adverting back to the criminal

“I am… the spot. We meet again Spiderman” Miles struggled to keep from laughing trying not to choke on the food in his mouth as loaf of bread fell through the portal of his stomach denying the accusations with his hands up

“So is that a costume orrr?”

“Unfortunately for both of us this is skin… you see I’m from your pas-” The vigilante interrupted the criminal as his phone went off causing the dotted figure to huff out a mock whine Mace checked his also getting the same notification he did fixing Miles with one look

“My bad but I really gotta wrap this up” shooting two different webs from the shooters on his wrist they traveled through a portal coming back to smack him in the face quite little as he struggled to get the sticky fluid off his mask the spot traveling out of the store before he followed chasing after him Mace sighed out a huff with a roll of his eyes sliding five dollars across the counter

“Keep the change”

💌💌💌💌

“Cant you just act like a regular supervillain so I can catch you!” Miles struggled traveling through different portals of the spot the scene was unpleasant to say the least while Mace softened the blow of things a new addition to his claw that lowered the faculty of gravity

“We’re crunching on time Hermano!” He called out after lowering a taxi to the ground after keeping it from crashing into another bodega

“Almost… done” The teen groaned dodging different fists that came from a portal before tying it with a web and before he knew it all different limbs of the spot were tied in web fluid the spot in the middle of it all after before running off

“Come back here nemesis!”

“And don’t escape!” He called back swinging from building to building Mace not far behind him on their way back to academy he was able to see the police cars he heard over all surrounding a local pawn shop that had probably got stolen from and was able to hear the head of police say something along the lines of

“That damn cat is becoming a pain in my ass”

💌💌💌💌

Hey… hey, how you guys doing 😖

Not going to lie to you started school in early EARLY August and these honors classes have been kicking my ASS.

I’m also In drama club, student council, & yearbook club so please bare with me

Trying to learn to balance everything out but I’ll get it eventually‼️

Also I’m so ready for autumn 🍂 <333

Enough with life updates,

More of the twins than anything to get us started but it’s okay because I’m HOPING to post every Monday or every other Monday

Also thank you guys so much for 1.4K I’ll start crying in here 😖

Have a good day and be safe writers !<;33 -G

[fuzzkaizer]

Roland - AP-7 Jet Phaser

"... Most people know Roland Corporation for one of two reasons: One; for its amazing synthesizers and drum machines spanning several decades. Two; as the parent company of Boss, the biggest effects brand on the planet. Some pedal enthusiasts are unaware that Roland itself made pedals—good ones! 

For a time in the ‘70s, Boss and Roland intermingled with one another, with Roland choosing to slap the Boss name on certain effects (CE-1, DM-1, DB-5) and its own name on the rest, even though some of this gear shared similar enclosures, and even though some pedals were branded as one company, but as the evolution of the other company’s innovations (such as the Boss CE-1 being a standalone Roland Jazz Chorus effect). I’m here to talk about perhaps the most unsung vintage Roland piece; the AP-7 Jet Phaser.

For reasons unbeknownst, Roland excelled at ensconcing a stellar (oftentimes dirt) circuit within the confines of another, larger pedal and releasing the non-dirt part as a standalone model. One such example is the AD-50 Double Beat fuzz wah, containing an absolutely disgusting fuzz circuit yet releasing the AW-10 Wah Beat. 

The Jet Phaser is just such a circuit, combining phaser with, well . . . “Jet.” Much like the fuzz section from the Double Beat is—by virtue of naming conventions—a form of “beat,” “Jet” refers to an absolutely screaming distortion effect that sits in front of a juicy phaser circuit—the same one found within the AP-2 Phaser. 

This highly-adapable Jet circuit transforms the mild mannered phaser into a pulverizing throb, jumping out of the mix with some serious propulsion. Larry Graham of Sly and the Family Stone famously used one, as did Ernie Isley of the famous brothers, on “Who’s That Lady?.” In fact, that thick, viscous fuzz you hear on that cut’s leads is the characteristic Jet sound, and has been one of the most quietly sought-after lead tones in history. 

The Jet side of the circuit has no analog in today’s pedal market, it’s a curious piece of circuit, featuring equal parts discrete semiconductors and monolithic op-amps. A rotary switch on the face of the unit selects between four forms of Jet and two of Phase. Switching between the Jet settings yields different tonal compounds, cycling between gain stages, a notch filter and more. All of this is controlled by one master Jet knob, which offers varying intensity rather than a simple volume. On all Jet settings, the phaser is integrated; no configuration offers an isolated Jet section.

On the phaser side, we have an eight-stage FET-based phaser with a Resonance control. As far as vintage offerings are concerned, eight stages—the MXR phaser line of the 45, 90 and 100 offers two, four and six stages respectively—is quite a feat. With the added Resonance control, the phaser section can actually give your amp a little bit of a nudge at the peaks.

Much like the Maestro PS-1A (and B), the Jet Phaser offers a Fast/Slow footswitch that comes in the form of . . . an actual footswitch instead of clunky organ rockers. Maestro’s model offers ramping between speeds if you switch it on the fly; difficult if you’re not wearing pointy heels or cowboy boots, so the ramping feature wasn’t a tactfully expressive performance tool. The Jet Phaser solves all this by offering a Fast/Slow switch and letting you set your slow speed with a knob (the “Fast” setting is just this same knob turned all the way up). When switching between the two speeds, the rate gradually descends to the desired level.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t include my all-time favorite effects-adjacent video—Larry Graham absolutely shredding on a Jet Phaser. ..."

cred: catalinbread.com/kulas-cabinet/roland-ap-7-jet-phaser

[struck-by-the-rain]

bored and on the train so have some miscellaneous karate joe headcanons, I've typed some of these out before but most r new! under the cut because it's long and idk if I wanna maintag this

the reading material is conflicted but in my head he's really good at karate! it does say somewhere that his style has a unique sense of rhythm and hes unsuccessful in competitions because his opponents can read his moves, but I think he gets past this by sticking to increasingly complex rhythms! he completes at the highest level that's there in the rh universe, like their equiv of the olympics or whatever. senior's standards for "mastering karate" are ill-defined and he probably keeps moving the goalposts (pun not intended) on joe

he's extremely overworked and over-stressed by his training, to the point where he has pretty bad chronic pain/repetitive strain injuries in his hands.

similarly im also considering hcing him being partially deaf in 1 ear from the first time his father introduced bombs into his training (& 1 exploded in his ear)

also he listens to music really loud on the reg and (like all my fav characters) hes autistic 2 me (so has audio processing issues to boot) so I think he needs 2 ask ppl to repeat themselves a lot

or he would, if he wasn't really shy and afraid of coming across as weak/useless/a disappointment! I've talked about that before but yeah. he masks it by trying to put on a tough guy persona & doesn't talk v much (he's a v expressive person as the games suggest but i think he actively tries to hide it most of the time)

he's a decent cook, having learned because seniors is so bad!! I need 2 give him a silly fav food other than pancakes (from honeybee remix...),,, my heart says he likes rly cosy things like soups and stews and everything

^ kinda fits vibes wise with how I like to draw him wearing comfy sweaters loads!! i think he's kinda winter-coded as a person but I'm not sure if it's actually his fav season or what!

in general he's not super fashion-y (makes it a challenge to draw him sometimes BC I love making characters dripped out),,, man lives in old band t-shirts and hoodies/sweaters and really knackered jeans

ohhh yeah this was a big 1 and I've said this before but he really likes the rockers (was a fan of jj's stuff pre-retirement and then when he comes back onto the scene w his student),,, I think he had a childhood crush on jj at one point

& I think he gets really into old games/consoles at some point, maybe because senior keeps them down in the basement in a box! he likes to take old consoles apart and figure out how they work

ummmmmm also he's like really scared of sucking at something (like a new hobby/sport or whatever)/disappointing others. idk I already said that

might think of more if so I'll just make an addition to this post

[cherrygirlystuff]

Dirty Chic: Embrace the Messy, Unpolished Style of the Indie Era

Hey babe! 🌸 If you’re all about that effortlessly cool, messy-but-in-the-best-way look, then you’re going to love what I’ve got for you today. Welcome to Dirty Chic, the ultimate blog dedicated to the unpolished, DIY fashion that defined the indie scene. We’re talking thrift store gems, DIY tutorials, and outfit inspo that’s equal parts chaotic and chic. So grab your scissors, dust off your favorite thrifted band tee, and let’s get into it! 🎧✨

The Dirty Chic Aesthetic: Embrace the Chaos, Rock the Unpolished Look 🌟

Let’s be real – fashion in the indie era wasn’t about perfection. It was about breaking the rules, mixing and matching, and creating looks that were as unique as you are. The dirty chic aesthetic is all about embracing that raw, unpolished vibe. Think ripped jeans, oversized band tees, scuffed-up boots, and a little bit of grunge magic. It’s messy, it’s bold, and it’s totally you.

This look isn’t about following trends; it’s about making your own. So if you’re ready to dive into the world of DIY fashion, thrift store treasures, and outfit inspiration that’s perfectly imperfect, you’re in the right place.

1. DIY Fashion Tutorials: Create Your Own Indie Masterpieces 🎨

One of the best things about dirty chic style is that it’s all about DIY. Why buy something new when you can create something totally unique with your own hands? Here are a few DIY fashion tutorials that’ll have you looking like an indie icon in no time:

Ripped and Distressed Jeans: There’s nothing more indie than a pair of perfectly distressed jeans. Grab an old pair from your closet (or a thrift store find) and get ready to unleash your inner artist. Use a razor blade or scissors to carefully create rips and holes in the knees, thighs, or wherever you want to add some edge. Then, take a piece of sandpaper and rough up the fabric around the edges for that lived-in look. The more you wear them, the better they’ll look – trust me.

Customized Band Tees: Take your favorite band tee and give it a little indie makeover. Whether it’s cutting off the sleeves for a rocker vibe, cropping it for a more fitted look, or adding some bleach splatters for that grunge effect, the options are endless. You can even try screen printing your own design or adding some safety pins for a little punk flair. The goal is to make it your own and wear it with pride.

Patchwork Jackets: If you’ve got an old denim or leather jacket lying around, why not turn it into a statement piece? Gather some patches, fabric scraps, and even old bandanas, and start sewing or gluing them onto your jacket. You can go for a cohesive look or just throw on whatever catches your eye – the more eclectic, the better. This is your chance to wear your personality on your sleeve (literally).

DIY Accessories: Don’t forget about the little details! Create your own chokers, bracelets, or earrings using materials you already have at home. Try braiding some old shoelaces into a necklace, or stringing together some beads for a boho vibe. You can even repurpose old jewelry into something totally new. Indie fashion is all about creativity, so don’t be afraid to experiment.

2. Thrift Store Finds: The Treasure Hunt of Indie Fashion 🕵️‍♀️

If there’s one thing indie fashion lovers know, it’s that thrift stores are pure goldmines. There’s something magical about sifting through racks of second-hand clothes and finding that perfect piece that no one else has. Here’s how to make the most of your thrift store adventures:

Look for Statement Pieces: When you’re thrifting, keep an eye out for items that stand out. Whether it’s a vintage band tee, a funky printed dress, or a pair of high-waisted jeans that fit like a dream, the key is to find pieces that you can build an outfit around. Don’t be afraid to think outside the box – sometimes the most unexpected items turn into your favorite wardrobe staples.

Mix and Match Eras: One of the best things about thrift shopping is that you can find pieces from all different eras. Don’t be afraid to mix and match – pair a ’70s boho blouse with ’90s grunge jeans, or throw on a ’60s mod jacket over a modern dress. The beauty of dirty chic style is that it’s all about creating something new from the old.

Accessories Are Everything: Thrift stores are full of hidden gems when it comes to accessories. Look for unique belts, vintage bags, and quirky jewelry that you can add to your outfits. A cool pair of sunglasses or a chunky belt can take your look from basic to badass in no time.

Don’t Forget the DIY Potential: Even if you find something that’s not quite perfect, remember that you can always DIY it into something amazing. Whether it’s hemming a skirt, adding some patches to a jacket, or transforming a dress into a top, the possibilities are endless. Thrift shopping is all about seeing the potential in what you find.

3. Outfit Inspirations: Rock the Dirty Chic Look Like an Indie Icon 👗

Need some inspo on how to pull it all together? Here are a few outfit ideas that capture the essence of dirty chic style:

Grunge Goddess: Start with a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized band tee (bonus points if you DIY’d it). Throw on a flannel shirt over the top, and finish the look with some scuffed-up combat boots. Accessorize with a choker, a beanie, and a messy bun, and you’re ready to take on the world.

Boho Rebel: Pair a flowy, floral dress with a leather jacket and some chunky boots. Add a wide-brimmed hat and some layered necklaces for that boho-meets-grunge vibe. The key is to keep the look a little rough around the edges – think tousled hair and minimal makeup.

Vintage Vibes: Go for a retro look with high-waisted jeans, a tucked-in graphic tee, and a vintage blazer. Finish the look with some classic Converse or Docs, and throw on a pair of round sunglasses for that perfect indie touch. This look is all about mixing old and new in a way that feels totally fresh.

Punk Princess: Start with a plaid skirt or skinny jeans, and pair it with a cropped tee and a denim jacket covered in patches. Add some fishnet tights, a studded belt, and chunky boots to complete the look. Top it off with a bold lip color and some smudgy eyeliner for that ultimate punk rock edge.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Let’s Get Messy and Chic with Indie Style 🌟

There you have it – all the tips, tricks, and inspo you need to rock the dirty chic look like the indie icon you are. Whether you’re DIY-ing your own fashion masterpieces, hunting for treasures at your local thrift store, or just throwing together a perfectly imperfect outfit, remember that the key to dirty chic style is confidence. It’s about embracing the chaos, making your own rules, and never being afraid to stand out.

So go ahead, babe – get messy, get creative, and most importantly, have fun with your style. After all, fashion is supposed to be a little wild, a little unpredictable, and totally you.

What’s your favorite thrift store find or DIY fashion project? Let’s chat in the comments and swap tips, tricks, and outfit inspo! 💕

[hooked-on-elvis]

"I Met Her Today" (1961-1965)

Recorded on October 15, 1961 at RCA’s Studio B, Nashville · Release date: July 19, 1965 · Album: Elvis for Everyone! (compilation)

MUSICIANS Guitar: Jerry Kennedy, Scotty Moore. Bass: Bob Moore. Drums: Buddy Harman, D.J. Fontana. Piano & Organ: Floyd Cramer. Saxophone & Clarinet: Boots Randolph. Accordion: Gordon Stoker. Vocals: Millie Kirkham, The Jordanaires.

Illustrative pictures · (1) On Sunday afternoon, July 30, 1961, Elvis appeared at Weeki Wachee Springs Park in Florida, on the west coast where he was then filming "Follow That Dream"; (2) Elvis on movie set Frankie and Johnny June 10, 1965.

RECORDING SESSION · BACKSTORY Soundtrack Recordings for Mirisch Company’s "Follow That Dream" July 2, 1961: RCA’s Studio B, Nashville One thing seemed certain to the Colonel: It made sense to go into the studio for another singles-only session. The June 25 session proved that Elvis and his band could focus their attention better when they were all trying to cut a hit single; increasingly, too, scheduling was becoming a problem, and between the two Mirisch pictures there would only be time to arrange a short session. Once Freddy [Bienstock] understood the Colonel’s goal, he knew exactly where to turn for hit material — to his hot new team, Pomus and Shuman. Having gotten three cuts on the last session was more than enough motivation to propel the songwriters into action. Mort Shuman had a simple formula for writing hits — “Chorus, break, and gimmick” — and the two had noticed that Elvis was drawn to first-person songs; in no time, then, they came up with a stranger’s tale, a gimmick, and a Phil Spector – produced demo. The song, “Night Rider,” was just the kind of rocker Freddy was looking for, and he sent it off to Elvis along with two Tepper and Bennett compositions, “Just For Old Time Sake” and “For The Millionth And The Last Time,” as well as two others (“Ecstasy” and “You Never Talked to Me”) and the promise of “a couple of real strong songs in the next few days.”

RECORDING OF "I MET HER TODAY" Studio Sessions for RCA October 15, 1961: RCA’s Studio B, Nashville The “real strong songs” Freddy had mentioned in his note were two brand-new Don Robertson ballads. Elvis’s careful phrasing suggests that he’d done serious preparation on the first, “Anything That’s Part Of You,” but that didn’t stop him from working hard on it, running through six takes as Floyd Cramer worked to duplicate the slip-note fills Robertson had played on the demo. Years later Elvis would tell audiences that “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” was “probably the saddest song I’ve ever heard,” but he never portrayed abandonment more convincingly than on this cut. Among Elvis’s recorded ballads perhaps the only competition comes from some of the other Robertson songs recorded in 1961 and ’62. The second of his contributions, “I Met Her Today,” told a more hopeful story, but it proved harder to get right. After a promising first take Elvis paused to correct some problems with the song’s challenging octave-and-a half leaps, but as soon as he’d mastered that, band mistakes began to multiply. After twenty takes the group’s concentration had worn thin, and they agreed to stop, leaving take eighteen as the master. But the recording lay unused for four years until RCA resurrected it for Elvis For Everyone.

Excerpts: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

LYRICS Don Robertson/Hal Blair I told you that some day If you kept on being untrue Somebody else would come along And release me from you You'll be glad to know now Your fickle world Can have its own way For it finally happened I've met her today I used to think I just couldn't live A day without you In spite of the thousand doubts and tears That you put me through All at once I don't care as much for you I'm sorry to say For now there's another I met her today How I treasured each smile, each kiss You gave to me now and then Well, you needn't be kind to me now Oh no, not ever again Just when the last bit of pride in me was gone Someone heard me pray And sent me my angel I met her today I met her today

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 ; 𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐱 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐.  𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟒.

word count: 2.371k (i'm sorry 😭😭😭) trigger warning: swearing, kissing

the fact of preparing their first actual concert caused her goosebumps every time she thought about it. getting platformed high heels, faux fur coats and faux leather jackets, body painting and hairspray, it was fucking exciting for her. she and the boys made pictures, then cutting themselves out, y/n was the one who went to the press, where she could get thousands of posters. mick was the one who got the place, and they played the songs on every day of the week. sticking out posters with jessica's and the other girls' help, y/n ran around whole los angeles.

and now, here they were, minutes from stepping out to perform for the first time. drawing with her eyeliner, y/n looked at the others: tommy spinned his drumstick between his fingers, nikki was puffing his hair up on her side, mick played his guitar and vince stretched out the pants his girlfriend bought him.

"man, my girlfriend spent like, 8000 bucks on these leather pants. you like 'em?" he asked tommy.

"they're cool, bro."

"you say everything's cool, drummer." mick muttered, getting a nod from y/n. she turned away from the mirror, standing up in her platform high heels that give at least 6 inches to her height. all the boys begin to snicker, nikki whistled as she adjusted her black bodycon dress. y/n had red and black makeup, dusting her cheeks in highlighter.

"what the fuck are those, y/n?" vince asked, getting her attention. she turned in her shoes, striking a pose.

"these are my favorite shoes. i stole it from a shop, so i hope the owner or the cashier is not gonna be here tonight." she answered, testing that the heels weren't unstable.

"you look so mad girl, like a rocker barbie! could you do my eyes for the next time?"

"of course, toms."

"so you think there's gonna be anybody out there tonight?"

vince's question was the one that y/n was interested about too. she feared a little that it's gonna be a big disgrace, but they had only minutes, and she had a lot worse situations in her life.

"we put up enough fliers, i hope so."

"it's gonna be fine, guys." y/n added. "first concerts are always the most difficult ones, but we had rehearsals many, many times. whatever happens, we're here for each other, right?"

"that's right, princess." nikki answered her as he stood up, making y/n snicker. he wore red high heels, fucking red high heeled boots! "what's up?"

"you all were wondering about what i wear, but you wear fucking red high heeled boots too! what the fuck?"

"it's called style."

"no, it's called women footwear."

stepping out, her heartbeat began to increase as fast as a ferrari. there weren't many people, but maybe it was better. if the 'concert' is shit, then there's not any people to brag about it. okay, y/n, you just quit your job, you moved out and moved in with a junkie runaway, and you banded up with four guys for this shit. you aren't a slutty pole dancer from right now on, you're a fucking rock star.

"you all right?" mic asked her as she exhaled an inhaled, making her nod.

"yeah, yeah."

nikki taped the song list on of the speakers, scattered applause could be heard. vince tapped y/n's shoulder, as she walked in and took out the microphone from its stand.

"hello everybody! we're mötley crüe." she said, the lights coming onto her. tommy tried to drum some solo, but with too big drive, he accidentally knocked over one of the drums.

"fuck!" he muttered, hurrying to pick it up. some of the audience laughed at this, making y/n's blood pressure driving up. keep calm, keep calm, keep calm.

"come on!" nikki whispered to tommy turning around, getting a glance from y/n. this is his first actual concert, bloopers like this are fine. or so she thought. everybody was on the edge.

"you suck!"

"get off the stage!"

y/n spinned the microphone, pointing to the dudes who yelled these words.

"hey you two, fuck y'all! let's rock this hole!"

starting to play live wire, y/n almost forgot the bad comments, but she was wrong in her assumption that those assholes gonna stop.

"who's the chick singer? and the other chick?"

"she's the band-whore or can i fuck her too after the concert? because if yes, then i'll stay!"

wait wait wait, what the fuck did he just say? y/n stopped in her movements, looking at vince.

"fuck you, asshole." the blonde said, getting the buff guy with a beard spit on his jeans. those famous, white leather jeans.

y/n smirked as she saw vince getting off the stage. hell could break loose, because she's not gonna let some fuckers humiliate her neither.

as vince fell back, she got into the eyesight of the buff guy, but she saw from the corner of her eye that nikki was on the way, swinging his guitar. mick still played the song, and somehow this was just fucking funny. grabbing the microphone, she used the cable to swing into the other guy's face, the whole room filled with a sharp piping. before she could enjoy her first knock-out, someone grabbed her hair to hit her face, exactly her nose. it was just the edge of it, but still, it hurt like a bomb exploded on her face.

"how the fuck dare you hit her?" she heard nikki, getting into the fight, diverting a guy from her, so now, it was a one versus one. swiping off the blood, she got up, eluding a hit from the guy who hit her, she kicked with her fucking perfect shoes right into the middle of his crotch, getting him falling back, grabbing his dick with two hands. one guy hissed from the audience.

"how the fuck dare you to touch my hair?" as the guy stood up, she was ready to kick again, but one security guy hold her arms back, another trying to keep back the guy. as he tried to break out, y/n kicked him in the face from drive, a little blood falling on the floor. this got a bigger 'ow' from the audience.

"it's enough, chill out, lady!" the security guy told her, letting her go as he and the other tossed the guys out, she picked up the microphone that she used as a weapon. tommy just stopped beating the last guy, she stumbled back to vince and nikki. y/n didn't even noticed that everybody got silent while they were probably just doing things on their own way.

this was over. this was fucking cool, but seriously, who'd want to go to a band's concert that beats their audience, even if they're fucking assholes?

"FUCK YEAH, MÖTLEY CRÜE!" a guy yelled, breaking the silence, clapping as loud as he could. others began to clap too, and soon, the whole room echoed from the applause. she felt nikki's tap on her shoulder, singing her to get up to the stage again. with the microphone in her hand, she was happy that it still worked.

"you alright, y/n?" vince asked, making her turn to him, hugging her.

"oh, yeah, i'm fucking fine, and you?"

"everything's alright. your nose is bloody."

"again?" she asked disappointedly, trying to wipe the blood off with little to no success.

as they stood back, tommy began to play the drums, y/n looked at nikki. reaching out, he swiped off the blood from her nose, touching her lips while looking into her eyes. she wanted smudge the black paint on his face with her lips ad her fingers, it was fucking hot, and she felt her knees going weak a little bit. she only smiled, every sound was muffled by the guitar that mick played.

the concert was successful in the end, some people got in the bar through the concert. y/n made little gigs, she let vince spin her, shaking her body and throwing her hair like she was a vogue model, in her ridiculously high platformed heels, twisting the cable of the microphone around her arm.

after their third concert, y/n was blowing a cigarette as she talked with the people who went to mötley crüe's concert, and soon, she felt an arm around her shoulders.

"what's up, princess?" nikki asked from her, and in exchange, she let her took a drag from her cigarette as she took it to his mouth.

"nikki? oh my god, your riff was so cool! i loved it so fucking much!" the guy said, making y/n and nikki smile. "can i ask you something, guys?"

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, then shrugged her shoulders.

"you already did it, mate." she said, getting a slight laugh from the others who were listening to them.

"are you two a couple?"

"excuse me?" she asked, looking at nikki, who seemed at least as surprised as she, if not more.

"sorry, excuse me! just, like, you two just give off the energy."

at this, y/n choked on the smoke she just inhaled, coughing a little while nikki laughed.

"you hear that, princess? we seem like a couple." nikki said loudly, licking her hair, her temple wetted from his tongue.

"fuck you, sixx. you know, the problem is, that there's too much testosterone on the stage with those four boys."

"yeah, we can feel that! but you're like a rock angel, y/n, i don't have seen many good frontwomen, but you're cool. you fill up the stage with vince, and it's not like you're there because you're just a wannabe-rockstar chick, you act casually."

"thank you." y/n muttered, leaning into nikki. "but no, we're not a couple. that'd fuck up the band, i think."

going home, nikki nudged y/n's shoulder, y/n tossed on him in exchange. they were drunk, y/n could barely walk on her big heels, grabbing into his arms before this little gig.

"oh, really?" he said, spinning and pinning her to the phone booth. trying to move, she whined from the nikki's arm that didn't let her go, trying to sneak out from it, he shook his head, tutting. "what now, princess?" he asked.

"let me go." she whined, giggling, trying to toouch the ground with her legs. nikki was taller than her, and in her drunk state, she couldn't deny that it was really hot.

"for a kiss." looking at him, y/n smiled and looked away.

"nope."

"come on, just a little kiss."

the girl shrugged her shoulders the best she could, whispering in his ear. "i don't want to be your one-timer, nikki. i'm not in your band just to fuck with you, and if we want to do this, we have to do it proper."

"proper? what do you know about proper dating?" he pulled up his eyebrows.

"i just know that they didn't say that i'm your whore, they said that we look like a couple. don't make your fans disappointed, nikki."

"my fans? our fans. fuck them, i don't want to make you disappointed. i'm not good in relationships, i mostly had flings, so you can take my relationship-virginity."

"really? you want it? a relationships has boundaries and duties, are you ready for that?" she asked. she haven't felt ready either, but she loved to watch the wonder on nikki's face.

"i'm not sure... but you know what i'm sure about?" he spat the words, brushing their noses together, making her smirk and giggle again, she tried to bite him but he leaned away.

"what?"

"i'm sure that i want to give you everything."

y/n stopped in her motion, and for a moment, she got sober. did he really want to be in a relationship with her? come on, their band and their career basically just started, what if they break up in two weeks? if they really gonna make it, facing each other through long years is not gonna be easy.

"fuck, nikki." she muttered, tilting her forehead to his.

"fuck you, y/n, for not believing in me. what if i want to travel the world with you? to play in big stadiums, getting stupidly rich and high and have good sex? and of course, caring about each other, and all those lovey-dovey shit you girls like?" he said, brushing his lips against her forehead, then her cheeks, her nose, edging her. y/n's lips began to burn from lacking his lips on hers.

"i like that lovey-dovey shit." y/n answered, stroking his face.

"then i'll give it to you." he towered over her. "just say that you want it, that you want to be my girlfriend." nikki's whisper wandered around her mind. just say that you want it. i'll give it to you.

fuck, why not? y/n stroked nikki's face, smiling, and she felt that in seconds, a bomb's gonna explode.

"i want it, nikki."

nikki smiled, leaning closer to touch his lips with hers. grabbing the back of his neck, curling his black locks around her fingers, y/n bit into his lips.

"fuck, it's so crazy how you got me feel for you in fucking weeks." he muttered, trying to get her legs around her waist, but y/n tapped on his chest.

"stop, niks, i don't want to be on some handycam recorded sex-tapes that leaks out after we get famous." she muttered, making him laugh.

"me neither. only i get to see what's underneath these pretty clothes." he slapped her ass as they began to walk home. "can we continue this at home?"

y/n clicked with her tongue, holding onto his arm.

"i don't know... i need to shower first, the concert got me sweaty. and bloody, fuck."

"you were so fucking hot as you were fighting those guys."

"were i good?" she asked, leaning her head onto his arm.

"you were amazing, baby. you kicked out at least two of that asshole's teeth." nikki replied, making her giggle. "did you learn this at the orphanage?"

"i learned it in life. but orphanage was hard as hell, too."

"but now you are in perfect hands. well, not perfect, but pretty good hands."

"your hands?" y/n looked up, smiling as she brushed her nose against his jawline.

"my hands." nikki nodded, kissing her.

a/n: i know it's short, but i got a lot of work )): hope u don't mind. see u in the next chapter!!

taglist: @xamapolax

[littlequeenies]

Hello!

What kind of outfits/clothing pieces were a staple in Demri Parrott's everyday wear?

Thanks so much!

Barbara Dearaujo: “Demri was a fashion nut. She loved everything vintage. Victorian style dresses, 70’s stuff, overalls and combat boots. She wore things no one else could even try to pull off without looking like a weirdo but she always seemed to make the weirdest things look cute and cool. I’m pretty sure Demri was one of the girls who started the so-called ‘Seattle Grunge Look’, for girls at least. Demri was not a rocker chick, she totally had her very own style going on that we all secretly wanted to emulate.

In the early 90’s she dressed in all kinds of crazy yet cute clothes, anything retro or vintage. She loved long dresses, skirts, tutus, overalls and Doc Martins, hand-made clothes, she never really wore jeans and t-shirts, it was always something you’d never think of wearing but looked great on her and made you wish you would thought of this type of thing but even if you had it probably wouldn’t of looked as cool on you. She had that tiny little body that looks great in clothes.

She always wore her hair really long like to her butt or longer and she had thick wavy auburn hair. It was usually knotted and dred locked here and there but knotted or not it always looked cool. She wore black nail polish and when she wore make up she used maybe some black mascara and red lips but she didn’t usually wear a lot of make up, maybe except for lipstick when she went out. She was also the first girl I met who used her lipstick to add blush to her cheeks.” [5]

[Spring 1990 - by Krista Kay]

Ryan Kalsbeck: “Layne and Dem had that full on vintage clothing styles mixed with a hippie, new grunge rock twist. Homemade glass beaded long necklaces and bracelets, funky hats, hair sticks. Dem had pink lace and satin knickers that were real and from the 1900s.”

[1992 - By Alison Dyer]

Sherri: “She would always wear the rolled up overalls with black tights. She was so cute and original. Biggest smile, she always lit up the room. Heart of gold!”

[1991 - By Ed Chalfa]

Jacque: “As to her clothing style, it was kind of hippy chick but distinctively Demri.”

[1988 - By Krista Kay]

Kathleen Austin: “Someone once told me she would show up at a club in an outfit and the next night there would be several girls copying it.

She could pull articles of clothing that no one would think to combine and she would look adorable. She once designed a skirt from boxer shorts. I saw it on paper. As far as I know, it never came to fruition.” [6]

[Ca. 1990s - ByJack Plasky]

Shawna Murphy: “I had one of her necklaces ‘Forever’. It was like black cut glass stones, three strands with a gold clasp. She wore a lot of old-timey costume jewelry.” [6]

[Ca. 1990s - By Jack Plasky]

Tracy Johnson: “She did not want to be known as the girlfriend of a rock star and did whatever the hell she pleased but was friendly and personable to everyone she met. She wanted to be a model that’s why there are so many pictures of her posing. One thing that was funny. We were in Canada (canvouver, as we called it) and Dem couldn’t find Layne and was drunk and pissed off. But she has to pee, so we stopped and she walked in this alley, many people were around, and she just squatted and peed, then pulled up her long johns with her tutu tucked in the back of it and started to walk away. She was gonna find him come hell or high water, even with the whole backside of her tutu tucked into her long johns and wearing converse, of course.

A lot of things she wore didn’t go together, like long johns with big baggy overall shorts and a frilly blouse with cowboy boots. It doesn’t make a lot of sense but you would have to know Demri to understand.” [6]

[Summer 1988 - By Randy Hauser]

Hope that helps :)

Everyone please check the book we put together with our beloved friend Ana, you can download it and read it from *here*. There's all the memories sorted by subject like style,hobbies, voice, dreams...

[mrssimply]

Johnny insisted to tag along with V, even though the merc warned him it was going to be a slow gig, with a lot of observation and waiting, and very little action. It didn’t deter the resurrected rocker, who said - to V’s chagrin - that he was bored out of his fucking mind and didn’t have anything better to do.

Even more worrying, he announced he was going to join V a little while later because he needed to prepare some things.

Some things happened to be a crate of beers, a bottle of tequila, and pizzas.

“Johnny, I’m on a job, this ain’t a fucking picnic…”

“Who said it can’t be both? C’mon V, have a little fun, it’s not gonna kill you.”

V refrained from pointing out they were on top of one of the higher buildings in Night City, without any barriers to keep them away from the void should one of them (Johnny) stumble over the parapet in a drunken haze.

He sighed and nodded, and had to bite his cheek to stop smiling at Johnny’s shit eating grin.

V was already set: the sniper rifle waiting with its muzzle over the parapet, extended in the direction of V’s target: he was overseeing a meeting between his client and a buyer. The client suspected his buyer of fool play, and was counting on V to put a bullet through their head should they show signs of not playing fair during the exchange.

The meeting was happening in the adjacent megabuilding, in a living unit the client had rented for the occasion.

So while V checked his settings in the visor, Johnny went on with his picnic, and even pulled out a blanket.

“Should I expect candles and a proposal?” The merc joked, getting a finger in reply. He grinned before focusing back on his target. The meeting hour was getting close, and V could observe his client pace back and forth in front of the window.

He heard Johnny uncap a beer, and a second one before bringing the first one to V, lying on his front in imitation of the merc.

“I’m not drinking, J. I need to be clear headed.”

He knew without checking that Johnny rolled his eyes at that.

“More for me, then.”

The rocker seemed content to drink in silence, allowing V to watch the byer come into the room. The silence was short lived, however.

“Did you know there is a guy dancing naked, two stories down?” Johnny said, and without meaning to, V glanced at him to discover him with binoculars perched on his nose and a smoke between his lips.

With a discreet sigh, V went back to position, and ignored him.

“Ah, apparently it was his warming ritual before jerking off. He’s making a grand show of it, too.”

Through his visor, V could see his client and his buyer seated at the table strategically placed in front of the window. A suitcase was waiting between them, but so far, the conversation looked relaxed.

“Ah, he’s gonna get jizz everywhere, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

Despite himself, V fell to temptation and pointed his rifle slightly lower. The guy was indeed in the middle of his room, kneeling and doing his business like it was the best sex he’d ever had.

With a long suffering sigh, he repositioned the rifle.

“Ya know, watching a random guy jerk off ain’t super straight behavior.”

“Oh I think we were all here to celebrate my heterosexuality’s funeral. I distinctly remember you and Kerry playing a key part in it.”

V chuckled, replaying the fond memory in his mind's eye. In the real world, he saw his client tense and refocused on that, finger on the trigger.

“Oh, plot twist, the NCPD just barged in. Man, they got great timing,” he recounted while V followed the silent conversation across the void: his services were going to be needed in a minute, if he believed his instincts.

“Oopie oopsie, one dutiful officer just got a load on his boots and they’re mad. Oof, that was nasty,” Johnny went on. “Ah, they’re taking him away. He’s in for a nice walk of shame in front of the neighbors.”

V couldn’t help but snort, imagining the scene, but his distraction was cut short as his client’s buyer pulled a gun out.

Taking a deep breath, V prepared to fire… Only for him to grunt as Johnny crawled on all four over him and grinded against his ass.

“Fuck, Johnny! Get off!”

“That’s the plan.”

“I mean it!” V complained as he repositioned the rifle, taking aim again.

Over him, the rocker snorted and nuzzled the sensitive part of his neck playfully.

“C’mon, take the shot, big bad merc like you has nerves of steel,” he crooned.

V prided himself on his cold blood in most situations, but there were a few instances where he was basically a slave to baser instincts, mainly any situation involving sex, Johnny and/or Kerry. Johnny knew it and abused the knowledge regularly to get what he wanted or just torture his friend. Like today.

He rocked against V’s ass playfully, forcing V to lock all his muscle to not move an inch.

His client was holding his hands up and being more professional than V: he wasn’t glancing at the window, but V read the signal all the same: his index made a little swirling movement.

“C’mon V, don’t botch the job, take. the. shot,” Johnny whispered right in his ear before licking it.

V took the shot, and watched the buyer's head explode, covering his client in goop and blood. But he was safe. Releasing the gun, V turned and tackled Johnny to the ground before grinding against him.

“You’re gonna regret that.”

Johnny laughed out loud, and reached out to the side to retrieve a bottle of lube that he shook in front of V’s eyes.

“Sure I will, tiger. Do your worst.”

They spent the night here, their skins cooling off thanks to the breeze constantly blowing at this height. They ate the pizzas cold and drank all the beers before Johnny started on the tequila between two cigarettes.

“What do you think that guy did to have the NCPD barge in on his me-time?” John asked, words slurring with his drunken state.

“Who cares,” V mumbled, hands behind his head, looking at the advertising holograms rising slowly into the sky.

“What a tragedy,” Johnny bemoaned, making V laugh again.

“You would think so.”

“It should be a constitutional crime, let a guy finish properly instead of ruining him buzz. Poor bloke.”

Turning on his side, V stole Johnny’s smoke.

“You’re just commiserating ‘cause you know that could’ve been you.”

“I would never let the NCPD surprise me like that, V. Question of honor. I would face them on my two feet.”

“You would use your cock as a weapon, too, since you’re convinced the thing has super powers.”

“The thing,” Johnny repeated in distaste. “Fine, see if I use it to make you come after calling it that.”

V raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not super worried, J. You’re the slut here.”

“And proud to be! You should try it V.”

Their banter went on for a while and devolved into another round before they fell asleep one on top of the other.

V woke up when the sun fell on his closed eyelids, bringing a hangover with it and making him moan miserably.

Johnny’s brilliant ideas…

He sat up with a grunt and looked around. He was alone on the blanket, surrounded by the empty beer bottles. One had visibly escaped the others’ fate as Johnny was drinking it, perched on the parapet, with a leg dangling in the void.

Yawning and stretching, V shivered in the cold morning air. The sun was just reaching over the horizon, piercing through two tall buildings on the east. The sight still took v’s breath away and he sat there for a minute, just taking it in. The cold made him start to move, pulling his clothes back on and finding Johnny’s pack a few feet away. He pulled the last cigarette out and went to join his friend, feet over the drop.

“Hey,” Johnny greeted him, voice low and gravely from the alcohol and the smoking. His usual morning voice, then.

“You know, we have a really great bed at my place or at Kerry’s, so I really don’t get why we slept on a measly blanket on the ground.”

In answer, Johnny just waved his chrome arm around.

“‘Cause it’s only here you get to see the sun rise over your kingdom, V.”

The merc looked at it: the streets not yet that busy, the tall shadows under the building as the sun fought them away, and the general atmosphere of a new dawn, full of opportunities.

He grunted in ascent, pulling on the smoke.

“Am I right or am I right?” Johnny still asked, because he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be praised.

“Sure, you’re right. Now give me that bottle.”

“Of course, my king,” Johnny replied with a flourish, making V snort.

When I showed the pic to @m-lter she said that Johnny looked absolutely faded and she was totally right since I told myself the same thing when I took the pic. But since it’s Johnny’s natural state, I kept it that way and decided to write a little story as a companion to the pic.

So Merry Christmas to y’all who celebrate it, even though this clearly has nothing to do with Christmas, I’m just posting it today.

[glynjohnsfurcoat]

clip from Who's Who of John Entwistle explaining how The Who became mods

When we first got into the, the recording, um- we had a publicity man who decided that we needed a new image. He didn't like the name of "The Who” and he thought we should all be little mods. At the time we were walking around in like, leather waistcoats trying to look like The Rolling Stones, y'know. And I think- I think the change to uh, looking like mods completely disgusted me. Because at the heart of it, I was uh, a rocker, y'know. I wanted to dress in leather- not like uh, boxing boots, and like, sort of jeans with half-inch turn-ups. I remember, we all went to have our hair cut at the same time, and I was so disgusted I threw the hairbrush at the mirror after I finished, y'know. I- it had taken me so long to grow my fringe, and then it was all cut off. And, and we just sat, [laughs] sat in a row and watched each other get our hair cut, y'know. I- I've got no idea why they didn't like the name of "The Who" but, uh, I hated the name "The High Numbers," anyway. And we made the record, "I Am The Face," and- and we had the new image to go with it. And I remember the first concert we ever did- well, it was the same night as we got our new set of clothes and new haircuts, so I walked through a puddle in my boxing boots and the soles fell off.