#something something flapper girls

[blink-o-rama]

They’re judging you

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Tell you what, I did not have "Daryl goes to a gay club in Paris with a nun" on the predictions list

[heatwa-ves]

You can TELL who my favourite ocs are

[hcneymooners]

thinking of chef!sevika...

suggestive content. men & minors dni.

🫕 and how the two of you met least luxuriously. you had gone on a terrible date - the kind where the conversation was tepid as lukewarm soup, where you watched the other person cut their food into increasingly smaller pieces just to have something to do with their hands.

🫕 you'd stolen away to the bathroom and found yourself wedged between the open window and sill, desperate for air untainted by forced laughter. thinking of how you got stuck and she looked up at you, as if you were suspended in a baroque-era painting, all twisted limbs and desperation. you'd reached out to her, a stranger in the alleyway of a restaurant, and asked for help.

🫕 she'd lifted you free with hands that spoke of years in kitchens - calloused, sure, strong - and you found the ground beneath your feet again, hair slightly mussed from all the movement. thank you, you said and she'd smiled so that you could see the body of the cigar held tightly between her teeth. she had a gap-tooth smile that reminded you of warm bread torn apart, and you thought of it all the way home and even after, constantly.

🫕 thinking of chef!sevika and how you met again, this time at a group function at some lush little eatery off a street you didn't know had any reputation in the city. it was a birthday party so the place had been rented out and you were pressed back-to-back and front-to-front with people who you knew nothing of, but shared memories of the birthday girl with. it was nineteen twenties themed so you'd gotten a jet-black wig, short and curling softly at the apples of your cheeks, and had ornamented yourself with an authentic flapper dress: glittering sleekly in the perfect shade of baby blue. your diamond necklaces were long and layered, your mother's relic.

🫕 the noise had become too much - crystal glasses clinking like wind chimes in a storm - so you'd slipped away, found a door marked 'staff only' and pushed through into blessed quiet. you've tucked yourself into this side kitchen, where the air smells of reduced wine and fresh herbs.

🫕 chef!sevika who's surprised to find you lounging in her extra kitchen, who hides a smile as you dip a finger into a plate of artfully smoked salmon laid out in thin blush slices against a fan of pita and sauce. she's older than you, carries it in the silver threading her temples, in the assured way she moves through her domain.

🫕 her knife work is hypnotic - you watch her hands move with the surety that comes from decades of practice, the blade an extension of herself. curious little thing, she murmurs, but slides the plate closer to you instead of pulling it away.

🫕 you start bringing her things after that night - rare spices from specialty shops tucked into quiet corners of the city, flowers still warm from the morning market, cookbooks with cracked spines from antique stores.

🫕 she teaches you to taste properly: eyes closed, breathing in the steam of broths she's spent hours perfecting. slow down, she'll whisper, one hand on your wrist, savor it. and you learn to do just that - to savor everything about her, about this slow-burning thing between you.

🫕 in her kitchen late at night, you watch her alter recipes. she lets you be her tester, feeding you tiny portions from wooden spoons worn smooth with use. too much salt? she asks, and you shake your head, entranced by how she makes notes in a leather-bound journal, her handwriting precise and slanting. you're perched on a counter, legs swinging, and she moves between stoves with the grace of a dancer. sometimes her hand brushes your knee as she passes, and you feel it like a flame.

🫕 she teaches you to make pasta on a sunday morning, the kitchen filled with golden light. her hands guide yours through the motions of kneading, and you lean back against her chest, feeling how your breathing slowly synchronizes. patience, she says, when you want to rush. good things take time. you understand she's not just talking about the dough beneath your fingers.

🫕 your first real kiss tastes of the cardamom ice cream she's been perfecting - sweet and complex and slightly spiced. she cups your face in hands that smell of basil and butter, and you think about how many ways there are to feed someone, to nourish them.

🫕 months pass like honey dripping from a spoon. you build rituals together: morning coffee in the garden she's started growing herbs in, weekend trips to farmers' markets where she charms every vendor with her expertise and that gap-toothed smile. she teaches you the names of every herb in her garden, how to tell when tomatoes are perfectly ripe, the secret to properly seasoning cast iron. you teach her how to slow down sometimes, to leave the kitchen and dance with you in the living room, to let a meal be simple if it means more time to kiss.

🫕 you surprise her on her birthday by converting the spare room into a spice library - floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with jars from your travels together, each one labeled in your careful handwriting. she cries, just a little, and you kiss the salt from her cheeks.

🫕 the proposal happens in her kitchen - where else? - while she's teaching you to make her grandmother's secret recipe for braised short ribs. this is a family secret, she says, and then pauses, wooden spoon halfway to the pot. i suppose you should be family then. you nearly drop the wine you're holding, and she laughs, deep and rich. marry me, she says, let me feed you forever.

🫕 the wedding is in autumn, when the air is crisp and sweet with falling leaves. she spends days in the kitchen you built her, crafting a feast that tells your story: the smoked salmon from the night in her extra kitchen, pasta rolled by four hands instead of two, herbs from your shared garden. your dress is the color of a deep forest, and when you walk down the aisle, she cries again, just a little.

🫕 there are harder days, when eating feels like swallowing stones. she finds you curled on the kitchen floor one morning, the marble cool against your cheek. without a word, she sits beside you, gathers you into her lap like something precious.

🫕 hey baby, she whispers against your hair, and her hands are so gentle as they trace the hollow spaces of you. she feeds you breakfast slowly, carefully - warm bread torn into tender, small pieces, drizzled with honey. each bite is followed by a kiss: to your temples, your shoulders, the soft plane of your stomach.

🫕 you're here, she reminds you, you're safe. and you are - safe in this kitchen that smells of rosemary and rising dough, safe in her arms that have always known how to hold you.

🫕 later, when you're stronger, she shows you another kind of recipe. dark chocolate melting on your skin like sunset, the sharp bright burst of reduced raspberry sauce. the secret, she murmurs against your collarbone, is the canvas. her tongue traces patterns like plating designs, and you laugh, breathless, at how she makes art of everything. my masterpiece, she calls you, and you feel beautiful, consumed, cherished.

🫕 the cookbook comes as a surprise - you find the proof copy on her desk one evening. "recipes for my love," the title reads, and inside are all your favorites. each recipe comes with a story, a memory. "the secret ingredient is time," she writes in the introduction, "and someone worth spending it with." it sells out in weeks, then months. "it's like reading a love letter," the reviews say, and you blush every time, even as you beam with pride at how she's shared your love with the world.

🫕 thinking about how your home becomes a sanctuary, especially for jinx and isha. they come at all hours - after fights, during celebrations, on quiet sunday afternoons when they just need to be somewhere warm.

🫕 sevika teaches jinx knife skills while you and isha roll out cookie dough, all of you covered in flour and laughing. the cool aunts, they call you, but you know it's more than that. it's the way sevika always knows when to start making hot chocolate (the real stuff. none of that synthetic crap, she grumbles), the way you keep their favorite snacks in the pantry, the way the kitchen island has become a confessional booth where secrets are whispered and hearts are allowed to be swollen with grief .

🫕 kitchens are for healing, sevika says one night, watching you all from the doorway. jinx is asleep on the couch, isha curled up beside her, and the house smells like the cookies you'd stress-baked together after a particularly rough day. you lean back against her chest, feeling her heartbeat strong and steady. and for family, you add, and feel her smile against your hair.

🫕 thinking of how the years pass like this - measured in meals shared, in recipes perfected, in late-night comforts and early morning kisses that taste of coffee. your love never spoils, never grows stale. it only deepens, like a good red wine, like a soup that's been simmering all day.

🫕 sevika still feeds you from splintering spoons, still kisses your stomach on hard days, still looks at you like you're the most exquisite dish she's ever created. and you still perch on counters to watch her work, still bring her flowers and spices, still catch your breath at the full force of her smile.

🫕 in the end, it's simple: your kitchen is your heart, and your heart is always full.

© hcneymooners.

me 🤝🏾 my eating disorder and subsequent recovery 🤝🏾 wanting to marry someone in the food industry.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

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[darkbluekies]

Trick or treat, end in defeat

Yandere!female!mafia OC x reader

Summary: Halloween ends in a bloody game

Warnings: yandere, jealousy, threats, knives, guns, humiliation, killing, drugs, alcohol, sexual suggestions

Word count: 2.6k

She’s dressed as a dead 1920’s flapper girl. Her shoulder length black hair have been forced into wavy swirls, her dress bloodied down. You’ve taken for granted that she didn’t buy her blood at a hobby store. She was wearing white contacts in her eyes. You have dressed as a vampire without fake teeth. Jerry said that you look stupid with them on. 

“Who wants to make out with a vampire with dentures?” she mutters before grabbing the back of your neck to bring your face to her lips. “Not me.”

She devours your mouth. Kissing and sucking on everything she reaches. She has the ability to suck the air out of your lungs when kissing you, leaving you breathless and dizzy. 

“If you do something stupid tonight, baby, I’m going to show you what the ‘trick’ in trick or tret is”, she whispers against your lips. “Maybe I’ll use you skin as a pumpkin? But if you’re good, I will give you a treat. And I promise you’re going to like it.”

You’re going to be her cover for a mission, a halloween party where she is going to be handed an envelope with a list of locations for weapons and money by a man you have never heard of before. 

“What’s the treat?” you ask. 

“Me, of course”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Aren’t I a yummy treat when I look like this?”

She spins, giving you a full view of her costume. 

“It’s real blood … isn’t it?” you find yourself asking. 

“Of course it is. Come now, we have to leave.”

She grabs your hand and walks out of the apartment. Her boss has sent a car for the two of you in which you jump into the backseat. 

The car stops outside a club. The loud music can be heard out to the car, despite the doors being closed. Jerry jumps out and helps you out on the sidewalk. 

“Remember what I said, okay?” she says, looking into your eyes warningly. 

The white contacts makes her look manic. You nod and swallow. Jerry leads you into the club. Everywhere you look, you see Barbies, Jack Sparrows, Spidermen and sexy nurses. The music pounds in your ears and you’re sure that you’re going to leave the club with no hearing. Jerry takes you to a pair of round couches by the wall and sits you down. 

“What do you want to drink?” she asks you, mouth close to your ear to be heard. 

Her breath fans against your skin. 

“Whatever”, you reply. 

Jerry nods. 

“Stay here”, she tells you. “Don’t move.”

She disappears into the sea of pretenders. You look around, wondering how many in here are aware that this more than a dance floor this evening. Could the girl dressed as a tiger be aware that this is a meeting place for illegal dealing? Or the man dressed as a cowboy, is he in on it? How many eyes do Jerry have? And how many do her enemies have? Is the man in the zombie costume the one to deliver it? Or the one in an astronaut overall? 

Jerry returns with two drinks. One lime green and one black. 

“One if sour and one is cola”, she says. “Which one do you want?”

“The cola.”

She gives you the dark one. You take a sip and grimace. 

“Oh yeah, it has vodka in it”, she laughs.

“I can tell”, you cough. 

She takes a sip of her toxic green one and grimaces. 

“God, that’s undrinkable”, she mutters. 

A woman comes up to the table. She’s dressed as a pirate. 

“Do you want some?” she asks — clearly on something — and waves a little, clear bag with white powder in it. 

Jerry shoots her arm over you, as a barricade. 

“They don’t want anything from you”, she says coldly. 

The girl stumbles away. Jerry moves closer to you. Although she’s wearing her contacts, you can tell that she’s gotten that look in her eyes again. She’s alert, ready to lash out at anyone that comes near you. She grabs your jaw, turning your face to her.

“If anyone offers you something you better decline and tell them to get the fuck away, you’re not into that”, she tells you. 

You nod understandably. Jerry kisses your lips. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” you ask. “When will you meet your contact?”

“He said around midnight”, Jerry replies and you are about to point out that it’s almost two hours until then, but she continues talking. “But we had to get here some time before so that it doesn’t look like we’re here to get something and then leave. That way, it’ll look suspicious.”

“My head hurts already.”

Jerry lifts your glass to your lips. 

“If you drink some more you’ll feel better”, she says. 

She watches you gulp it down until the glass is empty. You cough, trying to get rid of the burning in your throat. The liquid leaves a warm trail through your body. 

It’s as if you can feel your head fog up, feel your body burn up. The air inside the club is hot from all the dancing people. The costume sticks onto your body

“My poor girl/boy”, Jerry coos and brushes your hair out of your face. “Feeling hot? You’re sweating.”

She leans in and kisses your temple, licking her lips of your sweat. Someone sits down on the couch beside you. Jerry is quick to make them leave. She pulls you even closer. Her nails dig into your hot skin. Jerry knows that you need to go out for fresh air, but there’s something about your look that makes her want to keep you here. Your eyelids hang heavy over your eyes, your glowing, sweaty skin and tired pout. It doesn’t take much to get you here, and yet she loves to see it every time. 

“Can I have a water?” you ask. 

“Wait here”, Jerry tells you. 

She disappears once more and returns with a glass of water. She feeds it to you as you rest against her shoulder. 

“You’re so cute when you’re drunk”, she chuckles.

Are you drunk? Or are you dying of heat? You can’t tell. But she was right. Your head isn’t hurting anymore. 

“There he is”, she suddenly says and stands up.

She turns to you, holding your jaw and directing your face up towards her. 

“You’re going to stay right here, do you get that?” she says. “I will be back in a little while, and you’re going to remain here, do you understand?”

You nod. Jerry gives your jaw a warning squeeze before walking off. You follow her with your eyes, seeing how her and a man dressed as a detective walks into a backroom. Something else catch your eyes. A man in a spiderman costume. A very familiar man. An old friend. You feel your heart skip a beat. Oh, how you’ve missed him. 

“Y/N!” he shouts out, happily and hurries over to the couch. 

You give a quick glance towards the door to the back room. Still closed. 

“It’s been so long!” he says and hugs you. “How are you?”

“I’m good”, you answer and clear your throat. 

You can’t tell a drunk man to go away without it becoming a scene … and this is a drunk friend. 

“I’ve been wondering what happened to you”, he said. “None of our friends have seen you for a while.”

If only you knew. 

You give the door a new glance. Closed. 

“I’ve been busy”, you say. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You force yourself not to glance at the door. Your heart beats inside your chest, causing a wave of fear induced nausea to reach your head. 

“We should do something soon”, the friend suggests. 

“Oh, sure”, you reply, knowing very well that it’ll never happen. 

But you can’t really tell them that the reason you’ll never do anything with him is because you have an insane girlfriend who is in the mafia. 

“What are you doing nowadays?” you ask. 

“I work at the bank”, he replies and laughs. “Basically their runnerboy.”

“What? You run their errands?”

“Pretty much.”

You tug at your lips, trying to imagine him run back forth between men in suits. You glance towards the door. Open. Your entire body goes cold, and for a few seconds you can’t hear anything. You look around, as in slow motion, trying to find her. She must already have seen you — talking with someone else, laughing with someone else. 

“What’s wrong?” the friend asks worriedly. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

You want to shout at him to stop being stupid, but he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly mortified. He can’t be blamed for anything. 

You, however, know what's going on … and you know that you have to save him before Jerry gets to him. But where is she?

“You have to go now”, you tell your friend and push him towards the exit. Your voice is short and direct, trying your best not to show how scared you are. 

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

“What are you doing?” your friend asks. “Stop pushing me.”

“You have to leave”, you try again. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m trying to save your life!”

“What?”

“Just walk!”

You manage to get him out of the club, out into the fresh air. Quickly, you look around. Jerry’s nowhere to be seen. You don’t want to leave your friend before you’re sure that he will be okay. If you leave him now, you won’t know if he will be okay.

There is only one thought in your head. WHERE IS JERRY?

 “Listen to me”, you say and grab your friend, forcing him to look at you. “Listen closely, okay? I don’t know how long I have. You have to leave. You have to run. If we’re lucky, she didn’t get a good look at you.”

“Who? Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself. Please believe me. Just go. Now. Run. Please.”

The words seem to have trouble coming out. The man frowns, but starts to back away before turning around and running away. You dare breathe out, but the relief don’t last long. Someone grabs a handful of your hair and force your head backwards, cutting off the air in your throat. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Jerry hisses in your ear. 

“N-No one”, you manage to choke out. 

“Oh, so now I need to go to the optician?” Something sharp presses against your throat. “I’m asking again: who was that?”

“J-Jerr-” You can’t get anything past the bending point in your throat.

The knife presses closer to your skin. 

“Did you find him hot?” she asks teasingly, but with a sharp anger in her voice. “Did you want him to fuck you?”

You shake your head frantically. 

“I know that’s right”, she says and lets you go. 

You cough and desperately heap in air. You stumble forward with dark spots dancing over your vision. Before you have the time to register that she’s let you go, she’s pushed you up against the brick wall and put the knife against your chest. 

“I didn’t know my pet was a little news reporter”, she scoffs. “Talking to people left and right.”

“He was a friend”, you breathe out. “Someone I knew from school!”

“Mm, and I guess that you were so happy to see him again?”

“Jerry-”

“You either love the attention or to piss me off.” She tilts her head. “Where did he go?”

“I won’t let you hurt him. He did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, he did nothing wrong, did he? I saw him clinging onto something that belongs to me! I think that’s a bit fucking wrong, don’t you?”

“Jerry, I swear that I told him to go away.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I saw quite a lot, actually. I saw too much and it made me fucking nauseous.”

“Jerry, please …”

“Mm, I love it when you beg.”

“I’ll beg all you want if you spare him.”

She uses the knife to point onto the ground. 

“Down on your knees.”

You sink down on your knees and stand eye to eye with the point of the knife. 

“Beg”, Jerry orders you. 

You lick your lips, preparing yourself for this humiliating task. 

“Please”, you say and look up at her with the most innocent, pleading eyes you can muster. 

“You can do better than that, baby.”

“Jerry, please, I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?”

“Very. Please.”

Jerry grabs your jaw, smiling cockily. 

“You say ‘please’ so sweetly, how can I not forgive you?” she coos. “I will let him go … if I don’t find him until the night is over.”

“W-What?”

“It’s halloween, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we have some fun?”

“Jerry, please, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, h-he didn't know. It’s not like he tried to piss you off. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for that. Punish me instead. I shouldn’t have answered him, I should have ignored him.”

She stares down at you, clearly contemplating. 

“Please”, you beg weakly, hoping that your ‘sweet please’ will be enough to make her agree.

“Okay”, she says. “Let’s play a game. If you win, I’ll leave him be. If I win, I get to slaughter him and you have to watch me do it.”

“Can’t we have something else?”

“Like what?”

“If you win, I’ll do whatever you want for a week-”

“A year.”

“A-A year …”

“You know I can make you do whatever I want? I can decide to humiliate you for no reason at all.”

“I know. But I can’t have a human life on my consciousness. If you kill him, I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Aren’t you just adorable? Okay. Deal.”

You get to stand up. 

“What game do we play?” you ask.

“Russian Roulette”, Jerry decides. 

“W-Will one of us die?”

“Are you dumb? No, we’re not going to play with our lives. I have a guy we can use.”

She takes you to the HQ’s basement. You hate the HQ. A man sits on the floor, bloody and chained. Jerry picks up her gun and shakes out all bullets but one. She spins it and holds the gun towards you.

“Do you want the first try, my love?” she asks. 

“No”, you breathe out.

Jerry doesn’t hesitate before shooting the guy. You flinch and have to squeeze your eyes shut. The sight still haunts you. 

“Your turn”, Jerry says and presses the gun to your chest. “It was blank.”

“Fuck, Jerry …”, you whisper without opening your eyes. “This is insanity …”

“If you don’t shoot, you lose. Do it.”

You open your eyes slowly and take the gun in your shaking hands. You have a cold sweat. It’s a mistake to look at the man, one you regret immediately. His eyes are widened, taped mouth begging you not to shoot him.

“Jer-”

She stands behind you, holds her hand over yours and pulls the trigger. The following moments feel like an eternity. It’s blank. Your knees buckle and you stumble backwards. Jerry shoots. Blank. She holds the gun towards you. You shake your head and swallow thickly. 

“I give up, I can’t kill him”, you pant. 

“You might not kill him”, Jerry says and grins. “I might. Oh, the possibilities.”

“No …”

“Okay.”

Jerry lifts the gun and shoots until the bullet hits him. You swallow a scream and cover your head with your arms. She throws the gun on the cement floor. 

“I win”, she says in satisfaction. “Now, get those legs moving, the night is not over. On the contrary, it has just begun.”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

The moment they realized they were in love (First Realization)

Adam

When Adam first met you, he was attacking the hotel full force and on his deathbed. However, he noted how well you fought and how forceful you were in combat.

This admiration only followed when he awoke in hell, and Charlie took him to the hotel to attempt redemption. Even though you were initially cold to him, he couldn't help but appreciate you.

The Vees became the hotel's primary foe once Adam had become a sinner. Battle after battle occurred on the front lawn. You were so protective and forward-thinking that no one had a chance to hurt him.

He started seeking you out not for any reason other than wanting to understand your motives better and why you acted the way you did. However, this was a horrible lie he told to save face.

During a recent battle, you got struck and hurt pretty severely with an angelic weapon Val shot off. All the pieces aligned with Adam as he watched you fall. He couldn't imagine life without you.

Adam fought the hardest he ever had and was the biggest factor in your victory against the Vees. He did not care for the praise or boasting the others gave; all he cared about was nursing you back to health.

Alastor

You had been a good worker at Mimzy's bar, always taking the flapper girl role very seriously, even though you died long after that.

Alastor met you a handful of times, always appreciating how well you fit the outfits and danced with the other girls and band. Jazz was always his all-time favorite, but the club played great swing tunes.

It was the day that you began wearing a specific red number gifted to you by your boss, and Alastor made his monthly visits weekly and eventually daily.

He enjoyed watching everyone cowered away from you when he sat center floor to witness your best performances. He was always right there smiling and cheering you on.

He never realized how these growing affections turned into love till he saw that stupid loan shark put his hands on you. As soon as he did, he was a dead man, and Alastor stood before everyone, threatening them.

You were thankful, and the simple touch of your arm so you didn't break his boundaries sent his heart soaring higher. He realized he was a dead man walking when it came to you in his life.

Husk

Being a slave to your soul bind was hard work for some and easy for others. You were one of the lucky few who got an easy life working under Rosie.

Husk admired how you always had a genuine smile and a go-getting problem-solving attitude. Even when it came to his sour pussy cat attitude.

Due to Rosie's favoritism over you, it was quick work for you to earn favoritism with Alastor, letting the grumpy bar cat have some more much-needed freedoms.

He wouldn't lie; having you around was his immediate enjoyment of your presence. However, things changed as you talked to him more and listened to him as well.

He realized how fucked he was when you sat there with a soft smile on your face letting him talk about anything and everything. When Al came downstairs and went to order him around, you sat there firm in your place, shooing the deer off.

He would do anything to thank you for the little bits of freedom you keep granting him and the kind warmth you emanate from that smile he adores.

Lucifer

When you stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel, everyone was amazed how someone so cheerful and outgoing like Charlie could be a sinner and an alive one at that.

However, you were quickly acclimated and right by Charlie's side, helping Vaggie get her girlfriend's dreams up and running—something Lucifer noticed right away.

You never saw anything as too outlandish or even weird; you were just right there helping in any way you could, which is something he began to love about you.

You also extended this sunshine positivity to him, which only elated him more. No amount of darkness or fear was safe from you and your warm positivity.

He knew he fell the moment he eagerly expected your appearance in his daughter's study. No, he couldn't wait to see you enter his, which would only be five minutes later; he had to see you now.

Of course, as soon as you entered and a bright smile crossed your face, he knew he was safe and could conjure anything up, and you would be right there by him, making it all work out.

Vox

He first encountered you when you were looking for a job after you fell to hell. Your looks screamed sex work; however, your personality fit more of an office role.

He didn't know why he took pity on you, so instead of letting Val have you, he stepped in and gave you a job as a secretary in VoxTech.

You were a diligent and hard worker who ensured he never missed a meeting or production interview. He was honestly grateful for how meticulous and organized you were.

You even helped the other Vees, which took much off his plate. He was so thankful you learned how to calm Val and assist Vel.

He realized the fatal error in his plans, though, when he saw Val trying to make a pass at you. He was livid and quickly explained to Val that you were his and his alone.

Though he refused to admit to you or anyone else why he was so hostile about the interaction, he knew deep down that it was because you were growing on him. You were designed to be so helpful to him, no one else.

Prompt assistance: @literallurker

[calummss]

20 Reasons To Love You | Klaus Mikaelson

part one: 1920s Love : masterlist

summary: after your encounter with the original vampire, he asks you to the school dance. your salvatore cousins try to get in the way but you’re tired of being protected. you are starting to like the so called original vampire, but is it an illusion or the real deal

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3.1k

a/n: part 2 is finally out. i love this piece so much because just like the first the reader is confident but unsure at the same time and i think that accurate describes me and many others. here’s to my fellow klaus mikaelson lover that love him as much as i do (not possible). enjoy!!

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

You stood at the door, too many words racing through your mind.

‘I don’t have a dress, I— well I never expected to go so I never bought a dress.” You sighed, each word becoming more airy as you managed to take him in. ‘I don’t have a dress…’

Dark blonde hair, pink plush lips, a white suit that fit him like a second skin. He was handsome. More handsome than you’d ever say out loud, the rumours of his behaviour and actions not scaring you, but making you tone down any infatuation that could be drawn out.

‘I thought it best you’d wear an actual dress from your decade,’ He nodded one of his witches over, his arms engulfed around a light pink box, a white ribbon decorating it. ‘I saved this for a special occasion.’ He smiled at you. ‘I think today is it.’

‘Original?’

‘Original.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ your eyes never left the box, ‘I would ruin it. It’s too precious.’

He gave his witch another silent order who pushed past you to walk into the house.

‘Hello?’ You shouted at her but she was long gone.

Klaus took a closer step, so close the smell of his perfume hit you softly, ‘Do me a favour and wear it, darling. You could only do it justice. We don’t have much time now. Change.’

‘But—‘

‘No buts.’

‘Fine,’ you sighed as you took hold of the dress box, your cheeks starting you shake the apples of your cheeks, smiling ear to ear as you finally held it in your hands. ‘Wait for me.’

‘Do you even have to ask, love?’

Returning a smile you hurried away, the dress screaming to be worn as you couldn’t believe that your frame would wear something so beautiful and of such good quality from decades ago. A decade that had long been your favourite. Wearing a piece of history, brought to you by a vampire everyone seemed terrified out of their minds.

When you finally got the dress on and fixed your hair as well as jewellery, you headed back downstairs. Your heels carrying you differently; at least you thought. Klaus still stood by the entrance outside, eyeing something in the front yard.

‘How do I look?’ You called out, his head turning in an instant.

‘Like the sparkles of an ocean on an early summer morning.’

Your heart fluttered. Never had you heard anything so romantic. Whenever you asked someone they simply said pretty. Barely paying attention to the way you looked but Klaus, Klaus looked at you like a canvas. Paying attention to every detail like he was an artist, captivated by his creation. Ready to hang it up to admire it all year around.

Arriving at Mystic Falls High School you already saw that the grounds had empty liquor bottles laying on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over. You almost were a victim. As for the people in this crowded area, they reminded you of the beer bottles: empty and pretty useless. But they were carefree; unaware of the reality that was Mystic Falls.

Every girl looked similar. All wore short flapper dresses and headbands only the colours differentiating them from one another. They looked beautiful but repeativness got boring fast. You however shined. A white satin gown, thin straps, insinuating your chest, the fabric gently hugging your curves as it pooled at your feet. Paired with a beautiful pearl necklace and a white fur scarf that completed the look. Simple but classy.

Walking up towards the entrance, you locked eyes with a certain someone you tried to ignore the entirety of the evening, but he saw you. The glare in his eyes causing you to stop in your tracks, his raven hair that blended into the night coming closer.

‘Didn’t expect to see you here, Damon.’ You mused, your right arm hooked with Klaus’, your other hand on his shoulder as you smiled at Damon.

‘Go home.’ Damon stated, his eyes drilling holes into your soul.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘Actually I can,’ he smirked, his stupid grin spreading heat through your limbs. ‘I am your legal guardian.’

‘Only ‘cause you killed Uncle Zach,’ you snapped, taking your arms from Klaus’ body, stepping closer to Damon, asserting yourself against him. ‘Not very guardian like?’

Damon’s head scanned the surrounding area, making sure no one could listen in. ‘Don’t cause a scene, Y/n.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘Again,’ he tried suppressing his voice, ‘don’t cause a scene and go home.’

‘No.’ You snapped. ’I am going to my school dance which by the way I have more of a right to be at than you, and enjoy dancing with my date.’

‘Date from hell…’

‘Well then he isn’t much different from you after all,’ you placed your arms back in Niklaus’ arm, giving Damon a sarcastic smile. ‘Move.’

Damon didn’t move, instead he stepped closer, his eyes continuing to stay on you, his lips pressed together.

‘You heard the lady,’ Klaus said. You didn���t look at his face but you could tell he was smirking at Damon. ‘Move, Damon.’

Klaus and you stepped past Damon, walking towards the entrance, the music increasing in volume as you stepped through the door.

Down in the gym, people were already dancing. Music blasting through the room, balloons, tinsel and much more of the decorations the walls and floor carried that you dragged yourself to every Tuesday and Thursday, dreading to move. Rather wanting to participate in every girl’s favourite subjects: English and history. Walking towards the dance floor you saw Damon walking up to Alaric, their eyes on you as soon as Damon whispered something and you knew that their eyes would follow your every move.

‘What are they saying?’ You asked Klaus, your eyes still on the pair as you started swaying in rhythm. Bodies close as you felt the warmth of his body.

‘Talking about various ways to ruin our night and all the ways they can kill me.’

You pushed your tongue against your teeth, staring straight ahead into Klaus’ shoulder. ‘Damon, I know you can hear me,’ you started to whisper. ‘Leave me and my dating life alone. I’m 19 years old, not six. And don’t you dare try to ignore me or roll your stupid blue eyes at me because I will rip that little smug of your face.’ You turned around to see Alaric and Damon go towards the punch table, visibly irritated on your behalf yet still they took the hint and backed off for now.

‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t hold back on my account.’ He chimed. ‘Feisty women are my weakness.’

‘I’m feisty?’ Not a word generally used to describe you.

‘Hmm, also confident; unsure; great company; an amazing dancer and best of all, not intimidated by me since the second you met me and found out who I was.’

You hesitated before speaking. Was it rude to ask such an invasive question? Would he answer it? Would it spark his mood to change?

‘Why is everyone so afraid of you?’ You asked in a careful tone, not sure if the vampire would switch up on you.

‘I do terrible things.’

‘People do terrible things all the time.’

‘I created new sins.’ His deep eyes gazed at you, his soft plumpish lips leaving every word ingrained into your mind, begging to know what his lips would feel like lingered onto yours.

‘Such as…?’

‘Let’s not get into it, love.’

‘I can handle it.’ You separated your body from his, staring up at him. ‘I have heard what you have done but I’ve also seen your actions: listening to me, talking to me and making me feel interesting, getting me a dress to a school dance I wasn’t planning on going to.’ You smiled slightly. ‘That takes a heart to do.’ You placed your hands above his chest, tapping lightly with an almost jestful tone. ‘And you have a pretty strong one.’

Klaus gazed at you ever so gently, his eyes flickered to your lips as his mind turned hungry at the thought of your kiss. Not craving the taste of warm blood, freshly pumped out of a human vein. No. He craved you in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Klaus wanted you to be close to him, to feel your heartbeat so close it would beat in union with his. To feel your lips on his skin, the taste of your skin without the blood. The thought of tasting your blood left an uncertain feeling in his stomach; quease mixed with disdain. He didn’t want to hurt you or leave a scratch on your skin. All he wanted was the moisture of his lips to sit upon your skin. Light, gently, accepted.

The sound of music faded when you realised you were leaning in. His eyes felt like paralysing poison as you inched closer. Your heart beat in your throat when his face came closer too. He too wanted this. You could feel his breath ricocheting off your face, and when your lips met the music stopped. His lips kissed you gently, coming back for more as one his hands slid towards your face, holding you delicately as the other went down to your back to support you. Your hands moved to his head, grabbing a handful of hair as you parted your lips to let him get a better taste of you. Your mind was blank, your stomach filled to the brim with butterflies that duplicated every second he was touching you; flattering their tiny wings as the space to move began to decrease. Every kiss grew more passionate. Air was flowing out, barely catching breath as he felt like the air you were supposed to breathe all along.

Separating from his touch you let yourself breathe, your chest falling and rising as you held his eyes, too beautiful to be true. Eyes that belonged to a killer that just held you like you were the most delicate flower.

‘Can we go somewhere more quiet?’ You leaned in, your social battery slowly decreasing as you craved a quiet and still place to be with him.

Klaus brought you to his mansion he bought a few weeks ago, saying he was to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. His house was filled with artworks of the most incredible artists. Each piece crafted to perfection.

Guiding you to a back room you took notice of different materials and colours. Canvases and easels to hold them up. One painting was finished by the look of your eyes. It stood on an easel in the middle of the room, close to a candle light that shined just enough to admire the painting.

‘May I speak out loud my interpretation of this painting?’ Your eyes scanned the framed piece, the candle gently casting a light above the painting. ‘I know that artists want to be understood as they pour their thoughts and feelings onto the canvas, yet someone else saying out loud what the artist was too cautious to say themselves, can evoke an uncomfortableness. That someone truly understands them is more often an artist's greatest fear.’

Klaus stood by your right shoulder, silently gazing at his painting from behind your frame. His silence, his breath, made you turn your head to the side. Just enough to catch his breath on your cheek, just enough to let the corner of your mouth tip curl, allowing you to feel his intimacy.

‘I suppose the painter felt lonely whilst crafting their piece. The way dark colours engulf the lighter ones. The way the colours meet but never mix,’

His hand gently brushed along the curve of your shoulder, giving you the insight of Klaus’ guard let down when he was immersed in his art.

‘Careful and precise strokes show me the delicacy behind the fragile thoughts that are meant to be the painter’s release. The small firefly, so tiny its illuminating glow is barely caught with the first impression of the painting, is fascinating to me. Despite the painter’s sadness and pain, there must have been something in the moment that compelled them to leave behind something so coruscating. Something tells me that the painter is trying to find their way. Whether it be to themselves or to someone.’

‘The way you analyse art, Y/n, is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?‘

‘I suppose I find beauty in darkness quite fascinating…painting or painter,’ you placed your gloved hand on top of his. The warmth of his skin pervasively fighting through the silk fabric.

‘The firefly I must admit is you. You are the firefly in my thoughts. You glow amongst the darkest part of my mind. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel like I am a different man even if I don’t want to change…’

You turned around and gave Klaus a sweet but quick kiss. ‘You don’t have to change. I like you for who you are and I must admit, this night has made me realise just how much I actually like you. It feels fast but safe at the same time.’

Klaus returned it with another kiss. ‘Normally I like a chase but I simply need to be yours.’

‘Would you ever draw me?’ An innocent question, soft- eyed waiting for a response. A small smile sweeping across his face.

‘I actually already have,’ he said, his cheeks a fair rosé, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t pay attention but you, how you took notice of every detail that made him him.

‘You have?’ You grinned. ‘Why?’

‘I mostly paint things that mean a lot to me,’ he took a look at his paintings. ‘Mostly landscapes…and you…’

It warmed your heart but you didn’t show, only the palm of your hand pressing into your other, love overflowing your body.

‘I suppose one day I should return the favour, though I cannot promise you’ll look anything like the real you.’

Klaus let out a laugh, his eyes smiling like the crescent moon of night that shone over his garden outside. Eyes sparkling like the stars.

‘Would you like another dance outside?’ He asked, noticing your longing look at the porch, illuminated by fairy lights that left a magical feeling within you.

‘I certainly would.’

Holding out your hand you followed him outside, the slight cold breeze nothing but relaxing as you swayed with Klaus again. This time it felt nicer. Alone, just the two, surrounded by nothing but darkness and crickets of the summer night giving your silence a nice touch of tone.

‘I want to give you something,’ Klaus searched for something in his pocket. When he finally pulled it out he continued to say, ‘This vial contains vampire blood.’

You stared at the vile, red liquid calming floating behind the glass.

‘It’s my brother Elijah’s blood.’

Doe eyed and furrowed eyebrows stared back at him, ‘Why not yours?’

‘If I could, trust me I would. For a vampire there’s nothing worse than blood sharing with someone’s partner,’ he held your gaze. ‘But if I gave you my blood, little one, you would die.’

‘I don’t understand? Why would I die?’

‘Well here’s some information only my family and one witch know…I’m a vampire and a werewolf. A hybrid. If I were to feed you my blood you would die the next day. Bad blood.’

‘Oh,’ disappointment covered your words, weirdly enough bummed that it wasn’t Klaus’ blood you would be carrying around to protect you in case you needed it.

‘This blood is here for whenever you decide you want that change in your life you talked about.’ Klaus’ finger grazed against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘I like you, Y/n and I won’t compel you to take it. I like you and if I could I would spend eternity with you. I know it hasn’t been long but you feel good for me.’

Your lips caught his. ‘Of course I will wear it.’

‘Make sure to keep it safe.’

‘I will.’ You hand found his face, giving in once more into temptation, his sensation too good for you.

You played with the vial between your fingers, a wave of warmth rushing over you as you realised just how much you liked Klaus. But as much as you liked him it was getting late…

‘I think it’s best that I go home. It is late and Damon and Stefan are probably going crazy…’

‘I’ll take you home.’

Klaus dropped you off just before the door, watching as you safely entered the Salvatore house. And before the door even closed you could hear Damon’s taunting voice echoing through the halls of the boarding house.

‘Where have you been?’

‘With my date.’ You carelessly threw the keys to the side, walking past Damon to try and get into the kitchen to get something to drink.

‘You can’t date him, Y/n.’ Damon growled, his eyebrows pulled to his eyes as his voice grew louder. ‘He’s a bad person.’

‘Who cares?’ You uttered, pouring yourself a drink as you watched Damon pace towards you.

‘I care!’

‘Since when?!’

‘Since always!’

‘Damon,’ You breathed. ‘I love you, I truly do but are you so blind to not realise that you too are a bad person? You used Caroline; killed Lexi, Stefan’s only friend; Uncle Zach? Why can those actions be excused by literally everyone yet apparently Klaus is where we all draw the line huh?’ Words spilled from your lips as the pit in your stomach started to burn a ball of annoyance. ‘Because he shows no remorse at all? Newsflash neither did you and just because you feel it now doesn't make your actions any more excused. I like the way he is. I like the fact that he is a bad person but a good person to me. Someone that finally pays attention to me!’

Damon stayed quiet, his face obvious to the hypocrisy that everyone was participating in yet he was still angry at you and the fact that you were capable of making your own decisions no matter how bad or good they were.

‘If he hurts you don’t come crying to me,’ Damon turned around to walk away.

‘Oh please as soon as I cry because of anyone that person ends up hurt. If you’re trying to pretend not to care about me, good luck.’

‘You wish.’

‘Ah fuck,’ you whinced, a wave of pain shooting through your finger.

Damon’s vampire speed brought his feet back to you, your hand in his as he took a look at what pained you.

‘Told you so,’ you mocked.

‘Ass hat.’

[see-arcane]

Tiana Should Have Been Odette

In which I continue to be bitter as hell that Disney's 2D animation and its Classic Princess machine closed out on The Princess and the Frog rather than shooting for a cinematic last hurrah in the vein of Cinderella or Beauty and the Beast to give us a Louisiana rendition of Swan Lake with a barely tweaked Tiana design and more cool character possibilities.

Case in point, another doll character design you dropped the ball on, Mickey:

Could have given Facilier (Rothbart) a hot goth flapper daughter. But no.

AND MORE DOLLS CHARACTERS:

Cygnets! You would have had a whole flock of cygnets!

Jazz and classical score fusions!

Full Fantasia majesty going on in the style and sound and story!

But no!

I feel in my bones that the Rodent will get around to Swan Lake eventually. But damn it, I would have loved Disney's old 2D crew making something special before they closed the doors, especially with the backdrop of the bayou and its sundry swans. Hand-painted scenery, the 1920s music and dance scene spliced into the ballet, a built-in reason to have more prominent girls in the cast with showy transformations back and forth between the winged silhouettes, the intrigue of the false beloved role swapping from Naveen (Siegfried) to Tiana (Odette) and Odile, a climax of birds in flight and magic fights by the water...

Sigh.

BONUS: Design comparison

2020:

2025:

If you let unreasonable bitterness over a children's movie come to a simmer, your art improves. How about that.

Ko-Fi is here if you're interested in some art of your own, with or without griping about princesses

[slippinninque]

Fontaine, Seduced

(alternatively : Fontaine Tries To Be A Gentleman But You Aint Ask Him For All'Dat)

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI, long fic, cursing, use of the n-word, thirsty Fontaine, ramblings, slight corruption kink, praises n' begging, P-in-V, light bondage, Slips' First Smut

A/N: So sorry for the wait! Sooo, this is in answer to the anon who asked how Fontaine would be if he was trying to hide his nasty. i really hope i did you proud! I've

He...may have a problem.

There you were, the light of his life, seated on the floor and in a nest of your own making. Blankets and pillows spread with you nestled in it's center. A skein of yarn to your left as whatever it was you were creating grew in your lap with snacks to your right.

Absolutely adorable while you watched an old western with him. Fontaine knew you were warm and soft as a cake from your shower and shea butter, he could smell your hot chocolate with every sip you took.

Your furry socked feet rubbed together in your contentedness and every so often, you'd lean back on Fontaine's legs to look up at him until he leaned down to kiss you.

He wanted to see you cry.

It was terrible, he was terrible. You've been nothing but good to him and here he was wanting to see those pretty eyes rolling. It was a problem, he knew it.

Still...

He wanted to bend and twist you, he wanted to hear how close he could get you to screaming. Fontaine wanted to bite from your neck to your ankles, he wanted to ruin your sheets. He wanted to ruin the back seats in his ride, take you on a walk and lay you down beneath the moon and hear you call for him.

Fontaine knew how pretty you'd be taking his dick down your throat and he wanted to see it first hand.

But....it was you.

He could imagine wrapping a hand around those pretty locs and tugging them down to swallow his dick, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it.

Because it was you.

What if he hurt you? What if he did something you didn't like and you didn't tell him?

What if he scared you?

The idea alone distressed him.

He wouldn't risk it. Fontaine wouldn't risk anything when it came to you.

"Tea time? I think its tea time."

Your words drew him from his thoughts, movie long forgotten as he watched you stretch. You rolled partly onto your side, humming and unaware of the chaos you were causing as your cami rode high and your nipples pebbled beneath the fabric.

"You want some tea?"

You were laid out into your back now, lost in a other stretch and Fontaine took a breath and nodded.

He was fine.

It was fine.

:::

It was not fine.

"I know it's a lot, but I made a promise." You sighed, looking over your shoulder and into the full length mirror in the back of the bedroom door. Fontaine sat only a few feet away, the polishing his sneaker in the same damn spot.

The promise was modeling a line of beautifully crafted crystal-bikini sets. Your locs were piled up carelessly as you struggled to clasp the top piece.

Fontaine has never seen anything like it, but you often ran with an artsy crowd. You often brought home strange and beautiful things to either model, store, or complete.

He really he hoped that you get to keep this one.

"You good, baby, you good. Tell what's it made of." Fontaine cleared his throat and stood, coming up behind you to take over.

"Fluorite and clear-quartz, you can see the lil' silver bells, right?" she said. "It reminds me of those flapper girls! But without the, uh, middle part, y'know? Look!"

You took a step back and twisted your hips with a soft, "Swish, swish!"

Fontaine whistled lowly. All he saw pretty titties and tasty thighs. When you turned and bent over a bit, wagging your bottom at him, he moved before thinking.

He cracked you right across the ass.

You squealed, putting your hands on your cheeks and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Ooh, shit, my bad baby!"

Fontaine's heart fell into the floorboards, regardless of giggle fit you were in. He pulled you close with one arm, pressing apologetic kisses to the top of your head while his free hand rubbed your cheeks.

What the fuck was he thinking? Okay, he's gave you a little pop every now and again but that--that was out of line.

'You fuckin' up, nigga.'

"It's okay, it's okay. Really, it was really the sound that surprised me--okay?"

Fontaine looked you in the eye, saw your glimmering eyes and the giddy smile. He kissed your cheeks, wanting to feel your blushing face.

Then he nodded.

You kissed him on the lips, then had the nerve to bat your eyes at him.

"Y'know...I do get to keep this."

:::

"--od, Big Dawg?"

Fontaine's head snapped up and saw that Big Moss was trying to pass him a blunt. He shook his head at himself, taking the blunt and then taking a pull.

Big Moss shook his head as well, "C'mon, tell me what's up."

"I'm good, 'Moss. Jus' got a lot on my mind."

"Is it about your lil' shawty or somthin'?"

He grunted. Feeling his stare, Fontaine turned to face Big Moss who's expression was expectant.

"Well? Tell ya mans what's goin' on!" On went the fan and Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be let go.

He took another hit and passed the blunt back, "She's a good girl. Ain't like the others I had, I ain't gotta tell you that. Can't treat her like normal."

"Can't treat her... normal?"

"Can't treat her normal, y'know wha' I'm sayin'?"

A beat of silence. Then Big Moss' eyes widened in understanding,

"Oh! can't trea--yeah, a'ight, I see, I see."

Fontaine sighed and told Big Moss about losing himself when you were trying on the bikini-set, how bad he felt.

"Did she feel bad?"

"What?"

"I know you heard me, nigga. Like, did she cry or cuss yo' ass out? Get up and leave? anythin'?"

Fontaine didn't have to think hard to recall your smile, the breathy way you laughed, "...No. She wasn't mad. I was the one most fucked up by it."

Smacking his lips, the Big Moss put a hand on Fontaine's shoulder,

"Lemme tell you somethin', this yo' first Good Girl--ain't it? I'll tell you somethin' about 'em. The sweetest little faces be hiding the nastiest shit, cuz."

Fontaine scoffed, unbelieving. He recalled your inexperience at the beginning of your relationship. You were nervous but you did make up for it in unlimited enthusiasm...

"Hmn."

Big Moss continued, "I'm telling you, man! She's probably shy 'bout some shit and just need a lil encouragement from her man. Trust me on this, Big Dawg. I've seen how ya'll are--"

His free hand went up innocently at the look Fontaine gave him,

"All I'm sayin' is that ya'll rock with each other. Work with her, man. It'll all be cool in the end, ya dig me? Whatch it be something small, I'm tellin' you!"

Fontaine thought about it.

Then he nodded. Big Moss nodded back, handing over the blunt and not bothering to hide his grin.

:::

Fontaine had a plan.

He was thinking about it every since he left Big Moss, their talk still echoing through his head.

'Take it slow if you that worried, Big Dawg.'

'Moss was right. Fontaine took it slow made sure to be careful when dealing with you, and it's gotten him nothing but sweetness and warmth back.

He went to your place without even thinking and you welcomed him in with an excited smile. That smile grew nearly manic when you saw the take out in hands.

He took in your plushy romper and slippers as he followed you into the den. That winter weight that you've been commenting about was nothing but God and Fontaine knew to be grateful.

"Damn girl, whatchu been up too?" He rose a brow at the whirlwind of yarn and notebooks.

"Ah, just trying to keep hands busy!" you said with an embarrassed little laugh. You hurried to make space for him on the couch, moving your next to the floor after tossing down a few blankets.

You went onto your hands and knees, spreading out all the corners and pulling a few seating cushions closer. Fontaine followed the lines of you, right to the lil' bit of booty that was peeking out.

"You gonna be sittin' away from me?" Fontaine mumbled, eyes stuck to your ass.

"I'll come closer." You promised with a coy smile, then told him to get comfortable. You asked if he needed anything as you both settled down.

Fontaine nearly purred at your care of him, reminded of how good he had it with you.

He just had to go slow. Get used to checking himself, making sure he wasn't doing too much. Fontaine would contain himself.

A soft touch brought him outside of his head.

"Whatchu doin' down there, pretty?"

Your hands slid up his jean clad thighs and aimed those bright eyes at him. You still laid your cheek on his knee, still rubbing as you blink slowly at him without saying a word.

Fontaine's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't prepared for this. All he could do was nod and you gave him a candied smile as you pulled down his zipper. He groaned inwardly, bracing himself as the lust for nearly boiled over.

He was trying to be a good.

Your soft hands found his dick already half hard. Fontaine shifted to make more room for you, utterly enthralled by the way you licked your lips and wriggled closer.

A few pumps were all he needed and without preamble, you slipped his dick right to the back of your throat.

His ears rang and he finally released the remote he's been clutching, arms going out to span the back of the couch. What the fuck was this?

Your head went in small bobs, never letting the head of Fontaine's dick from the back of your throat. Your tongue was wet and wonderful. Nearly serpentine as you jerked the base of him, pulling back and giving his tip saccharine kisses.

He breathed heavily, hips jerking only once before he remembered himself. You hummed disappointedly and pulled back, looking at him with a small frown

" 'Taine, you need to relax." You still stroked his length, "Are you not into oral, we don't have too--

"Naw, that ain't it," Fontaine interjected quickly,

You rewarded him with another wet kiss to his tip, "Then why aren't you putting this where it belongs?"

He blinked as your words rang through his ears, the sweetest faces...

"You always go stiff as a board when I'm down here, never let me stay as long as I want." you sniffed and rubbed your lips against his dick.

His voice was faint, "I ain't want you to think you had to."

"I'd love to, Fontaine, that's the thing. More than often, preferably." You sighed, "I love that you're careful with me, but have you ever...wanted to...not be?"

Fontaine's hands balled where they were still up on the back of the couch.

You made the face when you were going to be really patient with him about something. Your gave his dick another kiss, soft as silk.

"Would you still be into me if I wasn't acting sweet all the time?"

He never understood whiplash until this very moment, but Fontaine focused when he saw the furrow in your brow.

"I don't care how you act, you're gonna still be mine at the end of the day." Fontaine was certain there was nothing that you could go through that he wouldn't be there to stand with you.

"Exactly. You ain't gotta be on your best behavior. You have me and all I want is you. How ever you are. I'm yours."

You laid it out so easy for him, the right words strung together to settle perfectly in his mind. Your words, your words...

Fontaine sat up, his focus zeroing in on you. Your back straightened as you continued.

"So what if I want to act...like-um..."

He sat up, "What? You wanna act up, pretty girl?"

The way you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation ignited him. You were a delicious little morsel on your knees trying to ask if you could swallow his dick again.

The sweetest fuckin' faces...

Fontaine reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb running across your lips. Your brown eyes were nearly black with a craving similar to Fontaine's.

He gently wagged your face, "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Everything."

He chuckled lowly at your whining and leaned in close enough to brush your noses together.

"You know what you askin' me?"

"You said you'd give me anything I need, didn't you? I need you, Fontaine."

Your voice carried off into a gasp, Fontaine had reached behind you and gathered your locs up into a gentle hold before tugging. With your head drawn back, Fontaine had the pleasure of seeing your pink tongue sweeping across your lips.

"You look hungry, pretty girl."

Your answer was a breathy little moan. Fontaine groaned as he leaned in to claim your lips, his reason slipping into the back seat of his mind.

:::

Arms tied behind your back, you could only rock and whine in Fontaine's lap as he pinched and plucked your tender nipples. One hand pulling the satin scarf that he used to bind your hands. It kept you taut and nearly immobile, enough for him to move you as he pleased.

And move you he did. Sometimes releasing your hands to grip at your waist, leaning up to kiss you or lying back and watching you.

The most nasty things flowed from his delectable lips and he definitely wasn't shy about giving your ass a few swats now.

Fontaine has been wringing orgasms out of you like honey from it's comb. The longer it went on, the more it felt like you were being devoured.

On your knees, away from the couch and up against the wall, folded up in recliner, now back on the couch.

Fontaine has never treated you this way. It was sublime. Gone was his careful touches and tender passion. Fontaine fucked you with a single minded determination, content to relish your ecstasy.

"This is what you wanted, pretty thing? Am I givin' you what you need now?"

You nodded, exhaling sharply as he ground into your sweet spot. Tears sprang to the corner of your eyes at the sweet-hurt of being overwhelmed. You needed more to fall over the line, but you didn't want it to end.

You made desperate noises as he backed off enough to leave you on the edge, "Ye-Yes! Yes, 'Taine-- please, please--!"

He kneaded your ass, rough as he moved you on his dick. The pressure had you releasing a sound you didn't know you could make.

Fontaine's echoing moan shadowed a grin, "That's it, tell me who I am. Tell me who's this pussy's for."

"Yo-You, Fontaine, you..." You babbled, "It's yours, it's yours!"

"And it feels good?"

"Mmn, yesss..."

"Is it too much?"

You shook your head. Fontaine's brow lifted and pace sharpened, ripping a keening gasp from you.

He purred as your eyes rolled back and sat up to meet you chest to chest, using one of his hands to squish your cheeks together.

"Use your words, beautiful. Is. It. Too much?" He husked against your lips, pace frustratingly slowing once again.

Your answer was to bite his bottom lip with the best growl you could muster.

Fontaine muttered something you couldn't hear and then he was leaning back, putting his hands on your thighs and driving up into you in earnest.

It felt like running through fire, seeing ever color at once, knowing the name of every star. All through it, Fontaine continued muttering to himself, no longer concerned with holding you steady.

"Mnh, look at that face. Finally gettin' what you wanted. Acting like like I ain't gonna give you what you ask for--that you can't tell me?"

"It wasn't like that." You whimpered at his hands on you again, reaching down to spread you around him. You gasped and lost balance swaying forward to press your forehead into his shoulder. When Fontaine slowed his pace again, you distantly hoped you'd be awake if he ever decided to cum.

"Don't worry," Fontaine's voice was gravel, "Imma teach you good. We'll find out how much you can take, hm? Together."

You were trembling and your brain was probably slush by now, but you've seen the appeal of being greedy.

Fontaine could still give you more, you still wanted more. Together, you could tear down the fences that kept you from each other's pleasure.

You leaned back enough to mash your lips to his, drinking down his pleased moan.

You didn't care how long it took, you wanted this man to tear you apart and piece you back together.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

PHEW

thank you for reading! this took literally too long and it still feels rushed, but I really wanted to challenge myself! Please let me know what you think, any tips would be greatly appreciated as well!

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93

(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)

[hotluncheddie]

Honey Boy

wc: 1.3k | rated: M | tags: 1920s au, food as a love language, not cis flapper Eddie Munson 

˚⊹♡

Steve Harrington used to be the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City. Destined to take over his father’s nicotine empire, and make the family even richer. That was, until Steve Harrington got caught in an apartment fire. Clocked in the head by a steel beam while helping a young boy out. 

Steve Harrington can’t take over the business anymore, because sometimes his head hurts so bad he can’t seen. Sometimes it hurts so bad his legs don’t work. 

Now Steve Harrington is married to one Robin Buckley, socialite who writes poetry published under a mans name, and who comes from a good family. A solid flock; enough to get Harrington Sr to stop sniffing around proposals that might’ve made Steven useful to him again. 

But, you only had to enter their apartment once to see that their bedrooms were distinctly separate. Only had to watch them together in public for a moment to see their touching never went past friendly. 

No, now Steve Harrington lives on an allowance, goes to dinners once a month to show his face; coming back from them quieter, fog always lasting a few days. Doing so in order to, amongst other things, frequent a speakeasy on Saturday nights; hidden under a barbers shop in Harlem. 

And, now, this Steve Harrington, also, bakes. Pastries, cakes and desserts from across the pond. Anything, everything, the finest you can think of. 

And Eddie Munson, you see, knows all this about Steve Harrington. Knows all about this Steve Harrington, because, every weekend, Steve goes to the club, under the barber shop in Harlem, to take home one, particular, very special, girl. 

Him. 

‘No, slowly.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bite of pie just out of reach of Eddie’s lips. ‘Open.’ 

Eddie does. 

‘Hold it baby. Taste it, let it melt.’ He whispers, patting the corners of Eddie’s mouth with a napkin. Watching Eddie swallow, eyelashes fluttering, half for Steve’s sake and half because it just tastes so damn good. 

‘Don’t mess up my lipstick, s’not easy getting this dolled up.’ Eddie mumbles as Steve scoops up another mouthful, the fine porcelain and small fork held so gently in this large hands. 

Steve smiles, pausing, laying down the cutlery to cradle Eddie’s cheek in his palm and run a thumb under his kohl lined eye. ‘Never, you’re berries baby.’ He says, flashing his teeth. Lifting that fork again to feed him another slow bite. 

And this is all Steve asks for, really. The only time during the night where Steve requests Eddie does as he says. Otherwise, Eddie can do as he likes, orders Steve around hand and foot if he pleased, fuck him, not fuck him, get fucked, get blown. But not this part, this in between part. After a couple hours at the joint, with the good hooch, and a little dancing; Steve will eventually pull Eddie away. Away from the guys who want to get their hands up his beaded dress, who pull him in extra close for the slow dance, buy him a drink, light his cigarette unprompted. But everyone now knows that Saturdays are Steve’s night, Eddie might twirl and drink and bat his eyelashes at any sap he pleases; but he always walks out hand in hand with Harrington Jr. 

Following him back to Steve’s now familiar apartment, where Eddie can kick off his heels and lounge back on the velvet sofa. Where Steve will have baked something special in preparation, requesting to feed Eddie every bite slowly, so slowly. Until every morsel is gone. 

And Eddie lets him, is paid for it, handsomely. But they both know that, now, it’s got nothing to do with the money, not really. Eddie could go home with any number of rich clients on a Saturday night, multiple, and has done. But he doesn’t, not now. 

No, now, it’s only Steve. Every Saturday, like clockwork. 

No, it’s not all about the money, not for Eddie. And it maybe wasn’t ever, really, for Steve. 

The first time Eddie went home with him Steve had flushed, fluttered, almost too scared to touch him. Offering up chocolate covered strawberries and biting his lip raw when the juice dripped down Eddie’s chin. Then ate Eddie out until spit dripped down his thighs. 

Now his Steve has less reservation. Always seeking skin, seeking touch, begging to be able to give. 

And Eddie feasts on it. 

Starving. 

Once the desert is tucked away, fed, devoured, consumed. Poured, dripping ambrosia into his very centre. All of him now a little more padded thanks to Steve’s steady devotion; ribs not so visible, hips no longer concave and thighs that are just starting to brush together under dresses and between nylon. Once that’s done, now, Steve kneels, happy and satiated, content with having completed his only desire for the night. 

The rest, now, is up to Eddie. 

And Eddie wants to smoke, and pet Steve’s cheek where it rests between his legs, on his inner thigh. 

He blows smoke at Steve’s face, watches him inhale, eyelashes fluttering. 

He’s a funny man, this Steve of his. Eddie thinks he’s the bees knees, sweet as honey, pretty as cherry pie. 

‘Kids at the club talk about something called transcendence honey boy. You know anything about that?’ Eddie asks, scratching Steve’s scalp with long, painted nails.  

‘No.’ Steve says, eyes closed, leaning into the touch. 

‘Somethin’ about reaching a higher power, becoming more just through talkin’ and thinkin’ and bein’.’ 

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve says, listening, but the hand stroking slowly higher up Eddie’s calf says his mind is split in half. 

‘Mmhm, I think you might just be doing it, only with you it’s through eatin’.’ Eddie smirks, spreading his legs a little more. 

Steve looks up, glassy eyes getting clearer, he looks; affronted, confused, aroused. ‘I jus’ like seeing you looked after, seeing you warm and relaxed. Like seeing the way your eyes droop when you taste something good, the way you sit different in the chair, the way your legs shift and your cheeks blush. I just think food looks good on you baby.’ And Steve’s fingers slide up Eddie’s thigh, under the beaded silk of his dress, over the plush that sits over muscle. The weight, the width, the softness that’s been gained - gained by the offerings of Steve’s own hands. 

Eddie gasps softly as those hands squeeze his thighs, warm and pliant and greedy. 

‘Do you like that thought, doll? What did you call it?’ 

‘Transcendence.’ 

‘Yeah, you like it? Does it make you feel good sugar?’ He asks, eager. Always so eager. 

Eddie thinks maybe it does, thinks that maybe the way Steve does most things might just be the best feeling in the world. 

‘Take me to bed honey boy.’ 

Steve smiles, boyish and blinding and lifts Eddie up bridal style, making him cackle. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and biting at his earlobe, sticking a hand down his half unbuttoned dress shirt to grope at the hair and muscle. 

Never fails to make Eddie feel like a real dame this one. 

Which is still not always an easy task, even with how Eddie chooses to present himself, how he loves. What he does and how he does it. Still not easy. But when Steve lays Eddie’s down, removing clothes between bites and throaty giggles. Kissing and kissing. And kissing as he does. Eddie’s knees part easily and his fingers grip tousled brown hair and Steve opens him up, slick and wanting and hungry. 

And when Eddie is filled, enveloped in Steve’s warmth, the oven of his chest, baking Eddie alive. Eddie feels it again, maybe, that higher place. 

‘You’re my girl, you’re my girl.’ Steve will pant, hot and wet in Eddie’s ear. Chant it until it drips like honey through his bones. Taking Eddie there, ascending. Toes curled, moan breathy and needy and high, filled up something special, a girl who is. 

That’s when Eddie feels it, for the second time that night; divine, feminine, transcended. 

Loved. 

˚⊹♡

Taglist (& people who showed interest <3) : @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @postmodernau @steddie-island

[kissingmilfs]

𐙚 drunk in love | mel x sevika valentine’s day 𐙚

ᥫ᭡。 summary: i saw the picture of the lollipop on twitter and absolutely needed to write sevika asking mel to be her valentine. it’s pure comfort and fluff.

characters: mel x sevika, special guest appearances from jinx and isha ᥫ᭡。

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔*

“This is ridiculous,” mumbled Sevika as she stood in the middle of an aisle in a random drugstore.

Jinx cocked her hip out and tapped her boot against the grey carpet. Isha pulled candy from shelves she could reach, lifting them to Jinx’s eyesight. Jinx would seriously give the candy some consideration but then shake her head and shoo Isha off to find another option. Isha found a bag of suckers that were heart shaped and red, of course, and excitedly bounced. Presenting them to Jinx, the younger girl bit her lip with the need for Jinx’s approval shimmering brightly in her eyes. Dropping her eyes to Isha, Jinx hummed thoughtfully and grabbed the bag from Isha.

“You’re a genius, Isha!” Jinx exclaimed and affectionately ruffled the girl’s fading blue hair. Isha threw her arms up in victory then ran further down the aisle where they kept the stuffed animals and other random toys.

Jinx turned the bag of lollipops over in her hands. Sevika somewhat curiously dropped her eyes to where Jinx inspects the candy despite the huffing and puffing she’s doing.

“How will this possibly help?” Sevika grabs the bag of lollipops as if all her questions will be answered.

Jinx rolls her eyes exasperatedly and reaches for the bag again but Sevika is faster and lifts the bag of lollipops over her head. She laughs with an amused huff as Jinx jumps once to reach the bag. Sevika uses her other hand to gently push Jinx away by her forehead.

Jinx swats at Sevika’s hand and ducks underneath. Crossing her arms over her chest, Jinx begins tapping her foot again on the floor. “Do you want my help or not?”

Sevika seriously considers her then sighs. “Yes…”

“Good!” Jinx immediately brightens up and drops her arms from her chest. “Get the lollipops and pick Mel up from work. Then take her for a drive to the overlook. You should pick something up to eat maybe.”

Sevika’s grey eyes slightly widen with the instructions. She hadn’t realized how big of a deal Valentine’s Day was. Well, she did, but she never put effort behind it. The 42 year old woman hadn’t the opportunity or time to invest much in long term relationships. Valentine’s Day if it came around and she had a lady—Sevika mainly would grab a rose or two from the aunties selling on the sidewalks. A good roll in the sheets and spooning always did the trick for her very brief trysts.

But then Sevika met Mel. Unexpectedly on jazz night at Sevika’s favorite hole in the wall club. She could not take her eyes off the woman in her modernized flapper dress that moved and sparkled with each breath Mel took. Mel laughed at all of Sevika’s corny jokes and touched her arms and shoulders as she did. Sevika found herself holding her breath every time Mel’s green eyes caught perfectly in the candlelight on the table.

It was no surprise to either of them when Mel ended up in Sevika’s lap. But it was a surprise to Sevika after two days she could not stop thinking about the woman. Then days turned to weeks until Mel and Sevika were an official couple of seven months.

Now a few weeks after seven months together, Valentine’s Day lurked around the corner. Mel had not necessarily dropped hints more so smacked Sevika in the face with them. She foolishly confided in Jinx and Jinx cackled on the couch with her hands on her stomach and tears in her eyes. Sevika failed to find anything amusing about her situation. Asking the 19 year old girl for any advice about love and relationships felt belittling and embarrassing. But Sevika slowly realized she did not mind so much if it meant seeing that smile on Mel’s face. The smile where Mel cannot help but giggle and her cheeks swell so high—Sevika is convinced they’ll swallow Mel’s eyes.

Sevika checks the time on her watch—1:38pm. It’s enough time to get home, freshen up and get Mel’s favorite meal before picking her girlfriend up. To an outsider Sevika grumbling something under her breath sounds incoherent but to Jinx she understands every word. Jinx gives her guardian of 7 years a curled lip and shrugs but calls out for Isha. Isha runs down the aisle with a scrappy looking teddy bear. She holds it closely to her chest before stopping in front of Sevika. Isha bashfully drops her eyes to her feet before slowly lifting the bear up.

Sevika arches an inquisitive eyebrow at both the girl and the teddy. The teddy bear fits in Sevika’s hand as she reaches for it.

“For you or Mel?” Sevika asks in a soft tone despite her voice being naturally gruffly. She watches as Isha grunts then nods her head —effectively communicating the teddy bear is for Mel. Sevika hums then playfully nudges Isha’s chin. With her girls closely behind, Sevika heads towards the self checkout with the bag of heart shaped lollipops and teddy bear.

Jinx already lifted Isha for a piggyback ride and Jinx is babbling about something related to her engineering class. Isha pretends to understand and nods enthusiastically with everything Jinx is saying. The girl even looks deep in thought when Jinx asks her a question. Sevika shakes her head half heartedly when Jinx exclaims, “Exactly! That’s what I said! His project wasn’t even that impressive.”

“How much do you think the arm will swipe for?” Jinx unexpectedly blurts out while hip checking Sevika.

Sevika narrows her eyes, her eyebrows pushing together as she whips her head to Jinx. “My arm?” Sevika instinctively flexes the mechanical fingers on her prosthetic in response.

Jinx nods her head in a way Sevika is convinced it’ll snap off. Sevika grunts in response and turns back to the self-checkout. But Jinx continues talking. “I could probably create a barcode and we could swipe it. It’ll be a mystery!”

Sevika, disgruntledly grabs the receipt and bag and carefully reaches for Isha who is now making grabby hands for the older woman. Sevika props Isha on her hip with her non-prosthetic arm then nudges Jinx in a way that the teenage girl awkwardly stumbles backwards.

“Sheesh…you’d think with love in the air you’d be less tense.”

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔*

A few hours later, Sevika is parked outside of Mel’s office. Her brilliant girlfriend works as a public defender. She promised Sevika she would get off early at 3:30pm. Now Sevika patiently leans against the hood of her car in a pair of black jeans, a fitted white shirt and tan corduroy jacket. Of course she’s wearing the gold chain Mel graciously bought for Sevika’s birthday.

Mel’s heels clack against the weathered concrete pavement that leads out of the gated building and into the parking lot. She peeps Sevika’s arm is bent behind her back even as she leans on her car. Lifting her eyes to cover the glare from the sun, Mel smiles delicately at Sevika once she stops a few inches away from her girlfriend.

“Hi, handsome.”

Sevika grumbles, not because she doesn’t appreciate the compliment, but because it makes her cheeks burn with a blush. Gripping what’s behind her tightly, Sevika draws it forward and presses it against Mel’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Sevika jumbles the words quickly and her eyes darting to the side.

Mel’s eyes widened just a bit. She drops her gaze to the item pressed against her chest. It’s a rather scruffy looking teddy bear with a bouquet of heart shaped lollipops tied to its paws. Mel’s confused expression turns into one of delight. Her face spreads into that smile Sevika cannot get enough of. Mel’s fingers wrap around Sevika’s holding the gift. She lifts herself on her toes and presses a chaste kiss to Sevika’s lips. Mel opts not to wipe away the red lipstick now on Sevika’s lips.

Mel’s smile remains even as her lips brushed against Sevika’s. “You remembered.”

Sevika nods slowly, her eyes still closed from the head rush induced by Mel’s radiant smile and brief kiss. “How could I not? You made it very obvious I was not allowed to forget.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, my love.”

“Says the woman that woke me out of my sleep to remind me Valentine’s Day is 14 days away.”

Mel scrunches her face from the blush growing underneath her cheeks. Sevika cannot see the blush but she can absolutely tell by the way Mel’s nose bunches up like a kitten. Sevika laughs which allows Mel to laugh and both their hearts practically swell out of their chests seeing their partner filled with innocent joy and laughter.

Mel holds the bear dearly to her face, inspecting the toy and the lollipops. She brings it underneath her nose, sniffing Sevika’s subtle cologne. “Tell Isha and Jinx I appreciate them helping you.”

Sevika scoffs rather offended for someone that did need the help of a teenager and pre-pubescent kid. “Yeah, whatever.” She straightens up when Mel’s green eyes bore into hers from behind the teddy bear. “I mean…I will. There’s other stuff on the agenda though.”

“Oh?” Mel tugs a lollipop free from its ribbon tied bouquet. Sevika hums with a head nod then gently pats Mel’s hip. Mel understands the silent cue, following Sevika to the passenger side as the older woman opens the door for her. Mel immediately inhales deeply, smelling the symphony of scents dancing around her nose. Her stomach grumbles in reaction.

“Baby…what did you get?” Mel peers over the seat and sees a bag of food. Her mouth waters and she has to refrain from reaching. But Sevika, always a diligent boyfriend, brings the bag forward once settled into the front seat.

Sevika widens the plastic bag and Mel leans over the middle console for a better look. “I got most of your favorites from Ms. Josie’s. Netta threw in a lot of extras. You hungry now?”

Mel’s pupils visibly dilate hearing “favorites” and “Ms. Josie’s.” Ms. Josie’s is a Caribbean/West African spot that’s a staple of the community since Mel could walk. It’s kept in the family and even on the gloomiest days the food brings a smile to Mel’s face.

“Did you get bag rice? Because yes, I’m hungry but I can wait.” Mel bites her lip and further leans over the console. She watches Sevika dig through the bag before pulling out jollof rice and stew chicken wrapped tightly in a sandwich bag. “Ah! Did I ever tell you I love you?” Mel exclaims far more joyous than Sevika anticipated and reaches out for the item.

As Mel bites off the corner from the plastic bag, she fails to notice the shocked expression on Sevika’s face. No, Mel had never told Sevika she loved her. It was not something they had officially said to each other yet. The words ring in Sevika’s ears as she dumbfoundedly watches Mel eat the food. Her teeth, lips and fingers work in unison to tug the rice into her mouth as she pushes it upwards. Sevika’s never found eating attractive or cute. It’s only eating. But Mel makes little noises of contentment and even occasionally closes her eyes. Her lips are oily and there’s lipstick stain on the bag. Once Mel is near the end of the bag, Sevika finally swallows the parched ache in her throat.

“You love me?” Gosh, Sevika thinks she sounds pathetic. Her tone cracks slightly and the words come out in a faint whisper. She would’ve reviled more in the confused look on Mel’s face if it weren’t something so serious.

Mel blinks her confusion but then the realization dawns in her green eyes. “Oh…” Her slender fingers reach up to touch her lips then she looks over at Sevika. “I…” Mel trails off, nervously nibbling on her bottom lip. “Of course, I love you. How could I not? Seven months with you feels like seven days and seven years. You’re my protector and my best friend. I’m absolutely in love with you, Sevika.”

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔* *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°❀.ೃ࿔*

Sevika’s eyes are closed in blissful wonderment as Mel stands between her legs. They finally made it to the overlook— after Mel confessed, yes, she did love Sevika and Sevika ended up shedding two drops of tears exactly (she will not admit to anymore despite Mel’s teasing). Mel sobbed most of her makeup away as Sevika confessed she knew she loved Mel after four months. After introducing her girlfriend to Jinx and Isha and seeing…feeling…how perfectly she fit into Sevika’s little family.

At the overlook, Sevika and Mel gladly indulged in all the food and extras. They halfheartedly argued over if it’s curry goat or goat curry—Sevika’s guyanese heritage never letting this go. As the sun sets, Mel happily presses red stained kisses all over Sevika’s face and neck. The smile on Sevika’s face can only be described as love-drunk. Her hands are firmly holding Mel’s waist as her girlfriend leans down, peppering her adoration into her skin. Perhaps Valentine’s Day isn’t cheesy and corny after all.

[terry-perry]

Okay i had this idea for some time. But i saw your post about wanting to practice writing Alastor. Can you do Alastor when he was alive? It’s the 1930s and he’s a radio host, i had this idea of reader being a female had to face female stereotypes still(i know in 1920s the 19th amendment was passed but women still had to face the aftermath), she wanted a job that only men could have. So what if Reader dresses as a boy, gets her dream job and ends up working alongside Alastor in his radio station. He doesn’t know that reader is a girl. I wanna leave the rest up to you! How does Alastor find out about reader being a girl and eventually probably falling in love? Like i can see Reader and Al being great friends at first. Im sorry this is long! But i want you to be creative!! You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to!

Inspired by the writing of Shakespeare, especially Twelfth Night

You watched Alastor hard at work as always preparing the setlist for the night's show. You loved how he lit up whenever he was doing something relating to his radio show. He was so passionate and full of life. It was contagious and had you wanting a fill of this life as well. Thanks to Alastor, you developed your already-formed love for music into one that could rival his.

Your love for music made you want to try your hand at radio broadcasting. Unfortunately, most, if not all, stations only wanted to hire women as secretaries - to answer calls, fetch coffee, and be at the host's beck and call. There was no way you'd be able to learn the ropes properly like that. This led you to cut your hair shorter than a flapper's bob and purchase some slacks and men's button-ups before going to Alastor's studio in hopes of being his new apprentice.

A part of you was anxious that your disguise would fool no one. Your voice was still rather high-pitched as a young girl no matter how hard you tried to disguise it. You were afraid everything about you resembled that of a woman. You tried your hardest to play it off as though you weren't quite a man yet, but also not a boy anymore. You were in that in-between stage that was neither fully a boy nor fully a man.

Thankfully Alastor bought it. He liked your spark, or rather, "Sebastian's" spunk - the male persona you chose to create for yourself. He loved your taste in music and your willingness to learn the ropes. He hired you on the spot!

Months passed since that fateful day and you'd been able to get by with your ruse with hardly any issues. Alastor had even let you take over broadcasts from time to time!

There was one problem, as of late, however.

You seem to have fallen in love with your boss.

There was an attraction towards him when you first laid your eyes on him. It felt like he cleared all the bad stuff from the air that once trapped you. His spontaneity shined through all his performances. He was always unapologetically himself, which you respected. Then there was the softer side he rarely showed, such as when he interacted with his mother, whom you had the opportunity to meet and have lunch with when you ran into the pair in town. It was endearing to watch them interact, smiling fondly at how he'd comply with her requests.

How could you not love a man who knows how to treat his mother? If a man can only give a little bit of love to his mother, how much more will he be able to love when he falls deeply for a woman who truly captures his heart?

But you weren't a woman to him. You were Sebastian, his apprentice. Whatever bond you formed in the last several months you worked together was purely platonic.

The most you could do was pine for him, gaze longingly from afar, and sigh dreamily as you watched how he prepared for his next show. You've already gotten involved in this situation due to your sense of foolishness and staying because of your love, so you carried on.

The more you got to know him, the more you felt like a deer and your wants have been chasing you like mean, vicious dogs ever since.

----

Alastor did his best to keep busy with his setlist, distracting himself from the feelings he'd been struggling with for a while now. He couldn't explain them or felt he shouldn't since something like this was equated to catching a plague. Society shouldn't blame him for being weak, however. It's just how people were made. Women love, men love, and he knew if he was a woman, he'd love Sebastian.

He wouldn't deny it. Nothing else could describe what was happening to him as he admired everything about his apprentice. His words, expressions, movements, behavior, and energy drew him in like a moth to a flame.

Also, the intense dream he had the other night that involved Sebastian made his feelings especially clear.

He didn't want to recall too much of it while in the studio, but he couldn't forget about Seb's sweet voice beckoning him: "Al, we need to be careful and hide our love." Alastor had to keep himself from getting flustered as he remembered how he would hold Seb's hand tightly, call him sweet names, kiss him passionately as if he was pulling air out of him, put his leg over his, sigh and kiss him more, and then curse the fate that made them belong in the dark.

He really needed to get a hold of himself!

Especially since the night after that, he heartbreakingly discovered that Sebastian was already involved with someone else. He had followed him back to his apartment after a late night at the studio. Seb told him he needn't bother, but Alastor couldn't let him go alone. His strong desire pushed him to follow his sweet boy. It wasn't just love that made him follow him, but also worry about what could happen to him on the streets alone in the dark. The area could be an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous journey even for those who lived there.

Alastor's love for Sebastian, mixed with fear, made him decide to accompany him in the shadows.

How shocked he was to peer up into the window of the apartment. Seb lived on a semi-high floor, so Alastor didn't get a decent view. And yet, he knew what he saw.

A woman with a boyish haircut undressing and preparing for bed.

[strniohoeee]

Disdain

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Matt wants to keep Y/N, but won’t be her man’s, so what happens when they go to a Halloween party, and Matt sees something he doesn’t like🫠

Warnings⚠️: This is straight up SMUT. There’s smacking, degrading, manhandling. It’s just filthy sooo read at your own risk

Song for the imagine: Drama-Roy Woods ft. Drake, Thong Song- Sisqo

This story is 18+, so if you’re a minor DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Matt and I had been in this weird gray area of being a couple, but not really being a couple. Like he was so sweet to me, and would take me out on dates and treat me like his girl, but then wouldn’t call me his girlfriend or be with me publically.

I hated it so much because he would treat me like I was his, but really I wasn’t, and anytime I brought this up he would go on this whole rant of “it doesn’t matter . Who cares about labels” My issue with that was he’s had girlfriends publically in the past, so I wasn’t sure what changed when it came to me.

About a month ago when he and I were doing really well, and acting like a real couple we decided we wanted to be Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit for this Halloween party his brothers and I got invited to. Slowly I started looking into buying the costume parts, but when he started pissing me off I had only purchased the red sparkly strapless dress.

About two weeks before the party I decided I was no longer going to match costumes with him, but I didn’t tell him I wanted him to look like an idiot. Just how he made me look like one

The night of the party I had went over to the triplets house to get ready with them. Still Matt didn’t suspect a thing, but I had been distant these past two weeks not really talking to him or hugging or kissing him. He just assumed we were on our “break” and he didn’t really care. Not shocked

The party started at 11, and we were all finishing up our costumes. We decided to all walk out one by one and show them off.

Nick was Corlines other dad, and Madi was the other mother, Chris was Steve Harrington, and Matt came out dressed as Roger rabbit.

The only person who knew I changed my costume was Nick, and he was trying to keep his composure looking at Matt dressed like a fool.

“Okay Y/N come out” Madi said clapping her hands together

I walked out in my strapless sparkly red dress that pushed my boobs up nice and high, and the slit was from my bikini line down to my ankles. Sadly I wasn't going to be going commando as my whole ass would be out with a slight movement, so I had on a red thong. I had a gold leg garter that had a red heart on it, and my black stiletto heels. I had my makeup done like a sad flapper

“What do we think” I said spinning around

“BETTY BOOP” Chris screamed jumping up and down. Betty boop was one of Chris weird cartoon crushes

I nodded my head at this giving them a slight spin around

“You look so fucking hot” Madi came screeching over to me and grabbing my hands

“Y/N this costume is too good” Nick said in a giddy way

“What the fuck” Matt finally says with a straight face

“Oh I forgot to tell you I didn’t want to do a matching couple costume since we aren’t a couple” I said giving him a fake frown

“Ouuu she got you good” Chris said laughing at his idiot brother

“Whatever I look like an idiot, and I’m changing my costume” he said standing up abruptly and going to his room

About 10 minutes later he came back downstairs dressed as a cowboy. He looked hot I can’t deny, but he wasn’t my man so fuck him

We had all piled into the car as Matt drove us to the party at Larrays house. We knocked on the door and Larry opened it

“BITCHHHHH yall look so fucking good” he said letting us walk into his house

“Okay matty poo with the slutty little cowboy costume” Larry said, and to this Matt gave him a half smile, and then he walked away from us

“Oh what crawled up his ass” Larry said looking at us

“Y/N decided to not match costumes with him, so now he’s all pissy” Chris said

“Oh boy bye, Y/N you look so hot like Okayy with the red thong I see you” he said, grabbing my hand and spinning me around.

“Thanks baby” I said hugging him

We were at the party for a good two hours at this point. I had drank two drinks, and was feeling so confident, and decided I wanted to dance. Initially I was looking for Matt, but when I saw him he was shooting darts into my eyes with his arms crossed over his chest, and his jaw clenched. I just rolled my eyes, and looked for someone else

I had grabbed any random influencer I saw, and asked if they wanted to dance. Of course they did a random girl wanting to grind on them? How could they say no

As we got to the dancing area Thong Song started playing

Immediately I started jumping in excitement

“This is my fucking songggg” I screamed and pushed us to the center of the “dance floor”

At first I was dancing alone, running my hands all over myself swaying my hips while I sang the song. A circle had opened up surrounding me dancing. I grabbed Madi and we started dancing on each other, and then I grabbed

Chris and Nick also dancing with them in a friendly way.

“LARRAY COME DANCE” I said reaching for his hands. He immediately jumped into the circle and started dancing with me while everyone cheered us on. That’s when I saw the guy I initially brought to the dance floor

“Come on hottie let’s dance” I said grabbing him. I turned around so my back was against his chest, and started to grind on him wrapping my hands around his neck as our hips swayed together

“Bitchhhhhh FUCK IT UPPPP” LARRAY screamed clapping his hands together

“SHAKE THAT ASSSSSS” Nick yelled at me

This whole time Matt was in the corner watching Y/N intensely with a straight face. Fuming that she had the audacity to even grind up against someone who she didn’t know. When his hands started running down her waist, she threw her head back laughing. Matt got so pissed he pushed himself off the couch, and started to stomp over to them. Just as he reached them the song ended, and it got quiet

“Let’s fucking go” Matt said to Y/N going to grab her arm

“Fuck no” she said pulling away

“I didn’t ask! WE ARE LEAVING NOW” he said yelling the last part and yanking her away from the boy

Everyone in the crowd is watching with a shocked face

“BYEEEE, and cute boy find me I wanna take you out” Y/N said looking back at him, and to this Matt yanked her harshly to walk in front of him

Matt brought the girl to the car opening the passenger side door for her, and throwing her in

After he got back in the car and turned it on he turned the car on, and put it into drive quickly taking off

“Aww what a gentleman opening the passenger side for me” Y/N said giggling at him

“Shut the fuck up” Matt said clenching his jaw not even looking over at the girl

“What crawled up your ass” Y/N said

“You grinding on another guy” he said bluntly

“Not like we’re a couple” she said rolling her eyes

“Doesn’t matter” he said looking over at her

“Oh but it does. YOU ARE NOT MY MAN I CAN GRIND ON WHOEVER I WANT” I said lightly

“Watch your fucking tone” he said scoffing

“Or what? You gonna hit me” She said looking at him

“Want me to?” Matt asked as they pulled up to a red light

She started to lean in like she was going to kiss him on the cheek, but instead said “go fuck yourself” she said leaning back away.

Matt looked over at her, and smacked her across the face. Harshly but not enough to actually hurt her. It was more of a sexual smack

“Don’t fucking smack me” Y/N said and smacked the boy back in the face. He grabbed her hand and yanked her in closely

“Put your hands on me again, and I’ll fucking make you regret it” he said pushing her away as the light turned green

“Don’t touch me” she said back to him, and he grabbed her hand once again and brought it down to his bulge

“Do you see what you do to me, you make me so fucking hard” he said sighing as her hand came into contact with his dick

“Oh do I?” She said palming his dick, and he slightly threw his head back

“Fuck you’re gonna make me crash” he said

“So pay attention to the road, and let me take care of you” she said taking his dick out of his pants

She spat on the tip, and slowly started to jerk him up and down

“Shit that feels so good” he said gripping the steering wheel with his left hand

She slowly took his dick into her mouth. Swirling her tongue over his tip, and deep throating him. As her head was bobbing up and down Matt grabbed her hair moaning and thrusting his hips up. Y/N gagged at this

“Sorry baby I can’t help myself” Mat said moaning, and to this she moaned on his dick

“Fuck this I need you now” he said, and slowly pulled over to a secluded empty parking lot

After he threw the car in park Y/N took her heels off and jumped to the back seat, and Matt followed.

Immediately crashing his lips to her in a heated sloppy make out session. He pulled her dress down a little bit allowing her breasts to fall out. He started sucking and groping her breasts. As her back was digging into the handle

“Fuck Matt don’t stop” she said throwing her head back a little bit

“Look at you in this slutty dress with such easy access” He said squeezing her thigh

“Matt please I need more of you” she said pushing his head back. He backed up giving her a once over before nodding his head.

He went down to her thigh and grabbed the leg garter with his teeth pulling it down and off her leg, and putting it on the arm rest

“Open your mouth” he said lightly smacking her face, her mouth opened and he shoved her middle and finger finger in her mouth

“Get them nice and wet for me” he said watching her through half lidded eyes

Y/N swirled her tongue around his fingers, and he pulled them out. Pushing her panties to the side he rubbed her clit, and slowly slid both of his fingers in

“Oh my god” she said grabbing his arm

“You hear how this pussy sounds for me” he said slamming her fingers into her, all you could hear were the most obscene sounds coming from her pussy

“Matt I’m gonna cum if you keep speaking like that” the girl said as her eyes rolled to the back of her head

“You’re not cumming on my fingers” he said, and pulled his finger out her and smacked her pussy

She jumped at this and whined. Matt slid his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. He pumped his cock a few times before spitting on Y/N pussy

“You’re getting fucked like a slut” he said as he slid his cock up and down on her pussy

“Please Matt I need it” she said moaning and breathing heavily

He slid into her pussy completely bottoming out. They both sighed at this feeling

“This pussy is mine” he said as he harshly grabbed her breast

Matt was relentlessly pounding into the young girl. Her back banging into the door handle, and her head slightly hitting the window

“Matt please harder” she said pulling his hair

“Shut the fuck up” he said as his hips snapped in an even fast faster

All that could be heard was skin slapping, moans and the banging of Y/N’s head on the window

He started to rub her clit as he pounded even harder into her

“FUCK MATT OH MY GOD” she yelled grabbing onto his hair for support

“Shut the FUCK up” he said looking into her eyes

“I can’t Matt you feel too good” she said moaning

He repositioned her hips, and started slamming into her at an ungodly pace

“MATT MATT MATT” she started screaming

“I said SHUT THE FUCK UP” he grunts out loudly as he smacks her across the face

“Fuck Matt” she said whining

He was getting close so his thrusts started to become deep and hard. Slamming into her with no mercy. He hit her G spot really hard, and Y/N was sure she died

“FUCK MATTTTTT” she screamed

“You don’t learn do you” he said as he grabbed her leg garter and shoved it in her mouth to keep her quiet

Matt continued to pound into her, and when she started to shake he knew she was about to cum

“Come on baby cum for me” he said furiously rubbing her clit. It didn’t take much more of that. She came on his cock moaning and weeping with tears falling down her face as her thighs started to shake

“Matt cum in me” she said coming down from her high as she removed the leg garter from her mouth

Immediately after that Matt came inside her with his brows furrowed and his mouth hung open. Pumping her full of his cum. After he came down from his high he pulled out and she slid her panties back on and pulled her dress up

“Fuck that was so hot” she said fixing herself up

“You’re mine” Matt said as he finished readjusting himself

She looked over at him confused

“Whatever it is you want! I’m yours I’ll be your man, your husband, your boy toy whatever you want I’m yours” he said looking at her in a fucked our expression

“Damn you’re so pussy drunk” she said laughing at him

“Don’t push it” he said with a straight face

“I can be your girlfriend I suppose” She said shrugging her shoulders

“Don’t play with me” Matt said looking at her

“I’m kidding. Yes Matt I’d love to finally be your girlfriend” she said kissing him on the cheek

“Good because I’m never letting you go” he said kissing her on the lips

“Alright let’s head home” Matt said as he helped Y/N back to the passenger seat

“Yeah my back is fucking hurting after being slammed into the handle non stop” she said laughing

“Im sorry baby” Matt said laughing with her

“It’s okay you were fucking me so good the pain went away” she said winking at him

He just looked down shyly and then drove back to the house.

The End

This was so fun to write🤪🤪 Now I’ll be working on my request I got, so expect to see that shortly🫶🏽

-J💅🏽

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Olive Thomas (The Flapper)— There’s something about her that’s just so beautifully genuine, like you could reach out through the screen and touch her hand. She was a showgirl-turned-Hollywood-star who died a mysterious death, and now she haunts the New Amsterdam Theater. I’ve actually met her ghost— she seems pretty sweet!

Francesca Bertini (Assunta Spina, Countess Sara, The Last Diva)— There is no Diva like an Italian Diva and Francesca Bertini was the prima diva of the genre known as Italian genre cinema. Just watch her fill the screen with her face and her body in glorious close-up. Dressed in impossible floating draperies, conveying impossible depths of emotion, this is the kind of cinema that mesmerised audiences a hundred years ago. She's so free physically in the space of the screen, absolutely commanding - this is a vision of powerful woman that demands your adoration.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Olive Thomas propaganda:

Olive Thomas was one of the OG Hollywood starlets, and the only woman to seriously challenge Mary Pickford for Hollywood Queen supremacy. She was known for her stunning face and long ringlet hair, which is pretty amazing considering she was also the original flapper girl (so-called because of HER in the movie The Flapper!). She was also one of the first big Hollywood scandals, because her death was/is very suspicious and the idea that she might have died in a drunken accident (or been murdered by Mary Pickford's brother) was considered beyond the ability for "middle Americans" to understand. WE STAN A GORGEOUS MYSTERIOUS FLAPPER QUEEN!

Francesca Bertini propaganda:

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Hotel Sketchbook 2: Part 12

Masterpost

This is the continuation of the 1920s studies I was doing a few posts ago. I've got some commentary on that, which I'll put under a cut. Long story short, I was developing my Mimzy redesign.

Dancing poses suit Alastor. It's fun to draw.

1920s style Niffty is a bonus.

I'm no historical fashion expert, but I did enough research for a fictional setting that would have influences from modern fashion as well. It's a nice cop out.

Notes under the cut

In the 1920s, the fashion was thin, straight lines, and a dropped waistline. But basically, the style was a dress that fit like a potato sack. A pretty potato sack. The stereotypical fringed flapper dress did not typically happen. More common was pleats, ruffles, and tiers. The dress would always extend below the knee. They were scandalous for the time, but not THAT scandalous.

1920s favored hair styles that were essentially plastered to the head. I experimented with that, but did not like the change to her silhouette. So I ended up doing something that resembles stylized finger waves. They're less rigid.

While I appreciate the variety with Mimzy as a more heavy-set character, she is honestly the worst shape for showing off 1920s fashion. Plus sized girls would likely compensate by wearing clothes with vertical lines, since those help create an illusion of thinness. So I altered her dress to include that. But I did take some liberties with the form fit on her dress. I can cheat and say it's a modern influence.

Beyond the fashion, Mimzy looked a tad too human compared to most sinners. So I tried to incorporate a few design elements to help her look a little more demonic. I wanted to incorporate peacock elements, since she is such a show off and attention hog. So her color palette (which is obviously not shown here), has more blues and greens. This was also to add a bit more color variety to the cast in general.

An idea I had was that, in life, she was a wannabe showgirl or actress. But since she didn't exactly match the beauty standards of the time, she kept getting rejected. So her demon appearance has face markings that resemble mascara running down her face from crying.

I gave her vampire fangs because of her tendency to leech off others. As shown by her using Alastor to take care of her loan shark problem. Man had been missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.