#slipknot x reader fluff

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Swing (Sid Wilson x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Happy New Year's my loves! We're gunna start things off right with the funkiest of guys, Sid. I love him, he's so fun and crazy and ugh, he's just so adorable. So, have some rabid dog boyfriend Sid to kick off the new year!

WARNINGS: Swearing, overly aggressive dude in the pit, the sweetest fluff

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Divider credit: @adornedwithlight

Today was going better than you could have ever hoped for. You had managed to make it to the barrier of the stage to watch your favorite band, even securing a spot in front of your favorite members' mixing table. Everyone you had met today had been nice so far, you had made a few friends in que, though you had managed to lose them in the chaos of securing your spot. You went rigid as someone tried to shove you from the railing. “Come on, sweetheart, this is a real metal show, you shouldn't be down here.” A guy behind you chuckles. You decided to just ignore him, looking straight forward and holding firmly onto your place. He began to shout various questions and rude statements at you every so often.

“She's probably one of those tik tok e girls who only listens to Custer and Duality to be edgy.” He was finally shut up by the band blasting into their first song.

“I fucking love my job.” Sid laughs giddily as he begins climbing the staging at the side of the stage. Was this a dumb idea? Probably. But, it more than likely wouldn't kill him, and it was going to look really fucking cool, those were the only 2 reasons he needed. He looked out over the massive crowd as he hung high off the metal staging. He screamed as he let himself free fall into the waiting pool of people below. The breath is knocked from Sid’s lungs as he's immediately snatched into the crowd, getting pulled and tossed around until eventually he falls through a hole in the sea of hands, landing right in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second you wondered if you were dreaming. There was no way that the Sid Wilson was taking your hand and helping you up from where you had gotten knocked over. “I didn't kick you, did I?” He screams over the music, fighting against the pulls from fans and the security guard that was trying to drag him out of the pit alike. You shake your head, staring back at him in pure shock. He chuckles, “I only bite if you ask nicely, don't worry.” He winks at you.

“Of course, the poser gets all the attention.” The guy from earlier scoffs. Sid’s smile falters, his gaze turning dangerously to the man behind you.

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” He snaps, his features softening once again as his attention turns back to you. “Enjoy the rest of the show, baby, I'll be watching you from right up there.” He quickly takes your hand, leaning down to kiss it, but laughing when his mask gets in the way. He winks at you before bounding back up to the stage.

The guy behind you scoffs, “typical, special treatment just for a pair of tits.” It was impossible not to have a good time, especially now that you had the band's cute DJ waving and blowing kisses at you every chance he got. Every so often you would get a harsh shove or a punch to the back, every time you shot him an annoyed look he would just spit something out about how “this is a mosh pit, you should expect to get hit.”

Later into their set, you were laughing, dancing along with Sid who had, once again, run up to the edge of the stage in order to give you some attention. You lurch forward, your hand coming to the sharp pain in the back of your head, where you had just been struck hard with an elbow. Sid vaulted over the equipment that sat between the stage and the pit, rushing to the barrier. He grabs the guy by the shirt, pulling him away from you in order to keep you out of harm's way. He clearly saw the deliberate strike to your head, and he had watched your annoyed expression too many times tonight as he roughly knocked into you. Sid swings without thinking, letting his fist land wherever it wants to strike. “You wanna fucking swing mother fucker? I'll give you someone to fucking swing on!” Security rushed over to him, pulling him off the guy in the crowd. “Quit beating up on girls, you're a fucking loser!” He screams, jabbing the guy in the chest with his finger. “You, you're coming with me.” Your arms latch around his neck as Sid reaches over the barrier, scooping you into his arm. The guy started screaming some insult at Sid who immediately turned around and barked in the guy's face.

“Thank you.” All you could do was stare at him dumbfounded as he jogged over to the stairs at the side of the stage.

“There's no need to thank me, baby. That guy was a fucking douchebag.” Once he gets you backstage he sets you down. “Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I'll be alright, nothing some Tylenol can't fix.” You laugh.

“Well, I can't send you back out there with that asshole,” your heart races as a smile spreads across his lips. He steps closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. “Why don't you come dance for me on stage, beautiful?” He takes you by the hand, leading you out in front of the crowd of hundreds of people. Sid singles out the guy from earlier in the crowd, flipping him off before returning to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close as you head up to his mixing table. His smile was intoxicating, your cheeks growing warm as his eyes flicker over your features. “You're going to make it very hard to not get distracted.” He chuckles. Sid’s eyes never left you for the rest of the show. The two of you laughing, dancing, and screaming together. It felt like you had known him your entire life.

You scream as Sid playfully grabs you, pulling your smaller form into him. You giggle as he rocks you side to side, crushing you in a hug. “Come on, you're gonna play the last song with me.”

“I don't know how to DJ.” You try to argue with a DJ.

“That's what I'm there for, beautiful.” You found yourself relaxing into him, his chest firmly against your back, one arm firmly wrapped around your waist unless it was needed for him to perform. He wraps you in a tight hug as you finish the song together, showering you with praise as he nuzzles his face against yours. You waited off to the side of the stage while the band gave their final bows, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd. Sid bounds up to you the moment he's finished, arms flinging around you in order to pull you as tightly to him as possible. You smile as you look up at him, bright blue eyes holding you firmly in place.

“You're absolutely incredible.” You admit in absolute awe. He laughs bashfully, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. “And thank you for stepping in with that guy earlier, I don't think I ever got to thank you properly.” Sid’s breath catches in his throat as you lean in, carefully pressing your lips to his masked cheek.

“I don't deal well with guys like that. I'm happy I could've helped.” He stops one of the crew members as they walk by, pulling a marker out of their pocket. He takes a hold of your arm, quickly scribbling down his phone number. “We're in town for a few more days, I was hoping that, maybe I could take you on a date?” You could hear the nervousness in his tone, you thought it was cute.

“I'd like that.” You respond with a shy smile of your own.

“Sid, are you gonna kiss her or what, dude?” He laughs as he hears one of the guys yell. “The two of you have been drooling over each other all night!”

Sid looks at you nervously, his eyes quickly starting to your lips and then back up to yours. “I'm sorry,” you start playfully, “am I witnessing the one and only Sid Wilson being afraid of something.

He rolls his eyes, “please, I'm not afraid of anything. Fear only holds you back in life.”

“Then kiss me.” His eyes widened, slightly shocked by your bold statement. He hurriedly discards his mask, lips crashing into yours as his hands come up to cup cheeks. Sid hums as he melts into the kiss, his hands wandering wherever they can find a good hold. Kissing him left you feeling a little dizzy, your eyes fluttering open to meet his stunning gaze as he breaks the kiss. “Wow.” You mumble against his lips.

“Wow is an understatement.” He laughs. “Can I take you out tomorrow? Please?” You nod, placing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“I'd like that.”

[jimsbeetroot]

Hello dear! how are you? hope ok <3 i really love your writing and would love to ask you for a smut request (only if you want) i would like it to be an imagine of joey finding y/n masturbating and moaning his name, only if you want you can add sex rough and maybe degradation. take your time <3 please and thank you 💗

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 ♱ 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

love this! thank you for the request!!

warnings! smut, smut and very much smut! rough sex! degradation, punishment, fingering and so much more

summary; joey teaches reader a lesson for thinking she could do better than him

words; 1569

-

IT WAS LATE, and the house was too quiet. Joey wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, but you couldn’t wait any longer. The need had been building all day, a slow, simmering burn that you’d tried to ignore, but it was impossible to deny. Your body ached with longing, a desire that only he could satisfy, but he wasn’t here.

Your fingers itched to touch, to find some relief, and before you knew it, you were naked on your bed, your hand between your legs, searching for the pleasure, the one only he could give you.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of Joey—his hands, his mouth, the way he commanded every inch of your body when you were together.

Your fingers moved in desperate strokes, slick with arousal, and you couldn’t stop the soft moans that slipped from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer.

“Joey,” you whispered, the sound of it spurring you on as you dipped your fingers deeper, chasing the release that teased at the edges of your consciousness. Your back arched off the mattress, your breath hitching as you imagined him here, hovering over you, his intense eyes locked on yours, his voice rough and possessive as he told you how much he wanted you.

But no matter how much you tried, no matter how fast or slow your fingers moved, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t him. Your frustration grew, a whimper of desperation escaping your lips. You needed him. God, you needed him so badly.

Lost in your own world, you didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t hear the sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. All you could focus on was the growing ache between your thighs, the pressure building, and how close you were—so close—when suddenly, a voice cut through the haze of your desire like a knife.

“Enjoying yourself, kitten?”

Your eyes flew open, heart lurching in your chest as you turned your head to find Joey standing in the doorway, his expression dark and dangerous. The shock of being caught was like ice water on your skin, and you froze, your hand still buried between your legs.

“Joey,” you gasped, scrambling to sit up, but before you could move, he was there, his hand wrapping around your wrist in a bruising grip as he yanked your fingers out of your pussy.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “Were you enjoying yourself, kitten? Did you think you could get off without me?”

“I—I wasn’t—” You stammered, but the words caught in your throat as he brought your wet fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, but there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes, the tension in his grip. He wasn’t pleased.

“You weren’t what?” he mocked, his eyes never leaving yours. “Weren’t thinking about me while you touched yourself? Weren’t moaning my name like a needy little slut?”

His words hit you like a blow, sharp and cutting, and you felt the sting of tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I was thinking about you,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I couldn’t wait, Joey. I needed you, but you weren’t here, and I—”

“So, you thought you could just take care of it yourself?” he cut you off, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can do a better job than me, kitten? Is that it?”

“No!” You shook your head frantically, desperate to make him understand. “No, Joey, I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.” The command was harsh, and you obeyed instantly, your breath catching in your throat. His hand tightened around your wrist, his other hand coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, filled with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. “You don’t get to touch yourself without my permission. You don’t get to come without me. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his dominance pressing down on you in a way that made your pulse race with equal parts fear and excitement. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, kitten,” Joey snarled, his gaze piercing as he released your chin and shoved you back onto the bed. “I’m going to teach you a lesson. A lesson you won’t forget.”

You barely had time to register his words before he grabbed your legs, spreading them wide as he settled between your thighs. His eyes were locked on your exposed, glistening cunt, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch in your throat. He replaced your fingers with his. You gasped at the sensation. Joey leaned down between your legs and grabbed on to your thighs, holding them spread apart. You whimpered when he blew on your sensitive skin, the hair on your neck standing up. He worked roughly, leaving no time for you to adjust or get into his rhythm. He merely plunged his two fingers in and out of you so fast, that you weren't quite sure, as to what was happening anymore. You hissed and groaned, using the pillow beside you to muffle your screams. “You were so horny, for this weren't you? Couldn't even wait a day for my fingers, could you?” Joey taunted and looked up at you with a devilish grin. He suddenly retrieved his fingers from your cunt and for the first time ever, you were almost relieved. He’d been so fast, so brutal with your cunt that it was nearly aching.

You were taken aback by his fury. You’d expected him to be flattered, but he was seeing red.

“You think you can do a better job than me?” he hummed, his voice low and dangerous.

Joey stood up and fumbled with his jeans, the chains clinging together as he dropped them to the ground. He took a step towards the edge of the bed and leaned down, positioning himself on his knees. He leaned over and grabbed a hold of your ankles, pulling at them roughly towards him, so that you were perfectly aligned in front of him. Your heart raced as Joey pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. He positioned himself between your thighs, his eyes dark with intent as he stared down at your exposed, glistening pussy. You were so wet, so ready for him, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. Not after what you’d done.

“Let’s see how much you can handle, kitten.”

Before you could respond, he slammed into you with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs, and you cried out, your back arching off the mattress as the sudden intrusion stretched you wide. Joey didn’t give you a moment to adjust, didn’t offer you any reprieve as he set a punishing pace, each thrust deep and unrelenting.

“Is this what you wanted?” Joey growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he drove into you with merciless force. “You wanted to get fucked, didn’t you, kitten? You couldn’t wait for me, so you had to do it yourself. You had to touch yourself like a dirty little whore.”

His one hand travelled up to pinch your nipple and the pain made you gasp.

His words cut deep, but they only fueled the fire burning inside you. You were helpless beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts, the roughness of his grip, but it was everything you craved. Your body responded to his dominance, the sting of his degrading words only pushing you closer to the edge.

“Tell me how much you need me,” Joey demanded, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tell me you can’t get off without me, kitten.”

“I can’t,” you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks as your nails dug into the sheets. “I can’t, Joey. I need you. I need you so bad.”

“That’s right,” he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch, to make your head spin with a dizzying mix of fear and pleasure. “You belong to me, kitten. Every part of you is mine. No one else can make you feel this way. No one else can fuck you like I can.”

A whimper escaped your lips as his grip tightened, his thrusts growing even more intense, each one driving you closer to the brink. The heat pooled low in your belly, the pressure building to an almost unbearable peak, and you knew you were close—so close—but you wouldn’t let yourself fall until he gave you permission. Until he told you you could.

“You’re going to come for me, kitten,” Joey hissed, his voice rough with his own impending release. “But only when I say so. Only when I give you permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you choked out, your vision blurring as you teetered on the edge of oblivion. “Please, Joey, I need to come. Please let me come.”

His grip on your throat tightened even more, cutting off your air, making your head swim as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Come for me, kitten. Now.”

The command sent you spiraling over the edge. With a choked cry, your body convulsed beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your walls clenched tight around his cock, pulling him deeper, and Joey groaned, his release following yours as he buried himself to the hilt, his warmth flooding you.

For a long moment, you were both lost in the aftermath, your bodies still shaking, hearts pounding in unison as you lay there, tangled together on the bed. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, the heavy rise and fall of his breath as he slowly came down from his high.

Finally, Joey pulled out of you, rolling onto his side as he gathered you into his arms, his demeanor softening as he held you close. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair as he murmured, “Good girl, kitten. That’s what I like to hear.”

You snuggled into his chest, your body still quivering from the intensity of it all, but there was a deep sense of satisfaction, of comfort in the way he held you, in the warmth of his embrace. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice small and shaky.

Joey kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he spoke, his voice a soft rumble against my hair. “You’re forgiven, kitten. But remember, you don’t need to do that on your own. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

His words soothed the last remnants of your fear, replacing it with a warmth that spread through your chest

[murdrdoll]

My GOD I just had the cutest idea….

Joey who picks out makeup for you whenever he goes shopping for it. You’re lazing on the couch after a workout, flipping through TV channels when he pokes his head into the living room and shoots you a loving grin.

“Hey doll, I need to grab more setting powder for the show tomorrow night. Wanna come with?”

You groan, lolling your head onto the back cushion.

“I would but my legs are jelly and my circuits are fried,” you sigh, motioning to your head. He feigns a pout, slinking into the room further and leaning against the wall.

“Can I tempt you with an added trip to that Mexican place down the block?”

Now you do consider this - but MAN were you exhausted from the week, and errands weren’t something you were looking forward to (even with the promise of a fat juicy burrito.)

“Sorry hon, as great as that sounds, I’m spent. I think I’m just gonna stay in for the night. But thanks,” you bat your lashes at him sweetly. He rolls his eyes and huffs in mock-defeat, but smirks.

“Alright fiiine. You want me to pick anything up though? How are you doing on blush? I know you mentioned that you were looking to get a new one the other day - Or eyeliner? You did say your pencil was on its last legs…” his brows furrowed at his attempt to recall what may be on your beauty shopping list, his icy blue eyes gleaming with focus. You giggled, and his face lit up.

“Yeah if you could grab me a new pencil that’d be sweet. I’m good on my blush for now though.”

“Gotcha- which brand again, doll?”

You paused, contemplating the question. As much mileage as you got from your current pencil, you weren’t a big fan of how easily it smudged - and the added on fact that it was more irritating to your waterline than other products you’ve tried before. A sudden idea popped into your head, and a smirk tugged at your lips.

“I’ll let you pick. You do seem to be the more well-versed expert on this subject between the two of us… respectively, y’know?” You chirped. He chuckled, shooting you a wink.

“Then I’ll make sure to get you something good - still want takeout, by the way?”

Your head perked up at this, and you grinned excitedly. He took this as a yes, popping up from the wall and moving to lean over the back of the couch, his hair hanging down and tickling your nose.

“Your usual I’m assuming, doll?” He muttered in a sickly sweet (yet somewhat sultry) tone, leaning closer to your flustering face.

“Yes pleaaase,” you giggled, blowing at a dangling red strand. He smirked, leaning down and pecking a line down from your forehead to your lips. Your blush had to be evident as he pulled away, trudging over to the counter and swiping his keys before making his way over to the door.

“I’ll be back soon then. Don’t go disappearing on me,” he announced as he swung the door open and stepped a foot out.

“Oh trust, I wont. And thank you, doll.” You emphasized your mock, to which he simply rolled his eyes and winked at you before slinking out into the sunny afternoon.

You chuckled, already back to your channel search as you awaited his return.

[humanrindswrites]

magic fingers

pairing: corey taylor x female reader/oc

summary: corey needs some help with his mask

warnings: none

word count: 580 words

a/n: this one's a little short but that's okay. also, fritz-federleicht wrote a fic based on the same video so i put my own spin on it

On her way to the bathroom, the unmistakable sound of Corey grumbling to himself caught her attention. She poked her head around the corner and saw him standing with the rest of the band, struggling to get his mask on but refusing to let anyone help him. She watched them all from her hiding spot as he skittered away from Jim trying to help him and got pounced on by Sid. A smile crept over her face as she watched the scene unfold, happy that they were able to have some fun while running on fumes so far away from home.

By the fifth attempt at securing his mask, she stepped around the corner. 

“What’s going on?” she asked as Corey wriggled out of Sid’s grip.

“Can’t get my mask fastened,” he said and led her back around the corner away from everyone else. He let it fall away from his head, revealing the fresh paint on the lower half of his face and neck. “Gimme a hand?” 

She took the mask from him with a warm smile and stepped around so she was facing his back. Gently, she reached out and brushed his hair with her fingers, smoothing it down a little so it wouldn’t get caught in the straps.

“No wonder you can’t get it fastened,” she said as she petted the blond curls at the back of his head. “Your hair’s getting too long for it.”

“I didn’t have hair when it was moulded, honey,” he said and shivered when he felt her fingers brush his skin. “Maybe I should cut it off again.”

She yanked one of the straps playfully before fastening it, making him laugh.

“Over my dead body you will,” she jokingly growled in his ear, giving his hair a light tug until his head turned back slightly.

“Okay, okay!” he laughed and reached back to brush his fingers against her wrists. “I won’t cut it off again if you don’t do the straps so tight.”

She pretended to think about his offer, playfully screwing her face and rolling her eyes before securing the straps firmly, but not too tightly.

“There you go,” she said as she fluffed his curls sticking out of the top of the mask.

“How do I look?” he asked and turned around, mask finally fastened and ready for the stage.

“Like a chia pet.”

He gasped dramatically, his expression hidden behind the mask but she could tell he was just playing with her.

“You’re so mean!” he said as he gathered her into a hug and stroked the back of her head. “Good thing you’re cute.”

“But you look like a cute chia pet,” she laughed as she returned his hug. “Even if that’s not the look you’re going for.”

The voices of the rest of the band echoed down the hallway, signalling that Corey needed to get onto the stage sooner rather than later. He softly kissed the top of her head as best as his mask would let her and reluctantly pulled away from her.

“Well, duty calls,” he said, still holding onto her as they returned to everyone else.

“Have a good show,” she called after him as he was seemingly swallowed by the huddle of people. “Don’t do anything too dangerous!”

“It’s not me you need to say that to,” Corey called back before the band made their way onto the stage.”

Ain’t that the truth, she thought to herself as she watched him go.

[fritz-federleicht]

I missed you/ Corey Taylor x reader

Summary: Corey is dying to cuddle with you

Words: 821

FLUFF

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

The first time you met each other was when Chris and Corey were filming for a TV show. The two were joking in front of the camera.

At one point Corey said, "I'm not wearing underwear."

You thought it was hilarious and a giggle escaped your throat. Quickly, you put your hand over your mouth. He didn't break out of character. When the shot ended he looked up and for the first time really looked behind the camera, his eyes narrowed because of the bright lighting. He let his gaze roam over your colleagues, until it finally stuck on you.

His blue eyes were friendly, twinkling at you in delight. He was immediately taken with you.

Your hand slipped from your mouth, revealing a wide grin. You're sure he smiled back.

He stood up unceremoniously, spoke to Chris and came to you. On his way to you, he took off his white and gray mask. Under it appeared his beautiful face. He asked blushingly for your number. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. You gave it to him, he came across quite sympathetic.

And today he's your boyfriend, your little babyboy. Around you he acts like a kitten that needs a lot of attention and love. Constantly touches and cuddles up to you.

You're standing in the kitchen, preparing your breakfast, when two tattooed arms wrap around your waist. You look down at them, you place your hands on his arms.

"Why aren't you in bed with me." He nestles his head against the crook of your neck.

"Honey I'm hungry. Besides, we've been in bed and cuddling long enough." You disengage from his arms and go to the fridge to get a juice.

He follows you, "But I want..." You turn around with the juice in your hand. You set it aside and put your index finger to his lips.

"Shhh. Corey, baby, we can cuddle after breakfast. Can you hold out that long?" He nods silently, kissing your finger.

"Fine." Your hand slides to his chin and cups it, pulling his face closer to you.

"Then let's have breakfast already. I'm really hungry." You kiss him, reaching for the juice.

"Can you bring those two glasses there?" You point to two empty glasses.

Corey answers in affirmative and immediately sprints to them, not wanting to be separated from you so long.

You find yourself in another room and walk over to a table setting. You want to push your chair back and are prevented from doing so by Corey. "I got this honey."

You grin. "Put the glasses down first." Corey blushes. "Oh yeah right." He quickly sets them on the table and reappears beside you.

He pulls your chair back enough for you to sit down. "Thank you. You're a true gentleman."

"Don't say that. I'm sure there are better ones out there." He kisses the top of your head and settles down opposite your seat.

You guys start eating. Corey talks about future shows and you talk about any shoots with a wide variety of celebrities.

When you're done, you put your used utensils in the sink.

Corey looks at you expectantly. You exhale loudly. "I promised." Corey grins broadly and suddenly throws you onto his shoulder.

You startle at first, but then lapse into laughter. Corey takes off running. He wastes no time.

"Corey put me down." You smack his butt. "I can walk on my own."

"You're so slow, though. Then I'll have to wait until tomorrow before you make it to the bedroom." He teases.

You make an indignant face. "Corey Todd Taylor, who always takes this long to take out the trash?"

He ignores the question. You watch Corey walk through the door to your bedroom, already gently laying you down on the bed.

You can't react quickly because Corey has already jumped behind you and snuggles as close as possible to you.

He exhales with pleasure. "Finally." You turn around in his arms.

"Finally?! It wasn't even three quarters of an hour ago that we were lying here together."

Corey combs through your hair. "But I missed you during that time." He makes a pout.

You smile and nuzzle your forehead against his chest. "How are you going to make it on tour without me?"

"Let's not talk about it." A sad note resonates in his deep voice. He hugs you tighter, afraid of losing you. You take in his scent.

His body gives you warmth, you immediately feel safe.

"I love you till death." Corey whispers. His breath tickles your ear.

"I love you too babe." You lean on your arms and kiss him gently.

Then you let yourself fall back into Corey's arms, the arms that protect you from all the dangers in this world.

[lixlikes]

Night Time Disasters - Sid Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Chaotic Sid :)

Info: Gender neutral reader, Pure fluff, Cuddling, Kissing

The soft sound of the night breeze swaying the trees, sending a gentle shiver down your spine. It was nights like this, when your lover didn’t have to be god knows how many miles away from you on tour or off somewhere working on songs with the others.

“You almost done in there?” You called from beneath your mountain of blankets, seeing Sids shadow moving back and forth from the bathroom.

“Almost!” He called back, with a strange twinge of a smirk in his voice. Deciding to think nothing of it, you turned over to face the wall once more, humming patiently.

You closed your eyes for a second, thinking about your day plans for tomorrow. As you melted into the warm bliss of the covers, Sid jumped on top of you, pressing the weight of his body onto you.

“Falling asleep without me?” He chuckled, flopping down next to you as you rolled your eyes. His hands gently gripped your waist, bringing you flush against him under the covers.

You hummed softly “You really are a handful” You chuckled, slowly turning around to face him. You crooned into his touch as he placed a hand to your cheek, rubbing faint shapes onto your skin with his thumb. You leaned in, taking his lips against your own, flopping a lazy arm over his chest.

He pulled away gently, looking into your eyes before stealing one last kiss.

“To bed with you” You mumbled, snuggling closer to him “I have something planned for you tomorrow.”

He grinned “Oh? I enjoy a surprise” He pressed his forehead to yours, shutting your heavy eyes as you both began to drift off.

This is my first slipknot fic and I didn’t wanna jump right in with smut, but I’m willing to get my hands dirty. I hope you enjoyed this little silly blabber <3

[prettiest-grrrl-inthemorgue]

MASTERLIST

I write for Johnnie guilbert, joey jordison, Jake x johnnie, and maybe others just ask

I won't write smut because I'm only 14, I might write stuff that's slightly suggestive but NO smut

my wattpad is Musicmakesmetingle

Requests are always open!

🥀=Angst

🩷=Fluff

Jake x Johnnie

Fix my problems with a blade🥀🩷

Johnnie guilbert

Joey jordison

I think I love you🩷

None yet

Joey jordison x slipknot/murderdolls members

None yet

[bloodlust-baby]

Hiii I'm new to writing fanfiction and I want some ideas, I'll write for slipknot members, Johnnie guilbert, and others just ask. I'll write fluff, angst and smut. Please give requests <3

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

[crucifiedfaerie]

Nicotine Stains Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Modern!Kylo x Fem!Reader AU

➴ Summary: Your older brother's best friend seems to have everyone fooled. Everyone but you, that is.

➴ Part Two

➴ Word Count: 5k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, modern!delinquent!kylo au, virgin!reader, drug use, smoking, swearing, kylo breaking traffic laws for some pussy, kylo is a pretentious prick, why is kylo lowkey midwestern emo in this, mutual pining, finn my beloved is mentioned, some angst, fluff, SMUT (protected PiV sex, again reader is a virgin, fingering, a little scratching, slow n gentle sex, softdom!kylo, consent king !!, praise kink, pet names), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: this may or may not be the most pretentious thing ive ever written but idc. also i want to give a special thank you and shout out to my beautiful mutual liv @enviedear for this idea! she totally helped me flesh out the modern!delinquent!kylo character and this fic would not exist without her. <;3 (also reader is NOT me bc if kylo ren played slipknot for me in his 1969 charger i'd fold immediately)

You sat at your desk, studying for your upcoming midterms and nervously chewing on the inside of your mouth. Mathematics had never been your strong suit and despite only being a month and a half into the semester, your calculus class was stressing you out to no end. The rhythmic ticking of your clock was not helping in the slightest, so you reached for your headphones.

This class is taking years off of my life for sure.

As you looked for a good playlist, you heard your bedroom window open behind you. You yelped, turning in your chair to face your window. Your panic died when you realized it was only Kylo, your older brother's friend.

Once he was finally inside, he shut your window before standing up straight. Kylo was probably the tallest person you knew, almost touching the low ceiling of your bedroom. You couldn't deny how your stomach did flips when you were stood next to him, not to mention he was absolutely fucking beautiful. Kylo's features looked like they were carved from marble and his long, dark hair always fell perfectly around his face. If he weren't so goddamn annoying, you'd like him a lot more.

You groaned. "When are you gonna stop coming in through my window you asshole?"

"It isn't my fault your window is the most accessible and the lock is broken." He smirked.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. "The least you could do is knock, what if I like... had a guy over or something?"

Kylo laughed, walking over to you. He turned you in your desk chair to face your computer and pushed it in, before leaning down over your shoulder to look at your screen. "I think we both know that doesn't happen, kid." He jabbed before making his way to your door.

Your face felt hot, his audacity never failed to make you seethe. And his choice of nickname for you only made you madder. You turned to glare at him. "You fucker- I- you're only like 3 years older than me!??"

You heard him laugh as he walked out of your room and down the hallway.

What made it worse was that it seemed he had everyone in your family fooled. Kylo acted like an absolute angel in front of your mother, and it pissed you off to no end. When he would come over for dinner, he always insisted on helping her with the dishes. He would make conversation with her, crack jokes, go the whole nine yards as if he weren't a college dropout and also doing drugs with her son on the side.

Your mom, being the stereotypical Christian, midwestern mother that she is, would always say things along the lines of "Oh Kylo, you're such a sweet boy. It amazes me that someone like you listens to such angry music." He would just blush and laugh it off.

Kylo drove a black 1969 Dodge Charger R/T that he would pull up to your house in, blasting the loudest possible music. Your dad loved him, and they would always talk cars when they got the chance. The first time you came home and saw your dad helping Kylo change his oil, you thought you had died and gone to hell. You just stared as Kylo smirked at you. That stupid, evil smirk you were so used to seeing.

They can't possibly be serious?? How do they not see how much of a jerk he is?

You however, he was much different with. Any chance Kylo got to annoy you, he would do it. He frequently stood outside your door for god knows how long, just waiting for you to come out so he could scare you. You would jump and yell expletives at him before weakly punching him in the shoulder. He and your brother would just laugh, thinking it was funniest thing in the world.

You sighed, staring at your computer screen. You were over studying for the night. You shut your door, before turning off the light and getting into bed. You tried to sleep, but couldn't. The stress of college was slowly suffocating you but despite that, you couldn't seem to get Kylo out of your head.

Sure, you have had a slight crush on him since you were in middle school, I mean who wouldn't? Look at him. But it didn't mean anything, the feeling was almost certainly not mutual and he was still the biggest asshole you'd ever met.

God I fucking hate him... I mean I don't, but I do.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping at your door. Your brow furrowed. "Yeah?"

Kylo opened your door slowly, making sure it didn't creak as he closed it behind him. "What are you still doing awake, its 3am. Don't you have classes tomorrow?" He whispered, fumbling with your window.

You rolled your eyes, still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. What do you care?"

He smirked slightly, swinging one leg out the window before looking at you. "Finn asked me to pick you up tomorrow. What time are you off?"

Fucking fantastic.

"Oh, great." You said sarcastically. "2:30pm. The math and science building."

He ducked through the open window, and stuck his head back inside your room to look at you. "See you at 2:30 then." He smirked, before exiting again and shutting your window, leaving you in the dark.

I am not looking forward to tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you sat in your calculus class zoning out and unable to keep your mind off Kylo. You would never admit it, not even to yourself, but you were definitely daydreaming. You were thinking about how soft his hair always looks and how it might feel to run your fingers through it.

You didn't realize your professor had called on you until he said your name for a second time, repeating his question. You sat up straight before looking down, your eyes scanning your paper. "Oh um- the answer is... x equals three fourths." Your face felt warm.

"That's correct. Lets try to be more focused, though." Your professor sighed, before continuing his lecture. You nodded quickly, looking down at your paper.

As you walked to the parking lot, your palms felt sweaty. You'd been in Kylo's car only a couple times before and it was a long time ago. The recent nagging thoughts you had been having about him didn't quell your nervousness either. You spotted his car quickly, and made your way to the passenger side.

When you opened the door, his music blared so loud, you thought his speakers might blow out. You sat your bag on the floor of his car before getting in and shutting the door.

Kylo was smirking when you turned to glare at him. You reached over and turned the dial down halfway and he laughed.

"Too loud for you princess?" He said sarcastically, leaning over to look behind him as he backed out of the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes and buckled your seatbelt, smoothing out your skirt with your hands. "Too loud for most people. Can I play something?"

Kylo scoffed, that stupid smirk still on his face. "Fuck no, you can't play your music in my car."

"Whatever." You crossed your arms, staring straight ahead.

After a few minutes of silence, Kylo finally spoke. "Have you heard of Slipknot?" He asked, nodding his head towards the radio and tapping his long fingers on the steering wheel to the music.

You scoffed, turning your head to face him. "Yes I've heard of Slipknot, you loser... It's just not really my thing. Kind of scary sounding... its just screaming mostly."

He laughed loudly at your last comment. "Scary? Aw, now that's cute. I bet you listen to Lana Del Rey or some shit like that." Kylo said sarcastically, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took a drag from it before offering it to you.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking it. Your fingers brushed against his, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a drag off of it before speaking. "Lana Del Rey makes really good music." Despite facing the window, you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

"Oh so I was right?" He grinned, staring at the road now. "I just said the first girly thing that came to mind... And when did you start smoking? I'm gonna tell your mom." He laughed.

You attempted to hide the smile that played at the corners of your mouth. "I'll be sure to tell her you supplied me with them... and yeah I like Lana. She sings about real shit." You took another drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window.

Kylo scoffed at you again, motioning to the radio. "And you don't think bands like this do?... This song is called Metabolic, its about the lead singer's absent father and how he fears he will become just like him. They sing about real shit too, it isn't just screaming."

You shrugged, taking another hit before handing the cigarette back to him as he pulled into your driveway. "I never said they didn't, I'm just not super into this type of music."

He glared at you as you grabbed your bag, cigarette dangling from his mouth. You got out of his car, and shut the door behind you. "Thanks for the ride, Kylo" You said through gritted teeth.

I can't believe I'm telling this man thank you.

"No problem." He looked like he wanted to say something else but he stopped himself.

You nodded, before heading to your door. You noticed that he had watched you and waited for you to get inside your house before pulling away.

"How nice of Kylo for driving you home. What a sweet boy." Your mom smiled as you came through the door. "I wish he wouldn't smoke though, you smell like cigarettes."

"Yeah, he's cool." You sigh as you walk up the stairs, making your way to your room before shutting your bedroom door behind you.

You sit at your desk and open your laptop to get started on some homework. Before you start, you grab your headphones and open your phone, deciding to give Kylo's music taste another try. As you do your calculus homework, you find yourself tapping your foot to the music.

The following day, you waited outside for Finn to pick you up from class. You had waited 30 minutes before deciding to call him and he didn't pick up a single one of your several calls.

That fucker. He just left me here.

You huffed before opening your phone again in defeat, pressing on Kylo's contact.

"Yeah?" He sounded like had been sleeping. Your face felt hot from just the sound of his voice.

"I um- Finn left me here and I uh... don't have anyone to pick me up... Can you please come get me?" It felt so foreign asking Kylo for literally anything.

"Yeah I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He said. You noticed that he sounded much more alert, and you heard him shuffling in the background.

"Okay thanks... Uh- bye." You hung up, sitting down on the curb.

It wasn't even seven minutes before Kylo turned into the parking lot and pulled up next to you.

You opened the door, throwing your bag on the floor and getting in. "Jesus Christ, man?? How many traffic laws did you break getting here?" You smirked as you buckled your seatbelt.

Kylo laughed. "If you drove, and owned a car like this, you'd speed too." You couldn't help but notice the light pink that spread across his cheeks at your comment.

He handed you your own cigarette this time, and you placed it in your mouth. You went to reach for the lighter but he beat you to it.

"Allow me." Kylo said before raising the flame up to the end of your cigarette. You inhale, watching it ignite. You caught his gaze for a moment and felt the butterflies return, quickly averting your eyes and taking the cigarette between your fingers to turn and exhale out of his window. Kylo cleared his throat and looked ahead before lighting his own and pulling away.

You both listened to his music in silence for a few minutes. As you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, you recognized the song playing and began to mouth the lyrics.

I am my father's son 'cause he's a phantom, a mystery, and that leaves me nothing.

How many times have you wanted to die?

It's too late for me, all you have to do is get rid of me.

You can't see California without Marlon Brando's eyes.

Kylo's eyes darted over to you a few times, and he laughed. "There is no way- are you fucking singing along to Slipknot right now?! I thought this shit scared you, kid?" The look on his face was filled with shock and amusement.

"It's a catchy song. I don't know... Stop calling me that asshole!" You could feel the deep blush creeping across your face.

"No, No." He wasn't letting this go. "I didn't play this CD in the car yesterday, did you seriously go home and listen to it?" Between that and how embarrassed you looked from him pointing it out, Kylo could not contain the smile of pure amusement on his face.

"I don't know- Maybe." You looked out of the window, not facing him. You wanted nothing more than to die in that moment.

He was loving this too much. "Fucking obsessed with me, aren't ya? Listening to my songs and shit." Kylo teased.

You turned to glare at him. "I- No! Shut the fuck up." You gripped the fabric of your skirt and took a final drag of your cigarette before tossing it out of the window.

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm only fucking with you."

"That's all you ever seem to do. Thanks for the ride I guess." You muttered as you got out of his car, slamming the door before walking to your house. As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of the look of disappointment and guilt on Kylo's face.

Fucking asshole. So unbelievable.

Kylo stayed in your driveway for a minute, debating on whether he should knock on your door to say something to you, but he ultimately decided against it and drove away.

That night, you laid in bed staring at your ceiling once again, head filled with thoughts of that stupid fucking beautiful asshole.

I don't understand him. He does nice shit for me sometimes, but then all he does is make fun of me?

And even after all of that, all you could think about was that stupid cigarette dangling from his lips and how hot he looked. Your mind wandered to how Kylo would lean closer to you, his hand resting on the back of your headrest while reversing. How he nodded his head and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music. How close his face was to yours when he insisted on lighting your cigarette for you.

God! I'm such an idiot. I cant stand him or myself for that matter.

You heard a few taps on your window and your brow furrowed. You rolled out of bed, walking to your window before opening it. You were met with Kylo's dark eyes staring back at you.

Your eyes narrowed at him. "What a gentleman, thank you for knocking this time..." You said sardonically. "But Finn is asleep I think."

"Had to make sure you didn't have a guy over." He teased. "But I'm not here for him... you wanna smoke?" He grinned at you, holding up a neatly rolled joint.

You laughed nervously. "I've never smoked weed before Kylo, I don't know..."

"Of course you haven't... It'll be fine, I'm not asking you to smoke the whole goddamn thing." He smirked, offering his hand for you to take.

You sighed before taking Kylo's hand and ducking out of your window. The cold, October air sent goosebumps across your exposed arms and legs. He led you to a flat part of your roof and the both of you sat down together.

You watched as he placed the joint in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple hits before handing it to you.

You inhaled, noticing how it burned a little more than a cigarette does. You coughed slightly, which caused Kylo to chuckle, and you glared at him as you handed the joint back to him.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad earlier." He smirked, taking another hit.

You scoffed. "You just fuck with me too much. You always have."

Kylo sighed. "I only do it because your reactions are so fun... I didn't think about how it might make you feel." He paused. "And besides, I think its cute that you listened to my music all on your own, for the fun of it."

You blushed, hoping that the darkness would conceal the pink creeping across your face. "It's fine. I'm so used to your games by now." You laughed, shivering slightly.

Kylo placed the joint between his lips before slipping his dark jacket off and draping it around your shoulders. It felt so warm and was about three sizes too big for you. You laughed nervously, looking down. "Thank you."

He nodded, gazing down at you as he handed you the joint.

As the two of you sat in silence for a minute, the weed had already begun to take its toll on you. Everything seemed funny to you and as you looked up at the stars, you laughed softly at nothing.

Kylo smiled at you. "What's so funny, kid? Already high from two baby hits?" He teased. "This isn't even my strongest shit."

"You're such an idiot." You laughed at him, shaking your head.

The next hour was spent laughing about anything and everything. The two of you made fun of your brother, talked about college and how both of you agree calculus fucking sucks, and the two of you shared some other artists you liked with each other.

"I can't believe I clocked you so easily with Lana fucking Del Rey. I honest to god said that as a joke." Kylo laughed.

"Hey, she makes good music. Please let me make you listen to her the next time we're in the car, please." You playfully begged.

He sighed, feigning defeat. "Fine but only like two songs max... so you better make them good." Kylo smirked as he flicked the roach off the roof.

You weren't sure if it was the weed in your system, but something was giving you a slight newfound confidence to speak more freely. You sighed. "You're always spot on about me though... I am kind of lame. I always had this idea in my head that you and Finn were the ones who were losers... but in reality I am."

Kylo looked at you, puzzled. "I never thought you were a loser... I poke fun at you, sure, but I admire your intelligence... and how introverted you always are." He laughed, playfully pushing your shoulder.

You laughed nervously. "No, I mean... I don't go out and do anything fun the way you do. I don't loosen up, I don't hang out with people, I definitely never have guys over..." You laughed again, trailing off. "I mean my god I've never even kissed anyone."

He stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if he were debating something. "You've got to be fucking with me right now. A pretty thing like you has surely got to have boys lined up and down the street."

You laughed at his comment, blushing. "If they are, I surely don't pay attention. No one talks to me at school." You stared at your lap, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

You felt his cold fingertips touch your jaw, lifting your chin to look up at him. Before you could say anything, Kylo leaned in quickly and kissed you. You felt like a live wire, as if lightning bolts were shooting through your entire body. His kiss was urgent, yet gentle, and he held your face in his hands so tenderly.

When he pulled away, his eyes met yours and you both smiled nervously at each other. You noticed him shiver slightly. "Do you wanna... maybe go inside? It's warmer in there." You said shyly.

Kylo smirked at you. "Are you inviting a guy into your room right now?" He teased before standing up and taking your hand.

You giggled, following him. "Shut up."

He chuckled softly and when you got to the window, he went first. He ducked inside, pulling you with him which caused you both to practically fall through your window. You landed on top of him, your hushed giggles only silenced once he kissed you again.

"Shhh are you trying to wake your parents?" Kylo smirked up at you for a moment, taking in the sight of you on top of him on your bedroom floor, the moonlight from the window behind you illuminating you in a halo-like glow. He grabbed your waist and gently rolled you off of him, before you both stood up.

His large, strong hands pulled you by the waist closer to him, and he had to lean down to kiss you. His kiss was full of need this time, you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip, asking for entry and you obliged, parting your lips. You moaned against his mouth and you felt the smirk that played at his lips.

Kylo took a few steps forward, pushing you gently backwards until the backs of your knees hit your soft bed. He pulled away for a moment to take his jacket off of you and throw it to the floor, before pushing you flat onto your bed.

"I-I've never... um." You stumbled over your words, feeling your face get hot as your eyes darted up to your ceiling.

Kylo leaned over you, his palms flat on the mattress on either side of your head. "I just stole your first kiss a couple minutes ago, you don't think I know that?" He smirked down at you before tilting his head slightly, leaning closer to trail kisses down your neck. "Do you not want to? I can stop whenever you want, all you need to do is say so." He whispered between kisses, trailing his hand down your body and stopping just above your clothed cunt.

The sensation made the heat in your core grow. "N-no. Don't stop Kylo." You whined.

He smiled, before standing straight up again and looking down at you. He looped his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off slowly. "Look at you sweet thing, I've barely touched you and you're already a fucking mess." He teased, causing you to whimper.

Kylo chuckled softly, separating your knees and ghosting his hand down your thigh, stopping at your heat. He ran two long fingers through your slit, collecting your wetness on them before rubbing light circles over your clit. You gasped at the contact, bucking your hips instinctively against his hand. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" He smirked, using his other hand to hold your waist down before pushing his fingers inside slowly.

You whined at the feeling of his long fingers stretching you out, your much smaller hands were nothing compared to his. After giving you a moment to adjust, Kylo began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of your cunt, curling them upwards to draw sweet, soft moans from you.

"K-Kylo..." You breathed.

He smirked, amused by how quickly you were coming undone at his hand. "What is it, pretty girl?"

You whined at the sweet name he gave you, stuttering over your words once again. "You're g-gonna make me c-cum."

Kylo laughed softly, he had already gathered that from the noises you were making. "Oh, yeah?" He smirked at you, not faltering once with the steady pace he had created with his fingers.

"P-please. Please I want you to..." You trailed off, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

"Please what? I'm not gonna do anything else unless you ask for it. Go ahead... Say it, say it." He was having way too much fun with you.

"Please Kylo..." You begged him. "Please I- I want you t-to fuck me."

He grinned at you and stood up, removing his fingers from your cunt, before licking them clean. You tasted divine to him, and he made a mental note that he needed to taste the source at some point. Maybe another night.

You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness and watched as he pulled a condom from his wallet, putting it between his lips before working to undo his belt. He made quick work of his clothes, saving his boxers for last and sliding them off, his cock springing upwards.

You didn't realize your mouth was open until Kylo looked over at you and saw you staring at him. He laughed, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. "I'll go slow, don't worry." You watched as he slid the condom down to the base of his cock, before making his way over to you on the bed.

He made you sit up a bit so he could pull your shirt over your head, before kissing you, trailing down your neck and chest, leaving a few light red marks along the way. You whimpered at the sensation, not caring that you'd have to conceal them in the morning.

Kylo pulled away, admiring his work and settling himself between your legs, lining his cock up with your entrance. "Ready?" He moved a piece of hair from your eyes, smirking down at you.

You wrapped your arms around him, nodding your head. He groaned as he slowly pushed his cock inside you, taking extra care not to hurt you and watching as your face contorted from the feeling of his cock splitting you open. Your nails dug into his back as you whined.

After allowing you a moment to adjust to his size, Kylo began to move slowly, creating a gentle yet deep pace and hitting that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. It felt like heaven and you attempted to stifle your moans, failing miserably. "Shhh pretty girl, don't wake up the entire house now." He put his hand over your mouth lightly, smiling down at you.

You moaned against Kylo's hand as he began to pick up his pace slightly. He removed his hand to kiss you, his tongue winning dominance over the inside of your mouth.

Kylo pulled away to admire you, his thrusts were still gentle, but he was unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with each snap of his hips.

"Ky-kylo... m'gonna c-cum... feels so good." You whined, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yeah?" He moaned slightly, out of breath and nearing his own climax. "Go ahead, cum on my cock."

Your vision went blurry as you came undone beneath him, the tight coil in your abdomen bursting into fireworks of endless pleasure.

"Just like that, pretty girl. You're doing so good, Fuck." Kylo whispered in your ear, easing you through your orgasm as his hand rested over your mouth to muffle your moans.

After a few more thrusts he came to a halt with a groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came. "Fuck- shit! You feel so fucking good." He hissed.

As Kylo came down from his high, he breathed heavily, smiling down at you before kissing you again. He pulled away, pulling out of you. You whined, which caused him to chuckle slightly. You watched as he took the condom off, throwing it in the trash before slipping his boxers back on, and retrieving his band t-shirt and your underwear from the floor.

He sat back on the bed and gently dressed you, his shirt hanging off of your much smaller frame. "You look so pretty in my clothes." He smirked at you, pulling your covers over the two of you before taking you into his arms.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat flutter. "Thank you." You whispered softly.

Kylo chuckled. "For what, pretty girl?" He played with your hair.

"For making my first time memorable. It was really, really good..." You trailed off sleepily.

You heard his heartbeat falter at your comment and you smiled. He ran his fingers through your hair. "You don't have to thank me for that, I've wanted to do this for a while now." Kylo waited for an answer but it never came. He sighed, smiling as he realized you had fallen asleep on him. This was a feeling he could get used to.

The following morning, you two were awoken by the sound of your mother knocking on your bedroom door. Kylo was immediately alert, scrambling out of bed and grabbing his remaining clothes before ducking under your bed as you silently laughed at him.

"Yeah?" You called out to your mother.

She entered, looking around your room. "I'm going to the grocery store, do you want anything... where did you get that shirt." She stared at the Slipknot t-shirt you were wearing that was three sizes too big for you.

You looked down at yourself, before looking back at her. "I'm doing laundry right now and Kylo left it in Finn's room a long time ago." You lied through your teeth. "And no, I don't want anything."

"Hm, okay... And close that window, the heat is on and its freezing in here!" She motioned to your open window before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

You fell back onto your pillow, shutting your eyes and smiling at the sound of Kylo's laughter beneath you.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Paper Thin (Chris Fehn x Fem! Reader) FLUFF Part 1

Hello! This story is a request for @bleedingrose0688 which was inspired by this wonderful video right here! Part 1 is going to be fluff and lots of flirting with Chris. Part 2 will be the smut continuation, which I think you guys are really going to enjoy, I'm so excited to write this idea.

WARNINGS: Swearing, suggestive comments/implications, nothing much, pretty fluffy this chapter!

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Part 2 (TBA)

Divider credit: @adornedwithlight

You stood barefoot on the rough concrete landing outside your motel room door, leaning against the thin metal railing that allowed you to overlook the parking lot from the third floor. “Room and a view, can't get much better than this.” You can't help but smile at the sound of Chris's voice coming out of one of the rooms.

“You're up early.” You respond, earning a chuckle from Chris when he hears how fried your vocal chords were from the show the night prior. On top of being in charge of the band’s mech table, you were also their self declared number one fan. Every show Chris would watch you dance along from your position at the booth, screaming the words with whoever was out on to work with you that night.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He explains, joining you at your side.

“Nervous about the show tonight?” He nods in response.

“We sold out.” You could hear the anxiety tugging at his voice. “Which, don't get me wrong, that's great–”

“But, it's a lot of pressure.” You finish his thought.

“Yeah.” You reach over, taking his hand in yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “Thank you.” He states softly. You knew that on days like these, Chris liked having you close. The distraction of having you near him, being able to distractedly run his hands over you, it helped put him at ease.

“You're going to go out there, and you're going to kick ass just like you do every night. And, I'll be watching you the whole time.” Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet his.

“Promise?” You felt your face grow warm, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze. He smiles as his attention drops to your lips.

“Promise.” You respond softly when you finally manage to collect yourself. 

“What the fuck are you two doing out here?” You jump as a groggy Mick trudges out onto the landing, the sludge they passed as complimentary coffee steaming in a flimsy foam cup.

Chris let out an irritated sigh, obviously annoyed that your time alone together had been cut short. “Just hanging out, man.” Mick’s attention immediately turns to your hand, which Chris was still holding. He clears his throat, slipping his fingers from your grasp.

“Sure you are.” Mick chuckles, heading back inside his room.

You sat crammed into one of the bench seats inside the van, crushed in between Chris and Paul. Chris silently slides an arm around your shoulders, allowing you to nestle into his side for a little more space. You feel his thumb rub over your arm in slow, languid strokes. He doesn't dare look at you, his heart already pounding in his chest. Every so often you would chime in the conversation about merch sales and whether or not you needed any help setting up. “At most someone can carry some of the boxes from the van to the table? Someone likes to overfill them when we pack up.” Jim chuckles behind you. “Not all of us can lift 200 pounds, big guy.” You joke.

“I'm sure Chris wouldn't mind helping you out.” Mick offers.

“Not at all,” your heart thrums as your eyes meet his, “whatever you need, baby.” He winks at you with a smile.

Chris kept his word. As you rolled up to the venue, he hopped out of the van, grabbing 2 of the plastic folding tables you had brought with you at a time, lugging both inside and quickly getting them set up for you before going to grab the boxes of merch. You took your time to carefully set up the display, making sure the designs you had available were visible. “This should be the last of them.” You turned around to thank him, your words dying in your throat when your eyes landed on him. At some point he had taken off his shirt to deal with the early morning heat, droplets of sweat coating his skin. You couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from his arms, making him chuckle. “Everything alright, baby?” You could hear the playful, teasing tone in his voice.

“Yeah, thank you, Chris.” You finally manage to meet his gaze, his eyes momentarily dropping down to your lips. He jogged off towards the stage when they called him for sound check, taking one final glance at you over his shoulder. You danced and sang along with what they were playing. Once you had finished your setup you decided to wander down towards the stage. They were just about finished with their check, probably only having another 2 or 3 songs to go. Chris smiles at you when he notices you're there. You stand right at the barrier to the stage, unable to tear your eyes off of him. He smirks, grabbing his mic and coming to the edge closest to you. You froze as his eyes met yours, face to face with him as he growled demonically into the mic.

You swallow thickly, a soft ‘wow’ falling from your lips only to be immediately swallowed up in the noise. You were struggling not to drool over the sight of him, the way his arms flexed as he drummed, his strong, burly body threatening to bring you to your knees. Chris could feel your eyes on him the entire time, it only pushes him to show off however he could. He jumps down in front of you, a smirk lacing its way across his lips as he notices your flustered expression. “What's that look for?” He asks playfully.

“You're, um,” your mouth felt so dry, “you just look really good up there, that's all.” Your eyes widened, breath catching in your throat as you realized what you had said.

“You think I look good, huh?” His heart raced at the compliment. “I wish you could be down here during the show, I'm sure you'd look really pretty under those stage lights.”

“Unfortunately someone needs to run the merch table or I'd be right down in front.” There was a pang of disappointment as you watched him pull his T-shirt over his head. “There's nothing I want more than to get face to face with my favorite musician during a show.”

It was your turn to catch him off guard. A look of surprise flashing across his features before he chuckles at your statement. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Corey called for him to get back on stage so they could finish up.

Tonight was another successful show all around. Merch just about sold out, the venue was packed, and the crowd practically tore the place apart. You stood behind your table, packing up the few shirts you had left. “Busy night?” He wanted to melt at the sight of your sleepy smile.

“Oh yeah, I had people fighting over some of the stuff.” You share a laugh.

“Want some help getting everything loaded up?” He asks softly.

“Please, I'm so tired.” You whine, making him chuckle. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You allow yourself to melt into him, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you settle into his side.

“You just let me take care of everything, okay?” Your cheeks grow warm as he carefully runs a thumb under your eye. “Eyelash.” He whispers, holding it out on his finger. “Make a wish.” He whispers. You take a deep breath, allowing yourself a moment to steady. A plethora of wishes flashed through your mind: how you wanted the band to take off, to superficial things like a new car… but, what you really wanted was for Chris to kiss you. You hadn't been able to get the memory of him from soundcheck earlier that day out of your head. Every time you looked up at him on stage your heart would pound, remembering what he had said to you earlier. You blew the eyelash away, your gaze meeting his with a playful expression. Chris made quick work of cleaning up. Before you knew it, you were back in the vans heading to the motel. You could barely keep your eyes open, your head every so often falling onto Chris's shoulder before you would snap yourself awake.

The others groaned as they made their way up to their rooms. You caught Chris’s hand in your own, holding him back from the group. He leans against the railing, drinking in the sight of you. “You were incredible tonight,” you start bashfully, “I couldn't keep my eyes off you.”

“Careful,” he chuckles, “you're going to make me think you have a crush on me or something.”

“Maybe I do.” The words come out before you have a chance to stop them. Your eyes widen as you process your confession, your heart pounding in your chest. You try to follow up with any sort of remark at all, only managing to stutter out sounds.

Chris moves without warning, his hands coming to cradle your face as his lips crash into yours. You let out a startled sound, stumbling back slightly as your arms slide over his shoulders to keep you upright. Kissing him was everything you could have hoped it would be and so much more. Your head spun, your lungs burned as you fought against the urge to breathe, every nerve in your body where Chris’s body touched yours was on fire. 

Just as quickly the kiss had started it was over.

Chris gazed down at you nervously as he tried to figure out how you were going to respond to his actions. Your eyes flicker over his features, eventually meeting the brilliant blue you were used to seeing stare back at you. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow?” He spits out, the abruptness making you giggle.

“I'd really like that.” You smile softly at him. You push yourself up on his toes, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight.” He reluctantly lets his fingers fall away from where they were resting on you, sharing one final, longing glance back at him before parting ways for the evening.

When your door clicks shut Chris quietly celebrates by himself out on the landing. Asking you out didn't go as he had planned, but he couldn't care less about that right now. When he slipped back into his motel room everyone else was already asleep. He quietly slips into the bathroom to get himself ready for the night.

He groans as he slips under the covers, getting as comfortable as he could on the ancient, too hard mattress. He lays there for a while, unable to sleep. He could hear soft sounds coming through the walls from your room. He holds his breath, making the room as quiet as he listens intently. “Chris…” he shoots straight up in bed, cursing as one of the others stirs. The sound he was hearing was you. He listens intently through the wall, soft moans and whimpers falling effortlessly from your lips.

He definitely wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

[jimsbeetroot]

Can you write a one shot for Corey? The reader is in the studio with Slipknot. Corey takes screams and reader, his girlfriend, loves them. Reader gives him loving looks. The others make fun of it and tease reader. Corey comforts them (hug,...).

February, 2001.

I was unsure as to if you were requesting a smut. I made it none smutty, but comment and I’ll change that real quick! This is not my best writing at all, I’m trying to get back into my groove, though!

The dimly lit studio was alive with the sound of metal, an almost tangible energy crackling in the air. Slipknot was deep into the recording of their latest album, *Iowa*, and Corey was in his element. His voice ranged from guttural screams to melodic growls, filling the room with an intense rawness that only he could deliver. You were in awe. You always were, but at that moment, watching him so in touch with that realness. You almost wanted to shed a tear.

You sat on a worn-out leather couch at the back of the studio, watching him pour his soul into every note. You marveled at the transformation of the man you loved into the suffering, terrifying frontman of Slipknot.

For you, it was a revelation each time you witnessed Corey perform. The power of his voice resonated within you, sending chills down your spine and igniting a fire in your core. You adored him in these moments, wrapped in a mix of awe and desire. It wasn’t just about his voice or the music; it was the passion he exuded, the way he owned every inch of his space, commanding the attention of everyone around him.

The band was in the middle of recording "The Heretic Anthem," a track that pushed the limits of intensity and speed. Your heart raced in time with the furious drumbeats, your pulse mirroring the ferocity of the music. You were utterly captivated, caught in a trance of admiration and something more primal.

You shifted slightly on the couch, unable to tear your eyes away from Corey. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in with every scream and every breath he took between verses. The rest of the band played on, each member a vital part of the chaotic symphony, but for you, Corey was the focus.

As Corey launched into the chorus, your heart swelled with pride. You knew how much this album meant to him, how much of himself he poured into every lyric and every note. *Iowa* was a darker, more intense journey than their debut, a reflection of the struggles and triumphs the band had faced. And at the center of it all was Corey, baring his soul for the world to hear.

But the bandmates, keen observers and expert teasers, couldn’t let the moment pass unnoticed. Between takes, Joey Jordison grinned mischievously and pointed at you. "Looks like someone's got it bad for our scream king over here," he joked, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. The others joined in, their laughter infectious and loud, echoing off the studio walls.

Mick Thomson leaned over his guitar, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, you should see her face when Corey hits those high notes. Bet the studio isn’t the only place she hears it."

The rest of the band chuckled, their teasing lighthearted but relentless. Paul Gray added, "I think we have a new number-one fan in the room."

Your face flushed a deep crimson, your initial amusement quickly giving way to embarrassment. You tried to laugh it off, but their good-natured ribbing hit a sensitive spot. You didn’t want to be seen as just another fan, caught up in the allure of a rock star. She was there for Corey—the man behind the mask and the music. She was his girl, had been for over two years, and you sure as hell wasn’t planning on leaving either.

Sensing your discomfort, Corey stepped away from the mic and crossed the room with his usual attitude, the teasing giving way to a more sincere energy. He slid onto the couch beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his presence was immediate and reassuring.

"Hey," he cooed, leaning in close so only you could hear him over the noise of the studio. "Don’t let them get to you. They’re just messing around."

You sighed and looked into his eyes, finding the comfort she needed. “I know,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just...sometimes I feel like they see me as a groupie.”

Corey shook his head, his gaze steady and sincere. “They don’t, trust me. They love you, they’re just- they’re bored and tired and fucking immature.” He gently squeezed your thigh and leant in to kiss your cheek.

Reassured by his words, you felt the tension melt away, replaced by a renewed confidence in her place beside him. You loved Corey, not just as the charismatic lead singer of Slipknot, but as the man who held her close and knew her heart.

The session resumed, Corey back at the mic, his voice a weapon of raw emotion and strength. You watched him again, your heart swelling with pride and affection. The teasing had faded into the background, and all that remained was the music and the man she loved. You were no longer embarrassed, only exhilarated by the unbreakable bond you shared amid the chaos and creativity of the studio.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-ten

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I don't think you guys understand how broken this gif made me Fuck, creating it killed me! Also, during the hotel scene, listen to snuff by slipknot. It's on the playlist! Some eggs from other songs on the playlist throughout the chapter as well! Enjoy my loves!

Tags: @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here

NICK R.

My heart raced as Jolly and I met each other in the dimly lit hotel hallway, sleep still heavy in our eyes and bones. When he called me a few minutes ago, I rushed out of bed where I was crashing in Matt’s room and knew that it could have been about one thing.

Noah.

“What happened?” I asked.

Jolly ran a hand over his exhausted face. “I don’t know. I haven’t walked inside yet and I’m afraid of what I’m going to see.”

“Y/N. He kicked me out earlier tonight because she was coming by,” I said, remembering suddenly.

“Shit,” Jolly cursed before nodding behind me towards Folio. “No matter what we walk into, we don’t judge him. Whatever happened fucked him up enough that he needs to write a song at three in the morning.”

Folio agreed. “How bad is he?”

I shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

Jolly turned towards the door and knocked gently.

“Yeah.”

The voice that called back was not Noah; this voice sounded broken, and distant, with the single word that was uttered.

“It’s me,” Jolly spoke through the door.

Realizing that Noah was most likely not in a state to answer the door, I handed Jolly my room key and we all sucked in a breath when the light on the lock turned green; us walking into the room one at a time. There was music playing, soft beats echoing off the wall, and I hoped no one would complain to the front desk about the noise.

My bed was still as I left it but Noah’s bed was disheveled with a pair of underwear that clearly weren’t his and a small piece of what I expected was a condom wrapper. Noah’s original clothes from earlier that evening were on the floor at the edge of the bed.

Shit.

Noah was on the floor leaning against the wall with a bottle of Hennessy in hand, more than half gone, and his hair was in a disarray of braids.

“Noah,” Jolly said quietly while bending down in front of him.

He waved a hand in front of his face as his head bobbed slowly. “I’m good, man. I just wanted to get this beat down. It’s in my head.”

“She wouldn’t stay, would she?” I questioned while motioning towards the bed.

“Didn’t need to. Jus’ friends. ‘S’all it’s come to. She didn’t need to and I don’t really fucking care. I don’t. No sweat off ma back,” he finished the rest of the bottle before letting it slip from his fingers. “I’m fine. F.I.N.E.”

The three of us shared a painful wince as he spelled out the word two more times.

As if whoever was watching over us from above, just then that specific song by Too Close To Touch came blasting through the small portable speaker Noah always brought with.

“See?” Noah pointed to the air around him. “Even fucking Keaton is telling you guys I’m fine.”

But then, he slammed his head against the wall behind him as his bottom lip trembled, his chest caving in at hearing his best friend's voice play throughout the room. Noah was only rubbing more salt in his wounds and fuck, they burned.

“Why the fuck aren’t you here, man?” he choked out. “You knew her better than us. What did I do? Why’d she leave?”

Keaton’s name felt like ice in our hearts and I knew it was a stabbing pain through Noah’s chest.

“Whatever,” Noah grumbled, wiping angrily at his face. “Her decision; bad decision. Fuck her. I need to write.”

“Noah, come on, don’t say shit you’re gonna regret,” Folio spoke. “You can’t write when you’re drunk. You know that.”

“M’not. She jus’ my good friend. I fucking knew I wasn’t enough for her.”

He was far gone, not even realizing that Folio and I stood behind Jolly, our own somber expressions weighing heavily on our faces.

Finally, his eyes opened and when he saw all three of us, Noah groaned.

“Oh, great ya called them?” He pointed towards us. “I don wanna hear I told you so, erm stubborn. Yadayadsa.”

His words slurred together, stumbling over his tongue.

Folio peered around the room, counting the empty bottles. “I’m counting two.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Apparently he’s been sitting here awhile.”

“You know I can’t stay; you deserve better than me,” Noah chuckled, imitating Y/N’s voice.

Jolly peered over his shoulder at us and his lips were pulled in a tight line, all of us thinking the same thing.

“Noah” I sighed with my hands on my hips.

His head snapped up, eyes red with tears so close to falling but they wouldn’t. Noah was always in control of his emotions; he refused to cry in front of us.

“She told me what I felt, she told me what I wanted and what I didn’t. Didn’t give me a fucking say about anything before she walked the fuck out. Left. Gone,” he rambled on.

“She’s going through-,” Folio started.

“Fuck that,” Noah seethed with clenched fists in his lap. “I don’-don’t care right now, in this moment. She fucking stole my heart and took it with ‘er. Jus’ friends.”

The last two words sounded bitter on his tongue, like acid.

While we let him wallow in the pain, I motioned for Jolly and Folio to walk to the other side of the room, out of earshot from Noah.

“Should we ask Malcom or Chase what the fuck happened?” Jolly asked.

“Do you think she told them?” Folio wondered.

I shrugged while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t doubt that. She likes him, we know she does. It’s clear.”

“Then why did she leave?” Jolly questioned, his own pain for Noah making his jaw clench. “What the fuck happened to make her leave?”

I gazed over to Noah, my heart falling into my stomach at the broken sight of my brother. “He jumped. He jumped but Y/N wasn’t there yet.”

The three of us made a quick plan of action before Jolly and Folio went to help Noah up off the floor, his limp body dragging on the floor.

“Noah let’s get into bed,” Folio suggested.

“No. I need to finish this beat, and these fuckin’ lyrics in my head,” he pushed himself away from them, standing on two shaky feet but standing. He smacked his forehead over and over.

Jolly nodded. “We will, but first you need to get some sleep.”

He glared at the bed in front of him, a mess of the decision they made together.

“…the pillow.. she was on that one,” Noah pointed. “It smells like that fucking perfume, I don-wanna inhale that shit right now.”

There was so much venom in his voice when he spoke about Y/N and there was a part of me that hoped this wouldn’t last long. He had every right to be upset with her; he gave her his heart, and she walked away.

“Alright, then let’s get you some sleep in mine,” I said.

He licked his lips, an unreadable look flashing in bloodshot eyes. “I still fucking taste her. It’s a poison that I should have fucking avoided.”

“Can’t help you with that, brother,” Folio tried to joke.

No one laughed

“No. I need to finish this-,” Noah stumbled over to his suitcase to snatch a piece of paper and pen, something he always kept on him.

I stepped in front of him to hold him steady, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was as if it was trying to break free to chase after Y/N; just for her to stomp on it again.

No, I shook my head, you can’t let your own anger deter you from trying to fix Noah. You can be angry about the situation but not her. It’s no one's fault.

“You don’t like to write when you’re not home,” I tried to take the pen and paper away from him.

“I don’ care nicKLas.” He pushed past me to fall onto his bed, ass first on the pillow. “I have to, right now.”

Sensing the sudden thick tension, not knowing what the next thing would be that would set him off, Jolly gave a slow nod toward Noah.

“Alright. Let it go, man. Let us hear it.”

Even though they weren’t written down, Noah still burned his gaze into the empty page in front of him. Through the slurred words, the ache that poured out of him brought chills to my bones.

“How quick it gets lonely here at the top. Her skin feels unholy but I’m still drawn. The morals I’m holding, you know they’re gone.”

Fuck, that was good.

Noah’s eyes snapped over to us. “Why aren’t you helping me get down this beat?”

I held my arms out to the empty room. “We don’t have our stuff here Noah, this isn’t usually how we do this.”

“Fuck,” he ran a shaky hand over his chin. “Ok well then here! Voice clip it.”

While he tossed his phone to Jolly, who barely caught it in time, I gave Folio a look of luck before slipping out of the room, almost running into Matt who stood at the open doorway.

“Who the fuck is blasting Snuff by Slipknot at four in the morning?” He asked with fury.

No doubt someone called the front desk and complained who in turn complained to Matt.

“Woah, what the fuck is going on right now?” Matt took a tentative step into the room, eyeing the situation.

“Didn’t you hear, fucker?” Noah whipped his head towards us so fast, that the braids smacked around his face. “She ran away, she’s the fuckin same.”

He hiccuped a sob. “Angels lie to keep control.”

“Fuck's sake,” Jolly pinched his nose with a sigh.

I gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just keep an eye on Noah, he’s not in a good place right now.”

“Fuck, don’t tell me-,” he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his sweater.

“Just- let me handle it man,” I slipped past him out of the room and quick steps took me to the elevator.

I bounced on the soles of my feet as I repeatedly pushed the down floor button and cursed when the doors finally opened. Blackness took over as I let the images of Noah sitting there broken carry me to the room, hand pounding on the door.

Time be damned. I couldn't care less if she was asleep right now. How could she be asleep while my best friend, my brother, was fucking dying on the inside?

Not again. I refused to let him sink for another.

“Nick?” Chase squinted with the sudden light blasting in from the hallway. “Everything alright?”

“Where is she?”

He continued to stare at me with narrowed eyes. “Who? Y/N?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Is she here?”

I tried to peer past him but only saw someone with auburn curls walk behind Chase, leaving a gentle hand on his back. “What’s going on?”

“Nick’s looking for Y/N,” Chase informed Malcolm.

He stared at me confused. “Last I heard she was going to hang out with Noah. Did something happen?”

“What the fuck do you think?” I snapped but then let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole but she left. Noah’s a fucking wreck. It seemed like they had a great time- so what’s the deal? I thought she cared for him. Why, why would she hurt my friend?”

I was the middle child, great at negotiating, great at being the middle man. The one who would try to settle things. I was on Noah’s side with this one, she’s my friend, but he’s my brother. Even I didn’t see this coming. I tried to remain neutral when I asked them and tried not to look annoyed.

“Dude- she does, she cares for him a lot,” Malcolm spoke while tying up his curls. “Noah makes her so happy. We haven’t seen her glow like that in years, I just- I don’t know. We don’t know why she would leave. Unless…”

Chase quickly pushed Malcolm back into the room slightly. “Dude, no. That’s not our business to tell. She has to be the one to decide.”

“What?!” I asked.

They knew something, and I needed to know; right now.

“That’s her business, not ours,” Chase said, rubbing his head.

“What?,” I scoffed. “Is she fucking dying or something? Is she okay?”

“No, no, she’s fine. All I’ll say is she does things in her life that can require extra attention. But like I said, that’s not for us to discuss, even with you man, sorry,” he pauses and says again. “Is he- is Noah alright?”

“Honestly? No. He isn’t, he’s drunk and writing right now. He’s gonna feel like hell when we have to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

Malcolm sighed. “I’m sorry dude. When Y/N comes back, we’re going to have to have a long talk. We know she cares for your friend, Nick. Her heart is in the right place- we just don’t know where the hell her mind is. We’ll figure it out.”

I nod and smile slightly, in agreement. My eyes want to convey a lot more. Y/N’s a good person, but she broke my friend's heart tonight. This is why I was so hesitant about this relationship with him and Y/N. I warned Noah not to jump yet, but he did.

All I could do right now until she came back was nod a quick thanks to them and hope that Y/N would confide in them. I wanted to fix my friend's broken soul so often, and so often I tried and succeeded. I wasn’t sure I could with this one- I needed to let them go through this on their own. But I’ll be damned if I let my friend suffer.

“Alright well, let me know what you find out, please.”

“Absolutely, anytime man. We’ll talk,” Chase reassured with a nod, Malcolm bumping fists with mine.

When I made it back to Noah’s room, I noticed the guys huddled around Noah’s slumped body in the bed, clutching the pillow Y/N laid on close to his chest, snoring loudly, and another empty bottle of Hennessy next to him.

“Shit,” I breathed. “Another one?”

Matt sighed defeated. “We tried, man. But his strength when he’s drunk and angry is something not to mess with. You know that.”

I nodded because I knew that. All too well.

“He only fell asleep about five minutes ago. I don’t know how we’re going to get him up in two hours so we can make our flights,” Folio wondered.

“We’ll figure it out,” I assured them. “Did he finish writing?”

“Yeah,” Matt slowly went towards the end of the bed, gently pulling the book from under Noah’s arm; pen falling from his hands.

“What does it say?” My brows raised as I took the paper in my hands; my brothers' broken words staring back at me.

Bitter ends to the nights. I’m along for the ride. Out of breath, out of time. Everything has a price. You can be all I got, what’s the difference? Hennessy and a lot of bad decisions. All I know, all I know is bad, bad decisions.

“Gotta admit, it’s fucking good,” Jolly said while he read the lyrics over my shoulder.

I bit my lip. “Yeah.”

Folio yawned loudly while stretching, exhausted body falling onto my bed. “Get ready boys because once we’re home, we won’t have a moment of peace. We’re writing a new record.”

NICK R.

You could cut the tension with a knife in this boarding gate right now.

The sun barely broke through the thick glass of the windows as Bad Omens and Hollow Souls sat on other ends of the gate, waiting for our flights to be called. With tired but intent eyes, I watched Noah as he kept his eyes cast down to his hands, fingers intertwining with each other as he picked away the black nail polish. It was as though it was his subconscious way of chipping pieces of Y/N away, the way he washed his hands in the restroom earlier, scrubbing her off him.

His nails were surely, going to bleed if he kept picking at them, I wanted to intervene, say stop that. I needed him to process his feelings. I so badly wanted to scream in this airport, wake the fuck up, to them both. But I kept my reservations.

And just like him, Y/N looked rough. It was clear neither of them, or well any of us got any sleep last night.

Where the fuck did they go so wrong together?

Noah had been a fan of hers ever since that night on my pull-out couch but the first time they met each other almost 2 months ago, their eyes were bright with a vibrant gaze. Almost like searchlights attempting to find something. The lights found it, but they were almost too intense, almost like bystanders. Through all the confusion, I knew deep within me it wouldn’t be long until the searchlights were searching again, just a matter of when.

Us?

We weren’t allowed to see what was being found. We should have looked away, and avoided the crash. But to see them now, those same eyes swollen, discolored and raw red, the blood vessels wanting to leave their faces made it harder to look away.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, now out of the braids and cascading around his shoulder, and let his eyes graze over towards Y/N, who was resting her head against Chase's shoulder. It was brief, the look of agony in them, but he looked away before she could catch him.

The airline called out for Vegas first; Chase and Y/N’s flight. Then our flight back home to LA was called out seconds later.

Those two sets of eyes, continue to gaze and plead and beg until their shoulders are tapped, Jolly to Noah and Chase to Y/N. As he stood, Noah adjusted the bag on his shoulder and waved his fingers in a peace sign toward the three members of Hollow Souls. This wasn’t how we wanted our new friendships and tour to end.

He wants to be in her life. He still does, otherwise, he wouldn’t have done that. I thought to myself as I noticed Y/N gave her one peace sign to all of us.

She’s sorry, she wants him in her life and regrets it.

I could fucking see it. This was going to be a long ride with these two.

As we all stood with our carry-on bags, ready to walk towards our gate, I gave Chase a knowing nod who immediately pulled out his phone, avoiding the eyes of Y/N, to send me a message.

I’ll tell you everything

Noah slept the entire flight, not speaking a word or even opening his eyes. Now, as we pulled up to the house he said with Jolly, Orie, Michael, and Jesse, Noah still had yet to say one word. Folio offered to stay with but we knew he had someone to meet back home in Virginia so we told him we had it from here.

“You sure?” Folio asked before we boarded the plane.

I nodded. “Yeah, go back to Virgina. Tell her we said hey.”

I, on the other hand, was a different story.

“I’m not going home right now,” I told Noah as I set my bags down in their living room. They had little extra space, but I didn’t care. I’d sleep on the couch as long as I was near my brother. “I won’t leave you in this state, Noah.”

“Nick, I’m a grown man. I’ll be alright,” he sighed while popping open the bottle of aspirin, and swallowing two pills dry.

For the hangover.

“I know you are,” I nodded. “Just let me be there for you, okay?”

NOAH

If it wasn’t terrible enough that not only did my fucking love life shut down, but the world had to as well?

Two months. It’s been almost two months since the tour ended and this pandemic took over the world, forcing us to stay stuck inside. While the rest of the guys went stir-crazy after the first few weeks, I spent the solace writing, drinking, and trying to forget about her.

The latter lasted only a few minutes once we returned home; her scent being stained into my skin, her touch engraved deep into my bones it made it hard to get out of bed. I see her in all my mirrors. Her reflection was haunting me relentlessly like a ghost.

Hennessy and Jack have become my friends in the last few weeks at home. I knew the guys were worried; I didn’t need them to worry. I was fine.

Y/N and I are friends.

Right, then how come you haven’t texted her in weeks?

Because she’s been busy with the move, I retorted back to my own thoughts.

Malcolm texted our Hollow Omens group chat to let us know that Y/N was settling in nicely in their new apartment in Los Angeles. We can come by anytime for a housewarming party but immediately I ignored that. Wouldn’t it be fucking awkward?

Trey wasn’t home when she and Chase showed up to pack her things so they could leave without incident.

Even with her cat Salem.

Chase sent a few pictures of the cat in the group chat, long black fur lying on his chest. I never responded, simply liking the messages before setting my phone on silent the rest of the night. I noticed that Y/N rarely ever responded in the chat as well, only when Chase or Malcolm would ask her something but she would only reply with emojis or a short ‘ok.’

The pandemic was only getting started and I could feel the suffocation kick in. I felt alone; utterly alone. I put all my heart into this one woman, a woman I yearned for, for a long time.

The loud ringing of the doorbell pulled me from my melancholy thoughts and I sighed, almost forgetting I ordered food an hour ago. I was in such a trance I hadn’t realized the noise of the loud bell eased me out of my rocking back and forth on the couch.

I didn’t even notice I did that.

I took a massive swig of my jack and clenched my teeth as it burned all the way down my throat, heart racing a mile a minute.

Calm down, calm down.

Time slowed, or passed by in a blaze? I wasn’t sure the longer I sat in the somewhat dark living room, open but untouched food container on the table in front of me as the chicken scratch of my handwriting teased back at me.

Why’s this always gotta happen to me? I should have known. I never fail to never learn from mistakes, still throwing stones. Blood signed, we made it a pact. Yours dried out; you took it back.

The alcohol was like battery acid as I took another large swing of Jack but it wasn’t kicking in strong enough. I kept swinging until the burn covered up my pain.

Harper’s soft whines from her perch next to me on the couch pulled at my heartstrings so knowing Orie wasn’t here, I fed her a few pieces of my cold dinner.

The front door opened, voices carrying from the entryway into the living room and my heart hammered with the panic of them seeing me like this. I hid the bottle under the pillow and tossed the small bag into the garbage from my food.

“Shit, Noah. Why are you sitting in the dark?” Jolly asked while turning on the lamp next to the sofa I was sitting on.

“Hi,” My voice was soft because now with the bright lights, the room was spinning.

“You working on another song?” He eyed the bottle that stuck out from behind the pillow, irritation in his eyes.

They matched my own.

I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. “Yes, man, what do you think?”

“Don’t be hostile, go eat and let me look over it,” Jolly motioned to my food while he reached for the pad of paper.

“You can’t just tell me what to do,” I snapped while reaching for it before he could.

“Noah, you gotta eat so you don’t get hungover. Let me look at the song,” he took the pad of paper and walked over to the other side of the room. Once he fell into the chair in the corner of the room, Jolly nodded up at me. “Fucking eat, Noah”

I sighed and grabbed my food to chew slowly, “Okay Dad”

Jesse stalked into the living room a few moments later while stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Nick said there might be news of the ban lifting completely by the end of the month. Which means we can get a change of scenery. Might be good for us.”

Holy Hades, this is one of those times I wished I lived alone.

Shortly after getting back home, the pandemic started and Nick ended up getting stuck with us in LA. He didn’t mind, more time for us to hang and chill, but now that procedures were lifting slowly at a time, he took the first opportunity to fly back to Virginia to get things settled there.

“Hey,” Jesse sat on the arm of Jolly’s chair. “Is this another song?”

Even though my head was throbbing with the ongoing hangover, I leaned back into the couch while nodding and Harper now rested her whole body in my lap. “It’s the third one.”

“Oh? Nice! Let me see” He began flipping through the pages.

Normally, I’d jump and take the book from his hands, but right now this room was in spirals. I was sick to my knees. All I wanted to do was call her, and have her tell me it’ll be fine. But I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, and she wasn’t ready to talk to me either.

Clearly.

Malcolm texted me the other day, outside of the Hollow Omens group chat to tell me that Y/N wasn’t doing okay and she missed me. She wanted to talk to me and wanted us over one night when the bans were lifted. But if that was the truth, then how come the last text I had on my phone from her was right before she came to my hotel room that night?

Her unholy skin tasted like the forbidden fruit, all the morals we held that night gone. No gods, no religion. Just our bad decisions. Memories of the way she looked while on top of me burned into my brain and I couldn’t forget the way she felt coming undone.

It paralyzed me so much so that I left Malcolm on read for two days.

Thanks man, glad it worked out. Be in touch.

Snapping out of my drunken thoughts, I noticed Jesse was still reading the pages, not giving a damn I’m leaving my heart out on the table in front of him, bleeding all over while he was reading it.

“Bad Decisions. Nice,” Jesse nodded before flipping back to the new song I was working on. “Nowhere to go? Angsty. I like it.”

I shrugged and stopped mid-chew. “Yeah, I know. It’s what I do, Jesse.”

Arrogant? No, it was smart; I had to channel this shit somewhere. I knew this, no matter what, I’ll always write a fucking song. I wanted to panic, and I did, but the liquor was doing its job.

Jolly went to grab the guitar while Jesse moved to the couch, Harper now lying in his lap.

Traitor.

As I reached for the bottle of Jack this time, Jolly hastily ripped it from my hands and to exhausted to fight, I let him.

“No. Let’s add a chorus to Nowhere To Go, yeah?”

“Sure, yeah, I got something in mind.” I took the notebook back to jot some more words down.

After a few moments, I read the entire thing a few times, making sure it was perfect before I gave it to him.

“Start with this?” He asked.

I nodded then soon, my thoughts became words into the air.

“Hear me out, I’m sorry, but I’m a little less than sold. I’ve been around, heard all the stories you said you never told. You’re used to speaking in tongues to feel like you’re in control. Now you’ve got nowhere to run, now you’ve got nowhere to go. Tell me what’s mine and tell me what’s yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice? Tell me what’s mine and tell me what’s yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice?”

“Fuck, that sounds amazing, Noah. Let’s finish this.” Jolly mused,

That night, we finished Bad Decisions and Nowhere to Go.

Folio

Noah began smoking weed again, on top of all the alcohol he’d been consuming the last few weeks, he was on a downward spiral. It was only in small doses but that’s how the drinking started; he took up this faux savior persona.

“I can save myself,” he’d say after one of us would bring up how worried we were about him.

It was a load of shit. Any of us could tell you that.

This was the first time I’d seen him since the tour ended, all those months ago, but time away did nothing to help his mental state. Noah was breaking, piece by piece, and now that the ban lifted, we could visit again. Hence Nick and I were hanging out in their living room, a soft beat of music playing on the speakers.

Noah came bounding down the stairs, smelling of whiskey and weed, eyes glassy, rosy, and filled with rage. His hands were full of ink as he’d been writing nonstop, with everlasting consistency.

As he cascaded, his stomps were harsh, and if he realized it, Noah didn’t give a shit. When he reached into the kitchen and slammed the cupboard door wide open, he grabbed a bag of pita chips with tight force, breaking a few chips no doubt.

“Why are these almost gone? I just fucking bought them?” He snapped with a smart-ass attitude.

All of us eyed each other wearily, unsure how or even if we should respond but it was Orie who muttered under his breath. “We had some with the hummus we bought earlier. Chill the fuck out, Noah. It’s not that deep.”

Noah tossed the bag onto the counter. “It is that deep when it's something of mine. Fucking ass if you want it. Why is it so hard for people to communicate?”

Michael, who usually was the quiet, almost forgotten one, finally snapped. “We’re being patient with you. But we’re not your fucking punching bag.”

Jolly’s head snapped over to Michael from his spot on the floor in front of the couch with wide eyes full of heat, I was sure vanilla ice cream would melt. Jolly was the one who let all of us know to take it easy on Noah; it was a hard time in his life, and the last thing he needed was one of us fighting with him.

Noah hadn’t spoken to Y/N in weeks and we could physically see the imaginary soul ties that bound them together withering away, even though they were within miles of each other now that she lived here. Miles apart but still couldn’t gain the fucking courage to grow up and speak to each other.

Michael sighed his apology while running a hand over his face. “We’re here for you, man. We’re being patient. But you can’t keep going on like this.”

“You’re drowning right now and the painful to watch, you haven’t been this bad in years. Let us help you,” Nick spoke with a shaky breath.

Out of all of us, it hurt him the most to see Noah like this because he’d seen it before; only this time it was worse.

“You can’t help me, nothing to help me with. I’m fine,” Noah shrugged before reaching for another beer.

“You’re in denial and it’s ridiculous,” I said, tired of seeing and hearing the same bullshit. “Noah, I think you should see someone.”

“A shrink? Seriously?” He snorted.

“I think it can help you, besides the way music does,” I offered.

“I don’t need you to help me, I just want the racing to stop. The racing in my mind going miles a minute,” He slammed a finger to the side of his head repeatedly. “We have so much shit to do, and I can’t see anything but what happened right now. It’s a fuckin loop in my brain. Everything just keeps glitching.”

Noah then paced the length of the kitchen, red sweater pulled tightly against his chest and hood over his eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry man, I’m sorry I just- fuck” he spat, a tear fell out of his eye but was quick to wipe it away.

Vulnerability be damned

“We’re your friends, we love you. We were stuck in this fucking house together for months. We can’t go anywhere and you don’t want us to worry? Well, too fucking bad because we do,” Orie explained with a tense-looking Harper in his lap.

She didn’t like the sudden noise but didn’t want to leave her dad.

Noah’s glossy eyes took in all our faces one by one, lingering a few seconds longer than the last.

“I just need time, I don’t know how to handle this, it’s- it’s weird for me. I’m uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ve fallen this hard, this fast,” he admitted while swallowing the lump in his throat.

That much was true. He’s had exes, one-night stands; hell, he’s been in love before- but I’ve never seen it develop this way. We’ve never seen him fall from such a high altitude this quickly. His guards are usually pointed like sharp knives, but it was so easy for him to dull them down for her.

I only hoped Y/N knew that. This was a big deal. I watched my friend crumble and crack like glass.

Time would only tell when they would repair the damage done here. I only hoped it would soon because we hated to see him bruise so easily. He’s right on the edge I fear, one more thing, one more thing and he’ll fall completely into a darkness we wouldn’t be able to pull him from.

“All I do is drink to numb the pain because all the good days we had together got taken away when my head turned on. I keep asking myself ‘why am I not good enough for her?’ How the fuck can I be good enough for her when I don’t even know what good enough is?”

None of us had an answer for him; the only one that did, he was purposely ignoring.

With a lone tear falling from his eyes, Noah wiped it away with the back of his hand, sniffles echoing in the kitchen.

“It’s so hard to watch myself win when a loser's all I've been.”

NOAH

I lay in my bed, neon glows emanating from behind my bed soaking the walls, as I stared up at the ceiling. My mind was racing so face in pace with my heart and I tried so hard to just breathe; fucking breathe to ease it. This pain was like a burning coal I was walking but within a second, all the pain was gone. I couldn’t take it anymore, the drinking, smoking, and not eating affected my health. I was skin on bones at this point.

Keaton's voice rang in my ears. “You’re a shell, Noah. Holding in these shattered nerves. A skeleton that's lost its skin and desperately wants back in.”

Tattooed hands covered my face as I blew a shaky breath into them.

“I need a sign from you, man. Give me something to know I haven’t messed it up yet,” I cried.

A second later, my phone buzzed from the spot on my bed, and through cloudy tears, I sucked in a breath when I saw Chase’s name appear with a new text.

Chase: Hey man, I haven’t heard from you the last few days, I wanted to check in with you. I know this may seem out of nowhere, but we’re worried about you and just hope you’re doing alright.

I stared up at the ceiling again, my heart relaxing its frenzied beat for a moment. “Thank you.”

Hey, all good. Sorry for the late reply. Appreciate it, doing just fine.

Chase: that’s great, but I’ve been hearing other things, so I don’t buy that. Look, again, this isn’t my place but I know Y/N hurt you that night. I can’t sit here and apologize on her behalf, but, I can at least tell you this: she isn’t doing well either; and as someone with two fucking eyes; I can see how much you mean to each other. Some birdies have been telling me you’re drinking yourself into a coma and acting a fool. I apologize for the harshness, but let me ask you this, do you think Y/N wants another Trey? You’re fucking better than that, aren’t you? Do you want to end up as another deadbeat musician with nothing to show for it but a bottle? No, I don’t know you that well but I can see you’re not that guy.

Do yourself a favor and do fucking better. Because she deserves better and so do you. So y’all can sort this soap opera shit out. Talk to you soon, I fucking hope. ✌️

With my phone clattering to the floor, the message left on read, I continued to lie in my bed; the pillow suffocating my mouth and nose.

“I’m not Trey. I’m fucking better than him,” I sat up quickly in bed, my hangover still raging inside my head.

Music is all I have, it’s all lived for-that was until I met her.

With the small get-together happening downstairs still, I ran to the bathroom across the hall to throw up any contents of lingering alcohol and pita chips. I washed my face and brushed my hair out, for the first time in weeks looking somewhat presentable.

“Get it together, you fucking dick.” I pointed a firm finger at my reflection in the mirror, thankful I didn’t see the ghost of Y/N staring back at me. “Do it for the band, do it for your music. Do it for her.”

To some, my shaky words might not have a strong belief but they did to me. It left me with the belief that miracles, no matter how inexplicable or unbelievable, are real and can occur without regard to the natural order of things. Keaton’s sign proved that.

“Just come back to me,” I whispered with trembling lips.

[fritz-federleicht]

The goat/ Paul Gray x reader

Summary: you would rather spend the break with a goat than your boyfriend

Words: 736

FLUFF

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"WE ALL GOT LEFT BEHIND, WE LET IT ALL SLIP AWAY!" Corey yells his lyrics into the camera.

"Thank you guys. Take a short break first. We'll be back in half an hour." Calls the director.

The guys put down their instruments and take off their masks.

Shawn turns to his friends and says: "So far, it's going pretty well." The boys separate and walk off in different directions, some in pairs, some alone.

You get up from the black chair that says GRAY in white. There are goats in this music video. You've been watching them all along. One goat in particular has taken your fancy. It looks like all the others, brown, but it kept running up to you and sniffing your leg.

You are so fixated on finally being able to pet this goat that you just walk straight past your boyfriend and leave him behind, confused.

"Um Y/N, where are you going?" Paul asks you with an amused tone. You turn around just before you reach the goat. "Petting the goat."

"Wouldn't you rather spend some time with your boyfriend who is on break now? Or would you rather spend time with the goat that's always on break?"

You contort your face. "The goat is not always off." You feel something wet on your leg. "Besides, I always have you. I only see Joe today."

You stroke the goat over her brown head. His head jumps up and he tries to lick your hand. In the hope that he finds something to eat there.

"Y/N...did you name the goat?" Paul puts his head slightly to the side and looks at you questioningly.

"Yes, Joe is such a dear," you bend down and stroke Joe's head once again, especially affectionately. "and sweet goat. Can we take him with us?"

You make a pout and puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

Paul looks at you. He is about to say "No" when you interrupt him. "Then I can spend the break with you, too." You bat your eyelashes and walk towards him. You stop in front of him and look at him questioningly.

Paul is wondering if he should pick up a goat so he can spend the break with you now or if he should join his bandmates.

You stand on your tiptoes and stretch as far as you can so you can wrap your arms around his neck. Paul puts his hands on your hips. Your mouth is inches from his.

"Babe, break's almost over and I want to spend a little more time with Joe. You can still think about it." You say, leaning in toward him. Paul makes a kissy mouth.

He waits for your lips to meet his, but instead feels them on the tip of his nose.

You release your arms from his neck and turn around. "Honey!" Paul whines.

"Yes?" You turn to him.

Paul is standing there all lost in his red Slipknot jumpsuit. His mask in his hand.

"I know you'd rather spend time with your new friend." He gives the goat an arrogant look. "But you can't just tease me like that. Do I get a kiss after all?"

You smile and approach him. "For you babe, I'll do it with pleasure. If you ask me so nicely."

This time Paul puts his arms around you and pulls you close to him. He bends down to you. He whispers: "Thank you, doll." And kisses you passionately. As he does so, you swing back and forth slightly. Your hands rest on his chest.

You slowly detach yourself from him and lower your head. Your hands move up his chest and to his collar. You take your time as you straighten it and don't look him in the eye.

"Paul, I know you're stalling for time so you can be with me longer, but I want to spend some time with Joe now. Before he has to shoot again." You look at him again.

Paul nods. "All right, sweetheart. See you soon." He gives you one last kiss and turns around.

You turn too and head off to Joe. Your new friend.

[matty-bear]

♫ Drummer! Chris ♫ Head-canons

pairing: dummer! chris sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: sfw, fluff, slight cursing

summary: what it’s like to date chris when he’s a drummer! 

notes: i have to include my bf nick in this but I’m not sure if I wanna put him as the photographer or give him a spot in the band… let me know what y’all think! :D

dialogue color guide! 

pink: you, orange: chris, purple: nick, blue: matt

WC: 990 (went a little overboard with this one…)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♪ let’s be so for real. chris is so loud when he plays the drums. he gives no shits about them getting noise complaints and when they actually do get them, he just shrugs it off and says that he’s doing the neighbors a favor by ‘blessing their ears.’

♪ when you two got together and you discovered this hobby of his, he became so much quieter. nick and matt were so offended when he brought you to his room to show you a song he learned and they barely heard a SOUND from downstairs. 

“Oh so the second y/n comes over, you decide to be as quiet as possible but when either of us tell you to shut the fuck up and calm it down, you get louder?” 

“I don’t want my girl’s ears to bleed.” 

♪ he knows how obnoxiously loud the drums can be and he enjoys pissing his brothers off when he plays but when you tell ask him to lower his volume, he does so IMMEDIATELY and gives you a kiss as an apology 

“babe, i’m sorry but do you mind being a little quieter?”

“my bad, ma. i’ll be quieter for you.”

♪ when he needs to practice really late at night, he chills with you in bed and waits for you to go to sleep before he sneaks off to use his electric drum set with his headphones which is way more quieter to make sure you get your beauty rest 

♪ this kid has no idea how strong he is and tends to go a little overboard when he drums. when he was learning a really different song that consisted of a lot of fast beats, he might have accidentally stabbed his stick through his drumhead.

“hey ma?…”

“what’s wrong, love?”

“i fucked up another drumhead…”

“let’s go get you another one, come on.” 

♪ he expresses his emotions to the absolute fullest when he plays. when he’s pissed, he goes HAM on the drums and ends up breaking his sticks or a cymbal. if he’s upset, he plays a super depressing song. if he’s in a good mood, he’s playing upbeat songs with the biggest smile on his face. this comes in handy when you or his brothers are confused on how he’s doing emotionally. (he can hide his emotions really well) 

“Is that fucking slipknot?”

“i believe so.”

“I think he’s pissed. he often plays slipknot when hes angry or if someone pisses him off.”

*loud thud*

“Fuck!” 

“alright he broke something, i’m going in before he breaks more stuff.” 

♪ definitely persuades you to sit in his lap when he plays sometimes. he always plays a calm beat when you’re on his lap so he doesn’t cause too much harm to your eardrums. 

♪ when you ask him if he can teach you a song or two, he’s like a kid on christmas day. he’s ESTATIC! he pulls you onto his lap and holds his hands over yours when you grab the sticks. as he guides you through simple beats, he rests his head on your shoulder and switches his focus from watching you play to your focused expression. (you sticking your tongue out a slightly in focus is absolutely adorable to him) 

bonus! when you mange to get a good handful of beats down, he challenges you to put them together without stopping. he didn’t tell you however that he was gonna distract you by kissing all over your neck in hopes of getting you to drop the sticks. when you give up and finally drop the drumsticks, he turns you around to grab your face and showers you in light butterfly kisses. 

♪ after a while of dating and watching him play, you begin to take notice of the muscles building up on his arms. he already had a pretty decent sleeper build (which you sometimes freaked out over) but the second you saw his muscles flex when he was picking up his bass drum to replace it with a new one, it was OVER for you. 

♪ your his biggest fan when he posts covers on his social media. the second you get a notification that he posted, you rush over to his account and flood his comments with praise about how good he did. 

♪ when he’s not playing on his drums, he almost always has his sticks on him. you often find him drumming the walls or counter around the house. (nick and matt find it really annoying) 

bonus! when you’re laying together in bed, he’s twirling a stick in one hand and landing swift pokes on your body with the other to watch you jump and squirm away. (he finds it absolutely hilarious and adorable) everytime time he does it, he acts completely obvious when you tell him to knock it off. 

“ack-! chris! quit it!”

“what’d i do?”

♪ similar to matt, he enjoys asking you for kisses to keep him ‘motivated.’

“ma, can I get a kiss please? it’ll help me play better.”

“one more?”

“you said that the last five times i’ve kissed you.”

“okay but i’m being for real this time. just one more!”

♪ despite chris' protests, you buy some of his drum gear like sticks, drumheads, etc. he knows how expensive drum sets are so the second he sees you skimming over them, he grabs the device you're using and closes the tab. 

bonus! when chris’ birthday came around, you double checked with matt and nick about a certain drum set that he’s been talking about non stop. he wasn’t able to buy it since it’s pricey but you didn’t hesitate to buy it for him for the special occasion. it was really difficult to keep the secret from him but the day you surprised him was worth it. (no connected dialogue for this bonus but there will be a blurb for it coming soon!)  

[prettiest-grrrl-inthemorgue]

hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff where they get high and confess their feelings to each other?

Here you go anon, I hope you like it <3

Summary: request ^

Warnings: mentions of Marijuana/weed, getting high,

Wc: 863

My asks are always open!

Bored was and understatement for how you were feeling today, You've been sitting on Your couch watching TV for god knows how long, you werent even paying attention to the shitty movie that was playing, just as you were about to doze off from boredom your phone goes off, it's a text from johnnie your best friend

Sexy goth girl (Johnnie): hey can I come over?? I just finished a video and Jake's gone out, and me and you haven't hung out in a while

You: omg yes! I'm so bored rn I'd love if you came over

Sexy goth girl (johnnie): great, otw

I put my phone down and get up to get ready, I was still in my pajamas, it's not like johnnie would care if I didn't get ready but I like to look nice, especially for Johnnie but i don't know why really, I think I like it when he compliments me, words have so much more meaning coming from him.

I go to my room and put on a Jean skirt and a slipknot shirt, I add my dr martens as well, I put my hair in a simple ponytail and then I do my makeup, as I'm finishing up my makeup I hear a knock on my front door

I practically run to the door, I open up the door and I'm met with johnnie, I smile and hug him as soon as I see him.

"Come in!" I yell happily, he walks in and closes the door behind him, we go sit on my couch and just catch up with each other since we haven't seen each other in a while

After a little bit johnnie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two joints and offers one to me, I smile and accept it

"Damn johnnie didn't know you were a stoner" I say jokingly, I grab a lighter

"Shut up" he says in a joking manner, I light my blunt then pass the lighter to johnnie. I take a puff and relax against the couch, johnnie does the same.

After a few puffs were super fucked up

"Fucking lightweight" Johnnie says taking another puff.

"Hey! You can't say anything, your more out of it than me" I say slapping his shoulder playfully

He slaps me back the same way, then we start tackling each other, I jump on top of him and we end up on the floor, our blunts forgotten and burnt out.

I look down at him as he laughs struggling to fight me off, I never noticed how pretty he was. Well I did but I didn't realize he was this pretty. I stop laughing and just sit on top of him studying his face, he has the most gorgeous eyes. he looks up at me confused and I finally snap out of it

"Y/n? You good?" He asks slightly concerned

I nod "Yeah, yeah sorry I'm fine...youre just um...really pretty" I reply without thinking, I'm too high to care what I say

"Ok, wait...did you just say I'm pretty?" He asks smiling.

I nod again "Yeah, your really pretty johnnie" I say cupping his face, he visibly blushes and I smile slightly at the control I have over him.

"Thank you...your really pretty too" he says nervously, as I'm sat on top of him holding his face.

"Johnnie I really like you, and not just because your pretty, I love everything about you" I admit as I look down at him getting lost in his beautiful eyes.

"You like me? Romantically?" He asks hopefully as his face lights up, I nod.

"I really like you too...a lot" he confesses, I smile and brush his hair out of his face.

I lean down towards him and place two of my hands on the sides of his face "can I kiss you?" I ask softly

"Yes please" he practically whispers with how quiet he said it, with his consent I lean down and press my lips against his.

We both melt into the kiss, it's not like any other kiss, it's full of love and geniune passion, it turns into a makeout session.

Johnnie swipes his tongue against my bottom lip, I open my mouth letting his tongue in, we explore each other's mouths, moaning softly. The feeling of this kiss is better than any high could ever be.

After a few minutes we pull away breathing heavily and panting for air, Johnnie's face is bright pink and I can only assume mine is the same.

I get off of his lap and pull him up off the floor as well, we sit back on the couch and I look at johnnie

"So...do you wanna be my boyfriend?" I ask already knowing the answer

"Yes, obviously, I'd love to be your boyfriend" he smiles and pulls me Into him, I rest my head against his chest as we lay down on the couch wrapped in eachothers arms. He kisses the top of my head and we just lay there our bodies intertwined together.

"I think I love you" is the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep.